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The bass thrummed through the walls, a steady pulse that reverberated through the air as Lewis leaned against the sleek, polished bar of the exclusive Monaco club. The lighting was low, casting sultry red and violet hues over the dance floor where bodies moved like liquid, lost in the music. But Lewis only had eyes for one.
Nico Rosberg was a vision in the dim light, draped in a sheer black shirt that showed off his lean frame, exposing the delicate lines of his collarbone and the teasing hint of toned muscle underneath. His trousers hugged his hips perfectly, a statement in themselves, cinching at his tapered waist, drawing attention to every graceful movement he made.
Then there was the makeup. Dark, smoky eyes lined with perfect precision, a stark contrast to the striking ocean blue of his gaze, Eyelashes already devastatingly long shadowing his half-lidded eyes.
The dark red lipstick on his lips was sinful, making him look both untouchable and absolutely intoxicating. He knew exactly what he was doing to Lewis, every flick of his golden hair, every charged glance as he sipped his drink, leaving behind a perfect imprint of that deep red on the rim of his glass.
Lewis swallowed hard, his grip tightening around his drink as he watched Nico from across the room. They had come here together, yes, but Nico had decided to play this game—make him wait, make him burn.
The music shifted into something darker, a heavy rhythm that called for bodies to press close, for hands to wander. Nico set his glass down and turned toward the dance floor, making a show of the way his hips swayed as he stepped into the throng of moving bodies. He didn’t look back at Lewis. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly what he was doing.
The lights cast him in flickers of crimson and purple, shadow playing across the fine lines of his jaw, the curve of his neck. The silver polish of his nails shimmered every time his fingers caught the light, lifted lazily into the air as he moved with liquid grace.
He danced slowly at first. A tantalizing sway of his hips, a roll of his shoulders, head tilted just enough to let golden strands fall over his forehead. His lips parted, lashes low as if drunk on the beat. He lifted one arm above his head, letting his back arch just slightly, enough to make the sheer fabric stretch over his skin and hint at everything underneath. Every step was measured, deliberate, a silent siren's call through the haze of music and heat.
Bodies moved around him, but none touched. They watched. They always watched. Because Nico Rosberg, when he chose to be, was dangerous in the way beautiful things could be — the way you didn’t realize you were drowning until it was too late.
He turned just slightly, giving Lewis the barest glimpse of his profile, his mouth curling into a smirk that was all silk and sin. Still, he didn’t look directly at him. He didn’t have to. He could feel the weight of Lewis’ gaze from across the room. hot, hungry, territorial.
Nico rolled his hips with the beat, one hand trailing slowly down his own side as he dipped low and came up with a fluid twist, like he was dancing for himself and only himself. But they both knew better. Every movement was a provocation — a dare. A challenge.
Come get me.
Lewis’ glass was forgotten in his hand, his jaw tight, eyes locked on Nico like a man who’d just lost his last shred of patience. Nico knew the moment it happened, the moment Lewis decided he'd had enough of being teased from afar. He felt it, a tingle down his spine, a heat that coiled low in his belly.
So he pushed further.
Nico turned around and began to dance with his back facing Lewis’ direction, one hand drifting to his waist, then down, tugging subtly at the waistband of his trousers. He ran his fingers along the edge, teasing just enough to spark the idea of what lay underneath without giving it away. Then he dragged his hands up again, slow and sensual, until both were above his head once more, his body rolling like silk caught in a breeze.
And still — no eye contact. Just the game.
He could feel the electricity building, the air thick with tension, heat pulsing between them even with the crowd in between. He wondered just how long Lewis would let him play. Not much by the looks of it, because after that last stunt Lewis barely finished his drink before he was striding towards him.
The moment he reached him, Nico let himself be pulled close, Lewis’s hands firm at his waist, pressing them flush together. Nico tilted his head slightly, lips parting just so, eyes heavy-lidded, daring.
“You’ve been watching me” Nico murmured over the music, voice barely audible but cutting straight through the heavy beat.
Lewis’ fingers tightened at his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “You wanted me to.”
