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“You do know it’s a dinner and not a fashion show, right?”
Lando was sprawled out on his back on the velvet couch in the living area, one leg leisurely hanging off the side, foot dangling. His head lay propped up by the armrest, dark curls melting into the deep crimson of the couch. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, barely sparing Oscar a glance.
Oscar eyed him through the mirror, brows slightly furrowed. His hands fidgeted with the tie around his neck, pulling and pushing to try and make it look right. The only thing looking right, however, was the way Lando’s tongue absentmindedly darted out to wet his lips. Oscar tore his gaze away.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. His reflection stared back at him, looking utterly ridiculous in a suit that was way too fancy for a dinner with colleagues. Oscar didn’t know how long he had spent in front of the mirror, trying to make himself look approachable. Seriously, it shouldn’t be this hard. The fact that there was an appropriately dressed Lando Norris lounging in his hotel room like it was the most normal thing in the world really didn’t make Oscar’s situation any easier.
Oscar turned and let his arms drop to his sides. “I’m aware,” he stated, forcing his features behind a deadpan veil of indifference.
Lando locked his screen and tossed his phone on the coffee table a little too carelessly for Oscar’s taste. Thank God he didn’t treat his car like that, too. Then, he finally looked up at Oscar.
There were many benefits to staying at the same hotel as Lando. One of them was getting to watch Lando pick out the olives from his breakfast because he insisted they tasted like fish. Another one was sitting next to him in the back of a car whenever they had a mutual event. Like tonight. Backseats were tight spaces, and if Oscar accidentally pressed his thigh against Lando’s one too many times, he really couldn't be blamed.
The scene that played out in front of Oscar this very moment could also be counted as a benefit. It sure was in his book. Lando’s lashes fluttered against his cheek as he blinked, his lips turning up into that stupid shiteating grin that made Oscar’s fingertips tingle. He wondered if Lando would still smile like that if Oscar crashed their mouths together.
“Then why are you dressing like it’s one?” Lando cocked his head to the side, teeth flashing.
Oscar ignored the flutter of his heart and saved the image of Lando looking up at him like that to the back of his mind for lonely nights. He busied himself with the buttons on his cuffs. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
Lando scoffed and sat up straight, giving him a onceover. Oscar felt so out of place, his tailored suit just too much compared to Lando’s T-shirt and slacks combination. The tanned skin of his chest peeked out from under the deep V-neckline. Another image for later.
“It’s not opinion, it’s advice,” Lando explained, rolling his eyes. “Besides, this is all about the circumstances.”
“And what could those be?”
“That literally no one else is gonna show up in a suit.” Lando laughed at the face Oscar made. “Seriously, mate, take that tie off,” he huffed and pointed at Oscar’s chest, wiggling his finger.
Sure, Oscar had imagined Lando telling him to get undressed many times, but never like this. First time for everything, right? Before his hands could reach his collar, he froze.
“Lewis might.”
“Lewis doesn’t count.”
“Why not?,” Oscar asked, half turned to peek in the mirror and get his crooked tie undone.
Lando patted his thighs and got up from the couch with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “It’s a casual attire thing,” he started, crossing the room in long strides until he stood next to Oscar. “The word ‘casual’ doesn’t exist in Lewis’ vocabulary.”
Lando rocked back and forth on the soles of his feet, drawing in a breath through his teeth. “Literally,” he added, before bringing his hands to Oscar’s collar. “Here, let me.”
For a moment, Oscar forgot how to breathe. The second Lando’s skilled fingers started fiddling with the knot, he could feel the warmth shooting up and into his cheeks. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he was coming down with a fever. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been this close before; on the contrary. Proximity to your teammate was something you had to come to terms with quickly if you wanted to succeed in this sport.
Still, with Lando’s fingers so close to the heated skin of his neck, his palm gently pressing against his chest, Oscar felt on fire. God, he wanted to bring his knuckles to his lips and kiss them; grab his wrists and feel the pulse of Lando’s excitement as Oscar tugged him closer.
He scratched a thought about Lando putting his hands to good use elsewhere and instead reminded himself that breathing was actually an important bodily function that he needed to resume immediately.
As soon as the air returned to his lungs, Lando’s fingers withdrew. “There,” he muttered, “all better.”
Oscar smiled softly. “Thanks.”
