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It didn’t used to feel like this—this unbearable ache sitting low in his belly, sharp like a hunger and heavy like a secret. It hadn’t always been this gnawing, all-consuming thing. It used to be sweet. Innocent. Gentle, even. Quiet desire tucked safely behind kisses that tasted like cherry chapstick and nervous laughter. The soft, clumsy kind of intimacy that came with first love, the kind where hands trembled more than they touched, and everything felt like too much and not enough all at once.
Kimi used to be afraid of going further. Afraid of pain, of giving up control, of ruining something so soft and sacred by turning it into something he couldn’t take back. And Ollie—god, Ollie never once made him feel guilty about it. Never once pushed, never once rolled his eyes or sighed or made Kimi feel like he was withholding something a boyfriend was supposed to give. Ollie had always kissed his forehead instead of his lips when Kimi flinched. Had always held him until his heartbeat slowed. Had always whispered, “We have time. I’d wait forever, amore.”
And for years, that had been enough.
But something shifted. Slowly. Then all at once.
It was the way Ollie started looking at him—not with lust, exactly, but with something hotter, heavier, more restrained. The way his big hands hovered now when they kissed, like they were barely holding back from grabbing his hips, his thighs. The way he groaned when Kimi moaned too high, or pressed too hard, or looked at him a certain way. It was the way Ollie would sometimes pull away during a heavy makeout session, forehead pressed to Kimi’s, whispering things like “Fuck, I want you so bad,” but then kissing his temple and saying, “Not yet. Not unless you’re sure.”
And the thing is—Kimi was sure. He had been. For weeks. Months, maybe. But he didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know how to turn that quiet ache into words. Because Ollie was so careful with him. Because the bar was set so high now, it felt like asking to fall.
But god—he wanted him.
Not just in passing. Not just in theory. He wanted Ollie on him, in him, all over him. He wanted to be ruined by the boy who had loved him through every shy stage of his body, who had kissed him like he was fragile but held him like he was home.
It wasn’t about lust—not entirely. It wasn’t even about orgasms, even though Ollie had given him so many. With his hands, with his mouth, with just his words. The kind of pleasure that made Kimi cry out and cling, shivering through wave after wave of release while Ollie kissed his thighs and told him how beautiful he was. How good. How loved.
But it still wasn’t enough.
Because every time Ollie held himself back—every time he stopped at the edge, trembling with restraint and kissing Kimi like he was made of porcelain—it lit something desperate inside Kimi’s chest. Something greedy. Something feral.
He didn’t want to be a precious thing anymore.
He wanted to be taken.
He wanted to feel it—the stretch, the burn, the weight of Ollie inside him, pressing so deep he’d forget his own name. He wanted to be pinned down, legs shaking, Ollie’s voice breaking in his ear as he whispered filth and praise and promises that made Kimi cry. He wanted Ollie to lose control. Not hold back. Not tuck him in. Not kiss his temple and leave him aching.
Because that was the worst part, wasn’t it?
Every time Kimi thought, this is it—every time he rutted against Ollie’s thigh, or dropped to his knees and made him whimper, or lay there in the half-dark with his legs wrapped around Ollie’s waist, whispering, “Please, don’t stop yet…”—he still ended the night with a soft blanket, a kiss to the forehead, and a gentle, whispered “I love you too much to rush this.”
And Kimi would lie awake after. Still wet between his thighs. Still empty. Still trembling. Still so fucking in love he thought it might kill him.
The worst part was knowing it came from a place of care. That Ollie wasn’t rejecting him—he was protecting him. He was waiting. Still trying to be the gentleman Kimi needed when they were fifteen.
But Kimi wasn’t fifteen anymore.
He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t unsure.
He was ready.
He wanted Ollie’s cock. He wanted all of it. Every thick, overwhelming inch. He wanted to feel it push into him slow, thick and patient, until he was whimpering and clawing at the sheets, until his body was wrapped around Ollie’s like they were meant to fit.
And more than that—more than the stretch and the pressure and the pleasure—he wanted the act of it. The intimacy. The trust. The claiming. The sacredness of it. He wanted to make love to the boy who had waited for him for years. Who had touched him like worship. Who had kissed him like prayer.
He wanted to give Ollie his everything.
And he wanted to be ruined in return.
Kimi let out a slow, shaking breath, pressing his hand down between his thighs, not to touch—just to ground himself. The thought alone was too much.
He had to make it happen. Not just stumble into it. Not let it be some rushed, fumbling thing in the half-dark of his bedroom with the door locked and his phone on vibrate. He wanted more for them. He wanted everything to be right.
And he knew when.
Imola.
They had a weekend off after. No races. No events. No dinners or mandatory family brunches or contract meetings. Just the two of them.
And he had the perfect place.
His parents’ summer cabin in Tuscany. Secluded. Romantic. A tiny stone villa with grapevines out front and an actual working fireplace inside. No neighbors. No interruptions. Just the sun, and the hills, and Ollie.
He’d surprise him. Cook for him. Set the table with candles and flowers and his best attempt at pasta. He’d bring the wine, the soft sheets, the playlist they used to fall asleep to. He’d wear nothing but Ollie’s hoodie and ask, “Do you want me tonight?”
And Ollie would say yes.
Kimi bit his lip, heart stuttering. He could see it so clearly. Could feel it in his body already—the stretch, the weight, the burn, the love. His thighs shaking around Ollie’s waist, his hands twisted in the sheets, his voice high and cracked with sobs and whimpers as Ollie fucked him slow and deep and tender, telling him, “I’ve waited for this. I’ve waited for you.”
The thought alone made him dizzy.
And for the first time in weeks—maybe months—he smiled.
Because this time, it wasn’t just a fantasy.
It was a plan.
And Kimi Antonelli always saw his plans through.
He couldn’t focus.
Not on his toast. Not on the conversation Charles and Max were having over breakfast. Not on the soft sunlight pouring in through the kitchen windows or the scent of fresh basil someone had clipped for the sill. All he could focus on was Ollie’s back—broad, strong, stretching under a white t-shirt that clung damp with sweat after his morning run.
Ollie bent forward to tie his trainers again, foot up on the bench, head ducked, and Kimi’s mouth went dry.
He’d already come that morning. Quietly. Pathetically. With the edge of Ollie’s t-shirt pressed to his nose, the scent of his boyfriend’s body making his eyes roll back as he came over his hand like he’d been edged for weeks. And still—still it wasn’t enough. Watching him now, so casual, so unaware of what he did to Kimi just by existing, made Kimi’s thighs press together under the table.
Ollie looked back over his shoulder, caught him staring, and grinned. “See something you like, cuore mio?”
Kimi just blushed, pretending to sip his juice.
He couldn’t even remember when it got this bad. Only that now, it was constant. The need had settled somewhere beneath his ribs like a slow burn, hot and low and relentless. It didn’t matter where they were—at dinner with his family, in the paddock, on the couch half-watching a movie—he’d look at Ollie and feel his pulse spike. Feel his skin go hot, his body ache, his mind spiral into some version of what he could be doing if he were braver, filthier, more honest.
And Ollie didn’t help. Not with the way he looked. Not with the way he moved. He wasn’t even trying. He never tried. He just existed in that soft, golden skin and lazy grin and toned, devastating body like it didn’t wreck Kimi every time they touched. Like he didn’t know what he was doing when he pulled Kimi into his lap and whispered, “Missed you today, amore,” while pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck.
Kimi was losing his mind.
He wasn’t a virgin in the strictest sense. They’d done things. So many things. Ollie had made him come with nothing but his mouth on more occasions than Kimi could count, each time like he loved it—like he couldn’t get enough of Kimi’s taste, his sounds, the way he trembled and cried out and grabbed fistfuls of Ollie’s hair.
And Kimi had given back, too. Eager, messy blowjobs with his face shoved into Ollie’s groin, sucking like he was starving, desperate to hear Ollie lose his composure and whisper that he was being so good for him. Sometimes he’d jerk them off together, hot and fast, thigh to thigh in bed under the covers while everyone else slept down the hall. Sometimes it was lazy, with Kimi half-asleep on his chest and Ollie’s fingers working him slow, until he was shaking in his arms, unable to speak.
But they’d never gone further. Never past fingers, mouths, hands. Never even really talked about it. Because for years, Kimi wasn’t ready.
And Ollie never once complained.
He was the perfect gentleman. Always. He worshipped Kimi’s pleasure like it was sacred. Always made sure Kimi came first, often more than once, before even thinking about himself. And when Kimi would collapse against him, used-up and breathless, Ollie would tuck him into his arms, kiss his temple, and say things like, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
And Kimi would feel so loved. So safe. So protected.
But now he felt like he was starving.
Because he didn’t want to be protected anymore. Didn’t want to be the gentle thing Ollie tucked under his chin and held like glass. He wanted to be ruined. Stretched out, wrecked, fucked open. He wanted to feel Ollie lose control. Wanted to see him snap. Wanted him deep, all the way inside, so full Kimi couldn’t even think.
He wanted to be the reason Ollie’s hands shook. The reason his voice cracked. The reason he lost his rhythm and fucked—messy, desperate, needy.
Kimi crossed his legs under the table and took a shaky breath, ignoring the way Max was now talking about track conditions and Charles was teasing him for forgetting his protein shake again.
He couldn’t keep going like this.
He had to do something.
Later, after Ollie left for training and the house settled into a familiar quiet, Kimi padded barefoot into his room and closed the door behind him. He sat on the bed, staring at the half-zipped overnight bag he’d used at the last race weekend, then reached for his laptop.
His fingers trembled slightly as he typed in the login to his family’s private property portal. The Tuscany cabin sat at the top of the list. Still empty. Still forgotten. Nestled in the countryside like it was waiting for him.
Kimi clicked through the calendar. The weekend after Imola: free.
No races. No obligations. No excuses.
His heart pounded.
He could do it. He could book it. He could plan something just for them—away from everyone, somewhere soft and warm and theirs. No parents. No walls. No curfews. Just Ollie. Just their bodies. Just the truth of how badly he wanted this.
He bit his lip hard, thinking about what he’d pack. Pajamas he wouldn’t wear. Lube—so much lube he’d feel ridiculous. He already had it in his drawer, bought months ago and barely touched. He knew how much prep he’d need. Knew Ollie was big. Knew he’d have to breathe through it, open for it, begging for it.
His cheeks flushed hot. His thighs pressed tighter.
He was nervous. Of course he was. He’d never done it before. Had never even had anything bigger than three fingers inside him, and even that had left him flushed and gasping, twitching under Ollie’s mouth. But he wanted it.
God, he needed it.
More than fear, more than hesitation, there was this ache. This need to feel Ollie in a way that he never had. To make it real. To let him in. To let himself be split apart and loved through it.
And maybe that was it—maybe that’s why it burned so hot. Because it wasn’t just sex. It was love. It was years of it. Years of soft touches and gentle hands and whispered promises in the dark. Years of building something that deserved to be marked with sweat and skin and stretch and heat.
He wanted to remember the first time for the rest of his life.
And he wanted Ollie to remember it too.
The thought made him dizzy.
He flopped back onto the bed, lips parted, arm thrown over his eyes. His heart was racing. His cock was hard. His mind was spinning.
He wanted Ollie’s voice low and filthy in his ear, calling him “amore” and “mine.” He wanted to ride him until Ollie begged. He wanted to be bent over the kitchen table, moaning against the wood, Ollie’s cock buried in him to the hilt, one hand in his hair and the other gripping his waist so tight it bruised.
He wanted Ollie possessive. Rough. Loving.
He wanted to come from it—split open, shaking, sobbing into the mattress while Ollie fucked him through it, whispering, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, amore. You’re doing so good.”
His hips shifted against the bedspread and he whimpered before he could stop it. Everything inside him felt electric. Raw. Ready.
The beast inside him—quiet for so long—was wide awake.
And it would not be satisfied with half measures.
~~~~
He waited.
The kitchen had grown quiet, the remnants of dinner cleared away, chairs tucked back under the table, soft light filtering down from the old brass pendant above the island. The others had drifted out—Max with his espresso, Oscar with his phone tucked under his arm, Lando laughing at something Ollie said as they made their way upstairs. The house settled into a warm, easy hush. And Kimi waited.
It was the perfect moment.
He could feel it building in his chest, just beneath his collarbones—nerves fluttering sharp and bright. His hands were clenched together in his lap, fingertips cold despite the heat that had crept into his cheeks.
Charles stood at the counter, rinsing out a wine glass with practiced ease, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the dark curls at his nape damp from the steam rising off the sink. He looked peaceful. At home. Like someone who had made a life and filled it with love.
Kimi’s hands trembled slightly.
He waited, sitting on the edge of the breakfast nook with his knees pressed together, knuckles pale around the glass of lemonade Charles had poured for him like clockwork. Mint, ice, and just the right amount of sugar—because Charles always remembered. Even when Kimi didn’t ask. Even when it had been months since he last mentioned how he liked it. Charles saw him. Not just as his son’s boyfriend. But as himself.
Kimi didn’t have a parent like that.
And he knew, somehow, that was what made this moment harder than it should’ve been.
He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out small.
“Charlie… can I speak with you?”
Charles turned immediately, wine glass half-raised. He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, didn’t even blink at the question.
“Certo,” he said softly, smiling as he set the glass aside. “Cosa ti preoccupa, tesoro?”
Tesoro. Kimi’s heart did something awful in his chest at that. Not because it hurt, but because it was too kind. Too intimate. A word meant for someone precious. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and forced his legs to stop bouncing.
“I…” His voice caught, and he hated that it did. “I wanted to ask something. But it’s about Ollie, and I’d never do it without your and Max’s approval, so—if either of you say no I won’t even mention it again, I swear, but—”
Charles just raised a hand gently, palm open.
“You’re rambling, mon ange,” he said warmly, taking a seat across from him at the table and folding his hands. “Just breathe. I’m here. Tell me.”
It still stunned Kimi, how safe he felt with him. Not just liked—loved. Respected. Seen. His own parents had never looked at him like that, never made space for his feelings to exist without judgment. But Charles always did.
Kimi gripped his glass tighter.
