Chapter 1: Chapter one
Chapter Text
Chapter one
Carlos got up at seven, just like every morning. His alarm rang at the same time even on weekends—those days when every other person slept in. He had never liked the idea of staying in bed; his routines made him feel safe.
That morning, on an ordinary Monday, when he drew open the curtains of his luxurious Manhattan penthouse, he discovered that New York was shrouded in a steady rain that soaked the surrounding skyscrapers. Carlos frowned slightly at the thought of having to skip his morning run—a healthy habit he had taken up since his teenage years, when he would wake at dawn to run before school. His classmates used to tease him for being so meticulous with his daily routine, but running had always helped him find the energy he needed to face the day—and it also let him escape from the walls of his home, which had always made him feel small and inadequate.
Perhaps that was why he clung so tightly to that habit.
Unable to go outside, he turned on the coffee machine on the kitchen counter and, barefoot, made his way down the hallway to the bathroom for a long shower.
He played some music and hummed along while the water washed away the last traces of sleep.
When he was done, he wrapped himself in a cream-colored bathrobe embroidered with his initials and rubbed his hair dry while looking at himself in the mirror.
He probably should have shaved—being unkempt wasn’t like him—but he was starting to like the scruffy beard, so he decided to keep it a little longer.
He went through his entire morning ritual: he carefully dried his hair, put on one of his office suits, then grabbed his coffee mug—without which he couldn't start the day.
It was perhaps one of the few unhealthy indulgences he still allowed himself.
He ate some toast with jam while distractedly scanning his emails.
Only after breakfast did he grab his car keys and head down to the garage, ready to make his way to the office.
The company he headed—Sainz Enterprise—was located downtown, which meant he had to brave a bit of traffic. That was just the way New York worked; being on time was a constant battle, made all the worse on rainy days, when even those unaccustomed to driving were forced to yield to circumstance.
He arrived at the office later than usual. As he passed his secretary, Lindsay, she greeted him with a bright “Good morning,” and he returned it with a simple nod of the head.
He settled behind his desk and leafed through the planner filled with the day's appointments, then powered up his computer while pulling from the pile one of the many documents waiting to be reviewed.
Five minutes in, the phone rang.
“Yes, Lindsay,” he answered, pressing the button without lifting his eyes from the pages he was meticulously reading.
“Mr. Sainz, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your father is on the line. He says it’s urgent. Shall I put him through?”
Carlos’s mouth tightened into a displeased grimace. “No, thank you,” he replied flatly, pressing the button again to end the call.
Just a few minutes later, his father’s name flashed across the screen of his private cell phone. Without a second thought, Carlos declined the call and returned to his work.
Whenever his father tried to reach him, it was never with good news—and he had no intention of letting his Monday morning be spoiled by yet another one of the man’s petty provocations, desperate attempts to stir up drama in hopes of snatching some sliver of attention.
So, he pressed the office phone button again.
“Yes, Mr. Sainz?” came Lindsay’s voice.
“If my father calls back, tell him I’m in a meeting with the Japanese. Anything that keeps him out of my day will do.”
Lando
The young man he had taken home the night before—a French dancer he’d met in a pub—had made him breakfast and then slipped out of his apartment.
So Lando had sat at the small café table in front of the window of his modest apartment, enjoying a delicious omelette and sipping coffee in peace.
He had left home ten minutes early, wearing a dress shirt and smart trousers, skipping the jacket as usual, and had typed in the address of the company where he was set to start work that morning.
The day before, he had done a bit of research on the company and its CEO, learning that he was a very young and attractive man, though often described as reserved and arrogant. Lando hadn’t paid much attention to those kinds of remarks; instead, he’d made note of the relevant information to avoid seeming unprepared.
The first day was usually all about introductions, then someone from the department would be assigned to show him the latest figures and walk him through the basics.
He loved his job, but more than anything, he appreciated the fact that it allowed him to move around and work with different companies—routine would have driven him crazy. That’s why he had shaped his career to be as dynamic as possible.
This particular role, however, was a bit different. His presence had been requested on-site for several months, and although he disliked staying in one place for too long, he certainly couldn’t turn down a generous paycheck.
At the entrance, he had to repeat his name several times before the security staff, visibly unsure, issued him a day pass that allowed him to get through the checks and reach the fourth floor, where the CEO's office—Carlos Sainz’s—was located.
When the elevator reached the designated floor, the doors opened onto a very modern space, done in shades of grey, with a large desk on the right, free of any purely decorative items. Seated there was a blonde woman, busy typing something, who didn’t notice his arrival.
He cleared his throat to get her attention.
"Good morning," he said, and the woman finally looked up at him.
She stared at him, slightly confused, and without saying a word, glanced down at the planner to her left.
"And you are?" she asked, likely not seeing his appointment listed.
"I’m the financial auditor, Lando Norris. I was contacted by Mr. Carlos Sainz Senior and hired to work here for a couple of months. I thought today was the meeting with his son for introductions?"
Lindsay’s mouth curved into a slightly uneasy expression. "Just as I feared," she muttered to herself. Then, more clearly, she said, "Excuse me," and pressed a button on the phone.
"Mr. Sainz, Lando Norris is here. May I send him in?"
She nodded at whatever response came from the other end of the line, then offered him a bright smile.
"Please, go right in."
The scene felt a bit odd to him, but Lando simply did as he was told, so he knocked on the door and waited to be invited in before opening it.
What he saw before him was the man whose photos he had scrolled through the night before—but the pictures hadn't done him justice at all.
His dark hair was glossy, and his face was even more striking in person, all sharp features framed by a layer of scruffy stubble.
For a second, Lando wondered how it might feel against the skin.
But before his thoughts could drift into inappropriate territory, he cleared his throat to get the man’s attention, and finally, that pair of brown eyes landed on him.
He stared at Lando for a few seconds without changing expression, then said, “Have a seat,” gesturing to the leather chair in front of the desk.
No longer distracted by the man’s looks, Lando took a moment to look around and noticed the careful attention to detail in the large office.
There was a plasma TV to his left, and in the center of the room, a glass coffee table flanked by two black leather sofas.
The same tones of grey and black from the rest of the floor dominated the space, but a blue rug added a touch of color to the room.
“I don’t usually meet with my employees’ children,” the dark-haired man began, shifting in his seat, “but your father told me you wanted to interview me for your university paper, and Carl is one of my most loyal employees.”
Lando raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the introduction. Maybe the secretary had confused the appointments that morning—so he broke into an amused smile.
"I know I’m quite young for this field, but I’m afraid there’s been a mistake," he said, leaning back in the chair with his hands clasped over his legs.
Carlos frowned, equally confused. “You’re not Carl’s son?”
“Uh, no. I’m the financial auditor, Lando Norris. Nice to meet you.”
The dark-haired man didn’t flinch at his words. “HR handles interviews. You’re probably on the wrong floor,” he replied, tidying the papers on his desk and turning his attention elsewhere.
“I’ve already been hired,” Lando clarified, a little irritated at being brushed off—and at the fact that no one there seemed to even know who he was.
The man’s gaze returned to him. “Does this look like the finance department to you?”
he asked, tone dripping with arrogance.
Lando felt his temper rise and decided he’d been patient enough.
“I don’t waste time at work, and frankly, I find it absurd that there’s so much confusion here. Your father hired me ten days ago, which meant I had to turn down several other assignments. So I’d appreciate it if we could cut the act and get straight to the point,” he said, looking him dead in the eyes—more serious than he usually allowed himself to be. He hated not being taken seriously, something that happened far too often because of his age. As if he hadn’t spent his youth studying relentlessly to get where he was.
“My father what?” the man snapped, raising his voice before standing up and storming out to speak with his secretary.
Lando heard the man bombard her with questions before returning to the office and grabbing his phone.
He turned his back, staring out through the large window.
Lando’s eyes followed the perfectly tailored suit outlining his tall frame, silently thankful, at least, for the pleasant distraction.
“Call the guy you hired and tell him to go back to wherever he came from. I don’t give a damn what your plans are—no one you hired will step foot in my company,” he barked into the phone, then hung up and turned back toward Lando.
“I don’t usually raise my voice, but I’m asking you to leave the building. My father has no authority over my company, and we don’t need a financial auditor,” he said, sitting back down and smoothing out his jacket.
“Lindsay will arrange for whatever amount you feel compensates for the time you’ve wasted this morning,” he added, without even looking at him.
Lando deeply resented the arrogance of that statement—and the irony of that word, precious, buried in his tone.
He got to his feet and said, “Goodbye,” almost like a promise. He had just made up his mind: he would do everything he could to keep that job, if only to teach that self-important man a lesson.
Carlos
He poured himself a glass of wine as he sat on the kitchen stool, then unwrapped the Chinese fried rice he’d picked up from the restaurant around the corner. By now, he was practically part of the family there—he went at least once a week and often stayed to chat with everyone.
Mr. Lu, who ran the place, always welcomed him with a kind smile and, when Carlos wasn’t looking, would often slip in an extra portion or two as a gift.
He poured soy sauce over the rice, then broke apart the chopsticks and set them on the counter.
It was time to deal with the phone call he’d been avoiding all day. He had everything he needed: Chinese food and wine.
He unblocked his father’s number, started the call, and put the phone on speaker.
“Finally decided to call,” his father grumbled immediately, in his usual pompous tone.
“No one hired by you is going to step foot in my company. I thought I made that perfectly clear.”
“This time, you’ll have to follow my lead, Carlos. I’ve respected your wish to keep me out of your business, but I need evaluations done for a few family-owned companies. I hired an auditor for you and your sisters. I’ll explain the full plan later,” he replied, authoritative as ever.
“I’m not taking part in any plan of yours,” Carlos shot back firmly, shoveling some rice into his mouth.
“Don’t forget, I still hold much more power in this city than you do. I could destroy your business with just a couple of calls.”
Carlos twisted his lips into a mocking grin. “Threatening your own son. What a stellar example of fatherhood,” he said with sarcasm.
“Insult me all you want, but tomorrow Lando Norris will return to your company, and you will let him do the job I’m paying him handsomely to do. Good evening,” he finished, hanging up the call.
Carlos knew he’d pushed it by reminding his father what a terrible parent he’d been to all of them—but that was exactly the reaction he had expected.
He hated how his father could still meddle in his business, yet he also knew he was right: the power he held was still far greater than his own.
With a bitter sigh, Carlos resigned himself to going along with yet another scheme designed to make his life harder.
*
The next morning, Carlos arrived at work an hour early and summoned the head of administration.
Jando walked into the office yawning, wearing a wrinkled shirt.
"Good morning, and apologies for my disheveled state—didn't sleep at home last night," he said with a smirk, dropping into the now-familiar leather chair.
Jando wasn’t just one of his most trusted employees; over time, they'd also become close friends—as close as Carlos allowed anyone to get. After six years of working together, Jando knew where the boundaries lay. He had worked hard to establish open communication with Carlos and had eventually succeeded.
"As entertaining as your nightly escapades might be, I called you in for a more delicate matter," Carlos began in an overly dramatic tone.
Jando ran a hand through his dark hair and straightened up to give him his full attention.
"My father has hired a financial auditor who, apparently, will be digging through our files. My hands are tied, so I need you to handle it. I don’t deal with such trivial matters and have no interest in engaging with some kid my father brought in," he added, adjusting his jacket with frustration, clearly unsettled by the topic.
Jando watched him for a moment.
"No problem. Just tell Lindsay to send him up to the second floor—I’ll handle everything. Do you want full transparency? Should every file pass through your office before reaching him, so you can review the data yourself?"
"Yes, thank you. Email me everything first so I can go through it before it’s shared. It’s going to be a pain, but I’m asking this as a personal favor. I’ll grant you extra vacation days or whatever you want in return," he concluded, aware he was piling extra work on him.
Jando smiled.
"I’ll think about it, boss. I’m happy to accept a trade," he said, standing up and attempting to tuck in his shirt for a more presentable look. As he turned to leave, he paused.
"By the way—do you even know the name of this financial auditor?"
"Lando Norris," Carlos muttered, eyes fixed on his computer screen, ready to dive into the day’s work.
"Jesus, Carlos," Jando swore under his breath, speaking with the familiarity of someone who had long since dropped formalities.
Carlos raised an eyebrow from behind his screen, waiting for an explanation.
"Lando Norris? You’re calling him a kid? That guy’s a shark. He’s impressed some of the most powerful people out there. He’s worked with top-tier executives. Hell, he’s practically having dinner with the President of the United States. Where have you been?"
"In my beautiful penthouse, doing better things than keeping track of who’s good at their job. I don’t care who he is—as long as he doesn’t set foot in my office again," Carlos replied dismissively. He had no interest in learning more about the man his father had hired to monitor him.
Jando shook his head at the response.
"You should step out of that penthouse every now and then."
"I’m one of the most influential men in New York," Carlos answered, smug.
"And that ‘kid’ has managed to outplay them all," Jando replied slyly, before stepping out of the room.
*
Carlos had worked through the day.
He had lunch in his office, between one phone call and the next. Later, he had a coffee on the terrace to enjoy the fresh air of the gloomy day, and around seven, he left the office to head home.
That evening, he made himself dinner—grilled some burgers and vegetables—which he ate while watching a few episodes of Friends.
Only later, seated in the living room flipping through articles on his favorite news sites, did a flicker of curiosity rise in his mind. Jando’s words still echoed in the background, as if not knowing that name was unthinkable. And even though Carlos often thought of Jando as a walking exaggeration, he decided to check for himself and typed the young man’s name into the search bar.
The first link led to his Instagram profile, which Carlos deliberately skipped, choosing instead to scan the articles that followed.
There were a few pieces about his accomplishments. Some major headlines linked him to very prominent figures in the finance world.
Then there were photos of him at basketball games, seated near celebrities.
Dinners with Formula One team principals and drivers.
Jando hadn’t been exaggerating—this guy really did seem to be everywhere in the most exclusive circles.
Carlos found it hard to believe that he'd reached that level of connection on talent alone. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to get close to people of that stature, so he skimmed through his biography.
According to Wikipedia, he came from a wealthy British family—not especially influential, but clearly well-off. He had studied at Yale and gone on to work with Michelle Obama on a few non-profit projects.
Carlos raised an eyebrow. The list of professional experiences that followed seemed almost implausible. It was as if, from his Yale days onward, he had always been surrounded by the right people.
After reading extensively about his work, Carlos gave in once more and opened his Instagram profile.
The pinned posts showed him at a Brooklyn Nets game, wearing a designer shirt and smiling brightly for the camera. Another photo showed him sitting in the McLaren garage, wearing headphones and watching the monitors above him with a focused expression.
Other posts were scenic shots or mirror selfies. Apparently, he had an interest in photography and posted often.
In fact, the ring around his profile picture was glowing, and without thinking twice, Carlos tapped to view his stories.
There were three from that morning.
The first was a casual shot of the cloudy sky.
The second was a picture of his club sandwich for lunch.
The third, posted about an hour ago, was a selfie in an elevator.
He was wearing loose-fitting trousers, a gray sweater with the edge of a white T-shirt peeking out, and a leather jacket.
In the corner of the story, in tiny text, was the word: moody.
Carlos stared at the photo for a few seconds, then abruptly closed all the tabs. He had seen enough for his liking.
Jando had been right—and that only reinforced Carlos's decision to avoid any contact with that person.
Lando
He was sipping a beer while staring at the screen in front of him, where a match was being broadcast.
“Martim, I swear—he didn’t even let me access his floor. Sent me back to administration and handed me off to the department head. Jesus Christ, I didn’t think I was that intimidating,” he complained, recounting his day to his best friend.
The brunette turned to pay attention, finally pulling his eyes from the game.
“Didn’t you say he was pissed because it was his father who hired you? That’s probably why he doesn’t want to see you,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Lando nodded.
“Yeah, but to that extent? One of the most powerful men in New York, afraid of a little interference from his dad? Grow a spine,” he muttered, taking another sip of his beer.
He jumped to his feet when the opposing team nearly scored, then sat back down when the danger passed.
Martim set his empty bottle on the table in front of them.
“Or maybe he hates his father so much he doesn’t want any contact—even through a third party,” he said wisely, clearly convinced by his own reasoning.
Lando looked at him thoughtfully, skeptical. He couldn’t quite believe he’d been dismissed so easily, treated like a problem to be avoided and erased.
And he was Lando Norris—he never backed down.
“I’m not the kind of problem you can just ignore,” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice.
