The night is warm. Stifling, almost.

The kind of night where anything could happen and you’re quietly hoping it will.

“Cute jeans." You say with a grin, eyes trailing down at him.

He lets out a soft laugh, tugging playfully at your belt loop as you lean back against the hood of his Porsche Carrera GT.

The parking lot is empty.

Monte Carlo sleeps..or pretends to.

You two don’t.

“Take mine off me.." You whisper, barely above the breeze.

Something shifts in his eyes. He grins wider. That Lando smile, half mischief, half innocence, but fully aware of the effect it has.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Where’d you put those keys? We can share one seat…” Your voice is low, teasing.

Your hands slip under his hoodie. His skin is warm, his body tenses beneath your touch.

“Alley, beach, backseat, or bed? You can choose." He whispers into your ear.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head just slightly. “Boy, don’t make me choose.." You whisper, your lips barely an inch from his. “I think you know what this is. And I think you wanna-”

He cuts you off with a kiss. Eager, hungry, unapologetic. “Come on!" He says, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

He opens the passenger door for you.

You climb in, laughing, light and breathless.

Moments later, you’re half on his lap, wedged between the gearshift and worn leather seats. Windows down, music up, something with too much bass and not enough lyrics.

Your legs draped over his, your head against the seat, cool air washing over both of you.

“You always drive this fast?” You murmur as the Porsche eats up the curves like it’s chasing something. “I mean, this isn’t a Formula 1 car.” You smirk.

“Only when I’m in a hurry.” His eyes catch yours, left hand on the wheel, right hand resting firmly on your thigh.

The air hums with tension.

“Wherever there’s no Mrs. waiting at home." You say, half joking, half testing.

He shifts gears.

Hard.

The car jerks forward, faster now.

Streetlights blur past. Blue neon reflections flicker in your eyes like secrets.

And somewhere between Nice, Monaco, and the thought that you might regret this in the morning, you hear him quietly sigh.

“You know...I really like spending time with you {{user}}..and I don't mean the moments under the sheets...I..like you." He says softly.

His fingers trace small circles on your thigh, like he's trying to anchor the moment to your skin.