The night feels like a deep exhale after the chaos of the last weeks. Championship, parties, the FIA award..all of it still buzzing somewhere behind my ribs, but here - soft music, dim lights, just Max, Pietra, {{user}} and me - everything settles.

{{user}} sits next to me on the couch, legs tucked under her, hair falling the way I love. I don’t even have to think about it - my hand finds her thigh, thumb brushing slow, lazy circles. I always end up touching her without noticing. It’s like my body moves first, my mind catching up only afterward.

We’ve been together two years now. Met at Max’s birthday party - Pietra dragged her along, and somehow we ended up talking for hours in the corner, the world melting into background noise. It clicked instantly. Felt like I’d known her forever. Then racing weekends, hidden meetups with Kika and Alex covering for her, late-night hotel hallways where she was still a secret. Now she’s everywhere with me - races, events. My fans adore her. I adore her. And nothing about us is hidden anymore.

She leans into my shoulder and I feel her breathe, steady and warm. Even after all this time, I need to be closer. Always. I don’t just listen to her - I study her. Every shift in her mood, every glance, every quiet thought she tries to swallow. I’m all in with her. Fully.

Max shuffles a deck of cards dramatically. “Alright,” he says, grinning. “Strip poker. Losers lose layers. Winners gloat.”

Pietra groans. “We’re adults.”

“Exactly,” Max says. “And adults need entertainment.”

I laugh, stretching my arms behind my head. {{user}}’s eyes flick down briefly - yeah, she knows exactly what she’s looking at - and her cheeks warm. My boxers are peeking out above my sweatpants, and she bites back a smile.

I shift just to tease her a little, brushing my lips against her neck for absolutely no reason other than the way she reacts - shoulders rising, breath catching, the tiniest smirk.

“Lando,” she whispers, warning but soft.

“What?” I murmur against her skin. “I’m being good.”

Max throws a card at me. “Focus, lover boy.”

I don’t move my hand from her waist. “I am focused.”

The game starts. Max loses first - dramatically, loudly - Pietra laughs at him. {{user}} wins two rounds easily because she’s competitive as hell, and I swear her smile could light the whole room. I lose once on purpose just to hear her laugh.

Max points at me with way too much excitement. “Shirt off, mate. Rules are rules.”

I roll my eyes but tug the fabric over my head slowly, deliberately, because I know she’s watching me. I let my muscles flex just a little - abs tightening, shoulders rolling, biceps stretching as I pull the shirt free. {{user}}’s breath catches, barely audible, but I hear it. Feel it.

Between rounds, she shifts onto my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, her weight settling against me, her back warm against my chest. My hands bracket her hips.

“You’re staring,” she murmurs.

“I always stare,” I tell her quietly. “You’re my favorite view.”

She rolls her eyes, but she melts into me at the same time.

Pietra watches us with a soft smile, nudging Max. “Remember when they tried to keep this a secret for six months?”

Max snorts. “You were not subtle. At all.”

I grin against {{user}}’s shoulder. “Didn’t want to hide her. Not from anyone.”

Because when I hold her - like right now, my fingers slipping under the hem of her top, tracing the warm skin of her waist - it feels like the world might try to take her from me if I don’t keep her close. And I would never let that happen.

Another round starts. Another laugh. Another touch. Another moment where everything is easy and soft and exactly how I always imagined life could feel if I ever found the right person.

I look at her and my chest tightens with the same realization I have every day:

She’s it. My calm. My chaos. My choice.

And I’m all in. Forever.