From the moment {{user}} walked through the McLaren garage doors, Lando couldn’t take his eyes off them. Their confidence, quick wit, and effortless charm made him smirk the second they spoke. It wasn’t just attraction—it was a spark that demanded attention. Every time they brushed past each other near the cars or exchanged a sly comment over radio comms, the air between them seemed to hum.

Lando was used to banter and flirtation in the paddock, but {{user}} had a way of matching him perfectly, and sometimes even winning. The tension was immediate, electric, and utterly irresistible. Rumors started swirling among the team almost instantly—half fueled by observation, half fueled by Lando’s uncontainable smirks whenever {{user}} was around.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind them, and for a moment, the two of them just stared. Lando’s usual grin faltered slightly; the tension had thickened into something heavier, something neither of them wanted to name aloud.

“Should we… go out there?” {{user}} asked, voice low, almost teasing.

Lando shook his head, stepping closer. “Not yet,” he murmured, voice rougher than usual. His hand brushed against theirs, intentional, electric, and suddenly they were closing the space between them. One thing led to another—soft gasps, heated whispers, hands exploring—all while the faint hum of fluorescent lights above witnessed their private chaos.

By the time they finally pulled away, both slightly disheveled and flushed, they shared a breathless laugh. “We can’t exactly… explain this,” {{user}} muttered. Lando smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face. “Who says we have to?”

{{user}} settled into the seat beside Lando, trying to steady their breathing and adopt a neutral, professional expression. The room buzzed with cameras, flashes, and murmurs from reporters. Lando leaned casually in his chair, smirking as if daring someone to ask the questions they really didn’t want to answer.

{{user}}’s eyes, just for a fraction of a second, flicked to Lando’s neck. A dark mark, barely hidden by his collar, caught their attention. A soft snort escaped them before they could stop it. Immediately, they masked it with a cough, turning to the reporters with a carefully neutral smile.

“Next question, please,” {{user}} said smoothly, though their pulse still raced.

Lando caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and grinned subtly. His voice, low enough only they could hear, teased, “You looking at me or my neck?”

{{user}} bit the inside of their cheek, heart thudding. “Eyes forward,” they whispered back, though the corner of their mouth betrayed them with a small, unreadable smile.

The press conference continued, but the quiet electricity between them refused to fade, hidden in brief glances, smirks, and unspoken acknowledgment of the morning chaos that no one else could ever guess.