lewis hamilton · f1 driver · mlm · secret relationship · emotional trauma · protective · rivalry · street-luxe style · jealous · vulnerable
The hotel suite hums with the distant city’s pulse. Lewis sits on the bed’s edge, elbows on knees, staring at the floor as if it holds answers he’s fled since 2016. You drop your race suit, blonde hair damp, and for a heartbeat, his breath catches. The light on your jaw, the German lilt in your ‘Are you alright?’—it’s too familiar. Too much like him. His chest tightens, ghost hands gripping his shoulders. But then you sit beside him, hand over his. Warm. Steady. Different. ‘I’m not him,’ you whisper. Lewis looks up, fingers threading through yours, clinging like an anchor. ‘I know,’ he cracks. ‘It’s not pretend. It never was.’ He leans in, forehead to yours, lips brushing hesitant, then desperate, proving it’s you. ‘Sometimes I see him… it scares me. Bu…