Nico exhaled a quiet, pleased laugh, letting his hands slide up Lewis’ chest, over the smooth fabric of his cream shirt, the neckline of it just low enough to reveal inked skin and the warmth beneath. The contrast between them—Lewis, all dark skin and tattoos, sturdy, and Nico, pale and ethereal in the flashing club lights—was striking.
They moved together, Nico rolling his hips against Lewis in a slow, devastating rhythm that had Lewis gripping at him like he might slip away. Chest to chest now, bodies flush, Nico tilted his head, looking at Lewis through thick lashes, a coy smirk playing on his lips. The crowd around them pulsed and swayed, but all Lewis saw was him. golden skin glowing under the club lights, pupils blown wide with mischief and something darker, deeper.
Nico’s hands slid up Lewis’ chest, fingers splaying across the thin fabric of his shirt like he owned it — like he owned him. He pressed closer, their hips moving in sync, sinfully slow, Nico deliberately grinding into him with each beat of the music.
“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured against Lewis’ jaw, voice low and honey-sweet, smug at the way Lewis' hands tightened immediately at his waist.
Lewis didn’t answer. couldn’t. His breath stuttered, his grip bruising now, hands sliding down to cup Nico’s ass, pulling him in tighter until there was no space left between them. Nico’s grin widened. He leaned in, his lips grazing Lewis’ ear.
“You’re staring like you want to devour me,” he whispered, all silk and flame. “What’s stopping you?”
Lewis growled under his breath, a low, dangerous sound meant only for Nico.
Nico rolled his hips again, this time slower, meaner — pure temptation. His chest pressed harder into Lewis’, the faint brush of his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt sending a jolt through them both. He moved like he knew what it did to him, like he felt how Lewis’ body trembled with restraint.
One of Nico’s hands trailed down, slipping under the hem of Lewis’ shirt just far enough to scratch his nails lightly along warm skin. He bit his lip when Lewis hissed, a sharp inhale against the shell of his ear.
"You’re going to regret teasing me like this," Lewis murmured, voice rough with need, his hands sliding down to grip Nico's thighs.
"Promise?" Nico purred, tilting his head back with a smug little laugh, baring the long, elegant line of his throat.
It was maddening. Nico was driving him wild — completely, unapologetically. The way he moved, the way he looked at him like he knew every thought Lewis had ever had about him. Every fantasy. Every dirty, desperate desire. And he was feeding it — pouring gasoline over the fire and dancing in the flames.
The rhythm picked up slightly, but their pace stayed slow, deliberate. A dance, yes, but more than that. A claiming. A promise. Nico moved like a man possessed, grinding, arching, curling around Lewis’ body like he wanted to brand himself into Lewis’ memory.
And god, he had.
Lewis leaned in, lips ghosting over Nico’s neck, his jaw, stopping just shy of that wicked red mouth. “God you drive me insane,” Lewis growled, voice thick with something between frustration and desire.
Nico only smirked teasingly, so close their lips almost brushed. “Then do something about it.”
And Lewis did.
Right there, on the dance floor, in the middle of flashing lights and pulsing music, Lewis kissed him. Hard. Possessive. Red lipstick smeared between them as their mouths crashed together, tongues tangling in a messy, heated kiss that left Nico breathless and Lewis completely gone for him.
The world blurred around them, the music fading into the background as Lewis pressed a hand against the small of Nico’s back, deepening the kiss, drinking him in like he was something holy and forbidden all at once.
When they finally pulled apart, Nico’s lipstick was ruined, his breath uneven, eyes dark with something molten. He licked his lips, tasting Lewis there, and smiled. “About time.”
Lewis just grinned, thumb running along Nico’s lip, smearing the remaining red further. “We’re not done.”
Nico arched a brow, a teasing, wicked challenge in his expression.“Then take me home.”
Lewis smirked, mischief dancing in his dark eyes as he leaned in, close enough that Nico could feel his breath against his swollen, kiss-bitten lips. “Who said anything about home?
Nico barely had a second to arch a perfect brow before Lewis grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the crowd. Past the dance floor, past the VIP section, into a darkened corridor where the music was muffled, the air thick with heat and something electric.