Martim burst out laughing, throwing his head back.
“Have I told you that if I liked men, you’d be my first pick?”
“I’m still waiting for you to change your mind,” Lando replied, clearly amused by one of their usual games.
Flirting with Martim was their special way of showing affection.
Chapter 2: Chapter two
Summary:
Lando will struggle to find a way to communicate with Carlos at the office—but it won’t be the same outside of it. All it takes is a shared landing and a shirt; fate knows how to play its cards well.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lando
He stepped out of the large building where he had worked all day, put in his earphones, restarted the last audiobook he’d been listening to, and headed toward the nearest subway station.
He had worked to the point of exhaustion, checking numbers and cross-referencing data. What didn’t help was that every document had to pass through Carlos, who seemed so overwhelmed with tasks that he slowed everything down to a crawl.
Jando, who was assisting him step by step, had apologized to him several times. Lando had decided to be patient, but he was on the verge of storming into the boss’s office and losing his temper.
He had never found himself in situations like this before—usually, he managed to get everyone’s cooperation for the sake of the company. He had come to understand that there were family disputes complicating things, but he hadn’t expected that kind of attitude from one of the most important men in New York.
Based on his research, the man was known to be extremely rigorous at work. He hadn’t expected any major surprises or issues in the financial reports—yet, at that point, he was simply wasting valuable time.
Martim kept reminding him that he was being generously compensated for that time, but Lando wasn’t built to sit still and wait.
Patience was not one of his virtues; his mother had reminded him of that constantly since he was a child.
He got off the unusually empty subway for that hour and took the small street leading to the supermarket just a few steps from his home. He was in urgent need of groceries.
He loved spending time among the aisles, deciding what to buy.
He walked through his usual departments, picking up everything he needed for elaborate dinners and quick lunches.
He paused to choose between different yogurt flavors he usually had for breakfast and decided to go for something a little different this time.
Just as he was about to head to the checkout, he stopped at the shelf with all kinds of wine bottles. He read a few labels, trying to make a decision, when he heard a voice that sounded familiar.
He peeked down the aisle and saw a broad pair of shoulders wrapped in a powder-blue shirt. The man was speaking on the phone in an annoyed tone, holding a package of pasta in his hands.
His black hair looked just as perfect as it had the day Lando had seen him in the office.
There was no doubt about it: it was Carlos Sainz.
Lando was surprised to see him roaming through supermarket aisles without his suit jacket—as if he’d imagined him even sleeping in those business outfits he wore all day.
He heard him telling someone on the other end of the line to take care of those issues themselves, and then hang up.
He sighed, frustrated, running a hand through his hair—and that’s when Lando stepped forward.
“Choosing pasta makes me nervous too,” he began, sarcastically.
Carlos’s shoulders tensed, and when he turned around, he looked at him with a surprised expression.
Then his eyes dropped to the pack of pasta he was holding. “Oh, I’d actually forgotten I had this in my hand. It’s people who don’t know how to do their jobs that make me nervous,” he admitted, as if he owed him an explanation.
Lando was caught off guard by how casual the exchange felt—it was as if they were in a completely different world.
So, he did what he did best: improvise.
“Oh, I get that. I coach future football stars for a living—they never listen to me.”
The dark-haired man furrowed his brows, clearly confused by the remark, and it took him a moment to understand what Lando was trying to do.
“What do you do for a living?” Lando pressed, prompting him to play along.
Carlos seemed to consider it, then replied, “I’m a chef. And I hate improvising in the kitchen.”
That made Lando smile.
“That explains why picking the right pasta almost broke you.”
Carlos smiled back, and fine lines formed at the corners of his eyes—something Lando couldn’t help but notice. The scowl he’d worn the first time they met didn’t suit him at all.
They stood in silence for a few seconds before Lando shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Well, I’d better get going—I’m starving and still haven’t picked out a wine.”
Carlos suddenly brightened. “Wait.”
He stepped past him to return to the shelf Lando had just left, scanned the labels, and reached up to grab a bottle from the top row.
“This one’s one of my favorites.”
Lando took the bottle and read the label. “Thanks. I’m terrible at choosing—you just saved me a big headache,” he said, smiling.
They said a quick goodbye. Lando walked past the aisles and headed straight to the checkout, replaying the strangeness of the encounter in his mind.
But more than anything, he thought about the contrast between the friendliness he’d just seen and the arrogance of the man he’d met in the office.
Carlos Sainz had surprised him.
Carlos
He had postponed a few scheduled meetings because that morning his mother had asked to meet him for lunch. So, he had cleared his agenda and was now sitting at the table of the restaurant where they usually met, waiting for her while scrolling through a few articles on his phone.
The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a favorite of theirs. It was always busy, and the checkered tablecloths reminded him a bit of Spain—his mother’s homeland—where he had spent many of his childhood summers.
A waitress came over to ask if he needed anything, and he ordered a glass of wine to pass the time.
He wasn’t in the habit of drinking at lunch, or drinking in general, but if his mother wanted to meet without notice, it usually meant one thing: a conversation about the topic he hated most—his father.
So a little alcohol in his system wouldn’t hurt.
His mother arrived right on time, as usual. Her hair was tied in a low bun, and she wore a long black coat wrapped tightly around her.
“Mi amor,” she greeted him as she leaned in for a hug. Carlos embraced her in return and then sat back down while she took off her coat and handed it, along with her purse, to the waitress.
She took her seat across from him and fiddled with the earrings she’d worn since he was a child. She had told him once they were a gift from a dear friend who had passed away.
“How are you, Mom?” he asked, pouring her some water while waiting for her answer.
His mother, Reyes, took a sip. “I’m very well, mi amor. I’ve missed you. We never see each other anymore—you work too much.”
“You’ve already ticked off a few of your usual complaints,” he teased, breaking a breadstick from the basket, unusually hungry.
The waitress returned to take their orders. Carlos asked for a beef filet with mushroom cream sauce and fries. He’d go for a run later to burn off the unhealthy meal. His mother ordered her usual steak and a glass of red wine before turning her attention back to him with a knowing look.
“And how are you really? Your father told me you’ve been very tense lately.”
Carlos shrugged. “Not really. My life is as uneventful as always. I’m fine.”
“How did you take your father getting involved in your business?”
“I hate it. Just like I hate everything he does,” he said without hesitation.
His mother narrowed her eyes, the way she used to when he misbehaved as a child—her silent warning not to push too far.
“Carlos, I don’t like the way you talk about your father. That man worked hard for all of you, and even if he wasn’t perfect, he doesn’t deserve your resentment,” she said firmly.
Carlos looked away, resting his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.
“I hope you didn’t come just to talk about him,” he said, trying to ease the tension.
Reyes leaned back in her chair. “I came because I’m worried. Give your father the space he needs. One day, you’ll understand why he does the things he does,” she said, not letting go of the subject.
Then she relaxed her shoulders. “And because I miss you. I never know what my son is up to out there in New York.” The expression on her face softened with those words.
Carlos reached across the table and took her hand. “The guy Dad hired is supposedly one of the best in New York—or so Jando says. The first time I saw him, I thought he was the son of one of my employees, there to interview me for a university project,” he said with a laugh.
He didn’t know why Lando was the first topic that came to mind, but his mother immediately took interest in the story, and they both laughed as he recounted the details of how awkwardly it had all played out.
The rest of lunch passed peacefully. He had missed chatting with his mother too and made a silent promise to call her more often.
When they said goodbye on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, he hugged her tightly.
“I love you, Mom,” he whispered in her ear, and she kissed him on the cheek.
*
Jando knocked on the office door for what felt like the tenth time that day.
When Carlos saw him walk in, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me to check those files you sent again,” he warned, almost threateningly.
“I’m not intimidated by you. It’s been three days since you promised to review them. Lando’s out there twiddling his thumbs because he can’t move forward without that data.”
“And I’m working, unlike him. I don’t have time to waste on a review I didn’t even ask for,” Carlos replied without flinching.
Jando took a seat in the chair across from his desk. “You’re acting like a spoiled child. You’re stalling his work just to spite your father.”
Carlos ran a hand through his hair, visibly annoyed. “There are ten emails in my inbox that need my attention, and you think I should waste time reviewing files I didn’t request? Do you think I have time to throw away? I work like hell all day, in case you haven’t noticed,” he shot back—just another round in a conversation they’d had too many times.
“So can I show him the data without your review, then?”
“Absolutely not. He’ll wait, that’s it.”
Jando rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Next time he wants to storm into your office, I’m letting him. I’ve got my own work to do. I’m not here to be a messenger.”
“Do you think I’m afraid to face him? I’ll tell him exactly what I’m telling you,” Carlos said, as stubborn as ever.
His best friend decided to drop it and turned toward the door.
But Carlos called after him.
“Wanna grab a drink tonight?” he asked, dropping the tone of the authoritarian boss.
Jando checked the time on his watch. “I’ll text you later. I’m supposed to have dinner with my sister first.”
Carlos nodded. “I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said, then turned his attention back to his computer, letting himself get absorbed in work once again.
Lando
Martim had become friends with a DJ at the art school he’d been attending ever since he’d grown tired of his monotonous corporate job and decided to follow his dream.
That’s how they ended up spending the evening at one of New York’s most beautiful rooftop venues. It was on the eleventh floor of the Brooklyn Bridge Hotel, offering an incredible view of the Brooklyn Bridge and the East River. The skyscrapers of the Manhattan skyline lit up the background, creating a scene that never failed to mesmerize Lando.
That city meant everything to him—it always had. As a child, he had loved both its strengths and its flaws, all the things that made it impossible to describe with words.
Whenever someone asked him what it was like to live in such a fast-paced city, he would always answer that the only way to truly understand it was to experience it for yourself.
For the occasion, Lando had worn a pair of white trousers that fell softly along his legs, ending perfectly over his Nikes. On top, he had chosen a short-sleeved black mesh knit shirt. The collar resembled that of a polo, but the neckline left much of his collarbones exposed.
Martim had burst out laughing when he saw him. “Another night where the guys won’t be able to take their eyes off you,” he had said, amused.
After enjoying the music for a while, Martim introduced him to the DJ, and they stayed by the booth for a bit, moving to the rhythm.
Max joined them a little later. When he arrived, he hugged them both and shouted, “I need a drink!” trying to make himself heard over the loud music.
Max was one of their closest friends. He traveled a lot for work, so he was often away, but when he was around, the three of them became instantly inseparable.
So Martim and Max headed to the bar to get drinks, while Lando stayed behind, taking in the view in front of him.
He pulled out his phone as a particular remix started playing and captured the view for an Instagram story.
A voice behind him—“Lando Norris?”—called softly, catching his attention.
He turned around and found himself face to face with Mason Mount, a Manchester United footballer he had met years ago and often caught up with whenever their schedules allowed.
“Mason!” he exclaimed, surprised to see him there. They hugged, and he asked, “What are you doing in New York?”
He knew it was peak season for footballers and hadn’t expected to see him vacationing halfway across the world.
“Little break in the league—and you know how much I love coming back to New York,” Mason explained, leaning in to speak into his ear so he could be heard over the pounding music.
Lando nodded, but before he could say anything, they were interrupted by Martim and Max, who had just returned with the drinks.
“Mason Mount!” Martim exclaimed, clearly excited to see him. “God, I was honestly worried. I left him alone for two minutes and already found him with a guy glued to his side.”
Mason laughed, amused. “Well, I can’t say I don’t fit into that category,” he said, raising his hands. Then he turned and gave Lando a quick glance, which made him smile.
That was always how things had been between him and Mason—flirty whenever the occasion arose. Lando had even ended up in bed with him a couple of times, because some chances were simply too good to pass up.
He took the drink from Martim and had a sip while listening to the conversation, which had quickly turned to the football league and who looked like the favorite that season.
Lando wasn’t a huge football fan, but he knew enough to join in and share his opinion.
Later, they danced. Lando had three gin and tonics and fully let himself go, drawing attention as he usually did.
At least two guys had tried to approach him, but Martim had stuck close the whole night, being protective. They had a rule: on nights like this, when they decided to hang out together, flirting or hooking up was off-limits.
When the party started to wind down, they said goodbye to Mason and caught a cab to grab a few slices of pizza to soak up the alcohol—a well-established ritual by now.
Lando was too tired to make it home, so he decided to crash at Martim’s place. He lived right in the city center, and it would be more convenient for Lando to head to work from there the next day.
They stumbled into the apartment, exhausted, and passed out the moment they hit the bed—shedding their clothes from the night and falling asleep instantly.
*
The sound of the alarm on his phone had woken him up the next morning. Lando had cursed as he fumbled around trying to find the phone, which he’d left somewhere on the floor, and when he finally did, he turned off that awful noise.
He sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard behind him, and looked around. He didn’t have a headache—even though he’d indulged a bit the night before, he hadn’t gone overboard to the point of waking up sick. Still, he hadn’t slept enough. He rubbed his eyes in the empty room; Martim had probably already left the house. He grabbed his phone again and, sure enough, found a message from him.
Best friend in the world: I had an important class this morning
Lando: I hope you left me breakfast
Best friend in the world: I’m not your boyfriend
Lando smiled at the last message and got up. He headed to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, which he drank in one go. Martim had left a piece of toast and a glass of orange juice on the counter, as he always did whenever Lando stayed over.
He sat on a stool and started having breakfast while scrolling through his phone, catching up with the online world.
After breakfast, he decided to take a quick shower. He loved using his best friend’s expensive products; he always came out smelling like coconut, thanks to the shampoo he knew must have cost a small fortune.
Once he had carefully dried his hair and put on the pants from the night before, his attention was drawn by the sound of his phone ringing from the kitchen. It was a call.
He moved quickly to pick it up and saw his mother's name flashing on the screen.
“Mom,” he answered, just in time before the call ended.
The line was bad—Martim’s apartment only got reception in the hallway—so without thinking twice, he grabbed a T-shirt from the clean laundry basket and stepped outside to get a better signal.
He paced back and forth in the hallway as his mother updated him on his sisters’ school news. She bombarded him with questions about his new job and threatened to stop talking to him if he didn’t come home to visit soon.
Lando reassured her several times and shared as many details as he could, before having to hang up in order not to be late for work.
Just as he ended the call and turned to go back inside, he realized—too late—that the door had shut behind him. And there was no way to open it without a key.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
Right at that moment, the door of the apartment across the hall opened, and out stepped none other than Carlos Sainz, fully dressed and looking sharp.
Lando stared at him, letting his gaze wander over his figure wrapped in one of his signature tailored suits, surprised to see him there.
“You live here?” the dark-haired man asked, just as surprised to find Lando on the landing.
“Hey,” Lando greeted, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “No, this is my best friend’s place. I locked myself out,” he explained, turning back to the door, looking for something that might help him open it.
Carlos stood there watching him rummage under the doormat. “Did you leave something important inside?” he asked, genuinely interested in the early morning mishap.
“I was supposed to steal a shirt from his closet. I can’t show up to work like this,” Lando said, glancing back at him—just in time to catch Carlos openly checking him out from head to toe.
“I’m sure your boss wouldn’t even notice,” Carlos joked.
Lando gave a not-so-amused smirk. “My boss doesn’t even know I exist—he deletes my emails on sight,” he teased, hitting a nerve.
Carlos shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cleared his throat, ignoring the jab. “I could lend you something. One of my shirts would be a bit big on you, but it’s better than a T-shirt.”
The brunette’s eyes widened at the offer. “Are you serious?”
Carlos rolled his eyes at the surprised tone. He was well aware he hadn’t made the best impression on Lando—it showed in the way the other tried to be overly polite.
Without saying another word, he turned around, unlocked his door, and pushed it open, motioning for Lando to come in.
Lando hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside, glancing around with curiosity.
The apartment wasn’t too different from Martim’s, though the decor was far more impersonal—almost sterile. There were few touches of color. A framed, signed basketball jersey hung in the living room. A soft blue rug lay beneath the coffee table. A white couch sat at the center of the space. Everything else was bathed in very pale beige tones.
It was a beautiful place, but Lando didn’t get to admire it for long—Carlos had already disappeared down the hallway, and he followed. The other man flicked on the light in a massive room that turned out to be his walk-in closet.
Lando had been in luxury homes before, but this closet looked like something straight out of a movie.
Every wall was dedicated to a different type of clothing. One was filled entirely with elegant suits, arranged by color.