“I wanted to ask if it would be okay to take Ollie on a weekend getaway. As a surprise. After the race. After Imola.” He forced the words out fast, afraid he might lose his nerve if he slowed down. “My family has a cabin in Tuscany. It’s really quiet, really nice, and we have the weekend off. No commitments. I just… I want to do something romantic for him. For us. He’s been working so hard, and I just—he deserves something special. Some peace. Just us. But only if it’s okay with you both.”
He looked up, breath caught in his chest.
Charles didn’t speak immediately. He took a sip of wine, then held the glass thoughtfully. His face was still kind—no frown, no worry—but also unreadable. Kimi panicked slightly.
He filled the silence.
“I haven’t asked my parents yet,” he admitted. “Because I wanted to speak to you first. Your opinion matters more. If you say no, there’s no point asking them. They’ll just say no too. But if you say yes, they won’t care. Or they’ll pretend not to.”
Charles set his glass down and turned to face him fully, arms crossed gently across his chest.
“Tesoro,” he said softly. “You know how much I care about you, right? You’re as one of my own. I’ve watched you grow up. You’re in my home. You’re in my heart.”
Kimi’s throat closed.
“I just have to ask you this, to help me decide,” Charles continued. “Don’t you think you and Ollie are a little too young to go away on your own? A romantic getaway, no chaperones… it’s a big step.”
It wasn’t unkind. There was no accusation in it. Just concern. Just the weight of parental love.
Kimi nodded, even though his hands shook. He took a breath. A deep one.
“I won’t say we aren’t young,” he said honestly. “Because we are. But we’re not reckless. We’re not kids anymore. We’ve both worked so hard—on ourselves, on each other. We’ve earned a little space. I’m not taking him to party. I’m not sneaking off to do something stupid.”
He looked up, eyes steady now, wide and serious.
“I want to give your son a few days of peace. Of love. Of something soft and quiet that belongs only to us. No pressure. No danger. Just long mornings and lazy afternoons and dinners we cook together. I want to surprise him. Not just because I love him—but because he deserves to be spoiled.”
Charles blinked, and something in his eyes softened.
“We won’t go off the grid,” Kimi added quickly. “I promise. No crazy adventures. Just us. Just the quiet.”
Charles studied him for a moment, then tilted his head.
“Would you really understand if we said no?” he asked gently.
Kimi dropped his gaze, heart sinking. “You always know what’s best for us, Charlie. So I wouldn’t argue. But… I’d be disappointed. I just had to ask.”
There was a beat of silence, then warm hands on his shoulders, pulling him forward—into Charles’s chest, into his arms, into the kind of hug that made Kimi feel like he belonged.
He clung to it. Felt the burn rise in his throat.
“You can take him, tesoro,” Charles murmured into his hair. “You’ve convinced me. I trust you. You’re doing this for the right reasons. And you love him so much—we all see it.”
Kimi nodded into his shoulder, his hands trembling against Charles’s back.
“But under one condition,” Charles added, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “You check in with us every day. Not negotiable. We need to know you’re both okay. Phones on. Texts answered. Understood?”
“Yes,” Kimi whispered, voice thick. “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Charlie. Thank you.”
Charles smiled, his hand rising to cup his cheek.
“You’re a gift to this family, Andrea. And to him. He’s going to love it.”
Kimi almost cried. He felt the tears sting but blinked them back. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Charles’s cheek—gentle, grateful, adoring.
Charles just stood there for a moment after he left the room, dazed and smiling, fingertips pressed to where Kimi’s lips had touched his skin.
~~~~
It was late when Charles finally turned off the lights.
The bedroom was quiet, warm with the low hum of the dimmed wall sconces still flickering against the stone accent wall. The balcony door had been left cracked open; a lazy Monaco breeze stirred the edge of the white linen curtains. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and rosemary from the garden. Max was already stretched out under the sheets on his stomach, bare-chested, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he stared at something on his iPad with the kind of still concentration that only ever came from looking at live telemetry or financial reports.
Charles stepped out of the ensuite bathroom, towel slung over one shoulder, curls damp, skin dewy from moisturizer. He padded barefoot across the wood floor and slid into bed with a sigh that was half exhaustion, half deep, emotional fog.
Max barely looked up, but he reached out lazily and brushed his hand against Charles’s hip. “That was a long kitchen talk.”
Charles hummed, flopping onto his side and curling toward him, cheek resting against Max’s bicep. “It was Kimi.”
Max’s fingers paused, then resumed tracing light circles over the curve of Charles’s thigh.
“Oh?” he asked, tone casual, but not careless. Max always listened more closely when it came to Kimi.
“He asked to take Ollie away for the weekend,” Charles murmured. “After Imola.”
That got Max’s full attention.
“Where?”
“His family’s cabin in Tuscany.”
Max turned his head, and his glasses slipped to the tip of his nose.
“Alone?”
Charles nodded against his arm. “Yes. Alone.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “You said yes?”
“I said yes. Why you don’t think it’s a good idea?” asked Charles concerned
“ You know that I always agree with your decisions involving our children, it’s not that… It’s just-“
Max blinked. Once. Then reached up to remove his glasses with one hand and set them aside on the nightstand with a slow, deliberate motion. His voice was still neutral when he asked, “You know what that means, right?”
Charles groaned and buried his face in Max’s shoulder.
“Don’t,” he muttered.
Max chuckled.
“I’m just saying,” he said, shifting onto his side so they were face to face, Charles’s hand sliding across his chest. “Romantic getaway. No parents. Two hormonal boys. In love. In Tuscany. With privacy.”
Charles groaned louder and shoved at his arm. “Stop it. You’re ruining the magic.”
“I’m just being realistic,” Max said, trying — and failing — to suppress a smirk. “You didn’t really think they were going to spend the whole weekend making pasta and journaling by candlelight, did you?”
“I was trying not to think about it at all, actually,” Charles snapped, half into a pillow. “And you’ve just made it impossible.”
Max laughed, rich and warm and fond.
“I mean,” he went on, voice dropping into something quieter now. “You do realize you just gave them permission to sleep together for the first time, right?”
Charles lifted his head slowly, face a complicated mess of horror, reverence, and reluctant acknowledgment.
“I was just so moved,” he said miserably. “He was so sweet, Max. So nervous. And respectful. And honest. He didn’t even mention sex. Not once. He just talked about love. About wanting Ollie to rest. To feel adored. It was the most mature, romantic thing—how was I supposed to say no?”
Max ran a hand up Charles’s arm, soothing. “You weren’t.”
Charles sniffed. “But now you’ve said it, and I can’t un-hear it. You’ve turned this beautiful gesture into a countdown to penetration.”
Max burst out laughing.
“You’re awful,” Charles muttered, shoving his shoulder.
“I’m honest,” Max countered, still laughing.
Charles rolled to his back and flopped one arm over his eyes, sighing like a martyr. “My baby’s not going to be a baby anymore.”
Max leaned over him and kissed the center of his chest, right over his heart. “No, he’s not.”
And for a moment, the silence returned—not heavy, not awkward. Just real.
Max rested his chin on Charles’s sternum and looked up at him. “You know, it’s not a bad thing.”
Charles didn’t answer immediately.
“He’s growing up,” Max continued. “And we’re lucky. He’s doing it with someone who loves him. Who we trust. Who came to you before even his own parents.”
Charles lowered his arm and stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly. “I know. I do. But part of me just… wants to stop time. Just for a little bit.”
Max nodded against his chest.
“I remember when they were fifteen,” Charles whispered. “How Ollie would get flustered just holding his hand. How Kimi used to sit in the passenger seat twisting the hem of his shirt whenever I picked them up from school.”
Max smiled. “They still do that, sometimes.”
Charles reached up and tangled his fingers in Max’s hair. “I know. But soon they’ll be driving each other. Booking hotel rooms. Making decisions without asking us. It’s all changing.”
Max moved higher, laying half across Charles’s body, one leg between his thighs, his hand sliding up under the hem of Charles’s t-shirt.
“You’re allowed to miss the little version of him,” Max said. “But I also think you should be proud of who he’s becoming.”
Charles let out a long, slow breath. His hand found Max’s jaw and stroked his cheek.
“I am proud,” he said. “So proud it hurts. It just… hurts.”
Max leaned down and kissed him. Soft. Lingering.
“I know,” he murmured. “But he’s okay, schatje. He’s more than okay. He’s in love. And you helped him become the kind of man who could be loved like that.”
That made something twist in Charles’s chest. Something warm. Something aching.
“Do you remember our first trip away?” Charles asked softly. “When we stayed in the cottage outside Spa? And we thought it would just be sex, but it wasn’t? We talked all night. I made terrible eggs.”
Max laughed into his neck. “And then you tripped on the garden step and knocked over a planter.”
Charles smiled. “We weren’t much older than they are.”
“No,” Max agreed, settling his weight more fully over him. “We weren’t.”
They lay there like that for a while—limbs tangled, breath steady, the old rhythm of years wrapping them up like gravity.
“Do you think he’s ready?” Charles asked eventually. “Really ready?”
Max was quiet for a long beat.
“I think he loves Kimi more than anything,” he said. “And I think Kimi’s waited. And thought about this. And chose to ask you. Not because he needed permission, but because he needed blessing. That means something.”
Charles closed his eyes. “You’re right.”
“I always am.”
Charles smacked his thigh. “Don’t ruin it.”
They fell into silence again, the kind that only came from years of knowing each other’s thoughts before they were spoken.
Max stroked his hand down Charles’s side, under his shirt, fingertips gliding over warm, bare skin. “Want me to distract you from your parental existential crisis?”
Charles opened one eye. “Depends. Is this one of your silent, emotionally supportive distractions, or are you about to say something filthy and traumatize me all over again?”
Max smiled, slow and wolfish. “Depends. You want me to talk about how our baby boy’s probably going to—”
“Don’t you dare.”
Charles shoved at him, but Max just laughed, kissing him until his protests turned into soft whimpers and fingers tugging at his waistband.
And later, when they lay tangled in the sheets, breath slowed, hearts thudding in rhythm, Max curled his arms around Charles’s waist and whispered, “He’s going to be okay.”
Charles, still catching his breath, pressed a kiss to Max’s temple and whispered back, “I know.”
And this time, he did.
~~~~
Kimi had never packed so slowly in his life.
There were only two days left before Imola, and everything was already confirmed—flights booked, the car rented, the keys to the Tuscany cabin secured under his name. Charles had spoken to his parents for him, just like he promised, smoothing everything over with some warm, diplomatic message about how the Verstappen-Leclerc family trusted Andrea and thought this trip would be good for him and Ollie. His mother hadn’t even called. His father replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
That hurt more than it should’ve. But Kimi didn’t have time to think about that now.
Because he had a bigger problem. Namely: how the fuck do you pack discreetly for a weekend where you fully intend to be fucked into a mattress for the first time in your life?
He was sweating. Physically sweating.
There was a bottle of water-based lube lying in the middle of his bed like a glowing radioactive object. He hadn’t even taken the tag off. There was a second bottle next to it—the thicker silicone kind the guide had recommended for… prolonged sessions. He blushed just thinking the words.
“Prolonged sessions.” Oh God. He was going to die.
He’d read four prep guides. No, five. One of them he’d saved in a secret Notes folder on his phone under the title Bio Homework which made him laugh when he wasn’t seconds from throwing up with nerves.
He was so ready and so not ready. He’d practiced with fingers. He’d taken his time. He’d been careful. But Ollie was… big. Really big. Kimi had seen it—more than once, more than a few times actually, when they were fooling around.
He was long and thick and veiny and Kimi was still so painfully virginal that he could feel his thighs press together just at the memory of it. His stomach flipped. His body burned.
He wanted it. He wanted it so badly.
And still—beneath the layers of need, of ache, of that hot tremble in his hips every time Ollie kissed him like he meant it—there was something deeper. Something quieter and so much more dangerous. He didn’t just want to get fucked.
He wanted to make love.
He wanted Ollie slow and close, kissing him through it, whispering things in that low voice he used only when they were alone. He wanted to feel him—every inch of him—stretching him open while he wrapped his arms around Ollie’s neck and gave himself over completely. He wanted to take him. Hold him. Be held.
He didn’t want something fast or messy or desperate. He wanted everything.
And that meant waiting just a little longer. Making this trip perfect.
Which is why, when Ollie caught him staring at the lube bottles like they’d personally insulted his ancestors, Kimi nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Jesus, babe.” Ollie’s voice was warm and sleepy. “You look like you’re hiding state secrets.”
Kimi yelped and turned around, shoving the toiletries bag closed with an audible zip.
“I’m not hiding anything!” he squeaked, voice cracking.
Ollie raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a hoodie two sizes too big— Lando’s hoodie, actually. The one with the black devil horns stitched into the hood. He looked devastating.
“Liar says what?”
“What?”
“Aha.” Ollie grinned, predatory and smug. “So you are lying.”
Kimi cursed under his breath in Italian. He could feel heat crawling up his neck.
“Come on,” Ollie said, walking closer with slow, deliberate steps. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head, huh?”
Kimi took a step back. His ass hit the edge of the bed.
“I was just thinking about you,” he mumbled.
“Yeah?” Ollie cocked his head. “Little old me?”
“There’s nothing little about you and you know it,” Kimi said before he could stop himself.
It hung in the air for a second—hot, loaded, electric. Kimi’s face burned.
Ollie smirked, one hand reaching up to gently brush his cheek, thumb stroking across the soft skin just below his eye.
“Oh,” he said, voice going low. “Keep the compliments coming, sweetheart. I like this conversation.”
“ Of course you do you’re God complex is as big as you di-“ Kimi tried to open his mouth to say something—anything—but Ollie dipped down and kissed the side of his neck, slow and possessive, and Kimi moaned. High. Embarrassingly high.
“Fuck,” he whimpered.
“You alright?” Ollie murmured against his throat.
No. No he was not alright.
He was so hard his waistband hurt. His thoughts were spinning—lube, stretch, cock, Ollie, love, love, love—and all he could do was clutch at the front of Ollie’s hoodie and try not to slide to his knees.
“I—” he gasped, “we—we have dinner soon.”
Ollie pulled back slightly, their lips only a breath apart.
“We do.”
“You should be quick then,” Kimi said before he could stop himself. “If we’re fast about it—”
Ollie groaned and pressed their foreheads together. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“You’re the one kissing my neck like we’ve got all night.”