Then Lewis slammed him against the wall, not rough, but firm enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
“Lew—” Nico started, but Lewis was already there, pressing their bodies flush together, his grip strong on Nico’s hips, holding him in place like he had no intention of letting him go.
“You like teasing me darling, don’t you?” Lewis murmured, voice thick and laced with something dark, something hungry. His fingers dragged over the fabric hugging Nico’s waist, pressing into the curves, reveling in the way Nico shivered under his touch.
Nico closed his magnetic eyes, his head tipping back against the wall. “Maybe,” he breathed, it sounded seductive, barely a whisper.
Lewis chuckled, low and amused. “That so? You looked real confident back there. Dancing like you wanted to kill me.” He leaned in, brushing his lips along Nico’s jaw, his stubble sending shivers down Nico’s spine. “But look at you now. Already shaking for me.”
“Shut up,” Nico shot back. Then Lewis rolled his hips against him, slow and deliberate, making Nico gasp. His fingers curled into Lewis' shirt, grasping hard.
Lewis grinned against his skin. “Nah, I like hearing you like this.”
Then he kissed him again.
Deep, slow, devastating. A kiss that burned, that stole the air from Nico’s lungs, left him gasping, clinging. Lewis kissed like he wanted to devour him, like he wanted to consume every sound, every sharp breath, every pretty little noise that escaped his lips.
And Nico? He was helpless against it.
His knees buckled slightly, his body melting into Lewis as the kiss went deeper, hotter. Lewis swallowed the whimper that slipped past Nico’s lips, his hands roaming, gripping, holding. His fingers dragged up Nico’s sides, up to his jaw, tilting his head to get even closer, even deeper.
Nico made another noise—breathless, wrecked—as Lewis sucked on his bottom lip before pulling away, just barely, his forehead resting against Nico’s.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Lewis murmured, his thumb brushing over Nico’s kiss-swollen lips, smearing what was left of his already ruined lipstick.
Nico’s breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. He tried to glare, tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was useless when his entire body was trembling, undone.
“You’re…” He swallowed, voice wrecked. “You’re annoying.”
Lewis just grinned, pressing another slow, lingering kiss to the corner of Nico’s mouth. “And you love it.”
Nico didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not when his legs still felt weak, his mind still hazy from that kiss, his body still burning with the way Lewis had just claimed him against this wall.
Lewis leaned back slightly, his fingers still tracing slow circles on Nico’s hips. The bass from the club pulsed through the walls, a steady thrum that matched the rapid beat of Nico’s heart. He was still pinned against the wall, but the momentary space between them was just enough for Nico to move.
Slowly, deliberately, he rolled his hips against Lewis, the friction electric, his movements sinful. His breath ghosted over Lewis’ lips as he smirked, eyes dark with mischief.
“You made a mess of my lipstick,” Nico murmured, voice smooth as silk, playful and teasing.
Lewis’ grip on his hips tightened. “Oh yeah? Didn’t seem to mind when you were moaning into my mouth.”
Nico hummed, amused, and reached into the pocket of his pants, pulling out his lipstick. The deep red shade twisted up slowly, a provocative movement as he locked eyes with Lewis, dragging the color over his lips smooth and slow, perfecting the sharp Cupid’s bow, putting on a show.
And Lewis watched, entranced, his tongue flicking out to wet his own lips.
“Much better,” Nico purred, just staring into Lewis’s eyes for a moment. Then he leaned in, pressing a slow, single kiss to Lewis’ jaw, leaving behind a perfect red print. Lewis exhaled sharply, his hands twitching against Nico’s waist.
But Nico wasn’t done. He trailed down, painting kisses along Lewis’ neck, his collarbone, down to his chest where his shirt hung low just enough. Each print stood out stark against his dark skin, vivid and possessive.
Nico pulled back to admire his work, fingers tracing over one of the marks. Lips tingling with sensation.
“perfect,” he murmured, biting his lip in satisfaction. “Red looks good on you.”
Lewis chuckled, low and dangerous, before tilting Nico’s chin with a single finger.
“Thanks babe, but it's art on you.”
Before Nico could smirk again, Lewis crushed their mouths together, a kiss that was all hunger and heat and possession. Nico gasped against him, but Lewis took advantage of that, deepening the kiss, devouring him completely.