The far wall held shirts. Carlos stepped up to inspect a few, then pulled one down and handed it to him. “You can wear this. One of the few without my initials on it.”
That made Lando smile. “Showing up to work with your initials might offer a… unique twist,” he murmured, taking the shirt.
Carlos
Carlos couldn’t believe he had actually dragged Lando into his apartment and was lending him one of his shirts.
He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but somehow, he felt guilty about being the reason Lando’s work was constantly delayed. In the end, he wasn’t really the cause—but whenever they met outside the office, Carlos found himself wanting to show a better version of himself.
His thoughts were cut off by Lando, who, with no hesitation at all, pulled off his T-shirt right in front of him, revealing his bare torso as he prepared to put on the shirt.
He wasn’t particularly muscular, but his lightly tanned skin looked incredibly soft. For a split second, Carlos had the overwhelming urge to reach out and find out for himself.
He watched as Lando buttoned up the shirt and rolled up the cuffs, which hung a bit loose on his wrists.
When he finished, Lando turned to look at himself in the mirror. “Well, a shirt from Martim would’ve looked the same on me… and I couldn’t exactly wear last night’s T-shirt,” he commented to himself.
Carlos raised an eyebrow at that. “What were you wearing last night?” he asked as casually as he could.
But Lando turned to face him and gave a crooked smile, choosing not to answer.
He thanked him as they headed toward the door, and once it was closed behind them, Lando turned to wave goodbye. “I better run, or I’ll be late for another useless workday,” he said, throwing in one last jab before disappearing down the stairs—just as suddenly as he’d shown up—leaving Carlos standing alone in the hallway.
Notes:
Thank you for making it this far!
The story unfolds little by little, allowing us to get to know both of their lives and see how they’ll eventually collide.
If you have any thoughts or feedback, I’m here for you!
Lots of love!
Chapter 3: Chapter three
Summary:
From: [email protected]
"To: [email protected]
Subject: Lando the football coachDear Chef Sainz,
Thank you for lending your shirt to a complete stranger. I really dislike doing the walk of shame.
I've returned the shirt, freshly washed and ironed.
Thanks again.
(It's hanging on your door.)"
Notes:
In this chapter, we dive a little deeper into Lando and Carlos's lives and their relationships.
Little by little, we see the two of them starting to circle each other… and even have some naughty thoughts ;)
This week's chapter came a bit late because I was on holiday — I know things are moving slowly, but don’t worry, the action is coming soon!!!
If you feel like it, let me know what you think — thank you so much for every like and every comment!
Lots of love as always <3
Chapter Text
Lando
When Lando arrived at the office that morning, he found the file he had been waiting for over the past three days in his inbox, and smiled, pleased to have finally gotten what he needed.
That allowed him to get ahead with work and note down the data that needed to be double-checked with Jando.
He only paused briefly for lunch and to reply to Martim’s messages teasing him for locking himself out of his apartment—again.
So now, as night had fallen outside the glass windows and the long, intense workday had left him exhausted, he rubbed his eyes, dead tired. He saved all the files and shut down his computer. Stretching as he stood up, he unlocked his phone to look for the address Martim had sent him—the restaurant where they were meeting for dinner.
Lando studied the map, trying to figure out how to get there. Realizing he could skip the subway and take a ten-minute walk instead, he grabbed his things and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. The floor was half-empty, except for Jando’s office, from which he could hear voices.
He wasn’t sure if it was Carlos's voice coming from down the hallway, but it did sound familiar.
He had sensed that there was something more than just a professional connection between Jando and Carlos—it was evident in how the other felt free to push boundaries.
Lando gave the door one last glance before stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the ground floor.
By the time he got to the restaurant, Max and Martim were already seated, sipping wine as they waited.
He didn’t bother with greetings and went straight to calling the waiter after saying, “I’m starving,” unwilling to wait any longer.
“Whatever happened to manners?” Martim teased, as always looking for ways to get under his skin.
Lando rolled his eyes. “I stared at my computer screen for so long today, I’m not even sure I remember my name,” he muttered, rubbing his sore neck.
Martim pouted dramatically. “Aw, is your boss treating you badly?” he teased.
Lando knew exactly where he was going with that. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. I don’t know why I always end up telling you everything,” he complained, while Max looked on, confused.
Lando leaned back in his chair after pouring himself some wine. “Go on, tell him. I know you’re dying to,” he said, mocking him.
Martim then launched into a story about that morning on his landing, when Carlos had kindly lent him a shirt. He threw in extra details as if he had experienced it himself, and Lando rolled his eyes, completely unsurprised.
Max’s jaw dropped at the revelation. “The shirt you’re wearing belongs to your insufferable boss?”
Lando smirked. “I know, even I find it weird. I never thought I’d get anything from the guy who slammed the door in my face the first time we met.” He took a sip of wine. “But apparently, we’re pretending to be strangers outside the office now,” he added, trying to summarize the odd situation.
Martim, distracted, typed something on his phone before saying, “I don’t know how, but Lando always manages to surprise me.”
Max shook his head, amused. “No one can resist Lando Norris, huh?” he said—one of many running jokes they used to torment him.
“Yeah, just ask Mason Mount, who couldn’t wait to get his hands on you last night.”
“If it weren’t for your stupid guys’ night rule, I would’ve gone for it,” Lando shot back, annoyed.
Martim placed a hand over his heart and pulled a wounded expression. “Didn’t you sleep well in my bed?”
Lando tossed his napkin at him. “It’s the sleeping part that’s disappointing,” he teased, and all three burst out laughing.
Carlos
Carlos came home exhausted. He took off his tie even before closing the door behind him, and once inside, he headed to the bedroom to get out of his clothes and jump into the shower.
It had been a long day at work, and some things hadn’t gone as he hoped. He never stopped worrying; his mother always told him he was too precise to keep everything under control.
He entered the bathroom and turned on the shower while putting his clothes into the laundry basket.
Then, completely naked, he stepped into the shower and let the water run over him, trying to clear his mind and wash away all his worries.
His shoulders gave way, starting to relax under the warm water, and he leaned back against the shower tiles.
Free from all thoughts, he realized he had noticed an unfamiliar scent when he came back home.
Only then did he remember Lando, the young man hired by his father.
He had smelled of coconut when Carlos passed him in the upstairs hallway, and that scent had lingered there, in the rooms of his house.
Thinking back, Carlos couldn’t stop his imagination from recalling the moment when Lando had undressed in front of him.
The dark-haired man hadn’t been able to stop his eyes from exploring that bare chest—tanned and slightly defined skin. He remembered how soft it seemed and how tempted he had been to reach out his hands. But above all, he remembered Lando’s bare neck, probably strengthened by years of training.
The dark-haired man couldn't stop his eyes from exploring that bare chest. That tanned, slightly defined skin. He remembered how soft it looked and how tempted he had been to reach out and touch it. But most of all, he remembered his bare neck, that neck probably strengthened by years of training.
Just recalling those thoughts, Carlos could feel his cock growing against his stomach and hardening.
He wasn't surprised by his body's reaction. He had thought Lando was terribly attractive from the first time he saw him walk into his office.
Without hesitation, he let his hand close around his now fully erect penis and began to move it up and down, thinking of that tanned skin and those pink lips.
Carlos thought about how they must feel to the touch. But above all, how they might tighten around his penis.
He tightened his grip as he imagined him on his knees. With his green eyes staring up at him.
And he came loudly at the mere thought. He spilled his semen onto the shower tiles and then let go, feeling the orgasm relax every nerve in his body.
He threw his head back and finally felt at peace.
After putting on pajama shorts and a simple t-shirt, barefoot, he headed to the kitchen to take out the dinner he had prepared earlier from the fridge.
He removed the plastic wrap from the rice and opened the top cupboard to pour a drizzle of oil. Then he placed everything on the island counter in the center of the room and took out the cutlery.
He decided to treat himself to a cold beer because he needed to feel light-headed.
On nights like these, when work overwhelmed him, he felt terribly lonely. Jando was busy with the girl he had been seeing recently, and his cousin, who was also a close friend, had returned to Spain last month.
He brought a bite of rice to his mouth while unlocking his phone to scroll through social media, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.
After a while, as the stories kept rolling without offering anything of interest, he remembered that morning—when Lando had mentioned the outfit from the night before but hadn’t answered his question.
Curious once more, he typed his name into the search bar and tapped on his profile.
There were new stories. Carlos didn’t hesitate and tapped the colorful ring.
He brought a bite of rice to his mouth while unlocking his phone to scroll through social media, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.
After a while, as the stories kept rolling without offering anything of interest, he remembered that morning—when Lando had mentioned the outfit from the night before but hadn’t answered his question.
Curious once more, he typed his name into the search bar and tapped on his profile.
There were new stories. Carlos didn’t hesitate and tapped the colorful ring.
The first was a mirror selfie taken in an elevator. He was wearing a semi-sheer black shirt with a neckline that revealed his collarbones. It was paired with white pants, though Carlos couldn’t see the full look because the mirror didn’t capture it completely.
Carlos suddenly remembered he had just gotten off in the shower thinking about that guy. A wave of embarrassment hit him, prompting him to quickly tap to the next story.
The following one was a view of the club he’d been at, with a great remix playing in the background. He made a mental note to look it up on Google later.
And then the final story caught him off guard. It was a repost in which the brunette had been tagged. Lando was smiling with a straw held between his teeth while a guy leaned in, whispering something in his ear, clearly invading his personal space.
The guy in question was Mason Mount.
The Manchester United striker. A world-famous footballer wasn’t just getting physically close to him—he had also posted the story and tagged him.
“New York xx” was all he’d written as a caption.
Carlos raised an eyebrow and, without thinking twice, took a screenshot and sent it to Jando on WhatsApp.
Carlos: photo attached
Carlos: You weren’t kidding when you said he hangs out with some pretty high-level people.
His best friend replied a few minutes later.
Jando: I’ve always thought there was something going on between those two. I’ve never seen them more than two centimeters apart.
Carlos read the message and didn’t reply. He locked his phone and went back to eating his dinner.
Maybe Jando was right about Lando Norris.
*
The next morning, while sitting at his kitchen counter sipping coffee, Carlos noticed an email notification that had arrived at 3 a.m.
He frowned, assuming it was just spam, but was surprised to see Lando’s name in the sender field.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Lando the football coach
Dear Chef Sainz,
Thank you for lending your shirt to a complete stranger. I hate doing the walk of shame.
I’ve returned the shirt—washed and ironed.
Thanks again xx
(it’s hanging on your door)
Carlos chuckled when he read the subject line. That little game they played—pretending to be strangers outside of the office—amused him more than he liked to admit.
He would’ve gladly swapped his life with that of an ordinary chef at that point.
Still holding his coffee cup, he walked to the front door, opened it, and saw the shirt hanging there.
He took it down, shut the door, and brought it back into the kitchen, placing it on a stool before returning to his breakfast.
He opened his inbox to reply.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Chef Carlos
Dear Coach,
I’ve picked up the shirt. Happy to be of service.
Do you call it a walk of shame because you’re in a relationship with my neighbor?
Kind regards.
He knew he shouldn’t be prying into Lando’s personal life. Carlos was well aware of that.
And yet, he hadn’t been able to resist the curiosity.
After sending the email, he put the empty cup and the peanut butter knife into the dishwasher, then went to his bedroom to get dressed.
As he was buttoning up his shirt, he heard his phone vibrate on the nightstand where he’d left it.
He walked over to check the notification and smiled when he saw Lando had already replied.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Lando the football coach
Chef Carlos,
Since you’re clearly comfortable enough to ask personal questions, I’ll drop the formalities.
I’m not in a relationship with your neighbor—we’re really just friends.
Have you never met him?
Carlos finished putting on one of his usual suits, then headed back to the kitchen to grab his car keys and went down to the garage.
Only later, while waiting at a red light, did he open the email to reply.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Chef Carlos
No, but the woman who lives to my left, Emma, described him as “a walking dream.”
So maybe he’s worth meeting.
He hit send with a small smile tugging at his lips, remembering how Emma had talked about their neighbor—using phrases even more colorful than the one he’d quoted.
Lando
That morning, he had taken time off work to visit his grandmother in the hospital.
She hadn’t been doing well lately, and just a couple of days earlier, a dizzy spell had caused her to lose her balance and fall down the stairs.
When he walked in, he found her focused on one of the many crossword puzzles she loved to do—she claimed they kept her mind sharp and helped her stay sane.
She had pulled him into a hug and, as usual, told him not to worry, refusing to talk about her broken leg and instead wanting to hear updates about his life.
His grandmother Grace had always been his safe haven.
She had taught him to never give up and to always hold his head high—with grace.
She had been his refuge whenever something went wrong, never shielding him from the cruelty of the world, but teaching him to endure it and face it head-on.
He still remembered how she once refused to open the door when he showed up at her place, saying he wanted to quit university.
She had stared him down from the threshold, annoyed, and told him to turn around and go back—because her grandson never gave up.
Lando remembered those moments with great fondness.
But now she was aging, and the mere thought of losing her filled him with dread.
He told her about his new job, and the grumpy boss who wasn’t actually grumpy in private.
They shared two chocolate puddings he had stolen from the hospital cafeteria and then video-called Martim—someone his grandmother had a soft spot for.
He promised he’d visit her again the next day, and she actually blushed with happiness.
After the short visit, he returned to work.
He reviewed a few files and took notes on some inconsistencies that needed further checking.
He skipped lunch—the chocolate puddings had completely killed his appetite—and just grabbed a Coke Zero from the vending machine in the hallway.
Jando appeared out of nowhere.
“Hey,” he said, stepping up to the machine and inserting a few coins.
“This morning I stopped by your desk, but you weren’t there,” he added, pressing buttons to make the selected snack drop.
“I took a few hours off. Is there something I can help you with?”
Jando leaned against the vending machine while tearing open a pack of peanuts.
“No work, Lando. I’m organizing a beer night with some friends and wanted to invite you.”
The brunette stared at him, surprised.
“Oh,” he murmured, unable to hide it. “I think that sounds good, I didn’t have any plans for tonight,” he added, thinking it might actually be a good idea.
Jando gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“Perfect. We usually meet around ten at Blue Haven East—it’s a sports bar, not sure if you’ve been?”
Lando nodded.
“Yeah, a couple of times. See you there.”
Then the other man disappeared down the hallway from which he had come.
Lando couldn’t help but wonder whether Carlos would be at that friend gathering too.
*
Of course, he’d asked Martim to come with him.
The dark-haired man wasn’t really in the mood to go out, but he couldn’t say no to Lando, so he sighed and went to get ready.
Lando wore a pair of light-wash baggy jeans, some Nikes, and an oversized grey hoodie. No expectations for bar attire.
While Martim finished getting dressed and texting his current girlfriend, Lando scrolled through social media, saving a few interesting posts to check out later.
Then he wandered into his best friend’s kitchen, looking for something to eat, and found an already opened bag of chips in the pantry.
Martim found him like that—sitting on the counter, eating chips and reading bits of the book he was studying.
“You could just move in and stop paying rent,” he reminded him, like he always did when trying to convince him.
Martim hated being alone, and Lando always told him he needed to face that fear.
Martim would brush it off and suggest moving in together again and again.
Lando ignored the proposal this time too, wiping his greasy fingers on a paper napkin and tossing it into the trash under the sink.
“Are we taking the metro?”
“No, I’ll drive. Don’t feel like taking public transport,” Martim clarified, grabbing the keys to his BMW and heading out the door.
Lando glanced at the closed door across the hall and wondered if Carlos was inside—or already at the bar with Jando.
He got his answer the moment they stepped into the bar.
Carlos was leaning against the wall, holding a pool cue in his hands, focused on his opponent’s next move.
It was Jando who spotted Lando first and shouted his name over the crowd noise.
That, of course, drew Carlos’s attention too—he frowned, eyes landing directly on Lando, visibly surprised.
Jando clearly hadn’t warned him about the invitation; it was written all over his face.
Carlos stiffened, caught off guard, while Lando and Martim made their way through the crowd.
There was a round of introductions, and when it came to their turn—
“I’m Lando, the football coach, just happened to be here by chance,” he joked, keeping up the little roleplay he’d grown fond of.
Carlos looked at him for a moment, serious-faced, clearly debating how best to react.
But before he could respond, Martim cut in and broke the tension.
“I’m the sexy neighbor,” he declared, cocky as ever.
Carlos’s lips curved into a smile as he shook his hand.
