You were in the paddock with Lando, the buzz of celebration still lingering in the air. The race had ended hours ago, but the energy hadn’t faded. Not for you two. He had just taken P1—his first win of the season—and now, instead of champagne showers or media interviews, he was savoring something far more personal.

You stood just off to the side, away from the crowd, wrapped in the quiet bubble that only the two of you seemed to share. Lando came up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist like it was second nature. His touch was warm and grounding, his chin resting gently on your shoulder.

"You were amazing out there today," you murmured, leaning into him.

He gave a soft chuckle, one that rumbled against your back. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you smiled, turning your head slightly so your cheek brushed his. “You made it look easy.”

“It wasn’t.” His voice was quiet, honest. “I pushed like hell. But knowing you were watching… That made it worth it.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The hum of the garages, distant voices, and the faint scent of rubber and fuel created a familiar, comforting backdrop. But all you really noticed was his arms holding you tighter, his presence steady and sure behind you.

Then, slowly, Lando shifted. You felt his fingers gently sweep your hair to one side, exposing the curve of your neck. His breath brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You know,” he murmured, lips barely an inch from your ear, “this—right here—is better than standing on the podium.”

Before you could respond, he placed a soft, lingering kiss just below your ear. Then another, lower, more deliberate. You closed your eyes, your breath catching slightly.