“I’m trying to be respectful,” Ollie whispered, dragging his thumb along Kimi’s bottom lip. “You know, like a good boyfriend.”
“You are a good boyfriend,” Kimi said, and meant it. “But I’m—fuck, I’m so—”
Ollie didn’t let him finish.
He kissed him. Deep and dirty, hot and slow.
And then they were tumbling onto the bed, Kimi beneath him, legs spread, bodies pressed so tight it was impossible to pretend this wasn’t happening.
Ollie rutted down against him, dragging his hips hard enough to make Kimi see stars. And then he reached between them and fisted both their cocks together, stroking fast and firm, their thighs trembling, breaths ragged.
It was filthy. Desperate.
It was so them.
And Kimi nearly said it. Nearly begged. Nearly opened his mouth and said please, Ollie, I want you, take me now, take me here, I’m yours, I’ve always been yours—
But he bit it back.
Not yet.
Not like this.
Instead, he came with Ollie’s name on his lips, head thrown back, his back arching so hard it hurt. Ollie followed seconds later, groaning low into his shoulder, pressing soft kisses to his collarbone as they panted through the aftershocks.
They lay there in silence for a long moment.
And then—
“Dinner,” Ollie said, voice dazed. “ Dad’s gonna kill me.”
Kimi laughed. He couldn’t help it. “You mean Max or Charles because my money’s on Charles.”
“Both. They coordinate punishments, I’m sure of it.”
Kimi smiled and tucked his face into Ollie’s hoodie. He could smell himself on Ollie’s skin.
He was so in love it hurt.
But as Ollie stood to change his shirt, Kimi stayed lying there, chest still heaving, legs weak and open.
His body throbbed. His heart ached.
And in that dizzy, hazy moment of silence, one thought rose above the rest:
He’s just a man sometimes. The distraction worked. And he thinks with his other head.
~~~~
The week had passed in a haze — like walking through a dream he’d whispered into the universe and was now living inside. Kimi could barely track the days. He remembered packing lists and softly humming love songs under his breath, remembered quietly counting money and checking his toiletries twice, three times, making sure everything he might need — lube, condoms, wipes, nerves of steel — were tucked deep in his overnight bag where Ollie wouldn’t see.
He remembered Charles’s soft kiss to his cheek after their talk in the kitchen. Max’s blunt humor that left him red-faced and laughing. He remembered Ollie tossing an arm around him midweek and whispering, “You’re up to something, aren’t you?” with a smirk and a kiss to the top of his hair.
But most of all, he remembered feeling like he was floating. Like he couldn’t hold the fullness of this love inside him anymore, couldn’t keep it from spilling into everything — his fingers, his voice, his body.
And now it was Friday.
The morning was still and silver-blue, not yet dawn, the shadows in the room long and gentle. The air was cool, the sheets warm. And Ollie—sweet, perfect, his—lay tangled in the bedding beside him like some beautiful creature made of sun and sleep and golden skin.
Kimi didn’t move for a long while. He just looked. Let himself have this.
Ollie was shirtless, one arm slung across Kimi’s waist, their legs knotted together under the duvet. His curls were a soft mess across the pillow, jaw slack, breathing slow. His mouth was slightly open, pink and damp, and Kimi felt heat stir in his stomach just from watching the tiny movements he made as he dreamed — a twitch of the brow, a little hitch of breath.
God, he was unreal.
And Kimi… was nervous.
Not bad nervous. Not panicked. But trembling. Heart-thudding. The kind of nerves that come with wanting something so much your body doesn’t know what to do with itself. He was already wearing the hoodie Ollie once said looked unfairly hot on him — deep black, soft-lined, too big. He’d spritzed his neck and chest with the cologne Ollie liked, the one that made him groan and say “Get that off, or get on top of me.”
And in just a few hours, they’d be on a private jet heading to Tuscany. To the quiet little cabin Kimi used to visit with his mother in the summers, tucked into the hills, where the air smelled like lavender and stone. It had a clawfoot bathtub and a kitchen with one squeaky floorboard. He used to play there with toy cars. Now he was taking Ollie. Now he was—
Oh my god I’m taking Ollie there to lose my virginity.
Kimi shoved his face into the pillow and let out a silent scream.
He’d been fantasizing about this for weeks. Not just the sex—though yes, that too. He was seventeen and in love and fully aware of how big Ollie was, how heavy he felt in his hand when they fooled around, how his own body buzzed at the thought of stretch and fullness and being held down and taken slowly.
But it was more than that. He wanted to give this to Ollie. All of it. The quiet mornings, the wine at sunset, the nervous laughter in soft sheets.
He wanted to make love.
Not just get fucked.
Make love.
And that… that terrified him.
But for now, he had to wake him.
“Amore…” he whispered, voice barely above breath. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the shell of Ollie’s ear, then down the side of his neck. Warm, sleepy skin. The scent of him — like skin and boy and faint shampoo — made Kimi’s stomach twist. “Ollie, baby…”
Ollie shifted, his lips parting with a soft exhale. He frowned slightly, then turned his head toward the pillow.
Kimi bit back a smile. He nudged closer. Pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then another to his jaw. Then brushed his nose gently against his.
“Ollie.”
This time he got a groggy sound.
“Mhmm?”
It was barely a word, just a breath shaped like one. Kimi melted. His chest hurt with how much he loved him.
Then Ollie cracked one eye open. “Why’d you stop?” he rasped, voice hoarse and thick with sleep. “If this is how I start my mornings… I vote we start like this every day.”
Kimi grinned, heart hammering. “Mmm… I think if you play your hand right, it might be in the cards.”
That made Ollie hum again, this time shifting closer, hand tightening around Kimi’s hip. His thigh slotted between Kimi’s legs, warm and solid, and Kimi felt his breath catch. Fuck. Focus.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said softly.
“Surprise?” Ollie murmured. “What for?” A beat passed. Then a pause. Then panic. “Wait—fuck, did I forget our anniversary? Isn’t it in November? It’s only summer!”
Kimi snorted. “Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.”
“I haven’t even had my tea! Don’t do this to me!”
“You didn’t forget anything, amore. This isn’t about an anniversary.” Kimi touched Ollie’s jaw, drawing his eyes back to him. “It’s just something I wanted to do. For us. Something special.”
Ollie looked at him, bleary and warm and blinking. “Okay…” he said slowly. “What kind of special?”
“I cleared it with your papa and your dad,” Kimi whispered, suddenly shy. “We have an early flight. That’s why I’m waking you now.”
There was a long silence.
Then:
“A flight?”
Kimi nodded.
Ollie blinked again. Then sat up fast, staring. “Like… an actual plane flight? You—wait—you packed our bags?!”
Kimi nodded again, now sheepish. “Last night. While you were asleep.”
“You devil in a hoodie,” Ollie said, eyes wide with disbelief. “That’s why you’ve been acting so weird! I knew it!”
“Hmmm, I can be devious when I want to.”
“I knew you were planning something! I said it!” Ollie rolled back on top of him, straddling him now, and Kimi gasped at the sudden weight and heat, Ollie’s thighs bracketing his hips. “Where are we going?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Kimi.”
“Nope.”
“Kimi.”
He grinned up at him. “You’ll see.”
“I should’ve known,” Ollie muttered, but he was smiling now too, a slow, dopey grin that made Kimi’s toes curl. “God, I love you.”
“I love you too,” Kimi whispered, heart full to bursting.
And then Ollie kissed him.
Long. Deep. Slow. Not rushed, not greedy — just… knowing. Warm. Gentle. A kind of claiming that felt like a promise. Kimi arched up into it, curling a hand into Ollie’s hair, the other against his neck. Their legs tangled tighter. Time stilled.
He thought, wildly, I’d give you everything.
Then Ollie pulled back, breathless, voice husky. “I need to shower before I climb back on top of you and make us miss whatever plane we’re supposed to be on.”
Kimi let out a high, shaky laugh. “Tempting.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Ollie grinned. He kissed his nose. “You’re dangerous.”
And then he slipped out of bed, bare from the waist up, hair a mess, and padded toward the ensuite, leaving Kimi in the wreckage of their shared morning.
Kimi lay back against the pillows, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. His hands curled into the sheets.
It was happening.
It was all really happening.
And god… he couldn’t wait.
The kitchen was warm when Kimi padded in, still flushed from Ollie’s kiss, his lips tingling and damp, the taste of sleep and sugar and affection lingering in his mouth like a secret. The sun streamed through the tall windows in long golden slats, cutting soft shadows over the marble countertops. Max was standing at the stove, barefoot and half dressed, flipping crepes with lazy precision. Charles sat curled up at the end of the bench, glasses perched low on his nose as he scrolled through his phone, an espresso cup steaming beside him.
They both looked up when Kimi entered. And then they smiled—identical, immediate. The kind that struck straight into Kimi’s ribs.
“Morning, tesoro,” Charles greeted, setting his phone down. “Did he wake up?”
Kimi nodded and tried not to fidget, hands curled tight in the sleeves of Ollie’s hoodie. He’d borrowed it last night—too big on him, drowning his frame, but it still smelled like Ollie’s cologne, like cedar and musk and comfort. It anchored him through the nerves.
“Yes,” he said softly. “He’s showering.”
Max turned off the burner and plated the last crepe, glancing over his shoulder. “Did you tell him where you’re taking him?”
“Not yet,” Kimi admitted, stepping further in. “He knows we’re flying somewhere, but I still want it to be a surprise.”
He hesitated a moment, then moved to sit beside Charles, tucking himself small on the bench. He wasn’t usually this quiet, this shy around them. But something about today—it made him feel younger than usual, more fragile. Like every emotion in him was stretched thin and glowing, held close to the surface, threatening to break open with a single word.
Charles must’ve sensed it. He always did. He reached out and squeezed Kimi’s knee gently, reassuring. “You did all this for him, mon cœur. Of course he’ll love it.”
Kimi didn’t respond at first. Just swallowed hard and nodded, looking down at the table. The smells of crepes and citrus and warm linen filled the air, cozy and grounding. A life he had been let into, folded into without question, and still he felt so undone by it sometimes.
“My parents barely asked where I was going,” Kimi murmured after a moment. “Just asked how long, if I needed money. Told me to be careful. That’s it.”
Charles exhaled slowly, lowering his espresso. Max sat down beside him now, leaning his elbows on the table. “They’re not unkind, Kimi,” Charles said carefully. “But they don’t… show things the way we do.”
Kimi nodded. “I know. I just…” He blinked and gave a shaky laugh. “It’s dumb. I just wish they’d asked if I was nervous. Or excited. Or what I packed. Like you do.”
“It’s not dumb,” Max said, startlingly gentle. “You deserve that. You’ve always deserved it.”
Kimi looked up then, eyes glassy, and Max leaned across the table to slide a plate in front of him. “Eat, piccolo. Before your romantic getaway. You’ll need the strength.” And then he winked, like he couldn’t help himself.
Charles groaned. “Max.”
“What?”
Kimi giggled wetly and shook his head, blinking the emotion back. It wasn’t sadness, not really. Just an ache. A quiet ache of being seen too clearly.
He ate slowly, soft bites between sips of lemon water. Charles asked if they’d packed phone chargers. Max reminded him to text once they landed. Kimi promised he would. They asked if he needed snacks or books or sweaters for the evenings. Kimi said he’d packed Ollie’s favorites. Charles squeezed his hand.
Before they left, Kimi stood and hugged them both. One at a time. He didn’t usually do that, but today it felt necessary. Needed.
“Thank you both,” he whispered into Charles’s shoulder. “You’re the kind of parents any kid would be lucky to have.”
Charles made a soft noise and pressed his cheek to Kimi’s temple.
Max held him a little tighter than usual, his big palm splayed across Kimi’s back. “Take care of each other, yeah?”
“We will.”
And then Ollie appeared in the doorway, hair still damp, looking stupidly handsome in his grey hoodie and sweatpants, and Kimi felt his knees weaken just a little. Like his body couldn’t quite believe this was real.
“You ready, lover boy?” Ollie grinned.
Kimi rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. “Are you?”
They said their goodbyes, Charles swiping a kiss off Ollie’s cheek and fussing over whether he’d packed sunblock. Max handed them the car keys with a gruff smile and told them to send proof of life when they landed. Kimi held Ollie’s hand the entire drive to the hangar, fingers laced tight in his lap, thumb stroking the smooth skin over his knuckles.
Ollie kept glancing sideways at him, clearly itching with curiosity.
“So. Cabin in the woods? Remote Italian monastery? Secret Ferrari factory tour? Tell me, Andrea.”
“Nope.”
“A crime scene we need to dispose of?”
Kimi snorted. “Not this time.”
Ollie pouted dramatically, shifting closer in the leather seat. “You’re cruel.”
Kimi tilted his chin up with mock arrogance. “I’m mysterious.”
“You’re wearing my hoodie and smelling like my cologne. That’s not mysterious, it’s domestic terrorism.”
That earned a sharp laugh, and then a blush when Ollie leaned closer and nuzzled his nose into Kimi’s neck, inhaling deeply. “God, I love when you wear my stuff.”
Kimi tried not to melt. “Behave.”
“Never.”
The jet was waiting when they arrived—sleek, black, and gleaming like something out of a dream. Kimi felt his heart stutter again. Not because of the jet, but because of the way Ollie smiled at him when they boarded, boyish and breathless and so obviously in love.
The interior smelled faintly of leather and coffee. The seats were wide and luxurious. Kimi dropped into one beside the window, tucking his feet under him. Ollie flopped down beside him, stretching out like he owned the sky.
“Dad let you use the plane,” Ollie whispered with a grin, nudging Kimi’s thigh. “You’re all spoiling me.”
“You deserve it,” Kimi said softly. “All of it.”
They sat in silence for a moment as the plane taxied. Ollie reached over and threaded their fingers together, grounding him.
“Wherever we’re going,” Ollie said after a long beat, “I already love it. Because you planned it. And because you’re here.”
Kimi turned toward the window so Ollie wouldn’t see the tears threatening to rise again. His heart felt too big for his chest. His fingers clutched Ollie’s tighter.
He thought about the tiny cabin in Tuscany waiting for them. The way the stone glowed in the evening light. The way he planned to cook for him, kiss him on the terrace, lie with him in the grass.