After a moment passed, unfiltered silence rushing through Oscar’s ears, Lando was moving again. Turning on his feet, he started pacing, steps carrying him from the mirror to the couch and back again. He started talking, more to himself than to Oscar, who stood glued to his spot. If humans were like trees, Oscar would have very strong roots. He had to, as to not get swept away by the whirlwind that was Lando and his enthusiasm for all things insignificant.
“Actually,” Lando chirped, “it wouldn’t surprise me if Max wore his team kit. Y’know, with the skinny jeans and all.”
Oscar snorted. What an amusing picture that was, painted in his mind. “He might just.”
Lando whipped his head around to glance at Oscar, curls falling into his forehead. Oscar wanted to push them out and away from his eyes, just so he could see them better. Green and brown and sometimes a little blue. On rare occasions, he even caught a hint of gold in there. Now that’s not to say that Oscar spent an absurd amount of time staring at Lando’s eyes, but he did.
“We’re gonna make you look good,” Lando declared with a finality that Oscar dared not to argue against.
“‘We’re’?”
Lando smirked, mischief in person. “I’m gonna make you look good,” he emphasized.
Having let Lando make the decisions started turning into a regret when Oscar found himself standing in the bedroom minutes later, pulling maroon fabric over his head and feeling every bit like was walking into a trap. Willingly. The fabric stretched tight over his skin, sleeves framing his biceps and the neckline riding high on his neck. He usually only wore this shirt when he knew things were going to get hectic. It wasn’t his go-to for hangouts, let alone for dinner with 19 other F1 drivers. Maybe he did prefer that suit over a literal T-shirt and plain jeans.
Only when Oscar returned to the living room and found Lando staring at him with wide eyes and a lip caught between his teeth, did he feel a strange gust of pride overcome him. Oscar knew Lando liked the red on him, he had let it slip during many conversations, but never to this extent. A blush crept over Lando’s cheeks, and now it was his turn to be transfixed.
Oscar gave a slow spin, holding his arms out to the sides to let Lando get a good look. It filled him with a sick sense of satisfaction to see Lando all riled up. “Better?”
“Yea, that’s-,” Lando cleared his throat, “that’s good.”
Oscar laughed, bright and exhilarated. “Christ, Lando, I know you’ve never been subtle, but wow,” he tugged at the fabric of the shirt around his waist, “this is what gets you going?”
Lando’s mouth fell open slightly. Oscar’s smile dropped. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. Holding up his hands in wary defense, Oscar took a step towards Lando, who looked absolutely perplexed.
“Lando,” he started, careful, “I didn’t mean-”
Lando cut him off. “It’s true.”
What.
“What?”
Lando hesitated. Then, he briskly closed the distance between them until he stood directly before Oscar, fingers flicking nervously. Gone was the relaxed Lando that owned the room without even having to do anything for it. He was replaced by a jittery, blushing young man, holding his breath in the too narrow space between them.
“You’re right,” he muttered, catching Oscar’s eye. “It does get me going.”
Oscar felt the air leave his lungs for a second time this evening. These kinds of things usually only happen in movies. His hand twitched against his side, impatient yet cautious. Maybe the shirt he had put on to feel better would strangle him in the end, the deep red color having been a warning sign all along.
He took a deep breath. “Lando, I’m-”
“Can I kiss you?”
Oscar’s heart leapt, a beat so loud he was sure Lando had heard. He had half a mind to pinch himself, just to make sure this was really happening. Heat crawled up his back and onto his neck, painting his skin the same color as his shirt. Maybe he had misheard.
When Oscar didn’t say anything, words stuck in his throat, Lando continued. “You don’t have to say yes or anything, I just thought that maybe-”
“Lando.”
“-I’ve wanted to try it for a while and after you said that it seemed like you maybe wanted to as well, but I totally understand if this is-”
Oscar ignored the implications Lando’s ramblings held for now and instead reached out to place his palm on his cheek, shutting him up. Lando blinked once, twice. It almost looked like he was wearing mascara.
“Lan,” the nickname slipped easily, “I want to kiss you, too.”
It felt odd saying those words out loud, like a secret that had dared to be spilled for longer than was entirely appropriate. Oscar stroked his thumb against the side of Lando’s cheek, his eyes trailing to his lips. They looked plush and inviting and Oscar wondered if Lando had put on lipgloss, a slight glistening sheen reflecting the light. When it registered, Lando smiled.
“What are you waiting for then?”
