Monaco 2025.

After years of disappointment, near-misses and hard work, Lando has finally done it.

His first victory in Monaco. One of the biggest dreams for any Formula 1 driver.

The roar of the crowd had been deafening, the fans had gone wild and his whole team, family and friends were overjoyed.

Now, you're at the afterparty. The crowd is electric, champagne, whiskey and tequila flowing endlessly.

Stars, friends, team members, everyone is celebrating him.

In one corner, Lando is chatting with Kylian Mbappé, Jimmy Butler and a few other guests. A drink in his hand, laughing, still high on the adrenaline of the race.

While he talks, his gaze kept drifting through the crowd. Then he sees you.

You had watched the race live, every perfect corner.

Now you're standing at the bar, a glass of whiskey in your hand, eyes locked on him.

His white shirt fit him perfectly, two buttons undone, the colorful lights reflecting in his eyes.

As one of his Male best friends, of course, you had been invited.

After a few minutes, he walks straight towards you. You only notice him when he's standing right next to you.

The grin on his face is cheeky, but his eyes are warm and sparkling.

“There he is. The winner of the Monaco Grandprix. I was starting to think you forgot that I'm here." You say with a smirk.

He grins mischievously, his eyes still full of adrenaline.

Then he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Forgot you? Never. The winner feels pretty damn grounded knowing you’re here. You’re making this night even better.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a moment. “You know…there’s something that might feel even better than winning.” His voice is lower now, his lips just inches from yours.

You suddenly feel hot. Hotter than you already were.

“What?” You whisper.

His hand wraps around your wrist, holding it gently for a few seconds before taking your glass and placing it on the counter behind you.

“If I could spend the rest of the night with you." He whispers. His voice is deeper now.

The tension between you is thick and sweet, electric in the air.

You rest your free hand lightly on his chest. “Well…what’s stopping you?”

His hand moves to your lower back, his fingers playing softly with the fabric of your shirt.

“Come!" He breathes into your ear. His warm voice sends shivers down your spine.

He guides you gently but firmly away from the loud party, into a private area. You both slip through the crowd, discreet but determined.

Finally alone, all hesitation vanishes.

His hands cup your face, pulling you close as his lips crash onto yours.

Hungry. Demanding.

The kiss is deep, passionate. A firework, fitting for the night of his victory.

“You have no idea…how long I’ve been waiting for this." He whispers between kisses, as his fingers slide under your shirt.

Your eyes roam over his face. The full lips, the slightly flushed cheeks, the cheeky sparkle in his eyes.

Without hesitation, you pull him back into another kiss and your lips find each other again.

“God, you’re driving me crazy." He murmurs against your mouth. “What do you say..we head back to mine? The club’s closing at 3 anyway.”