He thought about his suitcase—about the lube tucked discreetly into the side pocket, about the silky boxers he’d picked just for tonight. About Ollie’s hands on his skin. His mouth. His voice.
He thought about trust. About love. About being ruined.
He turned back and kissed Ollie’s knuckles, heart thrumming steady now beneath his ribs.
They were on their way.
And Kimi was ready.
~~~~
The wheels kissed the tarmac with a gentle hum, and Kimi’s heart seemed to land alongside the plane. The soft thud sent adrenaline through his system, but not in the way that racing did—this was a different kind of anticipation, something warm and urgent curled between his ribs. Beside him, Ollie stretched his long legs and rubbed the sleep from his face with the heel of his hand, blinking against the sunlight pouring through the small jet window. Kimi couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop soaking him in. Ollie looked so beautifully undone by morning—hair tousled, eyes soft, skin still faintly flushed from the half-hour nap he’d taken with Kimi curled against his side like a cat.
“You’ve taken me to Tuscany?!” Ollie said, voice still hoarse with sleep but lit up with something that made Kimi feel dizzy. “You know how much I love Italy!”
That grin—god, that grin—was the reward for every minute of planning, every logistical headache, every night Kimi had lain awake imagining Ollie’s reaction. It split across his face like sun through clouds, crooked and bright and sincere. He looked down at Kimi with that open-mouthed kind of awe, and Kimi felt like his knees were made of lace.
“Ti piace?” Kimi asked, half-shy, trying to sound casual but failing completely.
Ollie didn’t answer right away. He just reached out, one big hand wrapping around Kimi’s waist as easily as if he were made to fit there, and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, amore. You did this for me?”
“For us,” Kimi whispered, and Ollie didn’t even hide the way his eyes went soft.
The car ride to the cabin was quiet, the kind of silence that feels sacred, like a shared secret. Kimi sat close, hand tucked in Ollie’s, rubbing circles into his palm as the hills of Tuscany rolled by like something painted—vineyards, crumbling stone walls, sleepy olive groves kissed gold by the morning light. Kimi’s chest was a hummingbird of nerves, but under it was a deep, swelling pride. This was his surprise. His plan. And Ollie was glowing.
The cabin sat on the edge of a sleepy village, tucked just far enough into the hills that it felt hidden from the world. Old wood, honey-colored stone, fresh lavender bunches on the windowsills. The roof slanted in a way that made it feel like a secret hideaway, but the windows opened wide to the sun, pouring light into every corner. There was a vine-covered pergola out front, a gravel path that crunched beneath their shoes, and a little table for two overlooking the fields. The door creaked softly when Kimi opened it.
Inside, the air was warm with pine and lemon and something faintly floral—soap, maybe, or dried herbs tucked into the drawers. Sunlight painted soft rectangles on the floorboards. The kitchen was quaint, with mismatched tiles and copper pans hanging like ornaments. The bedroom at the back of the house had linen curtains swaying in the breeze and a bed big enough to swallow them whole. Everything smelled clean and soft. It smelled like love.
Ollie walked slowly, reverently, like he was afraid to disturb the stillness of it. Kimi followed behind, heartbeat trapped in his throat. When Ollie turned, his expression wide-eyed and stunned, he didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. And then, softly, like it was a prayer, he said, “This is perfect.”
Kimi almost cried. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard, and nodded. “I hoped you’d like it.”
“I love it.” Ollie’s voice caught, and he turned to look at Kimi with that look he only ever wore in private—full of pride and affection and hunger all at once. “You planned all of this?”
Kimi nodded again. “Even the lavender.”
Ollie’s smile stretched again, slow and wicked. “You romantic little menace.”
They dropped their bags in the bedroom, Ollie taking an indulgent moment to sprawl across the bed and groan in satisfaction while Kimi stood with his arms crossed, pretending to look disapproving but unable to stop the fond smile tugging at his lips.
They changed—Kimi slipping into one of his light linen shirts, the kind Ollie always tugged on when he wanted to be flirty, and Ollie in shorts that made Kimi’s mouth go dry—and ventured into the village. Hand in hand. Carefree. The sun was kind and golden, the streets cobbled and quiet, the gelato sweet and sticky on their lips. They stopped by an old church, kissed behind a laurel tree, stole each other’s cones like children. Kimi laughed so hard at one of Ollie’s impressions of Charles that his stomach hurt. He hadn’t laughed like that in weeks. Hadn’t felt this light in longer.
They took a few selfies, just the right amount of sweet and stupid, and sent them to Max and Charles with the caption “Arrivati 💛 Tutto perfetto.” Max responded with a thumbs up and a reminder to keep phones on. Charles sent back a string of emojis that ended in a heart and a kiss and “Fate i bravi!” which made Kimi snort.
But beneath the laughter and the sunshine, there was a hum in his blood. A slow burn. Kimi kept catching Ollie’s hand in his, kept glancing at his profile when he thought Ollie wouldn’t notice. He looked so relaxed, so beautiful—like he belonged here, like the sunlight loved him as much as Kimi did. And every time he smiled, Kimi felt himself ache with the need to give him more. To give him everything.
The cabin glowed amber in the golden light of evening. Kimi had lit a single candle on the kitchen counter and dimmed the others until the space looked almost like a dream — soft and shadowed, haloed with the scent of garlic, basil, and good wine. Outside, the late summer air still clung with heat, the windows cracked open to let in the sound of cicadas and the breeze brushing through the pines. Inside, it was just the two of them. Kimi stirred the sauce gently, rhythmically, breathing in the herbs and tomatoes and pretending his hands weren’t trembling. His apron was tied loosely around his narrow waist, a gift from Charles years ago—cream-colored with red trim, cinched just enough to make his figure look even smaller. He hadn’t done it on purpose. Or maybe he had. Maybe he wanted Ollie to see him like this. Wanted Ollie to want him.
The pasta water was beginning to boil. He reached to add the salt, biting his lower lip as he caught the reflection of himself in the window. His hair was a little messy. His cheeks were pink from the stove heat. But he looked… soft. Sweet. He hoped it was enough. He’d spent the afternoon thinking too much—about his body, about what Ollie saw when he looked at him, about how it would feel to give himself to him completely. He was so in love it made his chest hurt. And terrified, in equal measure.
Because Ollie was beautiful. Not just in the way that made people stare, but in the way that made Kimi feel seen. Protected. Adored. Even now, as he heard heavy steps behind him, and felt the soft pressure of big hands wrap around his middle, he melted. Ollie pressed in against his back like he couldn’t help it, like Kimi was magnetic.
“You’ve taken me to my favourite place ever,” Ollie said, voice low and playful, his lips brushing the side of Kimi’s neck. “You never once teased me today, and now you’re cooking my favourite dish? Are you an actual angel on earth, or…” A beat. A soft kiss to the back of Kimi’s ear. “Are you planning to break up with me and want to do it gently?”
The words were a joke, clearly, but Kimi still froze for a breath too long. His hand paused mid-stir. The spoon in the sauce wobbled.
He swallowed.
The idea of breaking Ollie’s heart felt physically impossible—like slicing his own open. He hadn’t expected that reaction. Even teasing about losing Ollie made his gut twist. He would never—could never—walk away from this boy. He was already too deep. He wasn’t here to let go. He was here to give everything.
“Don’t ever joke about that while we’re on holiday,” Kimi murmured, voice quieter than usual. “Or I’ll choke you in your sleep, tesoro.”
Ollie chuckled, the vibration running through Kimi’s spine. “Noted.”
“Now taste this.” Kimi lifted the wooden spoon carefully and turned his head slightly, letting Ollie lean around him. Ollie’s lips were still curled in a smile, but it dropped away the moment the sauce hit his tongue.
“Oh my God,” he said, groaning. “That’s not fair. You can’t cook like that and look like this. I’m at a serious disadvantage.”
Kimi bit back a grin. “Have I told you how much I love you today?”
“Only a few times. You could up your game.”
Kimi almost burst out laughing. Almost. Instead, he turned slowly in Ollie’s arms, lifted his chin, and kissed him full on the mouth. He poured every word he didn’t know how to say into it—every tremble of fear, every blistering burst of love, every moment he’d spent longing and never believing he’d find something like this. Ollie kissed him back with a kind of gentle hunger, like he could taste Kimi’s nerves but wanted him anyway.
When they broke apart, Ollie pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “I love you, Andrea. You’re the perfect man. Perfect boyfriend. My life would be meaningless without you.”
Kimi had to shoo him out of the kitchen after that, waving a spoon like a sword, cheeks red as wine. “Out! Or I’ll burn the pasta.”
“You could set the kitchen on fire and I’d still be in love with you.”
“Va via!”
The candlelight flickered across the set table. A single white taper in a ceramic dish. Two wine glasses. A bottle of red Max had insisted they take—Chianti Classico, something local and romantic. The plates were plain, the cutlery mismatched, but the whole room shimmered with a sort of domestic magic that Kimi could barely believe he’d created.
He called Ollie in when the food was ready, and Ollie walked in wearing a soft grey hoodie and sweatpants, hair still damp from the shower, looking like sin and boyhood and love all at once. Kimi’s heart ached with it. He didn’t know how one person could make him feel so feral and so gentle all at once.
They sat close. Not side by side, not across from each other, but diagonally, just enough for their knees to brush. Ollie poured the wine with exaggerated care.
“Don’t tell my dads,” he said, lifting the glass to Kimi’s lips.
Kimi giggled, cheeks still warm. “If they ask, I’ll say I was drunk on love.”
“I think you’re just drunk on me.”
Kimi didn’t answer. Because maybe he was.
The food was good. Perfect, even. But Kimi barely tasted it. His stomach was too full of nerves, of want, of longing so raw it felt physical. Every time Ollie’s foot brushed his under the table, he flinched—not from discomfort, but from how much he wanted more. Their conversation drifted easily: summer plans, music, that stupid TikTok Ollie wouldn’t stop quoting. But underneath it all was the steady drumbeat of tension. A thrumming ache. Kimi couldn’t stop looking at Ollie’s hands. How big they were. How gently they held the wine glass. How rough they could be if he asked.
He pressed his thighs together under the table.
Dinner ended with soft laughter. Ollie helped him carry the plates to the sink, rolling up his sleeves like he was preparing for battle. “You wash, I dry,” he declared.
Kimi tried to protest, but Ollie was already grabbing the sponge. So he relented, standing beside him as they worked side by side, water splashing, their elbows bumping. The air smelled of basil and dish soap and lemon and wine.
Ollie splashed a little water on Kimi’s shirt. Kimi retaliated with a flick of foam. They laughed, pressing close. When Kimi reached to rinse a pot, Ollie leaned in and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the back of his neck.
Kimi’s breath caught.
“Thank you,” Ollie whispered, his voice low and slow, “for all of this.”
Kimi felt the world tilt. He closed his eyes.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “But it’s nothing.”
“It’s everything.”
They stood there a moment longer. Kimi could feel Ollie’s chest warm against his back. He could feel Ollie’s hands ghost over his hips, just resting there, just barely. It would take so little to turn around. To drop to his knees. To say please. But not yet. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to be ready.
But still—when Ollie brushed his lips up his neck again and whispered, “Take the wine to the living room, I’ll join you in a minute,” he nearly dropped the glass from how badly he wanted.
He didn’t say it. Didn’t moan. Didn’t beg.
But he felt it, all the same.
He dried his hands, grabbed the bottle, and left the kitchen with a heart so full it was nearly breaking.
~~~~
The fire had gone low. Just embers now, pulsing red behind the mesh screen, casting soft flares of heat and flickering light over the wooden floors of the cabin. A single lamp glowed dim in the corner, untouched, and the rest of the room swam in warm shadows—intimate and slow, like the whole world had taken a breath and chosen not to let it out. Kimi was curled sideways in Ollie’s lap on the oversized linen couch, their legs tangled like vines, his bare feet tucked under Ollie’s thigh and his cheek pressed to the slope of Ollie’s shoulder.
Their wine glasses sat half-full on the table, the rich red catching gold glints of firelight. Kimi had one hand resting on Ollie’s chest, fingers moving slowly, rhythmically, like he couldn’t stop touching. The other was woven through Ollie’s, thumb stroking the inside of his palm.
There were no sounds beyond the quiet creak of the cabin and the wind outside in the pines.
No world beyond this room.
No past, no future. Just now.
He could feel Ollie’s breath under his cheek, steady and deep. Ollie had gone quiet—had started the evening bright and teasing, playing footsie under the table, pouring wine with a wink and a kiss to his neck—but now he was softer. Contained. Kimi could feel it: the way Ollie always held back a little, restrained himself because he thought he had to. Because he’d promised to be a gentleman. Because he never pushed.
It made Kimi want to scream. Or sob. Or slide into his lap and take his hand and place it between his thighs and whisper please.
Instead, he pressed in tighter, nuzzling the side of Ollie’s throat and letting out a little sigh. His body felt warm and soft and weightless, like the wine had melted him into something pliant, something willing, something close to brave. Ollie’s arms were wrapped around him loosely, one big hand resting on his thigh, thumb tracing gentle circles that made Kimi want to cry from how much he loved him.
He wanted to bottle this moment and drink it on bad days.
They’d been sitting like this for almost an hour. Talking about nothing. Everything. The racing calendar. The team drama. How weird it was that people made fan cams of their lives.
“Do you ever think,” Kimi murmured, his voice a little slurred from warmth and wine, “about where we’ll be in five years?”
Ollie’s voice was gravel-soft. “Sometimes.”
“What do you see?”
A pause. Kimi could feel him thinking. “I see you. I see us. I don’t know where, exactly—maybe Monaco, maybe a cottage in the woods. But I see you beside me, still cooking me pasta, still hiding the good chocolate in places you think I can’t find.”
Kimi laughed, quietly, his smile pressing against Ollie’s hoodie.
“I see you in a suit,” Ollie added, his hand stroking up Kimi’s thigh now, not suggestive, just slow. “At some gala. Or maybe shirtless in the garden, watering plants you keep forgetting about. I don’t care where we are, amore. I just want the life to have you in it.”
Kimi felt it everywhere. In his spine. In his ribs. In the base of his throat, where his words always got stuck.