Oscar huffed out a chuckle before pulling Lando close and pressing their lips together hard. The strangled sound Lando let out gave Oscar the instant opportunity to slip his tongue inside his mouth, savouring his taste. Lando tasted like hard candies and mint gum, sharp tangs of sweet and bitter on Oscar’s tongue. His hands grabbed at Oscar’s shoulders, pulling at the fabric and letting it snap back into shape. Warmth pooled low in Oscar’s stomach, blood rushing south.
When Oscar gently nibbled at Lando’s bottom lip, he made a quiet noise that Oscar filed away into the back of his mind and smirked into the kiss. He let his other hand trail down his sides, until it came to rest on his waist, gripping there. They pulled away for air, and Lando laughed.
A thin string of saliva connected their lips, breaking when Lando grinned. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, sending Oscar spiralling.
“Why didn’t you?” Oscar snuck his hand to the back of his head and played with the curls there. They were as soft as he had imagined, twirling around his fingers perfectly.
Lando’s smile turned sour. “Because you’re Oscar Piastri and I’m Lando Norris.”
Oscar looked down at him, pressing his lips into a thin line. Lando was right. That was all they were ever going to be. McLaren’s golden boys. Never just Lando and Oscar, two boys with a fondness for fast cars. He glanced at the clock above the couch. They were going to be late.
Fuck it. This was an opportunity he wasn’t going to let pass. He stepped back until his back hit the wall, pulling Lando with him by the waist. “We don’t have to be. Not tonight.”
Lando laughed, bitter, hooking his finger beneath the collar of Oscar’s shirt. “We literally have to be at a driver’s dinner in twenty minutes,” he reminded Oscar, pressing a soft kiss to his jugular notch, hair tickling his chin.
Oscar shook his head slightly and breathed in the scent of Lando’s shampoo. It smelled like orange and unconvincing excuses.
“So you’re saying,” he started, gently nudging Lando's shoulder to make him look at him. Lando kept his arms around his neck.
“You make me wear this,” Oscar glanced down at himself, “and then look at me like that,” he pointed to Lando’s sheepish grin, “and don’t intend to do anything about it?”
“Fuck,” Lando mumbled, “you’re serious?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Do you want me to be?”
Oscar grabbed a fistful of Lando’s hair and tugged, earning himself a quiet groan. Noted. “What I want you to do,” he leaned in, “is for you to finish what you started, Mr. Norris.”
He kissed him again, teeth clashing, Lando’s surprised gasp muffled by Oscar’s lips. Oscar would never get enough of all the little sounds he made, the blunt nails on the back of his neck, his hands fitting perfectly on that slim waist. They pulled and pushed against each other, Oscar’s head thumping against the wall with Lando’s every forward surge, grinding their bodies together. Oscar was almost embarrassed at how quickly he got hard. At least he didn’t ogle at his teammate simply because of a red shirt. Lando didn't have to wear anything special for Oscar to gawk at him. Touché.
When they broke apart and Lando started peppering Oscar’s neck with wet kisses, his eyes were a storm of desire, imaginary sparks setting Oscar’s skin on fire. One of his hands slid down the front of his chest, tan fingers grazing the waistband of his jeans. He tucked his pinky there, pulling slightly while glancing up at Oscar through thick lashes. Oscar thought it might have been the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
Well, until Lando dropped to his knees and Oscar felt like he had been hit over the head with a bat.
“Jesus, Lan-”
“Let me suck you off, yea?”
Oscar ran a hand through his hair, sucking in a breath. No amount of focus training could have prepared him for the sight of Lando on his knees in front of him, eyes big and sparkly, thighs spread slightly. Words failing him, he simply made a strangled noise and let his thumb fall to Lando’s lips.
Lando, greedy as he was, sucked it in almost immediately, swirling his tongue around the pad. He held eye contact, leisurely lapping at the digit. Oscar was going to go mad.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?,” he mumbled, eyes lidded, thrusting his thumb into Lando’s mouth.
Lando pulled off with a lewd pop. “A little,” he purred, glancing to where Oscar’s bulge was tenting his jeans. “Want me to help you out, Mr. Piastri?” A self-assured grin plastered to his lips, his fingers began to fumble with the zipper.
Oscar laughed. “Fuck it. Sure, but hurry up. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Relax, Osc,” Lando remarked, already pulling down the zipper. “I know what I’m doing.”
Groaning when Lando helped him push his jeans down just over his ass, Oscar grinned. “No doubt about it.”