“Chef Carlos,” he replied, then turned to Lando as if to confirm the playful tone.
“I probably shouldn’t have told him what the neighbor said, sorry—just, we have a very direct communication channel. Hard to keep secrets,” Lando explained, just as Jando arrived with two beers.
Martim took a sip from his glass.
“He really never stops complaining about his boss,” he teased, drawing Carlos’s attention.
Carlos raised an eyebrow and shot him a pointed look.
“That bad, huh?”
Lando gave a crooked smile.
“Oh, the worst,” he said with amusement.
The rest of the evening went by peacefully.
They downed a couple of beers and played pool like they were old friends.
Lando and Martim won the first game and lost the second.
He and Carlos spent the whole night pretending not to have any professional connection.
They teased each other and poked fun at Martim’s ego.
When they finally took a break, leaving Jando and Martim to battle it out for a final round, Carlos came to stand beside Lando, who was sitting on one of the tables watching the game.
“So your boss is impossible, huh?” he asked, brushing his shoulder lightly against his.
Lando smiled.
“He hates me—but I suspect he has good reasons.”
“Rumor has it you’re used to getting your way?” Carlos replied.
Lando turned to look at him.
“Is that why you stalk my Instagram?” he asked, catching him off guard.
Carlos didn’t flinch.
“I was just curious to see if the rumors were true.”
“Rumors always exaggerate,” Lando shrugged.
“Depends. Are you having an affair with Mason Mount?”
Lando wasn’t expecting that question, but the curiosity in it amused him.
He ran his tongue along his teeth, amused, eyes fixed straight ahead.
“I’ll invoke whatever amendment lets me skip answering that,” he said playfully.
Carlos raised his hands in surrender.
“I’ve always had a crush on him,” he confessed, catching Lando off guard again.
Lando studied him for a moment, curious.
“I didn’t think we played on the same team,” he said, referring to their preferences.
Carlos ran a hand through his hair, staring off in some random direction.
“I don’t play for any team in particular,” he clarified.
Lando nodded, turning his attention back to the game in front of them.
“Martim’s losing—I can tell by the way he’s pursing his lips,” he said, amused.
Carlos smiled, watching his best friend miss the pocket by a hair.
“You two know each other really well. It’s like you’re in sync.”
Lando couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across his face.
“Yeah, we’ve known each other since middle school. I used to be really solitary and avoided him like the plague, but he wore me down.
It was like he knew we were meant to be family,” he said, thinking back to all the years they’d leaned on each other.
“I’m good at being alone—but being alone without Martim is something I’ve never experienced. The thought of it terrifies me,” he admitted naturally.
Only afterward did he realize how strange it was to be sharing such personal thoughts with Carlos, someone he barely knew.
Carlos listened silently.
“I get that. Jando and I aren’t quite as in sync, but I don’t know what I’d do without him either,” he replied just as sincerely.
“Like, who would manage the pain-in-the-ass your dad hired just to annoy you?” Lando joked.
Carlos burst out laughing, throwing his head back. His eyes squinted, and Lando watched him without even trying to be discreet.
“The best pain-in-the-ass around, I hear,” Carlos muttered mockingly.
Lando gave an exaggerated bow, pretending to be flattered.
Chapter 4: Chapter four
Summary:
“We could do it,” he proposed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Notes:
Happy Sunday, everyone. Here I am with a new chapter. First of all, thank you so much for every interaction — it truly means a lot to me! Your patience will soon be rewarded. In this chapter, we dive further into their lives and, most importantly, their relationship.
In this chapter, you'll get to meet the famous Emma. Just so you know, she and Martim are my absolute favorites!Enjoy the read, and as always, I'm here if you need anything.
Lots of love xxxxxx
Chapter Text
Carlos
Carlos wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat down on the bench next to the padel court. He took a long sip from his water bottle — the afternoon was quite warm. His sister, Blanca, approached without a trace of sweat on her face, perfectly composed in her white outfit.
"You're getting worse. How long has it been since we last played?" she asked, with the confident smile of someone who had clearly won.
She sat down beside him, gave him a light punch on the shoulder, and grabbed her own bottle from the bright pink gym bag she always carried.
"I spend my days sitting at a desk. You're the athletic one in the family," her older brother replied in his defense.
Blanca drank some electrolytes, staring straight ahead. "Something feels off. Yesterday, Dad didn’t want to see me and told Mom to keep everyone out of his office," she said abruptly.
Carlos had been hesitant to agree to the match — not because he didn’t want to see his sister, but because he knew the conversation would eventually shift to the one topic he was trying to avoid. He sighed and put his bottle back in place.
"Maybe he was busy being difficult with someone else," he replied in his usual tone.
His sister ignored the comment, as she often did. "Maybe. But I have a bad feeling about this."
"Don’t you always get a bad feeling when it comes to him?"
Blanca rolled her eyes. "You could stop with the passive-aggressive act. You’re an adult now. If Dad hurt you, go to therapy and deal with it," she said bluntly. That was how she was — rational and clear-headed, even in tough moments.
Carlos knew when it was time to back off. "You’re right. Sorry," he said, receiving only a brief nod in response.
"Wanna go get dinner? I want to hear about the rest of your busy life," he offered, trying to move past the tension.
She looked at him for a moment. "Okay. I’ll see you at the entrance after I shower," she agreed, getting up to head to the locker rooms.
Carlos watched her disappear into the tunnel and let out a sigh. Talking about his father always unsettled him, but family was still the most important thing to him — which is why, at times, staying away felt so difficult.
*
After dropping Blanca off at home, Carlos got back around eleven. He picked up the mail the doorman had left in his box, which he hadn’t checked in a couple of days.
He unlocked the door, eyes still fixed on the envelopes, and placed them on the entryway shelf along with his keys.
He was exhausted — all he wanted was to take off his clothes and fall into his incredibly comfortable bed.
But apparently, other plans were in store. Just as he was undoing the buttons of his shirt, someone knocked at the door.
He checked the time again, despite having looked only ten minutes earlier, and frowned in confusion.
Slowly, he walked to the door and opened it. Standing there was Emma, holding a bottle of wine and a deck of cards.
"Hi, neighbor," said the blonde girl.
Carlos shook his head immediately. "I’m exhausted, Emma. You’re not going to convince me tonight."
She responded with a charming pout. "Please, don’t leave me alone."
Carlos knew Emma only came up with these impromptu nights when she was really upset and didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts — which made it hard for him to say no.
He looked at her for a few seconds, then stepped aside to let her in.
"So, what’s this week’s drama for Emma Jones?" he asked as he closed the door.
Emma went straight to the living room, where she’d been countless times, sat in the armchair, and crossed her legs, settling in.
"The guy I’ve been seeing stopped answering me. It’s been three days. I don’t want to seem pathetic and message him again. So, here I am, bothering my neighbor," she explained while giving the cards a shuffle and then opening the bottle of wine.
Carlos grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and placed them on the table for her to fill.
"Men are idiots," he said flatly.
Emma’s big blue eyes silently thanked him.
"I know — except for my lovely neighbor," she replied, brushing off the topic.
Carlos took a sip from his glass.
"One game only," he said — something he always said, but never stuck to.
Emma had a remarkable talent for persuasion. Carlos often wondered how any man could say no to her.
They started playing, and as usual, she began telling him about the gorgeous guy she’d met at the gym — how he’d pursued her for weeks and taken her to a beautiful restaurant.
Carlos listened patiently, trying to build a good hand, while Emma complained about no longer being able to spot the signs of something not working out.
"Maybe they just weren’t interested in anything beyond casual dating?"
She pouted, probably because she suspected he was right.
"Fine. But I don’t do anything to make them think I don’t want something real. Remember, the last guy rented out a museum just for us. A museum, Carlos. Then he disappeared the next month. There’s something wrong with this city," she muttered, annoyed, before revealing her hand.
"I win!" she added, excited.
Carlos gave her an annoyed look, then gathered the cards to shuffle them for a rematch.
"You know I finally met the neighbor you once called 'a walking daydream'?" he said, hoping to change the topic and distract her.
Her blue eyes lit up. "Really?"
Carlos began explaining how he’d ended up at a bar playing pool with their neighbor and his best friend — someone who also happened to be a sort-of rival of Carlos at work.
Emma stayed quiet for a few seconds after hearing the story.
"So you and your supposed enemy keep running into each other in the most random places… and pretend to be different people?"
"Exactly. It started as a joke, and now it’s just fun to keep it going," he explained, dealing the cards.
"Lando Norris, Lando Norris... that name sounds familiar," she murmured, thinking out loud, then leaned forward to grab her phone from the table and quickly typed something in.
After a moment “Aha! That’s it — I’ve seen him hanging out with Mason Mount. They’re really close friends."
"Well, Jando was saying that Mason’s not even the most famous person you might spot him with," Carlos said as he drew a card and grimaced before putting it down.
"You’ve got me curious now. I’ll keep an eye on him on social media," she replied, rearranging the cards in her hand and selecting one to discard.
Carlos lost again. He tried to end the night there with that clear defeat, but Emma begged him for one last game — and, of course, he couldn’t say no.
Lando
He had eaten breakfast standing on the subway because he had hit snooze one too many times and ended up having to rush through his entire morning.
When he got to the office, he set everything up on his desk and then hurried down to the vending machines in the lobby to get his daily dose of caffeine.
That’s why he hadn’t even glanced at his phone until later. When he finally did, he found a notification from Instagram:
“emmanjones:) started following you.”
Lando didn’t think much of it. He scrolled through the profile absentmindedly and closed the app.
But a few seconds later, the name echoed in his head. It was the same name as Sainz’s neighbor — the one he had briefly mentioned once in one of their email exchanges.
Of course, it wasn’t like Emma was a rare name, and it could’ve easily been a coincidence.
Still, he didn’t care — he sat down at his desk and opened his email on the computer.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: instagram
Did you, by any chance, mention me to your neighbor Emma?
Then, he finally forced himself to get to work.
Jando brought him some data, but Lando immediately noticed the numbers didn’t match what he had on his computer.
So, he spent the rest of the morning flagging all the discrepancies in a document he planned to send to Carlos, hoping he would take care of it quickly and not slow things down again.
Lando hadn’t deluded himself into thinking he had earned a free pass in their relationship outside of work — he knew very well Carlos kept those two areas strictly separate, and that likely wouldn’t change.
Maybe he would just end up finding out what all the fear around his father was really about. He wasn’t great at keeping his curiosity in check.
Only after lunch did he notice he had missed Carlos’s reply to his email.
It was the first message he clicked on.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: instagram
Yes, but sorry to crush your ego — we were talking about Martim.
Lando smiled at the jab, but before he could reply, a notification from his official work email popped up and pulled him right back into the day’s tasks.
*
Martim had come to pick him up from work, begging him in every language he knew to come to a party, then dragged him back to his place and pushed him into the shower, promising imaginary favors that Lando knew he would never repay.
When he got out of the shower, he found a pair of loose jeans, a white tank top, a red plaid shirt, and a pair of boots laid out. Lando looked at him and saw that Martim was wearing dark jeans, a flashy belt, and a black shirt with fringes.
He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask what the hell was going on, and Martim just said, "We're going to a themed party," before heading to the bathroom and ignoring him.
So now, sitting in the back seat of a taxi dressed as a cowboy, Lando was finally hearing the explanation he should have gotten from the start.
Martim knew very well that he could drag Lando to the scene of a crime and Lando wouldn’t object — that showed how strong their bond was.
“There’s this girl I’ve been trying to get for a while, but I just can’t get her to give in,” the dark-haired guy explained, staring at his phone while typing something.
“I’ve tried everything, Lando, and it’s driving me crazy. Her name’s Lisa and she goes to art school with me. Tonight’s her birthday, and I need you to back me up,” he added, pulling a small box out of his pants pocket.
“I got her two tickets to Fran Lebowitz’s show — she’s a big fan — so I’m hoping this will at least score some points,” he said confidently.
Lando watched him through the whole speech and when Martim stopped talking, he raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Lisa?” he asked, scrunching his face.
“I know, it’s a crappy name, but I swear she doesn’t deserve such an ordinary name,” Martim said with certainty.
He really liked her. So Lando got serious — he’d tease him later, once they were drunk.
“She’s only likeable because of the party theme,” he said, trying to encourage him.
Two hours later, Lando was on his second drink and had watched Martim spend the whole time trying to get the attention of a brunette girl who blatantly ignored him, always busy with something else.
On the fourth attempt, Martim gave up and leaned against the kitchen island bar, which was all gray tones.
“Probably a lost cause,” he muttered, frustrated.
Lando looked at him with a smirk. “Maybe try ignoring her? You’re coming on way too strong,” he pointed out, not exactly encouraging.
Martim rolled his eyes and snatched the drink from his hands to drown his disappointment.
At that moment, his phone vibrated and a new email notification popped up on the screen.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ego
I didn’t mean to actually hurt your ego. I swear we talked about you, for like a minute. Or maybe less.
Only then did Lando remember he hadn’t replied. He smiled at the thought that Carlos had written again just to get his attention.
He turned to Martim, grabbed his cowboy hat, put it on, and they took a selfie. He opened the email and attached the photo.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ego intact
*photo attached*
The topic of your conversation dragged me to this cowboy-themed party chasing a girl who’s ignoring him.
As he stared at his phone, another girl they didn’t know approached, distracting them. She was tipsy — Lando could tell by the way she was unsteady on her feet.
She wore a short pink dress and a pair of brown cowboy boots.
“Hey handsome,” she said, referring to Martim.
The dark-haired guy smiled, showing off all his charm, and started chatting with her. Lando watched the scene but decided to be the perfect wingman and looked for Lisa.
The brunette was across the room, watching her best friend closely, paying attention to their conversation.
The brown-haired guy smiled amusedly, took back his drink, and whispered quietly, “Let the conversation go on for a few more minutes, then turn around and look for Lisa — she’s watching you.”
Martim listened without turning around to avoid making their information exchange obvious and followed the instructions exactly.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: cowboys
Is there really a girl who can ignore him? She must be tough.
Nice hat, mister.
Lando burst out laughing reading Carlos’s reply. They kept exchanging messages for a while, commenting on the evening.
The brown-haired guy gave him a play-by-play of the mission, and when they finally got the success they hoped for, they cheered.
That night, before going to sleep, Lando checked his stories.
He had posted the photo of him and Martim dressed as cowboys, a picture of some vinyl records he found in the stranger’s house bookshelf, and then a photo of himself by the elevator on the way back from the party.
Carlos had viewed them all.
*
He had gone for a check-up, which was why that afternoon Lando had skipped work, and when he finished, he found himself with some extra time that he filled by going to play padel with Max.
After padel, fresh out of the shower and wearing a pair of blue shorts and an oversized white t-shirt, he went straight to his best friend’s place—who hadn’t replied to his messages since the night before.
It was eight o’clock, and Lando doubted he was asleep, no matter what time he’d gotten back.
But when he walked up the stairs and found himself in front of his door, knocking several times proved useless—there was no answer.
So Lando sat down on the landing and started calling him, hoping for any sign of life.
He sighed when the voicemail kicked in and frowned.
He decided to wait.
It was silly to just sit there—Martim probably hadn’t even come home and was god knows where—but beyond that, Lando was terribly tired, and the thought of taking the metro back home made him want to close his eyes and fall asleep right there, in that apartment corridor.
So he decided to stay seated just for a bit, scroll through social media, and then get up and go home.
After at least twenty minutes lost in the TikTok vortex that could absorb his attention for hours, the door across the hall suddenly swung open and Carlos appeared in the doorway, wearing gray sweat shorts, a blue t-shirt, and socks on his feet.
He frowned when he saw him and leaned against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket.
“I saw you through the peephole and was wondering who the hell was making all that noise on the landing,” he said skeptically.
“Sorry, I have this habit of watching TikToks out loud,” Lando justified himself, as if everything else was perfectly normal.
“What worries me more is that you’re sitting on your best friend’s landing—did he kick you out?” Carlos asked, focusing on what really mattered.
Lando frowned slightly.
“He disappeared, and I hoped to find him here, but he’s not, and I was too tired to take the metro and go home,” he said.
“Is the floor of this building more comfortable?” Carlos teased, finding it hilarious how they always seemed to run into each other like this.
“Shut up,” the brown-haired guy scolded him, rolling his eyes, then got up, stretching his back.
Carlos fixed him with a smirk and then motioned inside.