Lewis’ hands roamed, gripping Nico’s waist tighter, pulling him flush against him, grinding slow and hard. The pressure made Nico whimper into his mouth, the sound muffled, pretty, delicious.
The lipstick smeared between them, ruined once more, smudging over Lewis’ lips, over Nico’s flushed skin.
Lewis broke away just enough to admire the mess, his thumb dragging across Nico’s cheek, smearing more red in his wake. His lips were dark now, stained from Nico’s perfect, ruined masterpiece.
“Look what you did,” Lewis murmured, his voice a delicious mix of amusement and desire.
Nico, utterly breathless and dazed, only managed to let out a soft exhale.
Lewis grinned, pleased. “Don’t worry baby,” he whispered against Nico’s ear. “I’ll ruin you just as much as we ruined that lipstick.” And he dived in again. Nico was already a mess, his lipstick smeared, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his body pressed tight against the wall, caged in by Lewis.
And Lewis was relentless, his hands roaming over Nico’s waist, gripping, pulling, leaving no space between them. His mouth was everywhere. Along Nico’s jaw, down his throat, over the perfect column of his neck, marking and pressing love. “You look so fucking good like this,” Lewis murmured against Nico’s skin, voice thick with hunger.
Nico’s head fell back against the wall, his fingers tangling in Lewis’ braids, tugging, making Lewis groan against his throat.
“Lewis—” The name left his lips in a breathy plea, and God, it was the most beautiful sound Lewis had ever heard.
He didn’t hold back. His hands slid down, gripping Nico’s hips, rocking him forward, letting him feel exactly how far gone he was. Nico’s body responded instinctively, rolling against him, his head spinning, pleasure fogging his thoughts.
“You’re gorgeous,” Lewis whispered, pressing his forehead to Nico’s, lips brushing against his with every word. “So fucking pretty when you let go for me.”
Nico’s breath hitched, his knees threatening to buckle, but Lewis held him steady, grounding him even as he unraveled him. He was all gasps, soft whimpers, helpless movements against Lewis’ body.
“Lewis—please—” His voice was barely a whisper, lost beneath the music pounding around them, but Lewis heard every desperate note.
He smirked, pressing another deep, devastating kiss to Nico’s lips, swallowing every beautiful sound that spilled from him.
“I’ve got you baby,” he promised against his lips. “Always.”
And he slithered his warm hands inside Nico’s shirt, ready to make good on his word.
The air between them was even thicker, charged with something primal. A feverish pulse pounding between them. Lewis had Nico perfectly pinned against the wall, their bodies flush, every inch of space between them erased. His hands were everywhere. gripping, pulling, claiming. Nico was undone, completely at Lewis’ mercy, his breath coming in desperate little gasps, his lips swollen, smeared with ruined red.
“Look at you,” Lewis rasped, voice rough with want. “God I could worship you day and night."
Nico whimpered at the words, his head swimming with pleasure, neck arched, offering himself up, letting Lewis take whatever he wanted. And Lewis did exactly that.
Hands pushing fabric aside, exploring, teasing, making Nico tremble. Their bodies moved together, sinuous and slow at first, until patience snapped like a frayed thread. A sharp gasp escaped Nico’s lips, swallowed instantly by Lewis’ mouth, the heat between them growing unbearable.
The wall behind Nico was cold, but Lewis was fire, burning against him, searing every touch into his skin. The music pulsed, but all Nico could hear was the sound of their breathing, ragged and uneven, the soft, breathy noises spilling from his lips, the deep, shuddering groans Lewis couldn’t hold back.
It was frantic, desperate. clothes pushed aside just enough, bodies locked together in a rhythm that stole the breath from their lungs. Every movement sent Nico spiraling, his hands gripping at Lewis’ shoulders, his nails biting into hot skin, holding on as he was taken apart piece by piece.
And Lewis was relentless, praising him through every movement, whispering filthy, adoring things against his lips, making Nico unravel beautifully. And when he finally shattered between Lewis’ arms, it was with a soft broken cry, his body trembling, Lewis’ name spilling from his lips like a prayer.