For a moment, Lando just stared, blushing at the growing patch of wetness against the fabric of Oscar’s boxers. He leaned forward and mouthed against it, circling it with his tongue. A string of curses spilled over Oscar’s lips as the friction against his cock sent sparks of pleasure jolting through his body. Instinctively, his hips pushed forward, Lando’s cheek pressing against his erection. The grey of his underwear had darkened with a mix of precum and Lando’s spit.
“Someone’s eager,” Lando huffed, breath cool against the skin of Oscar’s stomach where the shirt had hiked up. He pressed a kiss to his hipbone, one large hand palming him through the fabric.
Oscar grit his teeth together. “Shut up and get on with it.”
“Demanding, are we?”
Having had enough of Lando’s antics, Oscar grabbed a hold of his curls, twisting them in his grip to make Lando look up at him. The cocky grin on those plush lips was replaced by a look of hunger, a silent whimper tearing from his throat as his eyes watered. Oscar almost felt sorry for him, if it wasn’t for the straining tightness in Lando’s own pants.
“Stop talking and put your mouth to better use, Norris,” he hummed. His nails dug into Lando’s scalp as he pushed him into his crotch, almost throwing Lando off balance.
Fortunately, Lando didn’t need to be told twice. With a slow pull of his palm over Oscar’s dick, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled, the damp fabric stubbornly clinging to the hard length beneath. He peeled them down, inch by agonizing inch, the elastic catching momentarily on the swollen head of Oscar’s cock before snapping free with a soft thwack against his stomach.
Lando’s gaze dropped, his lashes sweeping down to fan against his cheeks as he took in the sight of Oscar fully exposed to him. Oscar had never been particularly thick, but his length compensated for that. He had refused to measure it, thought it childish to hold a ruler against his dick and find the right number, but from the look on Lando’s face, it couldn’t have been that small.
He watched, mesmerized, as Lando’s hand came up to wrap around the head of his cock, where a single, glistening bead of moisture clung to the tip. Oscar hissed at the contact, Lando’s tanned skin standing out starkly against the rosy pale background that was Oscar’s dick. Lando’s mouth fell open slightly as he gave one experimental stroke.
“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar groaned, his voice rough, strained, hips giving an involuntary little thrust upward and into Lando’s palm. “Don’t just stare at it.”
Lando’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile, his tongue darting out to wet them. “I didn’t expect you to be this big.”
Oscar felt stupid at the pride that swelled up in his heart. How old was he? Sixteen? Hearing those words from Lando, however, made it somewhat special. “Thanks?”
Luckily, Lando didn’t make him wait any longer. He leaned in, his cold breath ghosting over the damp skin, and pressed an open-mouthed, wet kiss to the base of Oscar’s cock, his tongue swirling in a lazy, teasing circle. Oscar’s hand tightened in his hair, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Lando’s eyes fluttered shut as Oscar twisted his curls. He looked heavenly.
He started slow, dragging his tongue up the entire length in one long, flat stroke, from the base all the way to the tip, where he lapped up the waiting droplet of precum with a satisfied hum. Shifting on his knees, sliding ever closer, he placed his hands on the back of Oscar’s thighs in an effort to steady himself for what was to come. Quite literally.
Lando swirled his tongue around the swollen head, tracing the sensitive ridge, before taking just the tip into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked gently. Oscar moaned quietly. Maybe he should let Lando help him get dressed more often. His head thumped back against the wall with a solid thud, eyes screwing shut as pleasure overcame him. “Christ, Lando, your mouth…taking me so well.”
Seemingly encouraged, Lando took more, his lips stretching tight around the length. He bobbed his head slowly at first, establishing a rhythm, his tongue working constantly against the underside, tracing a prominent vein there. With all the neck training he’d had, Oscar was sure Lando would be able to keep his rhythm steady like that if they ever were to try cockwarming. Oscar filed it away for later.
Obscene sounds bounced off the walls. The wet, slick noises of Lando’s mouth working, the soft, choked gasps leaving Oscar’s lips, and the quiet rustling of fabric as Lando’s hand came up to brace on Oscar’s hips. His thumb dug into the sharp bone there and Oscar wished it would leave a mark. He hoped Lando couldn’t feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thighs trembled with the effort of not thrusting into Lando’s mouth.
Lando pulled off with a squelch, leaving Oscar sighing. A string of saliva connected his lips to the shiny, reddened head of Oscar’s dick. The sight was beautiful, for a lack of a better word.