“Come on, come in. I’ll get you a beer,” he said, turning away as if refusal wasn’t an option.
The brown-haired guy followed without much thought.
Carlos pulled two beers from the fridge and opened a drawer to grab a bottle opener. Then he handed one to Lando.
Lando nodded thanks and took a sip before looking around.
An episode was paused on the TV screen; he couldn’t tell what show it was.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he said.
“Oh no, I was just rewatching Grey’s Anatomy. It’s my moment of peace.”
“You know I’ve never seen it? Our friend Max has tried to convince me several times.”
Carlos put a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt by that comment.
“You’re living your life halfway,” he declared theatrically.
Lando rolled his eyes again for the second time in ten minutes together.
Then he slid toward the couch.
“Come on, stop it. I’ll watch it with you,” he offered, sitting down as if this were a friend’s place where he’d already spent some time.
Lando was like that—kind of intrusive. Martim always told him so.
Carlos didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back down in the spot he’d left to open the door and pressed play, letting the episode continue.
The brown-haired guy asked a lot of questions. When Derek Shepherd, the neurosurgeon in the show, appeared on screen, he commented,
“Oh, I’d let him do anything to me,” making Carlos smile, even though he secretly had a crush on the emergency surgeon.
They both got absorbed in the episode; it was one of those quiet ones, more focused on the characters’ romantic troubles than the patients’.
Lando criticized some terrible choices and mentally noted he’d have to catch up on earlier episodes.
When the credits rolled, the brown-haired guy checked his phone only to find no sign of life from Martim.
Carlos took a sip of his beer and looked at him.
“How worried are you? Does this happen often?” he asked, sensing some anxiety.
“Martim knows how to take care of himself. He usually lets me know even when he disappears. He must be busy with something important,” Lando said, confident.
Then he turned to Carlos and asked out of the blue,
“Do you have a crush on my best friend?”
Surprise flickered on Carlos’s face—he hadn’t expected that question—then he smiled.
“Nah, he’s not my type,” he said honestly. At least that’s what he conveyed.
Lando stared at him for a few seconds.
“Then is there something between you and the neighbor Emma?”
He was doing what he did best—giving free rein to his curiosity. He didn’t know how the dark-haired guy would react to such nosiness, but most of the time Lando just couldn’t hold back.
Carlos took another sip of his beer.
“No, Emma’s like a little sister to me,” he said, settling more comfortably against the back of the couch.
“And lately I’ve been struggling to connect with girls,” he added, confessing a thought that had been bothering him for a couple of days.
Lando put his beer on the coffee table and snuggled against the couch, fixing Carlos with his terribly green eyes.
“Why do you think you can’t connect with the opposite sex?” he asked, digging into a topic, happy to hear him open up without pushing too hard.
The dark-haired guy sighed.
“I’m not looking for relationships, of any kind. But sometimes I want to see again girls I had particularly good sex with,” he explained.
“But even being clear about my intentions, they always get too involved, and I end up having to handle awkward and delicate conversations all the time.”
Lando smiled at his words. He wasn’t wrong—casual relationships were hard to keep, especially when repeated.
“It’s a bit misogynistic to think it only happens with girls. It happens to me all the time with guys too,” Lando teased, knowing Carlos didn’t mean it that way, but it still came out wrong.
“Oh no, I meant I think I’m the problem. Probably with guys I’m more direct and less so with girls. I didn’t mean it like that,” Carlos tried to explain.
Lando nodded, following his reasoning.
“Or maybe you have ambiguous behavior during the time you spend together,” he offered as a different perspective.
Carlos laid his head back on the cushions, staring at the ceiling.
“Something’s gotta be wrong because I haven’t slept with anyone in three weeks and it’s driving me nuts,” he exclaimed, desperate.
“No casual sex?” Lando asked, terribly curious.
The dark-haired guy made a face, turning toward him.
“Casual sex is awful—you basically have to explain to the other person what you like and half the fun is lost.”
“You don’t like talking in bed?” the brown-haired guy pressed, knowing he was pushing too far but unable to stop himself.
Carlos smiled amused by the cheeky question.
“I like knowing what the other person needs,” he replied without hesitation.
Lando nodded, leaning over to grab the beer bottle from the table and took a sip.
“You should find yourself a fuck buddy. It’s the easiest solution,” he concluded, as if he’d just handed a patient the cure.
The dark-haired guy raised an eyebrow.
“Have you ever done it?”
This time it was Lando’s turn to smile at the intrusive question.
“A couple of times. I don’t like commitments because I’m too jealous of my space,” he explained.
That was exactly it—Lando hated sharing his time; he thought it was too precious, and every time someone tried to get too close, he felt suffocated.
Silence fell after that question. They both stared at a spot in the room, lost in thought.
At some point, Carlos drank the last sip of his beer and then set the bottle down on the table, breaking the silence with the sound of glass against marble.
“We could do it,” he proposed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Chapter 5: Chapter five
Summary:
“Carlos, if you don’t spill the beans, I’m walking out that door and leaving you to wallow in your loneliness,” she threatened, waving her pink-painted finger as usual.
“I did something a bit over the top, and I’d really like you to be honest about what you think,” the dark-haired man said cautiously.
Jando rolled his eyes.
“You already said that. Can we move on to the part where you actually tell us what happened?”
Notes:
Hello! Here we are for our usual Sunday update!
Thank you to everyone who has read, interacted with the story, left a like or a comment — receiving feedback truly means a lot to me.
I won’t keep you long with these notes, since I know I left you hanging in the last chapter — you’ve earned the action you’ve been waiting for. ;)
As always, I’m here if you need anything.
Lots of love xxxxx
Chapter Text
Lando
Lando stared at him, confused. Several times he wondered if he had heard correctly, because he couldn’t quite believe his ears.
“What?” he asked—a pointless question, yet it escaped his lips instinctively.
Carlos tilted his head, giving him a look that seemed to emphasize the obvious, but said nothing.
The brunette kept looking at him for a few more seconds, then a hint of mischief lit up his green eyes.
“Should we set some ground rules?” he asked, trying to understand where this was headed.
Carlos looked back at him in silence, his eyes filled with a deep longing.
“You could start by coming over here and kissing me—let’s see if we’re compatible,” he whispered.
Lando felt his erection begin to respond to the tone of the conversation.
He got up and approached Carlos with measured steps, stopping just in front of him. Then he leaned in, pausing a centimeter from his face.
“You kiss me,” he murmured, challenging him.
Carlos didn’t need to be asked twice. He wrapped his fingers around Lando’s wrists, pulling him closer, and their lips met.
It was a kiss of exploration—they took their time, gradually discovering each other, until Carlos’s tongue slipped past his lips and the kiss deepened.
Lando’s knees positioned themselves on either side of Carlos’s hips, while his hands threaded into his dark hair.
They kissed for a while, caught up in the desire they felt flowing between their bodies, then Carlos's mouth broke away from his and began to leave little kisses on his chin and then further down his neck. Lando felt a moan rise in his throat and instinctively pushed his pelvis forward to seek friction with his erection, tightly enclosed in his shorts.
“That coconut scent,” whispered Carlos as he nibbled on his Adam's apple.
Lando tightened his grip on his hair to bring his face back to his height and kiss him again, then breathlessly tried to regain his composure. “Do you want to start slowly?” he whispered, trying to make sense of all the frenzy that was taking hold of them.
The dark-haired man nodded without taking his eyes off his mouth.
“
We can go as slow as you want,” he said in response, before kissing him again and turning his body to allow Lando to lean his back against the sofa.
He pressed down on him with all his weight, and the brown-haired man felt his hard length pressing against his thigh. That contact alone was almost enough to make him come like a teenager having sex for the first time. Carlos' fingers slid down to the edge of his T- shirt and grabbed hold of it so he could pull it over his head.
He touced his bare skin, squeezing a nipple between his fingertips. Lando let out a moan at the contact and looked at him with eyes full of absolute desire.
The dark-haired man then locked eyes with him and slipped his fingers under the edge of his shorts to pull them down slowly, along with his boxers, leaving him completely naked.
Lando shivered at the contact with the outside air, and goose bumps formed all over his arms.
Carlos's gaze wandered over his entire body and lingered on his pelvis. He didn't know if it was instinctive, but he licked his lips, and that was enough to imagine them wrapped around his erection.
“Slowly means I can touch, right?” the dark-haired man asked him, in what seemed more like a plea than a question.
Lando stared at him silently for a few seconds and then nodded, anxiously.
The dark-haired man then moved away, putting some space between their bodies, just so he could bend down and bring his mouth to the height of his sex.
“It's beautiful,” he murmured, before placing his mouth on the tip, already wet with pre-ejaculate.
Lando closed his eyes as he felt a first shiver of pleasure run down his spine.
Carlos' tongue licked the liquid from the tip very slowly, and then his lips stretched to accommodate it.
He slid it inside slowly, inch by inch, almost until it was completely inside. Then he stopped to let him feel how he enveloped it with the warmth of his mouth.
Lando felt the heat envelop him and those jolts of pleasure begin to vibrate under his skin.
Then Carlos began to move, sliding up and down to pull it out and put it back in.
He set a deliberate pace, without rushing.
The brown-haired man let himself go completely and even pushed his pelvis against his mouth, chasing the orgasm he felt growing at the base of his back.
But Carlos's hand reached out and clawed at his hip, holding him still and letting him decide.
His mouth moved up the length and let go suddenly, producing what Lando would classify as the most exciting sound he had ever heard.
He ran his tongue over it again and the brown-haired man felt frustration growing inside him as he moaned and thrust himself forward in search of friction.
Carlos opened his eyes to lock onto his and then wrapped his mouth around his erection again.
He moved up and down several times, and that was enough to bring him to orgasm, which spread throughout his body, igniting every nerve.
Lando moaned as waves of pleasure washed over him and Carlos swallowed his seed under his watchful gaze.
Then he let him feel every jolt of pleasure and settled between his legs, trying not to weigh him down with his entire body.
The brown-haired man closed his eyes, trying to recover from his orgasm, and when he opened them again, he found Carlos' gaze fixed on his face, still full of that unfulfilled desire.
Lando then murmured, “Come here.” The dark-haired man didn't need to be told twice and pulled himself up to reach his mouth.
They kissed eagerly, Lando could taste Carlos on his tongue, and a moan caught in his throat at the thought that those same lips had just given him an orgasm.
With his hands, he sought out the dark-haired man's erection and squeezed it through his shorts, making him gasp.
“Take them off,” he instructed. Carlos pulled away from him so he could remove every item of clothing, and completely naked, he bent over his body again.
Lando explored every inch of that skin and paused to stare at that erection that brushed against his abdomen. He sighed, feeling himself getting excited again, and then clenched his hand around his cock to satisfy the dark-haired man's pleasure as well.
He began to move up and down, and Carlos began to thrust between his fingers to chase an orgasm that he had been suppressing for too long. He felt himself exploding, and Lando could sense it from the desperation of his movements.
When he came, he spilled his semen on the brown-haired man's abdomen, where his orgasm still lay intact.
After the last tremors of pleasure, Carlos collapsed on the side of the sofa and sighed with satisfaction.
They lay there for a while in silence, enjoying the calm after the storm of hormones.
Then the host got up and moved around the room to get him some paper to clean himself up.
Lando cleaned himself as best he could and then asked, “Can I take a shower, right?”
The dark-haired man made way for him and handed him a towel to dry off once he was finished.
“I use the guest bathroom,” he informed him before disappearing down the hallway.
Lando couldn't believe he had sex with Carlos Sainz, his boss among other things. But he didn’t regret giving in to temptation; the chemistry between them had always been strong, and work was something they could keep separate.
After his shower, he returned to the living room to gather the clothes left around and began getting dressed.
Carlos peeked out from the hallway five minutes later, wearing another pair of shorts and a white t-shirt.
“So, what rules should we set?” he asked with a smile on his face, while Lando was tying his shoes.
The brunette looked up at him.
“That’s why I wanted us to start slow—I wanted to give you time to think about the rules,” he said, adjusting his other shoe and then standing up.
Carlos stared at him thoughtfully, then nodded.
“Alright, I’ll think about it. It’s the first time I’m doing something like this, the rules will come to me.”
Lando grabbed his phone from the table and noticed that Martim had sent him a voice message. Before listening, he saw it was already ten o’clock.
“I have to go,” he exclaimed, looking back at Carlos. “I don’t want to miss the subway in ten minutes.”
“Come on, I can walk you,” the dark-haired man offered, extending his help.
Lando shook his head.
“Don’t worry, really. In the meantime, I’ll insult Martim for disappearing all day,” he said, moving toward the door.
Carlos followed him, smiling.
“You have all my support, even if I didn’t mind it one bit.”
Lando turned to look at him and smiled at that comment.
“Neither did I, not at all.”
He opened the door and stepped onto the landing.
“See you when you’ve thought about the rules,” Lando said to say goodbye.
Carlos nodded, waving farewell, and Lando felt his gaze follow him until he turned the corner down the stairs.
Carlos
Carlos knocked back a shot under the watchful eyes of Jando and Emma, who had somehow both ended up at his place by chance. Four eyes were staring at him, full of curiosity, and he didn’t have the courage to bring up the subject.
Emma started getting impatient and let out a loud sigh.
“Carlos, if you don’t spill the beans, I’m walking out that door and leaving you to wallow in your loneliness,” she threatened, waving her pink-painted finger as usual.
“I did something a bit over the top, and I’d really like you to be honest about what you think,” the dark-haired man said cautiously.
Jando rolled his eyes.
“You already said that. Can we move on to the part where you actually tell us what happened?”
Carlos poured himself another shot of limoncello and knocked it back. He winced as the alcohol burned his throat, then blurted out in one breath:
“Ih
adsex
withLandonorris.”
“I knew it!” Emma shouted, slapping her hand on the table. “I win!” she added, turning triumphantly to Jando.
Jando sighed, pulled a bill from his jeans pocket, and handed it to Emma.
Carlos raised an eyebrow at the scene.
“You guys made a bet?”
"Yeah, out in the hallway—Emma insisted," his best friend explained, taking a sip of his beer.
"You think it was that big of a screw-up?" the dark-haired man asked, trying to keep them focused on the real issue.
Jando stared at him, lips pursed for a few seconds, but before he could answer, Emma jumped in.
"Oh, come on, stop overthinking it. It was just sex, there won't be any complications. You’re two grown men," she said, dismissing the whole thing as if she'd already figured out exactly what kind of situation it was.
Jando considered her words, then gave a small nod.
"Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. And besides, Lando’s only working for you temporarily—he won’t be staying at the company much longer," he added, before taking another sip of beer.
Carlos looked at them both for a moment.
"That’s exactly what I was thinking. I want to keep work and personal life completely separate. What happens here has nothing to do with who we are at the office," he said—more to himself than to them.
Jando was living proof of how professional Carlos could be at work. They were best friends, but once they stepped into that building, they were nothing but professionals.
Emma clapped her hands, clearly thrilled with how smoothly it had all turned out.
"Okay, now give us some details," she said, resting her chin on her hand, curiosity all over her face.
Carlos’s eyes widened at the request.
"Oh no, not a single detail is coming out of my mouth," he said firmly, shutting that down completely.
He was determined to resist Emma’s puppy-dog eyes—and maybe, just maybe, this time he’d actually manage to do it.
Lando
"So all it took was me disappearing for one day—one day—to be with the girl I’ve been chasing for months, and you end up getting involved with your boss?" Martim asked, amused by what Lando had just told him.
He had finally resurfaced that evening, explaining he'd spent the whole time at Lisa’s place and had completely lost track of time. Lando, however, hadn’t forgiven the total vanishing act, so he’d ignored him the entire following day and had only just started talking to him again—once Martim showed up at his apartment after work with a tub of ice cream.
The brown-haired guy gave him a wink.
"I’m always up for new adventures," he said cockily.
Martim tossed the napkin he’d been using to wipe the sticky ice cream off his fingers.
"I know he’s not going to be your boss for long, but try not to let things spiral," he warned. "It’s not the first time you’ve had something casual, but Carlos seems like the kind of person who could really pull you in. I just want you to be careful," he added, with the serious tone he rarely wore.
Martim wasn’t the type to worry easily, but Lando also knew how protective he could be—especially when it came to things that hit close to home. He nodded, listening, not teasing him like he usually would.
"You know I’ve got no interest in getting attached or being in a relationship. I don’t even know if this thing will go anywhere," he said with a shrug, turning to drop the dirty spoons into the sink behind him.