“I want that too,” he whispered.
They fell quiet again. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just full. There was something in the air now. Something Kimi had been tiptoeing around all day, even while packing the bags, even while folding Ollie’s t-shirts in just the way he liked. Something he couldn’t put off forever.
Ollie shifted slightly beneath him. Not pulling away—just adjusting, making space. And then his voice came, low and cautious.
“Amore,” he said. “Not that I’m complaining, because I’m not. This—” he gestured vaguely to the room, the wine, the warmth—“this is perfect. And I love the intimacy we’ve got right now. It’s just—”
Kimi sat up straighter without meaning to, a jolt of nerves buzzing through his chest like a shock.
Ollie’s brow furrowed. “I feel like you want to tell me something. And it’s kind of making me nervous. You know I was joking in the kitchen earlier, right? About the breakup?”
The words spilled before Kimi could even catch them. No finesse. No poise. Just raw, wide-eyed panic and heat.
“I want to lose my virginity with you, Oliver.”
Silence.
Ollie didn’t move.
Kimi sat frozen, blood pounding behind his ears, breath caught halfway up his throat like a stone. His entire face was burning, wine-flushed and wrecked with the weight of what he’d said. He couldn’t look Ollie in the eye. Could barely even stay still. He felt like he was vibrating out of his skin.
“I—I mean—” He tried to backpedal, but it was no use. It was out now. Alive in the room. Breathing between them.
Ollie’s hand, which had been stroking his thigh, tightened suddenly—possessive, instinctive, like a reflex he didn’t mean to let slip. His jaw flexed. His mouth was slightly open. And his eyes…
God, his eyes.
They’d gone dark. Deep and black and starless, like he was staring into something he couldn’t name. Like a dam had cracked behind them.
Kimi swallowed, heart thudding like a drum.
“I trust you,” he whispered. “I love you. I’ve thought about this for so long and—”
Ollie was still silent. Breathing hard now.
Kimi’s whole body felt hot. Trembling. He reached for the wine glass with a shaky hand and took a sip, only to realize he was holding it with fingers that couldn’t stop shaking. The glass nearly clinked against his teeth.
Ollie reached out and gently took it from him, setting it on the table. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t blink.
Their eyes locked.
And suddenly the air was thick. Molten.
Heavy with the weight of now.
Kimi could feel every inch of skin Ollie’s hand had touched. His thigh where it gripped. His waist where it hovered. The side of his face where Ollie had kissed him earlier like he was something sacred.
He couldn’t breathe.
He didn’t want to breathe.
He just wanted to be wanted.
And in this moment—with the fire fading and the wine still on their tongues and Ollie looking at him like that—he knew he was.
Ollie shifted, just slightly, leaning forward enough that Kimi could feel the heat of him again. But he didn’t move further. Didn’t speak. Didn’t touch.
He just looked at him like he’d waited his whole life for Kimi to say those words.
And Kimi?
Kimi trembled.
The air between them was electric. Hot with unspoken things.
And then—nothing.
No kiss. No touch. No answer.
Just the moment. Just the revelation. Just Ollie staring at him with a hand still flexed on his thigh and a silence that said everything.
Kimi closed his eyes.
The glass trembled again in his hand.
And the fire kept burning.
~~~~
Ollie couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
The words—“I want to lose my virginity with you”—looped over and over in his head, louder than his pulse, louder than the crackle of the fire, louder than anything else that had ever existed. They weren’t even real words anymore. Just a bright, feral ache in his chest. A seismic shift in the gravity of his world.
Kimi was in his lap, flushed and trembling, thighs warm against his own, lips parted in anticipation and fear. And all Ollie could do was not react. Not pounce. Not do what every inch of his body, his soul, was screaming at him to do.
Because fuck, he’d waited for this. Waited for years. Waited while they made out half-clothed in the backseat of cars, while Kimi traced his tongue down Ollie’s chest and moaned into his mouth and begged for more—but Ollie had always pulled back. Always waited. Always kissed his temple and said, Not until you’re ready.
But now?
Now Kimi was ready. He was ready and sitting in Ollie’s lap, with wine-flushed cheeks and storm-dark eyes and those fucking words still echoing between them.
“Amore, I—fuck.” Ollie’s voice came out like gravel, half-strangled. “I can’t even think straight.”
He cupped Kimi’s jaw gently, thumb stroking the warm, trembling skin of his cheek. “I want to. I really, really fucking want to. But I have to be sure—really sure—you want this. Because there’s no going back from this, tesoro. You’d be mine. You’d belong to me. And you’d be a fool to think I’m ever letting you go after I get even a taste of you.”
Kimi shuddered. Audibly. Visibly. His hips rolled forward—so subtle it might have been accidental if Ollie hadn’t felt it. The deliberate grind of his cock against Ollie’s thigh, shameless and hot through soft pants.
“Yes, Ollie. I’m sure,” Kimi said breathlessly. “I’ve thought about this for months. Please. I need you.”
Ollie groaned, a low, barely-controlled noise like it had been ripped from his chest.
“Amore, yes. Fuck, yes. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. For you. You’re amazing, Andrea. Sei davvero fantastico. But I need to know you’re one-hundred percent ready, amore. You’re sure, right? No doubts?”
Kimi looked him dead in the eye. Then smiled. Slow. Dangerous. Infuriatingly seductive.
“If you ask me one more time if I’m sure,” he whispered, his fingers sliding up the back of Ollie’s neck and into his curls, “I’m going to think you’re Edward from Twilight.”
Ollie blinked.
“You’re dick isn’t going to break me,” Kimi went on, mouth brushing Ollie’s ear as he spoke. “I’m not made of glass, Oliver. I want you. I want you to make love to me. Fuck me. Stretch me open on your cock.”
The breath left Ollie’s lungs like he’d been punched.
His restraint cracked. Then shattered.
“Jesus fuck.” His hands grabbed Kimi’s waist, palms spanning those tiny hips so easily, like they were made to be held by him, controlled by him, devoured. Kimi gasped, but he didn’t resist. He just tilted his head back as Ollie pulled him forward, yanking him in for a kiss so deep, so feral, it made Kimi whimper.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was a claim.
Tongues battling, spit exchanged, their teeth clacked together and Ollie didn’t care. He tongued into Kimi’s mouth until he was moaning, gasping, grinding in his lap like he was already being fucked. When he pulled back, a string of spit still connected them, glistening in the dim firelight. It was obscene. It was perfect.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Ollie whispered, leaning in, breathing hard against Kimi’s throat. His hands tightened around Kimi’s waist. “So small. So tiny. So mine. The perfect size to fit against me. You look like a doll, Andrea. The most beautiful fucking doll that’s ever existed.”
Kimi whimpered, arching against him.
“I could just throw you over my shoulder,” Ollie growled, licking at the skin just above Kimi’s waistband, his voice dropping lower and lower, “carry you wherever I want, and do whatever I want to you. It’d be that easy.”
He kissed under Kimi’s hunched-up shirt, tongue teasing the skin of his lower belly. Kimi’s cock twitched, painfully hard beneath thin fabric, and a hot moan spilled from his lips.
“Tesoro… please—”
That was it.
That was the end of Ollie’s self-control.
“Come here, amore.” His voice was rough silk. He scooped Kimi up like a bride on her wedding night, arms under his thighs and back. Kimi yelped, hands flying around Ollie’s neck as he clung to him.
“What are you doing?” he laughed breathlessly. “Put me down, I was enjoying myself.”
Ollie smirked, his voice dropping to a purr as he kissed the corner of Kimi’s mouth.
“I’m not going to make love to you for the first time on a fucking couch, amore. You deserve more than that. You deserve a bed. You deserve to be seduced. Taken care of. Worshipped. That’s what I’m going to do tonight. I’m going to worship you.”
Kimi trembled in his arms, breath catching like he’d been struck.
“I’m going to make you fall apart on my cock,” Ollie whispered, voice low and dangerous. “Prepare yourself, Andrea. Because after tonight, the only thing you’ll remember is my name from crying it so hard.”
Kimi moaned, head falling back, lips parted and glistening, eyes nearly black with want.
And Ollie—God—Ollie held him tighter.
His boy.
His to hold.
His to wreck.
His to love.
He carried Kimi across the living room, every step echoing in the quiet cabin, and paused in the hallway just outside the bedroom door. He looked down. Kimi’s face was flushed and trembling with anticipation. He had one hand curled into Ollie’s chest, the other tangled in his curls, and he was breathing like he’d already been fucked.
Ollie smiled.
Then kicked open the door.
The bedroom was bathed in soft gold light. The sheets were already turned down, the duvet loose and waiting. The air smelled faintly of lavender and salt skin. The window was cracked and the cicadas were singing outside. It was romantic. Warm. Perfect.
And Ollie stepped through the doorway with Kimi in his arms like the most precious thing he’d ever carried.
Like a bride.
Because that’s what Kimi was tonight.
His.
Loved.
Claimed.
Worshipped.
And Ollie was going to show him exactly what it meant to be chosen—with tongue, with hands, with cock, with love. Every single inch of him.
And Kimi?
Kimi was going to be ruined for anyone else.
~~~~
It started the moment he shut the door.
Kimi’s back hit the sheets, and Ollie hovered above him, one knee sinking into the mattress, hands on either side of his head, and for a moment—just a moment—he didn’t move. He looked.
Kimi looked wrecked already. Flushed cheeks, glossy lips parted, curls clinging to the damp of his temple. His breathing was uneven, chest rising too fast, eyes glassy with something more than want. It was need. So raw and real Ollie could feel it in his own ribs.
“Amore,” Ollie whispered, and Kimi whimpered under him, hands already reaching, tugging at his shirt, trying to drag him down.
They kissed. Sloppy and eager, messy mouths sliding together, tongues brushing, breath hitching. Kimi kissed like he couldn’t get enough, like every second he wasn’t attached to Ollie’s mouth was a second wasted. And Ollie let him—for a while. Let him grind up, rutting against his thigh with little broken gasps. Let him whisper please between kisses like he was afraid Ollie might make him wait.
But Ollie wasn’t cruel. He’d never be cruel to him.
He pulled back just enough to see him. His sweet boy. His Kimi.
“You want me to take care of you?” he murmured.
Kimi nodded frantically, curls bouncing. “Ollie, I need—fuck, I need your mouth, please—”
That word. That voice. The way Kimi said please like it hurt him to ask—like he already belonged to him and just needed Ollie to remember.
It made Ollie ache with love. Made him starve.
So he moved slowly. Carefully. Like Kimi was something priceless he’d waited years to unwrap. Which—he was. They’d waited. They’d earned this. And now Ollie was going to take his time and savor every fucking inch.
He sat back on his heels and lifted the hem of Kimi’s t-shirt, smiling when he saw the faint tremble in his boy’s hands.
“You’re shaking already?” Ollie teased gently. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”
“You are touching me,” Kimi whispered, voice wrecked.
“Not properly.”
He pulled the shirt up, pausing at Kimi’s ribs to press an open-mouthed kiss just below the curve. Kimi jerked, breath hitching. Then Ollie kept going. Up over his chest, his shoulders, arms raised like surrender, until the shirt was off and tossed aside.
“Christ, look at you,” Ollie breathed. “So fucking small. You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”
Kimi was tiny beneath him—narrow chest, delicate shoulders, pale skin flushed and warm. Ollie kissed a line down his sternum, then veered off to the left, sucking at his collarbone, then down—slow, worshipful kisses to each nipple, grinning when Kimi arched with a moan.
“Sensitive tonight?” Ollie murmured against one peak, then dragged his tongue across it.
“Always—fuck—always with you—”
“Mmm.” He trailed lower, across his stomach. “I know.”
He kissed down Kimi’s belly, stopping to suck a bruise just above his waistband. Kimi gasped, legs twitching.
Then Ollie looked up.
“Can I take these off, amore?”
Kimi was already nodding.
Ollie hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the thin boxers and began to tug, slowly, watching the way Kimi squirmed, hips lifting obediently. Inch by inch, soft smooth skin appeared, the sharp rise of hipbones, the tender V-line Ollie had kissed a hundred times in dreams.
He didn’t even mean to speak out loud, but it came anyway.
“Madonna mia… Sei perfetto.”
Kimi’s cock was flushed dark red, leaking at the tip, not especially long but so fucking pretty it made Ollie’s mouth water. He took his time just looking at it—at all of him. Kimi’s thighs were pale and soft, legs twitching with need, and his hole—
Jesus.
Small, pink, twitching slightly—like it was winking. Like it knew Ollie was staring and was just as needy for him as the rest of Kimi was.
He exhaled shakily, palms sliding up the inside of Kimi’s thighs, gently spreading him open.
“Oh, baby. Guardati. You’re so ready for me and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the crease of his thigh. Then another. Then another. “Così piccolo. Così tenero. You give me everything. You always do.”
Kimi whimpered, back arching. “Please, Ollie. Please. Your mouth—”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Ollie lowered himself slowly, one hand wrapped around the base of Kimi’s cock, the other resting against his hip to steady him. And then—he took him in. Slowly. Carefully. All the way to the base.
Kimi cried out like he’d been struck by lightning.
His back bowed, hands flying to Ollie’s curls, not pulling—just holding. Scratching gently. And Ollie groaned, cock throbbing in his jeans.
God, his scalp. Kimi knew. Knew how sensitive Ollie got when someone tugged his hair. Knew how much he loved having his curls played with, how it made him throb.
Ollie moaned around his cock, tongue laving underneath the shaft as he began to bob his head, slowly at first, then faster. He pulled off with a wet gasp just to kiss the length, then took him again, this time deep. All the way.
Nose pressed to trimmed curls. Throat stretched around him.
Kimi shouted, breath coming in sobs. “Ollie—fuck—please, let me—can I—please let me cum, please—”
Ollie pulled off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and pressed a slow, wet kiss to the side of Kimi’s cock.
“Come whenever you want, amore. Sei mio. You beg so sweet. You’re so good for me. Così buono.”
And then he swallowed him again.
One hand massaged his balls, rolling them gently, the other pinched his nipple again—this time harder—and that did it.
Kimi screamed.
His whole body locked up, spine bowed, toes curling, head thrown back against the pillows as he came—hard—straight down Ollie’s throat. Ollie swallowed it all, one hand splayed across Kimi’s twitching belly to hold him steady.
