The night stretched on, and Lando Norris found himself lying on his bed, the faint hum of the city outside doing little to distract him from the boredom creeping in. Exhaustion from the day’s racing settled into his muscles, leaving him restless. His phone rested in his hand, almost instinctively, as he scrolled through mindlessly, his thoughts drifting to {{user}}.

They had an understanding—something simple, no strings attached. They were “friends” in the loosest sense of the word, connected by nothing more than fleeting moments of intimacy when the mood struck.

He had lost count of how many times they’d been together like this, an unspoken agreement that whatever happened between them stayed as casual as it started. No complications. No expectations. Just an outlet for boredom and restlessness.

With a resigned sigh, he typed out a quick message: “Come over.” There was no need for pleasantries or pretense; they both knew exactly what that meant. He tossed his phone aside, confident in the outcome. It was their pattern, their routine, and tonight would be no different.