Lewis held him through it, kissing him slow and deep. claiming the very breath from his lungs. And as they slumped together, lost in the aftershocks, Lewis chuckled breathlessly, lips curling into a smirk against Nico’s damp skin.
“Guess we’re definitely not making it home tonight.”
Nico chuckled slightly, High on pleasure. He could barely stand. His legs felt like jelly, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He leaned heavily against the wall, trembling slightly, flushed, utterly wrecked. His golden hair was a mess, strands sticking to his damp skin, and his dark red lipstick was smeared across his lips and Lewis’ mouth like proof of their sins.
Lewis, standing before him, was just as disheveled but looking far too smug about it. His skin was littered with deep red kiss marks, stark against his warm dark complexion, scattered along his neck, collarbone, and even peeking from under his shirt.
Nico’s own neck bore the aftermath of Lewis’ possessive mouth. deep bruises blooming along his pale skin, unmistakable evidence of exactly what they had been doing, getting lost in each other. His shirt was barely tucked in, askew and messy, but he had neither the strength nor the care to fix it properly.
Lewis reached out, adjusting Nico’s clothes with careful fingers before trailing his hands down his arms, squeezing gently.
“Still standing, baby?” he murmured, his voice teasing and dripping with satisfaction.
Nico huffed, his lips curling slightly, but he couldn’t muster up his usual sharp retort. He was still floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion, still feeling Lewis’ touch lingering on his skin.
“Barely,” he admitted, voice hushed and low.
Lewis chuckled, leaning in to brush his lips—still stained faintly with red—against Nico’s ear.
“That means I did a good job.”
Nico’s breath hitched, but before he could say anything, Lewis tugged him close and smoothed down his shirt, making him look somewhat decent, though there was no hiding the way he glowed, the way his lips were swollen, the way he looked completely and utterly undone.
“Think anyone will notice?” Nico finally murmured, tilting his head as he lazily gestured toward Lewis’ neck, where the evidence of his lips was on full display.
Lewis smirked, unbothered. “Let them.”
Nico rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small, satisfied smirk that tugged at his lips. As they stepped back into the dim lights of the club, Lewis slung an arm around Nico’s waist, steadying him, holding him close. And even though Nico was still weak in the knees, he had never felt better
The club still pulsed around them, but the air between Lewis and Nico was heavier. They moved through the crowd like a storm, bodies brushing against them but never touching too much. There was something untouchable about them now. Something claimed. Something undeniable.
Nico was still glowing, a gorgeous, sinful mess in Lewis’ arms. His golden hair was tousled, his dark red lipstick completely gone, his lips swollen and gleaming. The deep bruises along his neck and collarbone stood out against his pale skin like delicate ink stains, proof of what had just transpired in that darkened corner. And Lewis? Lewis was no better. His skin bore the perfect imprint of Nico’s lips, deep red kiss marks standing stark against his golden-brown body. His shirt was still slightly askew, his tattoos peeking out, the heat in his gaze unmistakable.
They were a sight. And they knew it.
Lewis, ever the composed one, still had a satisfied smirk lingering on his lips as he guided Nico toward the bar, his grip firm but casual, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. Nico, on the other hand, still felt the aftermath in his legs, his body slightly unsteady, but he played it off with a lazy confidence, tilting his head as they reached the counter.
The bartender took one look at them and let out a low chuckle. “Rough night, gentlemen?”
Lewis chuckled, running a hand down Nico’s back. “What can I say, this pretty boy here likes it rou-.”
Nico kicked Lewis’s leg, glaring and flushed. Lewis laughed, kissing his golden locks. Nico huffed, but there was no bite to it. He slid onto one of the barstools, crossing his legs elegantly, the slit in his pants revealing just enough skin to draw eyes. Lewis stood beside him, one hand resting on the counter, the other casually playing with the end of Nico’s hair.
Two drinks were placed in front of them without them even needing to order. Strong, smooth, exactly what they needed. Nico took a slow sip, licking the remnants off his lips, catching Lewis’ gaze with deliberate slowness.
Lewis inhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Maybe.” Nico smirked, swirling his drink. “Do you mind?”
Lewis leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Nico’s ear. “Not even a little.”