When it was over, he pulled off with a final kiss and climbed back up the bed.
Kimi was still trembling, lashes wet, cheeks red, mouth open. Ollie gathered him close, pulled the blanket halfway over them, hand rubbing circles on his back.
“You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re with me. Tutto bene, amore. You did so good.”
Kimi clung to him. Shaking. Boneless. Still glowing with the aftershock of it all.
Ollie felt like his heart was going to split open from how much he loved him.
Just as he reached for the duvet to tuck it over them properly, Kimi’s hand caught his wrist.
“What are you doing?” he asked, breathless but sharp.
Ollie blinked. “What?”
“I don’t want to rest.” He sat up, eyes still glazed but burning. “I’m fine, Ollie. We don’t have to stop.”
“Tesoro, you’re still shaking. We’ve got time. Always. I’ll never rush you. Your safety and comfort are my priority.”
“Safety and comfort my ass,” Kimi snapped, climbing over him. “I’m not made of glass. And I’m gonna show you how fine I am.”
Before Ollie could react, Kimi was straddling him, thighs spreading over Ollie’s hips, bare ass pressing down against the outline of his cock. Ollie’s breath caught.
He looked insane. Glowing. Bare. Flushed and smug and completely wrecked but still hungry.
Kimi rolled his hips hard, dragging his ass over the fabric of Ollie’s jeans, and Ollie growled—hands flying to grip his hips, fingers imprinting little bruises.
“Fuck—Kimi—slow down a little—”
“Nope.” He was grinning now. “I’m yours tonight. But you’re also mine. I’m going to show you how I stake my claim. Tesoro.”
And he bent forward, lips to Ollie’s throat, sucking hard.
Ollie’s head thudded back against the mattress, hips jerking up into the friction, a raw sound tearing from his throat.
“Sei mio,” Kimi whispered against his neck. “I’m gonna make you feel it.”
Kimi tried to tease him.
Tried to rock his hips down and drag that slick, perfect ass over Ollie’s clothed cock like he thought he had the upper hand. Like his flushed cheeks and pouty lips and the slow roll of his hips could undo Ollie and take the night into his own trembling hands.
And god, he almost did.
Because Ollie could barely breathe watching him move like that—small bare body grinding down, all flushed chest and parted lips, curls damp and sticking to his face, eyes shining with that look he got when he thought he was being brave. In control. Sexy.
But Ollie didn’t give up control.
Not for anyone. And definitely not for Kimi when he’s like this. He’s going to make his first time count.
He caught him—hands shooting to his waist and grabbing, possessive and hard, dragging him down to grind into him properly. “I think you forget who’s in control here, amore,” Ollie growled, voice low and ragged as he pulled one of Kimi’s thighs up around his waist, holding it there, locking their bodies together. “I am. I own you.”
Kimi gasped, body arching as the rough fabric of Ollie’s jeans caught his oversensitive cock. “Ollie—fuck—”
“You think you can handle me? Handle this?” Ollie dragged his hips up, rutting hard against Kimi’s length again, making him whine, high and broken.
“Do you think that this small frame can handle me?”
God, Kimi’s body. Every time he had him like this—bare and soft and open beneath him—it drove Ollie mad. He was so small. So perfectly formed. His narrow waist, the dip at his hips, the trembling thighs spread wide around Ollie’s bigger body. Ollie always felt huge beside him—shoulders broader, legs longer, hands dwarfing Kimi’s delicate fingers. And Kimi adored that. Ollie could see it every time he held him down, every time he pressed his hand flat against Kimi’s chest and covered him.
Just like now.
Ollie brought one hand up and pressed it flat against Kimi’s belly, spreading his fingers wide, spanning from his ribs to his navel. Kimi moaned like the little menace he was, eyes rolling back, hands fisting in the sheets.
“I don’t want to stop,” Kimi whispered.
Ollie looked down at him.
The flush on his cheeks. The way his lips trembled. The way his thighs stayed spread without being told to, just in case Ollie wanted to touch him again.
“Amore,” Ollie said softly. “You’re still shaking.”
“I’m fine,” Kimi insisted. He was already reaching for him again, pupils blown wide, breath shuddering. “I’m yours, Ollie. I told you—I want to feel you. I want everything.”
And there it was. That look. That ache.
That trust.
Ollie sucked in a breath. Pressed his hand flat to Kimi’s belly to ground him. Just feeling him — his warmth, the rhythm of his breath, the way his skin trembled faintly beneath his palm — it undid him.
He leaned down and kissed him again, slower now. Deep and unhurried. Tongue slipping past Kimi’s lips like a promise. One hand found Kimi’s jaw, thumb stroking beneath the hinge of it, holding him steady as they kissed.
“I’m going to ruin you,” Ollie murmured when they parted. “Con amore.”
And he meant it.
He sat back on his knees, gently shifting Kimi’s hips, and his hands trembled as he reached for the bottle of lube. His jeans were still on, cock hard and leaking beneath the denim, but this wasn’t about that. Not yet. This was about Kimi.
He was sprawled open on the sheets, legs splayed without shame, cheeks burning but his expression still defiant — as if he wanted to be seen like this. Wanted to be looked at.
“You’re perfect,” Ollie said again. And he meant it more than he ever had. “Fatto per me.”
“Then show me,” Kimi whispered.
So Ollie did.
He kissed the insides of his thighs first. Slow. Lingering. Letting his lips drag over sensitive skin, feeling the tremors ripple through Kimi’s legs. Then up—closer—until he was eye-level with the sweetest, pinkest thing Ollie had ever seen.
Kimi squirmed.
Ollie chuckled softly. “You get shy now? After everything I’ve done to you?”
Kimi flushed deeper. Bit his lip.
Ollie pressed a hand gently over his belly again. “Stay still, amore,” he whispered. “If you can’t handle me looking at your pretty little hole, you’re not ready to feel me inside it.”
He said it with a smile, but there was weight behind the words. Kimi understood it. Nodded.
Ollie reached for the lube with one hand, slicked his fingers carefully, and exhaled before pressing the pad of one finger to that tight, beautiful entrance.
“Just breathe,” he said gently. “Let me in, piccolo mio.”
He pushed — slow, deliberate — and the tip breached. Kimi moaned, soft and breathy, thighs trembling.
“That’s it,” Ollie murmured. “Good boy.”
The first finger slid in slowly. Ollie didn’t thrust. He just held it there, palm resting against Kimi’s ass, letting him adjust. Letting him feel. Kimi’s breathing hitched again, but he didn’t pull away. He opened around him.
So trusting. So fucking obedient.
Ollie kissed the curve of his ass. “You’re doing so well. So tight. Dio mio. This little hole’s gonna break me.”
Kimi whined.
Ollie started moving — slow thrusts, in and out, curling his finger as he watched the way Kimi’s body responded. The twitch in his thighs. The shiver in his hips.
“Still okay?” Ollie asked gently.
Kimi nodded against the pillow. “It feels—good. It feels so good.”
“Good,” Ollie whispered. “Let’s see how good.”
He added a second finger, carefully.
Kimi let out a high-pitched moan, arching slightly. “Ah—Ollie—”
“Shhh. I’ve got you.” He pressed his hand down again, palm covering half his back. “Just breathe, baby. Let me in.”
The stretch was more noticeable now. Kimi’s body tensed, but only briefly, before it gave — letting him in, sucking him deeper. Ollie groaned at the feel of it.
“You were made for this,” he said softly. “Made to take me. Look at you—already opening up so beautifully.”
And Kimi melted at the praise.
He always did. It was like magic — say a few soft words, tell him he’s good, that he’s pretty, that he’s his—and Kimi would fall to pieces in Ollie’s hands.
It made Ollie want to live in this moment forever.
He started scissoring, opening him up, slick sounds filling the room. He could feel every tiny flutter of muscle around his fingers, the way Kimi clenched down one second and invited him in the next.
And then—
He curled his fingers forward. Just slightly. Just enough.
Kimi screamed.
“Ollie—there—fuck, fuck—right there—”
Ollie grinned. “Oh, you like that?”
Kimi was trembling now, spine arching, face buried in the pillow. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop—”
“Never.”
Ollie kept going. Fingertips pressing into that sweet, spongy spot over and over, feeling Kimi writhe and gasp and cry out like he’d never been touched like this in his life. And maybe he hadn’t.
Not like this. Not like this.
With love.
With reverence.
With hands that shook not because he was nervous, but because he was in awe.
Ollie added a third finger slowly, watching Kimi’s back arch again, sweat beading along the dip of his spine. His body quaked. But he didn’t tell him to stop. He didn’t say it was too much. He took it. Every inch.
“You’re taking me so well,” Ollie whispered, almost breathless now. “Così stretto. Così dolce. You’re opening up just for me.”
Kimi moaned, a strangled little cry. “I’m yours, Ollie. I’m yours. Do whatever you want to me, I’ll take it, I promise—”
Ollie kissed the base of his spine. “You’re going to feel me, baby. Every inch. Just like you asked.”
He moved a little faster now, slick fingers pushing deep, curling and stretching, and Kimi started shaking — his thighs trembling, whole body arching again.
“Ollie—please—I’m ready—te lo prometto—I’m ready, please make love to me—please—”
And Ollie froze.
Because the way he said it—make love to me—with that trembling voice, and that look of complete surrender, like Ollie was the only thing that mattered in the whole world—
It broke him.
He pulled his fingers out slowly, reverently. Laid a kiss to Kimi’s inner thigh. His hip. His back.
Then rested his forehead to the base of his spine and whispered,
“Okay. I’ll give you everything.”
It took Ollie a moment to move.
His hand was still shaking as he cupped Kimi’s thigh, sliding it carefully down from where it had been bracketing his waist. Kimi whimpered but let him guide him, pliant as ever, watching with that dazed, trusting look that made Ollie feel like a god and a sinner all at once.
“On your back,” he whispered. “I want to see you.”
Kimi let out a tiny sound and rolled over, spine curving prettily, curls sticking to his forehead. Ollie adjusted him gently, reverently, palms on his knees as he spread him open again, slowly, until Kimi was lying there flushed and breathless, hole twitching, cock flushed and leaking again already, body limp and needy like he belonged to the sheets.
Ollie reached behind Kimi’s back, grabbed a pillow, and lifted his hips just enough to slide it under. Propped and presenting.
He exhaled, the sight of him stealing the air from his lungs.
“Madonna,” he whispered, fingers skating over Kimi’s trembling thighs. “Look at you. I don’t think you know how perfect you are.”
Kimi turned his head, breath catching. “I do. When you look at me like that.”
Ollie laughed softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek, then his temple, then lower — along the slope of his neck, where his heartbeat fluttered under the skin.
“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered. “But only if you’re still okay. I need to hear you say it.”
And Kimi — beautiful, blinking, almost floaty from how much he wanted to be owned — smiled up at him, dazed and so, so sincere.
“Yes, Oliver,” he whispered, brushing his fingers over Ollie’s jaw. “I want to make love to you. C’mon, tesoro. I need you.”
That was all it took.
Ollie groaned quietly and leaned back just enough to unbutton his jeans, shoving them down past his thighs, briefs pulled with them. His cock sprang free — flushed, heavy, leaking, twitching toward Kimi like it knew where it belonged. Kimi’s eyes dropped to it and widened.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Ollie—”
Ollie laughed breathlessly. “Yeah?”
“You’re—fucking big.”
A flush crept up his neck. “We can still stop, baby—”
Kimi let out the tiniest laugh, all breath and blush and bravado. “If you stop now, I’m going to go into your garage and unscrew your steering wheel.”
Ollie’s laugh was quiet. Dazzled. And so fucking in love he thought it might kill him.
He leaned down and kissed Kimi again, slow and deep and full of heat. When he pulled back, their foreheads stayed pressed together, breath shared in the space between their mouths.
Ollie had never seen anything more beautiful.
“Guarda te,” he whispered, more to himself than to Kimi. “Sei un sogno. Sei mio.”
He slicked himself up with a shaking hand, the lube cool against skin that was too hot to touch. His cock ached — flushed dark, thick and heavy, already leaking. When he looked back at Kimi’s body, so delicate and stretched open, he had to bite down on a groan.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, voice barely holding together. “You’re so small.”
Kimi whimpered, eyes locking with his. “But I can take it,” he whispered. “I can take all of you, Ollie. I want to.”
Ollie exhaled like he’d been punched in the stomach. “I’ll go slow.”
“I trust you.”
He lined himself up, the thick head of his cock brushing against Kimi’s pink, fluttering entrance, and Kimi’s breath caught audibly. Ollie kissed his knee. Then his hipbone. Then looked up one more time, needing — needing — to see it in his eyes.
“You’re safe,” Kimi said softly. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Do it.”
So Ollie pushed in.
So slowly.
He felt the heat first — then the stretch, the way Kimi’s body clenched and trembled, trying to take him. Kimi moaned, one long and broken note, and Ollie had to stop, just for a moment, teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep from moving too fast.
“Inhale,” he whispered. “Let me in, amore. Just like that.”
Another inch. Another.
He watched as Kimi’s lips parted, as his eyes went glassy, as the sound he made twisted into something wild.
“S-slow down,” Kimi gasped. “Dio—fuck—you’re so big—feels like you’re splitting me open.”
Ollie stopped instantly. Heart thudding.
“Are you okay? Am I—am I hurting you? Because I can stop—I can pull—”
Kimi shot him a look even as his thighs quivered. “If you pull out now,” he whispered, “I’m going to break your nose and blame it on racing incident.”
Ollie barked a laugh, high and wrecked.
“Okay, okay. No pulling out. Bossy little thing.”
Kimi reached up and stroked Ollie’s jaw. “I’m not bossy. I’m yours.”
And Ollie’s heart cracked.
He eased in further, carefully. Every inch, he watched Kimi’s face. Every moan. Every twitch. Every sweet cry of his name.
Until he was fully inside.
The stretch was unbearable. Kimi’s hole gripped him like it was built to hold him — hot and pulsing, like it knew Ollie’s shape. Ollie stayed still, arms trembling, chest rising fast with the force of his restraint.
“Madonna,” he whispered. “You’re going to ruin me.”
