The Edge of Control (Lando x Reader)

Chapter 8: In the Shower

y/n's pov - Lando's hotel

"Good girl," his eyes met mine when I tilted my head back down to face him.

I was still steadying my breath before he lifted me effortlessly, his strength catching me off-guard, and laid me flat on the sofa with a fluid, almost possessive motion.

My heart thundered as he kicked off the rest of his trousers, his eyes devouring me.

He positioned himself between my thighs again, the heat of him brushing against my sensitive skin. And then—he entered me again, slow but powerful, like he knew he owned every inch of me now.

A helpless moan escaped me.

His hand came up to my throat — not tight, but firm enough to steal a breath, to send a rush straight between my legs. The other found my wrists, pinning them above my head in one strong grip.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N," his pace quickening.

Each thrust pushed the air from my lungs, pleasure building again, higher, sharper, more desperate. The sofa creaked beneath us, but all I could feel was him — his weight, his scent, the friction of his skin against mine, the sound of his voice low and filthy in my ear.

"You're gonna make me come again..." I spoke weakly.

"Let's come together," Lando whispered as he pounded harder and quicke, more desperate with every thrust.

The tension coiled tight inside me, until it snapped again — my back arched off the sofa, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as pleasure crashed over me in a blinding wave.

Lando groaned against my ear, low and guttural, as he pulled out at the last second, his cum spilling hot across my stomach. His body trembled above mine, his breath ragged as he followed me over the edge.

❄︎

He brought me a towel and we laid there for a while, tangled together on the sofa, breathless, the rush of what had just happened still brewing between us. 

Neither of us spoke.

There was no need.

We just laughed — soft, breathless laughter that slipped out between the quiet, like we couldn't quite believe what had just happened. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't forced. It was easy. Familiar.

My head was against his chest and his fingers lazily traced circles along the bare skin of my back.  I sighed softly, eyes fluttering shut, not asleep, but completely unguarded in his arms.

"You okay?" he asked.

I nodded, "better than okay actually."

He let out a short breath of a laugh. "Same."

A few more minutes passed like that. The night outside had deepened into an indigo velvet, the London skyline twinkling just beyond the glass. 

He tilted my chin up, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "Let's go shower."

His kiss was softer this time. Slow.

He laced his fingers through mine and guided me into the room's sprawling, marble-wrapped bathroom. The space gleamed — sleek, luxurious. He reached up and turned the dial, and warm water began to cascade down from the rainfall showerhead.

Steam curled through the air.

I stepped into the glass booth first, the water enveloping me in comforting heat. A moment later, I felt him behind me. My back was to him, but I could feel his gaze like a physical touch.

Without a word, he picked up the bottle of shower gel and lathered it between his palms. Then his hands found my back — strong, deliberate, gliding across my shoulders, down the curve of my spine, slipping over my waist. The gel foamed against my skin, his touch slow and attentive. It wasn't just washing — it was worship.

The water rinsed away the lather, but his hands never left me.

Then came his mouth — soft kisses pressed just below the nape of my neck, traveling lower, each one lingering. My breath hitched when I felt the heat of him closer, the way he pressed against me from behind.

His hand slid slowly down my stomach... lower.

My head tilted back onto his shoulder with a soft gasp.

"Still with me?" he whispered, his voice deep and velvet-smooth, lips grazing my ear.

"You're insatiable," I murmured, but the smile tugging at my lips betrayed how much I didn't mind.

"Only for you..." He kissed the line of my neck again, this time with more hunger, more intent, and his fingers moved between my thighs, stroking with expert pressure. The warm water, his mouth, his touch — it was too much and not enough, all at once.

I arched into him, eyes fluttering shut.

His free hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me tighter against him so I could feel exactly how hard he was. He began to move his hips slightly, grinding just enough to make me whimper as he teased.

"You're so sensitive now," he breathed, lips brushing my wet skin. "I love it."

And then he turned me around.

My back pressed gently against the warm tile as he looked down at me, hair wet, water dripping off his jawline, desire dark in his eyes. He lifted me effortlessly, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, our slick skin sliding perfectly together.

When his length penetrated me again — slow, deep — the sound that left my lips was half-moan, half-sigh. The rhythm was slow, like he wanted to feel every inch of me, like this was something meant to last.

Water rained down over us, mixing with the heat building between our bodies. 

"Lando..." His name left my lips over and over. His hands gripped my thighs, my hips, as he drove into me with aching, relentless precision.

We were completely wrapped in each other, the world narrowed to water and heat and pleasure.

The rhythm intensified, but just as I felt myself tipping over the edge, he pulled out, breathless and flushed.

"Turn around," he commanded.

I obeyed without hesitation, bracing myself against the warm, slick tile. My heart was thudding in my ears. Behind me, I felt his hands on my hips—firm, grounding—and then the delicious pressure of him sliding back inside.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips again.

He groaned low, "Fuck, you're so hot..."

His pace was deeper now, rougher, but still controlled—each thrust landing with deliberate force, making my knees tremble beneath me. His grip tightened on my waist as he drove into me from behind, the sound of skin against skin echoing loudly in the steamy shower.

One of his hands slid around to my front again, fingers finding my clit with practiced ease, rubbing circles that matched his rhythm and sent sparks up my spine.

"Come for me like this," he demanded, hips slamming harder.

My body clenched, spiraling tighter with every second, and I cried out, eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm ripped through me—white-hot and overwhelming.

"Fuck, Lando—"

I was still shaking when he followed with a broken groan, pulling out at the last moment. His hand still gripping me tightly as he rode out the last wave of pleasure.

For a moment, all I could hear was the steady stream of water and our ragged breathing.

Then, gently, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "You okay?"

I nodded, still catching my breath, a lazy smile spreading across my lips. "Yes."