“You taste so good,” Lando breathes, voice already wrecked and eyes glassy with lust. This man was going to be the death of him.
Instead of giving him time to respond, Lando dove back in with renewed favor. This time, he took Oscar deeper, his nose pressing into the chestnut curls at the base of his cock, his throat relaxing to accommodate the intrusion. He held it there for a moment, throat fluttering around the head, before pulling back up, sucking hard.
Oscar felt the coil in his gut tighten as he moaned, gripping Lando’s hair harder. Lando hummed around him, vibrations spiralling up Oscar’s cock and making every hair on his body stand. “Fuck, just- just like that, don’t stop.”
Lando didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping. He fastened his pace, head bobbing up and down at just the right angle, drawing long moans from Oscar. Where his mouth couldn’t reach, he wrapped a hand, pumping in time with the movement of his head.
Oscar felt his cock twitch against the inside of Lando’s cheek, signalling he wasn’t going to last much longer. He pulled Lando off him by his hair, his chin slick with spit and precum. He looked like an angel drenched in holy water, continuing to pump Oscar with both hands as he looked up at him with innocent eyes. This menace.
“I’m close, Lan,” Oscar wrung out, thrusting into Lando’s fists. “Where do you want it?”
Lando panted and grinned, wicked. “Want you to come in my mouth. Wanna taste all of you,” he whispered, not a shame in the world.
Oscar only grunted in response, watching as Lando swallowed him down for a third time. He used his tongue to flick and tease, to swirl around the head on every upstroke, to press flat against the shaft on every downstroke. Oscar pushed into the wet heat with every push of Lando’s head, a bead of sweat running down his temple. His vision swam, the white ceiling lights blinding as he stared up into them, the feeling of his cock in Lando’s mouth overwhelmingly sensual.
When Lando subconsciously ground down against the tip of Oscar’s shoe, his control shattered. His back arched off the wall, hand gripping Lando’s hair so tightly it must have hurt, but Lando only moaned around him, the sound muffled and desperate. “Fuck, Lando, I’m gonna-”
Fiery pleasure flooded through every vein in his body as he pushed Lando down on his cock and came hard, thighs twitching with abandon. Spurts of come filled Lando’s mouth, his throat working to swallow every pulse of it. Oscar moaned quite loudly, cock twitching while Lando sucked him through his orgasm.
For a very long moment, all that could be heard was Oscar’s ragged breathing and the sticky sound of Lando pulling off Oscar’s softened cock. He slumped back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes heavy lidded and satiated. Oscar thought it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.
Coming down from his high, chest heaving, a slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips. He reached out to cup Lando’s cheek, wiping away the wet from under his eyes. If Oscar ever got to fuck his mouth, he would make sure Lando was truly crying. He’d look so pretty, all tear-stained and messed up. For now, this would have to do.
Lando got up, slowly, knees a little wobbly. Without a word, he helped Oscar push his softening cock back into his pants, zipping them up before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He smelled like sex and sweat, but still sweet enough for Oscar to want to devour him.
“I’m gonna brush my teeth,” Lando stated, like he hadn’t just given Oscar the best head he ever had. “You got a spare toothbrush?”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Yea, because you had a crisis over what to wear.” He grinned sheepishly.
Oscar rolled his eyes at him and flicked his forehead with two fingers. “No. We’re late because you dropped to your knees and sucked my cock real good.”
Lando made a face. “Oh my god, don’t say it like that.”
Oscar laughed, heat blooming in his chest when Lando glanced back at him with a sparkle in his eyes and that gorgeous smile on his lips before he retreated into the bathroom.
Oscar sat facing the clock on the wall, wondering how long it was going to take until it was an acceptable time to flee the scene. Next to him, Kimi eyed him suspiciously.
“Why were you two late?,” he inquired, his accent warping the words and making Oscar smile.
He liked the kid, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to start spelling state secrets. “I was struggling with my outfit,” he stated, simply, truthfully.
Kimi didn’t look convinced. He nodded and put on a look that screamed go on, tell me more.
Oscar sighed. “Lando gave me,” he picked his words carefully, “some fashion advice.”
That seemed to work, because Kimi beamed at him and started chatting away about whatever nineteen year olds knew about fashion.
Behind them, Lando passed through. He slid his hand along Oscar’s shoulder and leaned down, whispering in his ear. “If you finish the rest of my ice cream for me, I’ll let you fuck me later.”
And sure, Oscar was full, but there was always room for a little dessert, right?