Kimi whimpered under him. “Move, Ollie. Please—move.”
And so Ollie did.
Slow at first. Shallow thrusts, feeling the way Kimi’s body adjusted, feeling that tight heat suck him in. The pleasure was blinding — every drag of skin felt like he was melting from the inside out. Kimi gasped with each push, his fingers clutching Ollie’s forearms like lifelines.
“You’re doing so good,” Ollie whispered, pressing kisses to Kimi’s jaw, his cheekbone, his temple. “Così bravo. You’re taking me so well. Such a good boy.”
Kimi moaned loudly, his back arching, hands fisting in Ollie’s hair. “Say that again.”
Ollie smiled into his skin. “Good boy.”
Kimi whimpered. “Again.”
“My good boy. My sweet boy. My beautiful, perfect, filthy boy. Tutto mio.”
Kimi’s body trembled under the praise, almost like he was cumming from the words alone.
Ollie shifted his angle — raised Kimi’s hips higher — and thrust deep, slow and steady, until he found the spot that made Kimi scream.
“Ollie—right there—please, oh my god—keep going—”
Ollie did.
He started a rhythm, rocking into him, eyes locked on Kimi’s as he fucked him gently but firmly — every thrust aimed with purpose, every breath drawn between gasps of “You’re so good,” “Look at you,” “You were made for this,” “You were made for me.”
Kimi’s hands clawed at his shoulders, his back, anywhere he could find to hold onto. He was gone — utterly and completely out of his mind — whining with every stroke, pupils so blown they eclipsed the brown of his eyes.
“Ollie—Ollie—I love you—I’m gonna love you forever—”
Ollie shattered.
He pressed their foreheads together, one hand cupping the back of Kimi’s head like he could hold him closer.
“I’ll love you until my last breath, Andrea,” he whispered, voice breaking.
And then he thrust deep — hard — and Kimi broke.
“I’m cumming,” Kimi sobbed. “I’m—tesoro, please—Ollie—”
“Come for me,” Ollie whispered. “Come, amore. You’re so good. My sweet little boy.”
Kimi came with a cry — untouched — his hole fluttering wildly around Ollie’s cock, his whole body arching off the bed.
And Ollie came with him.
Buried deep, holding Kimi’s body to his like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. He moaned his name — choked and raw — and collapsed, burying his face in Kimi’s neck as their bodies trembled together.
They stayed like that — skin to skin, sweat cooling, hearts pounding — Ollie still inside him, still holding him close, whispering over and over,
“You’re mine. Only ever mine.”
~~~~
Ollie didn’t move right away.
Not after. Not once he’d buried himself as deep as he could go, whispered Kimi’s name like a promise, and came so hard he forgot his own. Not after Kimi’s moans softened into breathy whimpers, his arms locked tight around Ollie’s shoulders, his whole body shuddering from the inside out. Not even after the trembles faded and all that was left was their breathing — tangled, heavy, in perfect sync.
He just stayed there.
Still sheathed inside him. Still pressed chest-to-chest, their skin sticky, sweat cooling between them. Still listening to the soft, sleepy sound of Kimi’s exhales as his head lolled to the side, cheek brushing Ollie’s temple.
He didn’t want to break the moment. Didn’t want to shatter the quiet.
But Kimi stirred under him. Not a full movement — just a soft little shift, the kind that said I’m not asleep, but I don’t want to move, don’t make me.
Ollie smiled. He nuzzled the curve of Kimi’s neck, his voice low and fond.
“Hey, sweet boy.”
Kimi made a humming sound — nothing more. A vibration in his throat. Then a barely-mumbled, “Mm’right here.”
Ollie kissed his jaw. “I know. You okay?”
Kimi gave the tiniest nod, but it felt more like a surrender. His body was limp beneath Ollie’s, completely boneless. Still open. Still warm.
Still trusting.
“Can I pull out?” Ollie whispered, lips brushing Kimi’s skin.
A pause. A pout. And then a reluctant, “…if you have to.”
Ollie laughed softly, threading a hand through Kimi’s curls. “Baby, I love being inside you, but I don’t want you getting sore.”
“You’re already inside my bones,” Kimi whispered. “What’s a little soreness?”
Ollie kissed his temple. “I’ll take care of that too.”
He pulled out carefully, watching every twitch of Kimi’s hips, ready to stop if he whimpered — but Kimi only made a soft noise of discomfort and curled into him, already seeking warmth again.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Ollie murmured, catching his waist and guiding him gently onto his back. “Stay here. I’ll be right back, alright?”
Kimi’s lashes fluttered. “Don’t be long.”
Ollie wasn’t.
He grabbed a clean towel, the water bottle from his bag, a soft cloth and the little chocolate Kimi always hoarded in his toiletries kit, and padded back to the bed. He set everything down gently, then knelt at the edge of the mattress.
Kimi looked wrecked. Beautiful and wrecked.
His thighs were parted slightly, body limp, skin flushed in the chest and neck, eyes glassy with what looked like the edge of subspace. Not the heady, sex-crazed daze from earlier — something softer. Floatier. Safe.
Ollie knelt beside him and stroked his hand down his thigh. “Still with me, baby?”
“Mhm.”
“You’re flying a little?”
Kimi nodded, curls brushing the pillow. “But it’s a good float. Like… like sleeping in a warm car while someone you love drives you home.”
Ollie’s heart cracked down the center.
He kissed the inside of Kimi’s knee. “Let me clean you, okay?”
Kimi didn’t answer. He just reached for Ollie’s hand and held it.
Ollie used the towel first — slow, careful strokes between Kimi’s legs, wiping away his release, the lube, the sweat. He didn’t press hard. Just warm, smooth circles. When he reached his hole, he paused — cupped Kimi’s hip with one hand and murmured,
“Little sore?”
“A little,” Kimi breathed. “But I like it.”
“Of course you do,” Ollie teased gently. “You like when I take care of you.”
“Like?” Kimi whispered. “I need it.”
Ollie bent down and kissed the crease of his thigh. “Then I’ll never stop.”
He wiped the area gently, massaging his thighs once he was done, pressing kisses all along his legs as he folded the towel and tossed it aside. Then he reached for the cloth and the water.
“Open your mouth for me, amore.”
Kimi blinked up at him, lips parting automatically. Ollie tipped the bottle gently, letting him sip slow, his hand cradling the back of Kimi’s head as he drank.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just a little more. You’re doing so good for me.”
Kimi swallowed and sighed, eyes fluttering shut again.
Ollie wiped his lips with the cloth. “Do you want something sweet?”
“Mhm.”
Ollie unwrapped the chocolate and held it to Kimi’s lips.
“Bite.”
Kimi obeyed.
He chewed slowly, and Ollie could see his mouth twitching — a smile trying to fight through the haze.
“Good?” Ollie asked.
“Better than the sex.”
Ollie laughed out loud. “You’re such a shit.”
“I’m yours,” Kimi whispered, mouth full.
“Yes. You are.”
He let Kimi chew and swallow, then leaned in and kissed the chocolate off the edge of his lips.
For a long time, he didn’t move.
He just touched him.
Ran his hands over Kimi’s chest. Traced his collarbones. Pressed kisses to every inch of bare skin he could reach. Shoulders. Sternum. Throat. Hips. Every mark. Every freckle. Every vulnerable, flushed, trembling part of him.
“You were perfect,” Ollie whispered. “So perfect for me.”
Kimi’s body was soft and warm under his hands, thighs still twitching occasionally with aftershocks, his breath slow and steady like he might fall asleep at any second.
“You still okay?” Ollie murmured.
Kimi nodded. “Better than okay.”
“Want me to hold you?”
Kimi’s eyes opened.
“Always.”
Ollie slid into bed beside him and pulled him close, tucking him against his chest, limbs tangled. Kimi buried his face in Ollie’s neck and let out a sound like a sigh and a sob wrapped into one.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Ollie kissed the top of his head. “For what, baby?”
“For loving me like this.”
Ollie closed his eyes. Held him tighter.
“I’ll love you like this for the rest of my life.”
~~~~
Kimi didn’t know how long he’d been lying there, folded into Ollie’s arms, cheek pressed to his chest, their legs tangled like roots, like they’d been growing into each other for years. Time moved differently now. It was slow and syrupy, something warm sliding down his spine in lazy rivulets as Ollie’s palm stroked slowly down the length of his back. His body was loose and sore and humming, the stretch between his thighs still tender, marked. Claimed.
And God, he was.
He was completely and utterly owned.
Kimi’s entire body still ached from the way Ollie had fucked him, like it had split him open and stitched him back together in a shape that only made sense in Oliver Verstappen Leclerc’s arms. There was no shame in the soreness, in the way his hips still trembled faintly from the memory of being held down, used, worshipped. It was good pain. Sweet pain. And it throbbed in time with his heart, with every echo of Ollie’s voice in his head.
Such a good boy for me. Look at you. Mine.
Kimi breathed out shakily, almost trembling with the force of it. He was flushed from head to toe and not just from the sex — but from the knowledge, the reality, that every part of him belonged to Ollie now. His body, his voice, his heart. Everything. He’d never be able to forget the weight of Ollie’s body above him — broad, tall, burning hot with need — pressing him down into the mattress like he was something delicate, precious, but also his.
And Kimi had never felt safer in his entire life.
Not even when he was little and burrowed into warm blankets in Seb’s arms, not even when he was tucked between Oscar and Lando on movie nights, not even when he was curled against Charles’s chest getting his hair stroked like a kitten. No, this was something else. This was raw and adult and so full of love it ached. Ollie didn’t just hold him. He possessed him. Not cruelly. Not carelessly. But like Kimi was a sacred thing he’d waited his whole life to touch.
And God, the way he had touched him.
Kimi could still feel the outline of Ollie’s hands on his waist, on the back of his thighs, on his throat — not choking, just holding him still while he pressed deeper, deeper, whispering soft, ruined things into his ear. Kimi had cried, but not from pain. It had been too much, too good, too intense. He’d felt everything at once: the stretch of it, the sting, the pleasure, the devotion. Ollie had kissed every tear that slipped down his cheek like it meant something, like it mattered, and Kimi had believed it.
He’d believed every word. Every promise. Every I’ve got you, baby.
And he had.
Kimi had never felt more wanted. More consumed. Ollie’s cock had been so big — too big, Kimi had thought at first — but he’d taken it. He’d wanted it. He’d begged for it. And the way Ollie had filled him, slow and deep and then harder, bruising, splitting him in two and whispering how perfect he was, how good, how tight, had turned Kimi’s brain into molten sugar.
He’d sobbed into Ollie’s mouth. He’d clawed at his back. He’d whispered thank you over and over, until his voice had gone hoarse, because it felt like a gift. Like the moment he’d been made for. Like his whole life had led to this.
To Oliver above him. Inside him. Claiming him. Loving him.
And now — now in the quiet after, where only the sound of Ollie’s breathing filled the darkened room — Kimi curled closer. His skin was slick with sweat and cooling slowly, but he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to get water. He didn’t want to clean up. He didn’t want to ruin this. The closeness. The heavy weight of Ollie’s thigh between his, their bare chests pressed flush, Ollie’s fingers drawing mindless shapes against the knobs of his spine like he never wanted to stop touching him.
And God, maybe he never would. Maybe this was it.
Kimi had always imagined love would feel like fireworks or crashing waves — something dramatic, something loud — but this… this was quieter. Deeper. Like lava. Molten, slow, bright beneath the surface, carving out new land. That’s what this felt like: like Ollie had reshaped him. Like they’d been mated, soul-deep, the kind of union you couldn’t undo with time or distance or even death.
Mine, Kimi thought. I’m his now. Forever.
It made him ache.
He turned his face into Ollie’s chest and breathed in deep — sweat, sex, clean boyskin, and that specific scent that only ever came out when Ollie was sleepy and affectionate. Warm, earthy, like cedarwood and soap and something home. Kimi kissed the center of his chest without thinking. Just pressed his mouth there, lingering, reverent. His lips tingled from how long they’d been kissed and bitten and claimed.
He never wanted to kiss anyone else. Never wanted to be touched by anyone else. He couldn’t imagine how he ever thought he’d survive without this.
“Ti amo,” he whispered against Ollie’s skin, not even loud enough to wake him. “Ti amo, amore mio. Il mio cuore.”
Because that’s what Ollie was now.
His heart.
His everything.
Ollie shifted in his sleep and hummed, half-aware, one massive hand sliding up to cradle the back of Kimi’s head. He mumbled something into Kimi’s hair — something warm and sleepy and so full of love it made Kimi’s chest burn.
Love you more.
Kimi felt it in every nerve ending.
Tears stung his eyes again, stupid and overwhelming. He’d never known it could feel like this. He’d never believed it could. That someone would want him this much. That someone would be willing to carry him, protect him, fuck him until he broke and then hold him until he healed again. That someone would make love to him like he was the most precious thing in the world — while still ruining him completely.
Because that’s what Ollie had done.
He’d wrecked him.
Split him open. Marked him inside and out. Kimi had come apart again and again, screaming his name, nails in Ollie’s shoulders, hips lifting greedily into every thrust. The size difference had made it hotter — Ollie’s massive frame over his smaller one, the way he’d pinned Kimi’s wrists above his head with one hand, kissed him through every cry, made him feel it.
And Kimi had loved it.
Loved being owned. Loved being adored. Loved being ruined.
He pressed his thighs together and whimpered softly when he felt the dull ache between them. The fullness. The mess. He wasn’t even cleaned up. Ollie had come inside him, kissing him hard, groaning into his mouth like he couldn’t hold it back anymore. And then he’d held him through the tremors, through the aftershocks, stroking his trembling hips and whispering how good he’d been.
Kimi didn’t want to be cleaned.
He wanted to fall asleep like this. With Ollie still inside him. With his arms around him. With the taste of his love still on his tongue.
I’ll never let you go, he thought. Not now. Not ever. You’re mine and I’m yours.
It was a vow, not a wish. It already was.
Kimi nestled closer, feeling Ollie’s heartbeat against his cheek like a lullaby. The soft thud of it, slow and steady. The way his chest rose and fell. The scent of sex still hanging in the air like perfume. Kimi wanted to live here forever. In this moment. In this bed. In these arms.
