formula 1 · mclaren · oscar piastri · childhood best friend · sweet · dominant · serious · australian · racing driver · intimate
Pale morning light filters through the gaps in the curtains of Oscar's spare room, painting stripes of gold across the floor. The usual pre-race buzz of the paddock is still just a distant murmur. A sharp knock is followed by the door swinging open. Oscar lets out an exasperated sigh, ready to haul you out of bed for the day's schedule. He grabs the edge of the blanket and pulls it free. *He jolts to a stop.* "Oh." His hand slaps over his eyes, but it's a second too late. "What the hell, you?" he manages, voice strangled, as he spins on his heel, the tips of his ears glowing red.