Martim stretched out—they’d been eating the ice cream half-sitting on the kitchen table in an awkward position.
"How’s your grandma?" he asked, switching topics, ready to catch up on what he’d missed the day before.
*
His sister Cisca had organized her twenty-fifth birthday party in their parents' backyard. Lando had helped her set up the tables, arrange all the decorations, and prepare the appetizers.
The garden was quite spacious, and Cisca had decided to decorate everything in white, with daisies scattered all around.
They had blown up daisy-shaped balloons and placed them in the corners of the yard, and on each round table, they’d carefully arranged a small bouquet of daisies as a centerpiece.
The lounge chairs that were usually set in front of the large glass doors leading to the living room had been moved to the back, and they had strung up fairy lights all around to create a cozy atmosphere once the sun went down.
His parents lived just outside of New York, which is why they were lucky enough to have that kind of green space—something that would’ve been a dream in the city. It wasn’t the house they had grown up in, though; the family had only moved there after Lando had already started college and his sister was in her teens.
Lando was in charge of the drinks, so he mixed lemon juice with gin and vermouth to make martinis for the guests during the aperitivo. They’d be grilling burgers and having dinner later in the evening.
The guests arrived in groups and spread out across the garden. Lando greeted many familiar faces and shook hands with several of his sister’s friends whom he’d never even seen before.
They drank martinis and snacked on finger foods they’d ordered from the deli downtown—the same place they had discovered right after moving to the area, which had quickly become their go-to spot for afternoon treats.
Lando had worn an all-white linen suit for the occasion, and during the setup, Cisca had tucked a daisy behind his ear to match the theme.
She wore a bright yellow dress and looked beautiful.
Lando watched her throughout the evening, happy to see her so carefree. Cisca had gone through a rough teenage phase, and he had always worried about her a little. Things had started to get better with adulthood and university. Seeing her grow up, surrounded by friends and full of joy, put him at ease.
He wandered around the party with his camera, snapping pictures here and there. He posted a few of the best shots to his stories, and then a selfie of himself, half his face lit by a beam of sunlight.
He chatted with a few of Cisca’s friends he hadn’t seen in a while, and just as the grilling started, Martim showed up.
He was wearing a yellow shirt and immediately drew attention from most of the men and women at the party.
Lando chuckled—it was always the same with him.
Cisca jumped into Martim’s arms and hugged him tightly. They’d practically grown up together.
Martim handed her a gift-wrapped box and kissed the top of her head before making his way over to Lando.
"Traffic was hell today. I thought I’d never make it," he said as the brown-haired man sneakily snapped a photo of him.
"Nice shirt," Lando teased, knowing full well he hated that color.
Martim shot him a glare.
"Only a Norris could get me to wear yellow," he declared.
They ate burgers stacked with the most ridiculous combinations of sauces they could come up with—culinary horrors, basically—and laughed so hard they nearly choked. Then they turned up the music and got the guests dancing along to the beat.
Martim queued up some of his favorite remixes, and soon they were all singing and dancing like no one was watching.
When it was time for cake, they sang “Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs, already half drunk, and toasted once more.
Things finally calmed down when they sat on the grass, not caring about their white pants, eating cake off daisy-shaped plates.
Only then did Lando glance at his phone—and noticed a notification from @carlosainz5 on Instagram.
He’d left a comment under one of his stories.
“@carlosainz5: So many themed parties.”
The brown-haired man smiled as he read the message, while fending off Martim, who was trying to steal his slice of cake. Once his portion was safe, he grabbed his phone to reply.
“@lando: Which outfit was your favorite?”
He teased, knowing exactly what he was doing.
He set the empty plate on the chair beside him and took the new slice of cake Martim was handing him, freshly retrieved from the nearest table.
Cisca came skipping over behind his best friend, carrying a bottle and a few glasses.
They were planning to stay a while longer, finish off the sparkling wine, and catch up on life—just like they did every year. It was their favorite moment of the party.
Lando didn’t read Carlos’s reply until later, while they were tidying up.
When he finally did, a bright smile lit up his face.
“@carlosainz5: That cowboy outfit haunted me for a while.”
Carlos
Jando had stormed into his office for what felt like the hundredth time that day, and the dark-haired man didn’t even look up from his computer screen, clearly irritated by the constant interruptions. Today was one of those days when he would’ve gladly slept for twenty-four hours straight and forgotten he was Carlos Sainz.
“Lando sent you an email a week ago, Carlos. God, are you really holding up his work this badly?” Jando snapped, earning himself a murderous glare.
“I’m working, Jando. I don’t give a damn if my father’s review is delayed. I’ve got bigger problems right now. As far as I’m concerned, Lando can sit there staring into space for another two weeks,” he growled in a tone that left no room for argument.
Jando sighed. “The numbers don’t add up. Maybe you should deal with that, too, if you’re so eager to get rid of your father,” he said before walking out without another word.
Carlos leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He couldn’t find peace in that office lately.
He stayed there late into the evening, resolved a few client issues, even called them himself to smooth things over. He held two meetings with the marketing team to scold them for putting him in situations that should’ve never happened in the first place.
Once he sent everyone home, he asked Lindsay as a final favor to order him some Chinese food. Then, alone, he finally turned his attention to Lando’s email.
He skimmed the data quickly and decided to wait for dinner to arrive before diving into it properly.
He grabbed his phone from the desk and replied to a few messages from his mother—he hadn’t spoken to her in a couple of days. Then, needing a mental break, he opened up his socials.
It had been two weeks since he and Lando had slept together.
They’d only exchanged a couple of messages—just Carlos replying to some of Lando’s Instagram stories—and then, nothing.
He knew the brown-haired man was giving him space to figure things out, but between work and some messy family matters, Carlos hadn’t had the time—or the mental bandwidth—to think about the rules they’d need to make this no-strings setup work smoothly.
Right now, though, exhausted and frustrated, all he wanted was to already have that no-strings arrangement in place.
Lando hadn’t posted anything lately, so Carlos had no idea what he was up to.
Without giving it too much thought, he opened the email:
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Number One
I haven’t really had time to come up with rules yet, but I feel like the first step should be exchanging phone numbers?
He hit send immediately, then sat back and waited, phone clenched in his hand.
There wasn’t much else to do while he waited.
The reply came quickly. It contained only one thing: Lando’s phone number.
Carlos saved it to his contacts and, feeling bold, decided to call him.
The phone rang a couple of times before Lando picked up.
“Carlos?” he asked, sounding surprised—probably not expecting an actual phone call.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m alone at the office and I’m incredibly bored,” Carlos murmured, spinning slowly in his comfortable chair and staring out at the skyline across the glass window.
“Why aren’t you home?”
“Jando reminded me about an email I need to reply to. I want to get it done tonight—tomorrow’s going to be a mess,” he explained, fully aware Lando would know exactly which email he was talking about.
“Workaholic. Are you even going to have time for sex, or should I be looking for a second hookup buddy?” Lando teased, as blunt as ever.
Carlos chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Considering I still haven’t made time to think about the rules…”
“You could’ve been thinking about them right now instead of calling me.”
“Suggest one yourself—this isn’t a solo mission,” he replied, pretending that had been the real reason for the call.
Lando went quiet for a few seconds. Then Carlos heard a door closing on the other end, and Lando spoke again.
“Second rule should be the classic: no feelings,” he said, voice slightly raised.
“Did I interrupt something?” Carlos asked, intrigued.
“I’m not alone at home,” Lando replied, offering no further explanation—and that only made Carlos more curious.
“You’re being mysterious on purpose to get my attention?”
“I’m with Martin Garrix and some of his friends. We get together now and then for poker night,” the brunette answered casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a celebrity’s name.
“You’re friends with Martin Garrix?” Carlos asked, surprised. “Of course you are. I’m probably the least famous person you know,” he added, answering himself.
Lando laughed on the other end. “Something like that. So, does the second rule stand?”
Carlos nodded to himself just as the office phone rang—signaling that his food had arrived.
He pressed the intercom button. “Jack, just leave it at the front desk and head home—I’ll lock up,” he said, then switched back to his cell.
“My dinner’s here. I’ve got to go.”
“Go ahead. I’m about to get absolutely destroyed at poker anyway.”
Carlos stood up from his chair, and just before ending the call, he added,
“Oh, and Lando? The second rule stands. But if you didn’t fall in love with Mason Mount, you’ll survive me.”
Lando burst out laughing.
Then they said their goodbyes and hung up.
Carlos took the elevator down to pick up his food and headed back up to finish his work.
Lando
That evening, he had been forced by his father to attend a charity event. Without any desire to socialize or shake hands with strangers, he put on a suit, complete with a jacket, and showed up.
As soon as he arrived, he went straight to the open bar to get a drink. The bartender flirted a little and gave him an extra shot of gin in his drink. Lando smiled brightly and then went to find his father.
He found him in a corner entertaining a group of people. As soon as he saw Lando, he hugged him and then introduced him to the group, one by one.
Lando shook hands, pretended to join the conversation, and nodded without really listening.
His sister Cisca was tucked away in a wing of the room rented for the event. She was wearing a perfect-fitting light blue dress and was chatting with a guy.
Lando approached with a scowl. “I want to go home,” he complained. He was dead tired.
Cisca chuckled. “James, this is my brother Lando. As you can see, he loves events,” she introduced him to her companion.
The brunette realized he had been rude and apologized, shaking James’s hand. “It’s been a long day, and I was hoping to get home and sleep at least ten hours,” he explained, trying not to sound like a jerk.
James smiled politely. “That’s exactly what I was telling Cisca — my dad had to drag me out of the house,” he added in support.
Lando took the last sip of his drink and nodded. Then he let them continue their conversation and went back to flirting with the bartender.
After ten minutes, he messaged Martim saying he was bored to death. His best friend teased him back with a photo of himself and Max drinking at a pub.
Lando sighed and opened social media to distract himself.
The best distraction came when a message from Carlos flashed at the top of his screen.
Carlos: I thought about the rules. If you want, I’ll wait for you at my place.
He read the message twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.
Carlos had written he was ready and had invited him over.
Lando stared at his phone for a few seconds and then scanned the room for his father to go say hello.
Chapter 6: Chapter six
Summary:
The brunette looked him over from head to toe, then took off his jacket while looking him straight in the eye.
"So, these rules," he began, getting straight to the point.
A spark lit up in Sainz's eyes at the thought that things were unfolding exactly as he had hoped.
Lando didn’t stop; he began to take off his watch, then gave him a slight nod, waiting for him to speak.
Notes:
Hello to everyone!
This time the update falls on a Monday because I ended up doing the translation at the last minute. Anyway!!! Let's pick up exactly where we left off in the last chapter — we're finally going to discover these rules and kick off this whirlwind of emotions!!Enjoy, thank you so much for any feedback, and I'm here if you need anything!
Lots of loveeee xx
Chapter Text
Lando
When he reached the hallway of the building, he tried to catch his breath, having rushed up the stairs, and not wanting to appear impatient. He steadied his breathing and then knocked.
Carlos opened the door after a few seconds, surprised to see him so well-dressed, and raised an eyebrow.
"Were you at an event?"
Lando walked in without hesitation and nodded.
"Yes, a charity event, with my father," he explained, stopping in the middle of the room in front of him. Carlos was wearing blue trousers and a black t-shirt.
The brunette looked him over from head to toe, then took off his jacket while looking him straight in the eye.
"So, these rules," he began, getting straight to the point.
A spark lit up in Sainz's eyes at the thought that things were unfolding exactly as he had hoped.
Lando didn’t stop; he began to take off his watch, then gave him a slight nod, waiting for him to speak.
Carlos smiled and decided to play along. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and said,
"The office is off-limits for sex."
Lando began to unbutton his shirt and waited for him to speak again.
“It doesn't have to be a secret from our friends, we're adults,” he added, thinking about the fact that he had already revealed what had happened.
The brown-haired man dropped his shirt on the floor and began to unbutton his pants, while Carlos also took them off, remaining in his boxers.
“And finally, there's no exclusivity, we can sleep with other people when we want to,” clarified the dark-haired man, biting his lower lip as he saw him half-naked in front of him and wanting with all his heart to touch that skin again.
Lando pulled down his pants and stared him straight in the eyes, then finally said something. “Will you fuck me now, please?” he asked, sounding like he couldn't resist the idea of being touched any longer.
Carlos's eyes lit up with excitement at the request and “With great pleasure,” he whispered, before Lando closed the distance between them and brought their mouths together.
The dark-haired man's arms wrapped around his back to pull him close and finally feel his bare skin. He ran his fingers along his spine while his mouth began to lick his jaw.
Lando tilted his head back, exposing his neck to Carlos's teeth, which nibbled at his Adam's apple, and then that same mouth sucked on a portion of his skin, making him moan loudly.
This time, the brown-haired man didn't remain passive. He ran his fingers through his soft hair and pulled gently as he rubbed his cock against Carlos's, both still pressed in their boxers.
“Let's go to the bedroom,” whispered Carlos, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and dragging him to the bedroom.
Once there, Lando stared at him, biting his lower lip, and dropped the last piece of clothing he was wearing at the foot of the bed, remaining completely naked.
The dark-haired man licked his lips, staring at his cock, and replicated his gestures to even the score.
Then he approached slowly, and Lando responded by letting himself fall onto the mattress without taking his eyes off him.
Every time Carlos took a step forward, Lando pulled back a little, lengthening the distance between them.
The dark-haired man's eyes lit up with intense desire at this continuous provocation.
When he climbed onto the mattress on his knees, he wrapped his fingers around his ankles and pulled him slightly toward him so that he could have him completely beneath him. Lando let himself be maneuvered, loving that the other man was taking control of the situation.
Carlos didn't touch him, however, but leaned over to the bedside table to take out a bottle of lubricant and a condom.
He poured some of it on his fingers and, without waiting a second longer, went in search of the most sensitive spot on his body.
Lando flinched at the contact with the cold liquid, and his penis twitched with excitement. Finally, he was touching him where he needed it.
The dark-haired man's fingers traced the contours a little before pushing all the way inside, without a trace of gentleness.
Lando moaned because it was exactly how he liked to be treated in bed.
Carlos prepared him properly, making him curse and beg to be fucked. He left his fingers inside him for a few minutes to make it unbearable, and Lando whimpered, exhausted by his need to feel him inside him.
Only then did the Moor grab the condom packet, tear open the paper with his teeth, and then unroll the protection along its length. He squeezed his fingers around his penis for a few seconds, trying to lubricate it further, and then positioned himself against his opening.
“Please,” whispered Lando as he felt his tip begin to make its way inside him.
Carlos entered slowly, making him feel every inch of his length. When he was completely inside, he let out a sigh and lay down on top of him, propping himself up on his elbows at either side of his head to bring himself up to his mouth.
He kissed him, sliding his tongue inside and then moving with a studied rhythm. He moved in and out while staring straight into his eyes.
Lando held his gaze for a moment and then let himself go, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him, shaken by waves of pleasure that made him feel the orgasm building inside him.
Carlos began to thrust more desperately and “Do you want me to touch you?” he moaned against his mouth.
Lando shook his head and whispered “More” in response.
The dark-haired man didn't need to be told twice and thrust hard. They chased the orgasm and felt it overwhelm them within seconds of each other.
They both moaned into each other's mouths as pleasure coursed through every nerve in their bodies.
Carlos collapsed beside him, pulling out of him and making him moan with pain mixed with pleasure.
They tried to catch their breath.
"Wow," Carlos murmured, turning toward him.
"God, I haven’t had sex like that in a while," he added.
Lando smiled as he looked at him.
"And you’ll never have sex that good again," he teased, cocky.
Carlos burst out laughing and shook his head.
"We're getting a little too full of ourselves, Mr. Norris," he said, amused, before sitting up and taking off the condom.
Lando watched his bare back as he walked toward the bathroom and thought that this arrangement was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time.
Carlos
Afterwards, Lando had stayed for a sandwich. They’d thrown on just their boxers and t-shirts, then moved to the kitchen.
The brunette had sliced the tomatoes while Carlos grilled the cheese on the toast.
Then, sitting at the table in the middle of the room—which the dark-haired man hardly ever used—they assembled all the ingredients. Lando had teased him about his hatred of mayonnaise and added a generous amount to his own sandwich.
“What did Mason Mount used to make for you?” Carlos asked playfully, loving to poke fun at that extracurricular relationship.