He’d spent so long pretending to be okay. Acting tough. Smiling through loneliness. But Ollie saw right through all of it. He saw him. And more than that — he wanted him. All of him.
Even the clingy parts. Even the parts that needed to be held this tight.
Kimi’s lips brushed Ollie’s skin again, one last kiss before sleep could pull him under.
He didn’t fight it.
Not with Ollie wrapped around him like armor.
Not with the words Love you, il mio cuore still echoing in his head, joined by Ollie’s low, sleepy reply — Love you more — whispered into his curls like a secret.
The world outside could fall apart. He didn’t care.
Ollie loved him.
He was safe.
He was whole.
And he would never, ever let go.
With that, Kimi exhaled softly, body melting into the arms he was made for, and let the night fall over them like a warm, star-speckled blanket.
The first thing Kimi felt was Ollie’s breath against the back of his neck. Warm, steady, just faint enough to tickle, to make him shift and hum and melt further into the blankets. He was naked under them still — legs tangled, skin flushed, body humming faintly from the long, slow night they’d had. The soreness between his thighs hadn’t dulled. It wasn’t pain anymore, not really. Just a heavy heat, a pleasant ache that radiated from his center and reminded him of every place Ollie had touched, kissed, fucked.
He blinked his eyes open to golden light spilling through the cabin window. The air smelled like pine and sleep and sex, all layered over Ollie’s scent — sweet and musky, like warm skin and the salt of his sweat still clinging to the pillows.
And there he was.
Ollie.
Big, soft, warm, wrapped around Kimi like he was something precious, one arm hooked tight around Kimi’s waist, the other curled under the pillow they shared. He was still asleep, but only just — his lips parted slightly, his lashes flickering. Kimi could feel the morning wood pressed lazily against his ass and fought back a grin. His heart was already too full.
Everything felt surreal. Not in a dreamlike way — in the way where the world finally made sense.
He’d given Ollie everything last night. His body, his trust, his surrender. And Ollie had taken it with reverent hands and mouth and voice, had fucked him slow and deep and then held him like nothing else mattered. He’d made him feel like something holy.
And now, waking up in the soft light of morning, Kimi felt utterly mated.
Mine, he thought again, that same word echoing in his head like a prayer.
Ollie groaned softly behind him and pulled him closer, nose nudging into his curls.
“God,” he muttered, voice still thick with sleep, “you’re so warm. Could stay here all fucking day.”
Kimi smirked, eyes still closed. “You could. But I think your cock wants to do other things.”
Ollie laughed against his neck, low and wrecked. “You’re evil.”
“You’re hard.”
“You’re not helping.”
Kimi rolled over lazily, winding their legs together again, and pressed their foreheads close. “Morning,” he whispered, voice still rasped from use.
Ollie looked at him like he was witnessing sunrise for the first time. “Hi,” he whispered back.
Then he kissed him.
Soft and slow, like he couldn’t get enough. Like he’d been waiting all night to do it again. Kimi moaned into it, and that turned into a small giggle when Ollie groaned — that guttural, hopeless sound he made when he was too turned on too fast.
“You make the filthiest noises,” Kimi teased when they finally broke apart, eyes dancing with amusement. “Like an animal.”
Ollie flushed immediately. “I do not.”
“You do. You sound like you’re dying. Ughhn, like that.” Kimi did a terrible impression, throwing his head back against the pillow.
Ollie tackled him.
“I hate you,” he growled, wrestling Kimi down and pinning his wrists above his head with ease, grinning like a menace.
“You love me,” Kimi gasped through laughter.
“Yeah. Yeah, I fucking do,” Ollie said, voice suddenly lower, realer, softer. “You have no idea.”
Kimi’s smile faltered for a second, emotion rising so fast he had to blink it back before it melted him. Ollie leaned down and kissed him again, rougher now, hungrier. It went from teasing to desperate in seconds — bodies pressed together, legs tangling tighter, moans echoing in the sleepy morning light.
Soft, lazy sex. The kind that didn’t need to prove anything.
Kimi was already ruined for him.
Ollie kissed his neck, his jaw, his collarbone, trailing heat everywhere his lips touched. His hands stayed warm and careful, stroking over Kimi’s chest, then lower, curling around the back of his knee to hook it over his hip. Kimi gasped when Ollie pushed into him — slow, deep, like coming home.
There was no urgency. No frantic rhythm. Just the stretch of it, the weight, the sound of skin on skin and whispered praise. Kimi bit his lip and clung to him, eyes fluttering closed.
“You feel so good,” Ollie breathed, dragging his mouth over Kimi’s throat. “So fucking perfect, baby.”
Kimi tilted his head back and let Ollie take. He wanted to be taken. He wanted to be held and filled and kissed until his body couldn’t hold anything else.
They moved slow.
They came together, tangled and panting and flushed, Ollie’s hand wrapped around Kimi’s cock to stroke him through the finish, kissing his lips and forehead and cheeks until Kimi collapsed under him in a heap of heat and breathless laughter.
“Jesus,” Ollie mumbled. “We’re not leaving this bed, are we?”
“Nope,” Kimi said, limp and delighted. “I live here now.”
Ollie grinned. “You already do, baby.”
Later, much later, when the hunger finally kicked in, they stumbled into the kitchen still half-naked — Kimi wearing Ollie’s massive hoodie and a pair of boxers, Ollie in sweats slung low on his hips. Kimi was practically swimming in the hoodie, sleeves dangling past his fingers, but he didn’t care. It smelled like Ollie and sex and fresh laundry. And Ollie kept tugging it up to kiss the back of his neck.
“Stop it,” Kimi whined, leaning over the counter to crack an egg. “I’m cooking.”
“You’re teasing me,” Ollie murmured, brushing his lips just below Kimi’s ear. “Wearing my clothes. Looking like that. Moving your hips like that.”
“You’re horny,” Kimi countered, smiling. “Again.”
“Obviously,” Ollie said. “You’re wearing my boxers in the kitchen. In my hoodie. You made me breakfast and then you moaned while whisking pancake batter. What do you expect?”
Kimi laughed, pink to the tips of his ears. “I did not moan.”
“You did, baby. It was unreal.”
They cooked side by side, bumping hips, trading kisses between pancakes. Kimi kept licking syrup off Ollie’s fingers just to watch him blush. Ollie retaliated by lifting him onto the counter and kissing him until the bacon burned.
It didn’t matter. Nothing did.
They sat on stools beside the window, legs touching, bare feet brushing under the table. Kimi’s hair was a mess, neck covered in fading bruises, face glowing with the kind of pleasure that lasted longer than the orgasm. Ollie looked just as wrecked — flushed and smiling like a boy who’d gotten everything he ever wanted.
The cabin was quiet again. Breakfast dishes rinsed and stacked in the sink, the smell of maple syrup and coffee still floating lazily through the air. Kimi was curled against Ollie on the couch, legs thrown over his lap, both of them wrapped in the same oversized blanket they hadn’t bothered to fold since dragging it off the bed. Kimi’s hair was still damp from the shower, and Ollie hadn’t stopped kissing his temple every few minutes like he was checking to make sure this — all of this — was still real.
It was.
Kimi could feel it in the way Ollie held him. Not like something fragile. But like something his.
They were still tangled up in each other when Ollie’s phone buzzed with a call. FaceTime. Charles.
Ollie glanced at Kimi with a raised brow. Kimi smiled, suddenly shy.
“Should we answer?”
“We should definitely answer.”
Ollie swiped to connect, and in a blink, the living room of their home in Monaco filled the screen. Or more specifically — Charles’s face, too close to the camera as always, the tip of his nose taking up half the frame.
“Bonjour!” Charles said brightly. “I see you’re alive.”
The screen shifted as Max leaned in beside him, calm and straight-backed as ever. “Barely,” he said, eyes sharp but amused. “You two look like you slept a grand total of two hours.”
Ollie laughed, cheeks already pink. “We, uh… slept eventually.”
“We cooked breakfast,” Kimi added proudly, as if that excused the fact that he was wearing Ollie’s hoodie and clearly nothing else underneath.
Charles hummed, leaning back enough to finally give them both a full view of his expression — amused, knowing, fond. “Hmm. I see. Is that Ollie’s hoodie you’re wearing, mon bébé?”
Kimi grinned, half-buried in the collar. “Maybe.”
Max didn’t say a word, just lifted an eyebrow. The kind of eyebrow that said we know exactly what’s going on and we’re being polite about it because we’re kind, generous fathers — but don’t push it.
Ollie cleared his throat. “How’s everything back home?”
“Quiet,” Charles said. “Though the silence is suspicious.”
“I told him you two would call eventually,” Max added. “But your Papa was five minutes away from dispatching Oscar to break into the cabin.”
As if summoned, Oscar’s voice came from off-screen: “I still can, you know. I have a key.”
“Why do you have a key?” Kimi asked, laughing.
“Because I’m trusted,” Oscar called, stepping into view behind the couch with a mug of tea and an arched brow. “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s been nearly two days. Were you planning to tell your family you survived losing your virginity at any point this century?”
Ollie nearly choked. “Oscar!”
“Technically,” Oscar continued with mock seriousness, “it’s a violation of the emotional sibling code to vanish without so much as a text. We’ve been here taking bets.”
“Bets?” Ollie asked.
Oscar leaned into the camera. “How long you’d last before calling, how many hickeys Kimi would be dumb enough to let you leave above the collarbone, how red Dad would turn the second Lando opened his mouth.”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Lando muttered from the other end of the room, voice already dripping with guilt.
Oscar didn’t miss a beat. “They always drag you into it. You’re loud.”
Lando rolled his eyes and crossed the room to plop beside Oscar on the couch, tossing a leg over his lap and flashing a grin at the camera. “You two look disgusting. Which is to say: congrats.”
Max sighed.
Charles beamed. “They look happy, Lando.”
“I said what I said.” Lando smirked. “You’re glowing.”
“And you’re still not wearing a shirt,” Max said, mildly. “Is it a house rule now?”
Oscar, unfazed, took a sip of tea and offered no apology. “It’s a vibe.”
“Speaking of rules,” Charles said, leaning forward again, “I trust you two were smart?”
Ollie blinked. “Smart?”
Charles raised both brows.
“Papa—”
Oscar snorted, telling them in his own calm tone “ That means to use protection, kids.”
“ As if that ever stopped us.” scoffed Lando from his other side realising his mistake immediately.
The room went quiet.
Dad’s expression didn’t change. But his whole body seemed to pivot, his eyes narrowing slightly, his jaw ticking. The air thickened in the Monaco living room with the sudden, dense heat of a gathering storm.
“Lando,” Max said calmly, “you have three seconds.”
Lando paled. “Okay. Okay, wait, I—I take it back, I was kidding, that was—”
“You have two.”
“Fuck, okay—” Lando looked at Oscar, panic blooming in his voice. “Oscar. Love. I need you to hide the knives and write my will. Bury me next to your dignity, I’m dead—”
“You have one.”
Lando yelped and scrambled to his feet. “I was joking! Charles—!”
Oscar burst into laughter just as Max shot to his feet and lunged after Lando, who bolted through the house shouting nonsense in three different languages.
Oscar followed at a jog, yelling after them, “Don’t kill him! I need him for the aesthetic!”
The camera jostled wildly, a blur of limbs and motion. Then silence, punctuated only by distant scuffling and muffled shouting.
Kimi stared, blinking.
“That happens more often than you’d think,” Charles said dryly, leaning back with a serene smile. “Don’t mind them. A bunch of animals.”
Ollie grinned, relaxed again, hand finding Kimi’s beneath the blanket and giving it a soft squeeze.
“Speaking of animals,” Charles continued, gaze turning playfully wicked, “did I ever give you the birds and the bees talk?”
Ollie groaned. “Papa…”
“Too late?”
“You’re so embarrassing—”
Charles chuckled. “It’s my job.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Obviously.”
Max reappeared behind Charles with a satisfied huff, hair only slightly mussed. He reached over, pressed a button to adjust the volume, then looked into the screen with the ghost of a smile. “We’re proud of you, by the way. Both of you.”
Kimi felt something warm swell in his chest.
Charles nodded. “Very proud. And relieved. You make each other better.”
Ollie swallowed and leaned into Kimi just a little more. “Thanks, Papa. Thanks, Dad.”
“Je vous aime, mes bébés,” Charles said, smiling now with his whole face. “Please take care of each other. And use protection.”
“Papa!” Ollie shouted again, laughing.
“I have no shame!” Charles called, throwing his hands in the air.
“Love you, hate you, byeeee!” Ollie said quickly, reaching to end the call.
Just before the screen blinked out, Kimi leaned in and said sweetly, “Love you too, Charlie. We will.”
Then, grinning at Ollie, he crossed his fingers under the blanket.
Ollie burst into laughter. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m charming.”
“You’re trouble.”
“I live for it.”
Ollie grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into his lap, hugging him so tightly Kimi didn’t think he’d ever breathe normally again. But he didn’t care. He buried his face into Ollie’s neck and exhaled, the remnants of laughter still soft on his lips.
“Fuck,” Ollie whispered, voice warm against Kimi’s ear. “My family is fucking crazy.”
Kimi nodded, smiling. “Yeah. They are.”
There was a pause. A quiet, knowing stretch of silence. The kind that only existed between people who had earned each other.
“But I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world,” Ollie said.
Kimi looked up then, something in his chest tugging, stretching.
“Yeah…” he whispered. “They’re incredible. You’re so lucky, you know?”
“I do.” Ollie cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the side of his face. “But so are you.”
Kimi tilted his head, confused.
“You’re part of the family,” Ollie said softly. “You’re ours. We all love you. You’ve always been ours.”
Kimi’s throat tightened.
“But most importantly…” Ollie leaned in, brushing their noses together, “you’re mine.”
Tears welled instantly, heat flooding Kimi’s cheeks. He pulled Ollie into a fierce, full-bodied hug, burying himself in his arms like a child seeking shelter. The kind of embrace that said don’t ever let me go.
“Yours,” Kimi whispered against his shoulder, voice cracking, “yours forever.”
Ollie turned his face and kissed him — sweet and passionate, lips moving like a promise. Their breath mingled, slow and shared, and everything else — the teasing, the chaos, the world outside — faded into background noise.
They had nothing left to hide.
And everything left to give.