But of course, even ruined and claimed Nico would draw attention. Perhaps even more than usual. A figure approached. tall, sleek, confident. Some stranger, looking at Nico with open appreciation, like he hadn’t just been completely wrecked by Lewis.
“Didn’t think someone like you would be here alone,” the stranger said smoothly, eyeing Nico up and down.
Nico raised a brow, exchanging a glance with Lewis, who was now watching with pure amusement. He barely had to say a word before the stranger’s gaze landed on his’ neck—on the deep red marks painting his skin, on the unmistakable imprint of Lewis’ mouth. The stranger hesitated, his confidence wavering for just a moment.
Lewis smirked, wrapping an arm around Nico’s waist, pulling him in. “He isn’t.”
Nico tilted his head, letting his fingers trail lazily over Lewis’ waistband, his touch light, teasing. “And I won’t be.”
The stranger got the message quickly. With a polite nod, he backed away, vanishing into the crowd. Nico let out a soft hum of satisfaction, sipping his drink again, completely at ease.
Lewis chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of Nico’s head. “You enjoy that way too much.”
Nico exhaled, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “I enjoy watching you get possessive.”
Lewis laughed, shaking his head, but there was no denying the way his grip tightened, the way his gaze darkened all over again.
“Finish your drink, love. We’re not done tonight.”
Of course, The night was far from over, but the club was beginning to blur around them. The heat of the dance floor, the pulse of the music, the stolen glances from strangers who couldn’t help but stare—it was all background noise now. Because Lewis and Nico were in their own world, wrapped up in something far thicker than the haze of alcohol and neon lights.
Nico swayed slightly as he finished his drink, his body still humming from everything that had transpired. His lipstick was gone, but the evidence of it remained—on Lewis’ skin, on his collar, on the faint tint of red smeared across Lewis’ smirking lips. Nico’s neck ached deliciously, his body pleasantly sore, his legs still a little weak beneath him. But he felt good. Glorious, even.
Lewis traced a lazy finger over the bar counter, watching Nico with dark, satisfied eyes. He didn’t bother fixing his shirt properly, still leaving it messed up, just enough to show hints of muscle and ink, still carrying the marks Nico had left on him like a brand. His fingers found Nico’s wrist, thumb stroking over the delicate skin there before he tugged him forward, close enough that their lips nearly brushed.
“You ready to go, baby?” Lewis’ voice was low, teasing, full of promise.
Nico sighed dramatically, but the way he melted into Lewis’ hold betrayed him. “I suppose you’ve had your fun.”
Lewis hummed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Nico’s mouth, letting it linger. “Not nearly enough.”
They moved through the club, past lingering stares, past envious glances, past people who still weren’t sure if they were real or just a fever dream. Nico, with his golden hair still wild from Lewis’ ministrations, his outfit slightly messed up but still perfect, still devastating. And Lewis, with the unmistakable way he carried himself, like a man who had everything he wanted wrapped around his arm.
As they stepped outside, the night air hit them, cool against the heat still simmering between them. Monaco glittered around them, the streets alive but quieter now, more intimate. Nico leaned into Lewis, the exhaustion creeping in, but he refused to let the night slip away just yet.
Lewis noticed, of course. He always did. He guided Nico toward the car, opening the door but not letting him in just yet. Instead, he caught Nico’s chin between his fingers, moving his head around teasingly, then forcing him to meet his gaze.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” Lewis murmured, his thumb tracing over Nico’s swollen lips, like he was already memorizing him all over again.
Nico rolled his eyes, but his breath hitched, his pulse stuttering. “You like to tell me that.”
Lewis grinned. “And you love to hear it angel.”
Nico huffed, but then he was leaning in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to Lewis’ lips, tasting remnants of whiskey and something undeniably Lewis. When he pulled back, his smirk was wicked, his eyes glinting with the kind of satisfaction that only came from being absolutely and utterly adored.
“Take me home, Hamilton.”
Lewis laughed, the sound rich and full, before pressing one last kiss to Nico’s temple. Then, with a lingering touch to Nico’s waist, he helped him into the car, getting in himself afterwards, and Monaco faded into the background as they drove off into the night—still high on each other, still lost in something no one else could ever touch.