Lando chuckled, amused by the competitive streak.
“Obviously, he had a personal chef who made me anything I wanted,” he joked.
But Carlos raised an eyebrow, as if he were actually considering whether that absurd statement might be true.
“I’m kidding, Carlos. The few times I was at his place, I just rummaged around and stole something pre-packaged.”
“I make you homemade sandwiches—you’re raising the bar,” Carlos replied smugly.
Lando tossed a lettuce leaf at him and shook his head.
“If you want, I can introduce you. I usually get all his attention, but you might get five minutes.”
Carlos rolled his eyes.
“So arrogant,” he muttered, getting up and moving around the room in search of the remote.
“Mind if I put on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy?” he asked, turning on the TV.
The brunette shook his head.
“Go ahead, I want to catch up eventually anyway.”
Carlos took another bite of his sandwich.
“If you want, I can put on the first episode. I don’t mind starting over,” he offered casually.
Lando considered it for a moment, then said,
“Deal.”
They ended up watching two episodes before the brunette checked the time on his phone and realized he had to head home.
Carlos called him an Uber so he wouldn’t have to take the subway at that hour, and Lando was grateful—he was tired and just wanted to crawl into bed.
*
That evening, Emma had planned a carbonara night at Carlos’s place, inviting Jando without telling him. Jando had suggested bringing along his current girlfriend, Juliet, and Carlos hadn’t really been able to say no—though he still put up a bit of a fuss, just to stay in character.
So, after work, he found himself having to stop by the supermarket. Emma had messaged to say she’d been held up at the hospital, where she worked as a nurse, and asked him to pick up the groceries instead.
It wasn’t the first time Carlos had met Juliet, but it was the first time Jando had included her in a night at his place. He’d tried on other occasions, but had always kept her at a distance. The fact that he was now bringing her along of his own accord was a good sign—things were clearly moving in the right direction.
He wandered through the aisles, searching for all the ingredients Emma had scribbled on the list in her barely legible handwriting.
He grabbed the wine, ignoring the specific suggestion she’d written down, and then decided to pick up some ice cream for after dinner.
Emma had already figured out which board games to bring, and Carlos knew they’d inevitably end up playing cards, given how much both of his friends loved it.
As he stood debating between salted caramel and berry cheesecake ice cream, his phone buzzed with a new message.
Lando Norris: Why aren’t you in your apartment at eight in the evening?
Carlos replied, still standing in front of the frozen food section.
Carlos Sainz: I’m doing the grocery shopping—Emma planned a carbonara night at my place.
Lando Norris: I’m at Martim’s place. He’s out, and I was just thinking about your mouth.
The dark-haired man smiled at that message and replied quickly.
Carlos Sainz: help me choose between salted caramel and berry cheesecake
He teased him, pretending not to have read the clear double meaning in his last message.
Lando Norris: berry cheesecake, obviously — now can you answer my proposal too?
Carlos Sainz: I’ll see what I can do when I get home, I don’t know what time they’ll show up
Lando Norris: ten minutes would be enough, I’ve been thinking about it for too long
A smile spread across the dark-haired man's lips. The mere thought of Lando being home alone and thinking about having sex with him was enough to give him an erection in the middle of the supermarket.
He sighed, trying to compose himself, and then replied.
Carlos Sainz: no promises
After sending the message, he picked up the tub of ice cream in the flavor the brunette had suggested, then got in line at the checkout, trying to think about anything but Lando waiting for him at home.
*
When he got home, however, he put all the ingredients in the fridge and then sent a message to both his friends to figure out how long he would have to wait for them.
Jando: I should be at your place in twenty minutes, I just picked up Juliet.
Emma: I'm showering at the hospital and then I'm on my way, fifteen minutes tops, I promise.
Carlos weighed his options — he could start preparing the ingredients, maybe put the water on for the pasta and set the table.
Or he could sneak over to Martim’s place and take advantage of the ten minutes they had agreed on.
It didn’t take long to decide. He opened his front door and found himself standing in front of his neighbor’s apartment, waiting for Lando to let him in.
The brown-haired man opened the door and when he realized it was Carlos, he smiled triumphantly.
Carlos pointed his index finger at him. “I only have ten minutes,” he said, trying to assert his authority.
Lando solemnly pressed his hand to his heart before wrapping his fingers around Carlos's wrist and kissing it.
They quickly removed their clothes, then
Lando
sat down on the armchair in the middle of Martim's living room and stared at him with those green eyes burning with desire.
“Your mouth, please,” he begged, and Carlos could do nothing but kneel down and give him exactly what he wanted.
He didn't hesitate or waste any time, simply running his tongue along its entire length before taking it into his mouth.
Lando felt those lips tighten around him and threw his head back, overcome with waves of pleasure.
He pushed himself into his mouth, while Carlos, motionless this time, welcomed him; then he gently pressed his teeth against the base of his penis, and that was enough to make him come loudly.
*
When Carlos walked out of Martim’s apartment, he had just come in Lando’s mouth.
His hair was a mess — the brunette hadn’t stopped pulling it while blowing him — and he was clutching a pack of sandwich bread as an alibi for having just left the apartment across from his own.
He found Jando and Juliet at his door, staring at him with puzzled expressions.
“I needed some bread for the aperitif,” he lied shamelessly, then flashed a beaming smile and let them into his place.
He was sure Jando didn’t buy it, but he played along — it wasn’t the right time to bring it up.
Carlos tried not to think about the fact that he had just had sex right across the hall, and excused himself to lock himself in the bathroom.
He looked in the mirror and realized he absolutely looked like someone who had just done something illicit.
He smiled at his reflection and tried to make himself look a bit more presentable.
He grabbed his toothbrush and brushed his teeth, just to feel even more put-together.
Later, while Emma was pouring the sauce—made with eggs and pecorino—onto the pasta, Carlos was sipping a glass of red wine and chatting with Juliet about her work as an architect.
He was asking her some technical questions, while Jando munched on breadsticks and listened to them.
Juliet was very pretty—Carlos already knew that—but talking to her gave him the chance to get a fuller picture of his best friend’s girlfriend.
She also asked a few curious questions about his work and his prestigious position, and Carlos was more than happy to open up and tell her how much he loved what he had built entirely on his own.
When the pasta was ready, Juliet and Jando helped Emma serve the portions evenly, and then they all sat down at the table.
The carbonara was delicious—they ate while complimenting the chef and listening to Emma share details about the emergency that had kept her at the hospital.
She was incredibly good at her job, and Carlos loved listening to her talk about what she did, because she always filled him with a strong desire to do more and a passion that was hard to match.
As expected, after dinner, Emma and Jando forced everyone to play cards.
Carlos didn’t even try to resist, and smiled to himself, realizing how good it felt to be right there, surrounded by his friends, playing and drinking without a care in the world.
Lando
For lunch, Lando was supposed to head to a downtown restaurant where he would meet with Carlos Sainz Senior and update him on his progress.
The thing was, he didn’t have much to report. He had definitely managed to go through everything from the previous year, thanks to the files Jando had given him access to,
but he was still only two months into the current year—because Carlos kept delaying everything.
Not only would he ignore Lando’s emails for weeks, but when he did reply, it was only to ask unnecessary questions—ones Lando knew he could easily figure out on his own.
So that morning, he had done everything he could to gather the most relevant information he had collected so far.
Some of the reports were clearly lacking and full of missing data.
They had been compiled with minimal input, which was nowhere near enough to justify the reported revenues.
He had flagged the issue to both Jando and Carlos, and only now that Carlos had finally bothered to reply could he send the files back to their original authors—obviously omitting some of the details.
Aside from that, Lando hadn’t noticed any major issues in the company, although he was taking his time to investigate properly and avoid being superficial.
He had good instincts, but he knew that wasn’t always enough.
The restaurant chosen by Carlos’s father was an Italian place. Lando had been there once with Max, and they’d eaten fairly well.
It was called Eataly Downtown, with a very clean design—leather chairs around lots of small tables.
One section of the dining area was dedicated to pizzas, though Lando had never tried them.
When he walked in and gave his boss’s last name, the waiter quickly nodded and led him to the back of the room, to a small table tucked into a quiet corner.
Senior hadn’t arrived yet, so Lando took a seat and ordered still water while glancing around.
He had been there at least a year ago, but the place hadn’t changed a bit. The dining room was fairly busy for a regular Thursday,
but in New York, it was common practice to spend lunch breaks at restaurants—just to escape the office for a bit and breathe.
Since he had to wait, he flipped through the menu.
He remembered having had excellent gnocchi alla sorrentina and would probably order the same thing again this time.
Senior arrived ten minutes later, apologizing for the delay.
Lando had already met him in person—he was a very kind man, and despite being one of the most powerful figures in the city, he didn’t come across as intimidating at all.
The brunette smiled and shook his hand.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t been here long,” he reassured him.
Senior turned to get the waiter’s attention.
“Bring us a bottle of Greco, please,” he said, before glancing at his phone.
It was a proper business lunch.
Lando showed him the data on his laptop and pointed out some of the concerns he had come across.
Aside from those few issues, he laid out a series of positive trends he had identified.
He had prepared two files he would later send by email.
Senior listened in silence the entire time, furrowing his brow at the same inconsistencies Lando had flagged, and nodding when he explained the company’s positive performance trend.
They both ordered gnocchi alla sorrentina—the only moment when work wasn’t the topic.
Senior shared that he had started playing golf and felt far too old now to have the kind of patience the game required.
Lando listened and chatted along, admitting that golf was actually one of the sports he hated the most.
It was only near the end of the lunch that Senior asked a question that felt a bit too personal, and much less professional.
“How’s my son doing, in your opinion?” he asked out of nowhere, a concerned look on his face.
Lando was caught a little off guard, but shrugged.
“A bit annoyed by my presence at the company, but otherwise he seems pretty calm,” he answered honestly.
Senior nodded at his response, then declared the lunch over, saying he had to get back to work.
They said goodbye at the restaurant entrance, and Lando couldn’t help but feel that last question had left a strange feeling lingering in the air.
Then he checked the time on his watch—it was only three.
He still had time to go back to the office and try to get a bit more work done.
*
Martim had dragged him out of bed and forced him to put on something decent at nine on a Sunday morning, because he had deliberately decided to gather his friends—and the new neighbor-friends—for breakfast at his place.
They had gotten home at three in the morning, after attending one of his DJ friend’s parties, and the thought of having to socialize before eleven made Lando want to kill him.
He couldn’t even understand how Martim was functioning already.
Taking a shower to wake himself up hadn’t helped much, so he’d thrown on the light jeans from the night before —the ones purposely left half-unbuttoned at the front, showing the waistband of his underwear— stolen a white t-shirt from Martim, with a light blue print that matched the jeans, and had slumped onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, watching him prepare everything for breakfast.
More than anything, he was glaring at him, mentally cursing him for his bright ideas.
His best friend turned to him with a smug grin.
“You won’t be so grumpy when Carlos shows up at that door,” he teased.
Lando rolled his eyes at yet another one of the daily insinuations.
“We sleep together. I’m not in love with him. That’s why his mere presence won’t magically make up for the fact that I’ve slept four hours,” he snapped back.
“Well, considering you two fucked in my living room, maybe you should complain less and let me have this small sleep-deprivation payback,” Martim shot back, blackmailing him with a past mistake.
Lando pouted, because he knew Martim had a point.
So he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t complain anymore,” he agreed.
Max was the first to arrive, bringing coffee for everyone from their favorite café. However, Martim didn’t allow anyone to touch anything until Carlos and Jando had also arrived.
Lando and Max huffed and went back to sit on the couch like two kids who had just been scolded by their parents.
Carlos and Jando showed up only ten minutes later, peeking in through the door while holding a bottle of prosecco and one of orange juice, clearly intending to make mimosas.
“This is the right spirit,” Martim said as he welcomed them in.
Carlos approached to greet him and let his gaze linger on Lando’s body for a moment, trying to be discreet.
“I only slept four hours; I look terrible,” Lando complained, fixing his hair for the umpteenth time.
The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow and leaned in close to Lando’s ear so no one else could hear.
“The waistband of your underwear showing is going to distract me the whole time,” he whispered before stepping back and asking if anyone needed help.
Lando felt a shiver run down his spine and sighed—this was going to be a long morning.
Together, they had prepared waffles using the new gadget Martim had bought, which was the only reason he’d decided to organize the breakfast. Everyone had helped in their own way, and then, one by one, they sat down on the floor in front of the terrace where Martim’s best friend had decided they would have breakfast bathed in sunlight.
They arranged themselves in a circle, legs crossed, and passed around jam and whipped cream. Lando liked them with strawberry jam, cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.
Carlos teased him about the messy way he spread the toppings, and Lando stuck out his tongue in response.
They chatted. Martim asked a lot of questions to both Jando and Carlos about how they met and whether working together was the cause or the result.
Jando shared how he was about to quit after the first ten days of work because he couldn’t stand Carlos and hated the environment.
The dark-haired man shook his head and said, “I’m the best boss you could ask for,” trying to defend himself.
Lando laughed at that and teased, “Not for me,” and Jando burst out laughing, backing him up.
Lando knew it was a sensitive topic but had also learned to joke about it in the right way.
After breakfast, a good dose of caffeine, and stories about their lives, Martim pulled out his secret weapon and made everyone play Uno.
Lando skipped the first game to go outside and call his grandmother to make sure she was feeling better. Since she had been in the hospital, he couldn’t stop worrying about her.
“My favorite grandson,” she said happily, as she always did when they talked.
He asked how the treatment was going and if her back had stopped hurting, then she asked him how things were and to update her on his life.
It wasn’t a very long call, and after he hung up, he paused to check the notifications from that morning, which he hadn’t looked at yet.
He noticed an Instagram notification—a comment on his story from the night before. He had posted a photo of himself in the mirror wearing the same jeans, a light blue sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers in two different colors, unsure which to wear.
He had written over the photo, “Maybe I’ll keep them like this.”
The comment was left under that story.
“ivanort: those jeans would look great on the floor of my bedroom,” he wrote, not subtle at all.
Lando smiled and went back inside to share it.
“Martim, do you remember that guy we met last night behind the DJ booth?” he asked, a playful expression on his face, catching everyone’s attention.
“You mean the one who tried to take you to bed all night?” his best friend replied, eyes focused on the cards he was holding.
Lando nodded, handing him the phone. “Apparently, he didn’t change his mind after sleeping on it,” he murmured, clearly pleased to always get attention.
“Good grief, he could have at least hinted at it,” Martim commented, giving the phone back.
Max looked at them annoyed. “Can you share with the rest of us?” he asked impatiently. He had missed the party the night before and hated missing out on events when he was in town.
Lando felt Carlos staring at him but didn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on Martim, who began to tell the story.
“Going out with Lando is impossible; this guy was glued to him the entire time,” he complained.
“And he was even decent. Did he tell you he’s a MotoGP rider? I don’t know, I’ve never followed that sport,” Lando dismissed.
“And all these encounters happen on the nights when Martim forbids you from making moves,” Max started, fully aware of the rule being enforced.
“Exactly!” the brown-haired one said with an exasperated look.
Carlos couldn’t hold back his curiosity. “Really? There are nights when he can’t?”
Martim nodded, confirming the statement. “Yeah, because Lando’s a magnet, and sometimes I just want to enjoy the evening with my best friend,” he explained, trying to make clear the reason behind his rule.
Carlos smiled, amused by the whole scene, then turned his gaze back to Lando.
The brown-haired one gave him a crooked smile.
“That’s not true, don’t believe what they say,” he denied, not very convincingly.
It was Jando’s turn to speak up. “So, what did he write to you?” he asked curiously.
“That his jeans would look good on the floor of his house,” Martim repeated, rolling his eyes.
Everyone burst out laughing, amused by the bold statement.
Martim wrapped up the topic by saying, “Of course, Lando won’t reply, but he’ll like one of his photos, and that poor guy will end up messaging him a second time,” explaining his usual pattern.
Once again, Lando smiled and shook his head. “All lies about me,” he declared, but no one believed him this time either.
After that little episode, they went back to playing. Carlos had been more physical for the rest of the time, and Lando let him, returning the same energy.
When they said goodbye before lunchtime, Lando left Martim’s place about ten minutes later, after putting on his sneakers and gathering his things. He had to go have lunch at his parents’ house and was already running late.
But he found Carlos still in the hallway, leaning against the wall near the elevator, waiting for him.
Lando gave him a questioning look, and the dark-haired man smiled.
“I wanted to accompany you in the elevator,” he murmured, confusing him even more.
Then he really joined him in the elevator, and when the doors closed, he pushed Lando against the mirror behind them and kissed him. It was forceful, and Lando let him, tightening his fingers in Carlos’s soft hair. He smelled like freshly washed clothes.
Carlos’s tongue seemed impatient, along with his hands that didn’t stop holding him.
When the elevator doors opened, Carlos suddenly pulled away, causing Lando to let out a protesting moan.
Carlos smiled at him once more.
“If you didn’t have to rush to lunch,” he murmured, then stepped out of the elevator, leaving Lando there with a half-hard bulge in his pants and no desire to face that family lunch—not when the alternative was so tempting.
Chapter 7: Chapter seven
Summary:
"There was something in the way they moved around each other that evening that didn’t feel sexual at all. It was like they were completely at ease. Lando couldn’t explain the feeling, nor could he tell if it was just the altered state they were in or something real."
Notes:
Hi there! I haven’t disappeared, but it’s been tough getting back on track after last race weekend.
Between going back to work and an awful weekend, it’s been a bit of a struggle. But we’ll bounce back.
I hope I can make it up to you with this long chapter—if anyone was waiting for it, here it is!
Their relationship deepens, and we finally find out why Carlos is so angry with his father.
As always, thank you so much for every interaction or comment—you truly make my day.
Let me know what you think!
Lots of loveeeee!
Chapter Text
Lando
Lunch at his place had stretched until seven; they had eaten and then watched a thriller together. After the film, he and Cisca ended up baking berry and white chocolate muffins. They had scattered ingredients all over the kitchen, promising to clean everything up afterwards.
That’s why Lando had stepped out of his parents’ house around seven in the evening, with some muffins in a container and the desire to see Carlos still alive inside him.
Lando Norris: Have you had dinner yet?
He sent the message before leaving his parents’ garage and getting behind the wheel.
Carlos replied while Lando was stopped at a red light, when he could safely check his notifications without being distracted.
Carlos Sainz: It’s seven o’clock, I’m not eighty.
Lando smiled at the snarky reply — typical of him. He responded before the light turned green.
Lando Norris: Pizza?
Carlos Sainz: Pizza and sex, or just pizza?
Lando Norris: Pizza, then maybe sex, if I feel like it.
Carlos Sainz: You’ve been thinking about it since the elevator.
Lando Norris: Damn right. You’re such a jerk.
Carlos Sainz: People tell me that a lot.
Lando stopped along the way to pick up some takeaway pizza, choosing a couple of toppings hoping at least one would be to Carlos's taste.
Then he headed straight to his place. Carlos opened the door wearing only a T-shirt and boxers.
Lando set the pizza box down on the coffee table in the living room, along with the container of muffins, and Carlos grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge.
“A gift from the family lunch?” the dark-haired man asked, nodding toward the muffins.
The brunette nodded, immediately grabbing a slice of pizza, clearly hungry.
“Cisca and I made them. They should be good—I haven’t tried them yet because I didn’t want to spoil my appetite,” he explained before taking a bite.
“Cisca’s your sister?” Carlos asked, even though he’d already seen the birthday stories on Lando’s account.
“Yep. Every now and then we manage to sync our schedules, otherwise our parents would kill us,” he said, taking a sip of beer before staring at his phone screen, where notifications kept pouring in.
Carlos nodded and quietly finished his slice of pizza.
They didn’t speak for a while—Lando kept replying to someone’s messages, and only after five minutes did he put the phone down and take another sip of beer, looking at Carlos.
“Still hungry?” he asked, overly polite.
Carlos easily read between the lines and smiled, amused. “Yes,” he murmured, referring to a different kind of hunger—one that had nothing to do with food.
Lando set the beer down on the table and leaned in to kiss him.
They were sitting on the floor; Carlos opened his legs to make space for him and leaned back against the sofa.
Lando straddled him, slipping his tongue into his mouth, while Carlos gripped his hips tightly.
They kissed for a while, then the brown-haired man pulled away to take off his shirt and pull off the other's.
He kissed him again, unable to stay away from that mouth, and Carlos' fingers slipped impatiently under the elastic of his underwear to touch his bare skin.
A moan interrupted the sound of their kisses, a moan of protest from the dark-haired man who whispered, “Please, take these jeans off.”
Lando then knelt down so he could pull his pants down over his buttocks and then signaled to Carlos to pull them off his legs. The dark-haired man grabbed the edge and gave it a tug, which made him lose his balance and fall backwards onto the carpet.
They both burst out laughing at the same time, while Carlos completed his mission of freeing him from his jeans.
Lando, now wearing only his boxers, returned to straddling him.
“Do you want us to move to a more comfortable surface?” asked Carlos, sucking the skin around his collarbone.
Lando shook his head and pressed his erection against his abdomen.
Carlos' hands slipped under his boxers and went straight to touch his slit.
Lando jumped at the surprise of that contact, but at the same time moaned with the frenzy he felt flowing through him, that desire to feel him inside as soon as possible.
He placed his hands on Carlos' shoulders to give him better access and locked eyes with him. When he tried to close them, overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through him, Carlos’s hand closed around his jaw, holding him there—asking with that gesture to not to look away. The brown-haired man took his thumb into his mouth, sucking on it, and those brown eyes became very dark, as they always did when he wanted him with all his heart.
Lando was sure that his eyes reflected the exact same desire.
Later, lying on that same rug and trying to catch their breath, Carlos sat up slightly to point at something on the floor. “Look,” he said.
Lando glanced up, still dazed from the orgasm, and frowned in confusion.
“They look good on my floor too,” Carlos teased, referring to the message Lando had read out loud to everyone earlier that morning.
Lando burst out laughing, and Carlos watched him with a wide smile on his face.
Later, in the elevator on his way home, Lando would find himself thinking back to the way Carlos had laced their fingers together above his head after they’d come.
He got so lost in the memory that he didn’t even notice he’d missed his floor.
Carlos
Carlos arrived at his parents’ house mentally preparing himself for what was bound to be a long evening. From time to time, he had to show up for these dinners and pretend that everything was fine. Even though he would’ve rather been anywhere else—work included—it still felt like a better option than sitting at the same table with his father and faking a father–son relationship that had stopped existing years ago.
He let out a sigh on the doorstep before ringing the bell.
His parents’ house was located just outside New York, in a residential neighborhood full of identical homes: a large patio, a big backyard, and plenty of rooms.
It was in that house that he and Blanca had grown up, learned to walk, talk, and argue.
Every corner of that place held memories of their childhood and adolescence—but all Carlos could see now, looking through those pale blue windows, were raised voices, lies, and the pain they had all carried.
He tried to shake off those thoughts while he waited for someone to answer the door.
Dolores’s face lit up with a bright smile when she saw him. “Señor Carlos!” she exclaimed warmly before pulling him into a hug.
Dolores had been their housekeeper for most of their lives. She’d been hired when he and Blanca were already teenagers, and she had witnessed more than one hormone-fueled outburst.
Carlos returned the hug, then quickly slipped off his coat and hung it up himself—just to keep her from doing it for him.
“Everyone’s in the living room,” she told him, and just then his mother, Reyes, appeared in the hallway to greet him.
“Mi amor,” she murmured, as she always did, stepping forward to kiss him on the cheek. Then, “Please leave any disagreements outside that door,” she warned, already bracing him.
Carlos loved everything about his mother—except her constant need to pretend that everything was always fine.
Still, he nodded and complied, because he had no desire to argue with his father again. He followed her into the living room and greeted everyone with a general nod.
Blanca stood up from the small loveseat where she had been sitting and walked over to hug him, already holding a martini between her fingers.
“Oh, Carlos,” his father called out, standing near the liquor cart in the corner as he saw him enter.
Carlos returned the gesture with a nod. “I’ll have a scotch, please,” he said, ready to let the alcohol start flowing—anything to help him get through the evening.
Dinner unfolded in the usual way.
His father asked both of them about their work; Blanca launched into a lengthy explanation about some issues she’d had to deal with over the past few days, while Carlos just shrugged in response.
After the aperitif, Dolores invited everyone to sit at the dining table and began serving the courses.
His mother spoke about their lovely new neighbors, whom they had met the day before, and how they had invited them over for dinner the following week.
They talked about Blanca’s love life and then about their old schoolmates. His mother was still in touch with all their mothers and updated them on everyone’s progress.
They ate duck accompanied by various side dishes and drank wine.
Carlos wasn’t spared the question about his own romantic life. He gave his mother a playful smile, and she pouted, complaining,
"You’re going to let me die without even a hint of a grandchild running around this big house."
His father then tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, as if to show support.
“Have you met young Lando Norris?” he asked out of the blue, stepping into dangerous territory.
Carlos knew it was a provocation—bringing up the very subject of their most recent argument.
Still, that evening, he was too amused by the timing of the question—posed right after discussing his love life—to take the bait.
He even briefly considered telling his father that, yes, he had met Lando—in rather intimate situations and in great detail—just to see his reaction.
But he wasn’t a child anymore, and he would never risk putting Lando in a bad position with his boss.
So he simply nodded.
“Very capable,” he murmured, then turned to his mother to completely change the subject.
The evening finally came to an end after two hours of pure torture.
Carlos said his goodbyes, kissed his mother a little more firmly than usual, and left the house with a bit of leftover cheesecake that Dolores had thoughtfully wrapped for him.
He sighed as soon as he stepped outside, grateful to have survived it once again.
Lando
Martim had picked him up straight after work.
It had been a few days since they’d spent time alone together.
When he got into the car, Lando sank into the leather seat with a sigh of relief.
"One more hour hunched over that computer and I would’ve lost it. Every muscle in my body hurts," he complained, stretching before fastening his seatbelt.
"You could’ve asked Carlos for a massage," Martim joked, as amused as always by that little game.
Lando rolled his eyes, just like every other time.
"He’d probably pretend he doesn’t even know me if I tried to talk to him," he replied, fairly certain of his theory.
"Wow, he really does hate his father," the dark-haired man commented, turning left and pulling into the McDrive lane.
"We’re not going inside?" Lando asked. He knew they’d end up eating at McDonald's—it was their go-to comfort food spot.
Martim glanced at his phone, replied to a message, then shook his head.
"No, I have to see my brother after this. Don’t have much time," he explained before moving the car forward in the queue.
Lando studied him for a few seconds.
"What’s going on?" he asked, suspicious. When Martim wasn’t his usual cheerful self, something was definitely off—and he probably didn’t have the guts to admit it.
The other man just shrugged and stared out the window, trying to avoid his friend’s piercing gaze.
They were interrupted by the drive-thru intercom; the girl asked for their order. Martim requested their usual and pulled forward, waiting for the food.
Lando kept staring, silently pressuring him to come clean.
With an exasperated sigh, Martim finally turned to face him.
"I was with Lisa the other day. We had a good time, had dinner, had sex. She’s amazing, just like I imagined," he said, then paused, scratching his chin hesitantly.
That’s when Lando understood.
Martim had always been an open book with him—except on this one topic.
He gasped.
"No! Please don’t tell me it’s exactly what I’m thinking," he exclaimed, already annoyed.
"She texted me saying she missed me, and... I don’t even know how I ended up outside her place," Martim confessed regretfully, resting his head against the steering wheel.
"But then you realized you were about to make a huge mistake and ran off, right?" Lando guessed, though he already knew that wasn’t what happened.
Martim stayed quiet for a few seconds, then slowly lifted his head.
"No. She came downstairs... and we had sex. In the car," he said flatly, crushing any remaining hope in the vehicle.
This time, it was Lando who banged his forehead against the dashboard, wanting to unhear everything.
The dramatic moment was cut short by the drive-thru worker handing them their order.
Martim placed everything on the back seat, then pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine.
When he finally unbuckled his seatbelt, he turned to look at his best friend, who was still staring straight ahead, stunned.
"Please say something," he pleaded.
Lando turned and punched him in the shoulder.
"You stayed away from her for five months. She cheated on you and left you heartbroken," he reminded him—something he’d said more than once before.
Martim listened silently, then muttered,
"I know. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I should’ve called you," remembering why he’d stopped doing dumb things in the first place.
Lando remembered it all perfectly: how that relationship had wrecked him, the nights he’d spent drunk, the days sleeping it off. He’d kicked him out of the house more than once, just to force him to react.
He didn’t hate his ex. Actually, he liked her—she’d been a friend to him too—and he knew people made mistakes.
But that didn’t mean he could forgive her.
With a sigh, Lando decided not to make it worse. Turning to the bags, he pulled out the burgers, placed the fries and nuggets in the middle to share, and handed Martim a straw for his drink.
Taking a sip and glancing at his friend’s miserable face, he said,
"Okay, but let’s not turn this into a tragedy. You had sex. Fine. Now you go back to pretending she doesn’t exist. Got it?"
It was his way of saying: it’s done, we’ll move on.
Martim nodded, accepting the cup of Coke Lando offered as a peace gesture.
"I don’t even know why I did it," he muttered, finally breaking out of the emotional silence.
Lando bit into his burger.
"I do. Because you like Lisa, and the idea of anything serious makes you bolt," he said, fully aware of his emotional patterns.
"Now go work out this drama with your therapist. And pay for my sessions too while you’re at it," he added, grabbing a nugget and dunking it in mayo.
"Don’t get my car dirty," Martim warned, trying to deflect.
That was when Lando realized the previous night’s activities had happened in that very same car.
His face twisted in disgust.
"Pretty sure that’s not the kind of fluid you should be worried about staining your seats with," he replied.
Martim burst out laughing, head thrown back, and Lando felt some relief knowing he had pulled him out of the dark cloud that had been hanging over him.
*
Later that evening, Lando had stayed at Martim’s place while he went out to meet his brother at the pub.
He could’ve gone home, but he was too tired to deal with the subway, so he’d launched into a Grey’s Anatomy marathon—and had been completely sucked in.
During one particular episode, he grabbed his phone and texted Carlos.
Lando Norris: CRISTINA CAN’T BE PREGNANT BY THAT GUY
He wrote in all caps, now completely caught up in the drama.
Carlos Sainz: Where are you watching the episodes?
Lando frowned at the unexpected question, but answered anyway.
Lando Norris: using Martim’s login
Carlos Sainz: come over
Carlos Sainz: if you brought weed, I might even love you
The brunette stared at the screen, a little surprised by that second message.
Lando Norris: you mean weed weed?
Lando Norris: I can check Martim’s stash
Carlos Sainz: Will you marry me?
Lando Norris: maybe we should revisit our agreement
Ten minutes later, with a small bag of weed in his pocket and everything he needed to roll a joint, Lando was standing in front of Carlos’s door, waiting for him to answer.
The dark-haired man finally opened after a minute, wearing a wrinkled shirt and a pair of boxers.
Lando raised an eyebrow.
"So dressed up for a night in?" he asked, following him into the living room.
"Had dinner at my parents’ place," Carlos explained, sitting down on the floor so he could use the coffee table as a base.
Lando sat beside him and pulled out the rolling supplies.
"I’ll do it. You please put on episode 25, I was almost at the end," he instructed, laying the paper out and starting to mix the tobacco with some weed.
Carlos found the episode and did exactly as he was told. Together, they located the exact point where Lando had left off, and only hit play once Lando had finished rolling and lit the joint.
Carlos got up briefly to open a window and let some air in.
Lando took a hit, then passed it over.
"Start the episode, please," he said, too curious to see what would happen next.
They stayed quiet for a while, sitting close, eyes fixed on the screen as they passed the joint back and forth.
Lando began to feel the weed settle in—he knew that soon he wouldn’t be able to follow the plot at all, so he tried to focus hard enough to at least finish that episode.
After a while, Carlos made a comment about a scene, and it almost startled Lando, snapping him out of his daze and reminding him he wasn’t alone.
He suddenly became aware of how close they were and reminded himself to behave—even while high.
Carlos was the one to close the small, absurd gap between them.
He leaned in, bringing his mouth close to Lando’s ear just to whisper,
"I might be changing my mind about Derek Shepherd,"
which made Lando smile.
At some point, with the joint now snuffed out in the ashtray, Carlos started tracing his fingers along the bare skin of Lando’s ankles, exposed by the pants he’d been wearing all day.
Lando sighed at the touch, trying his best to keep his eyes on the screen.
They remained mostly silent, even when Carlos—“I’m hungry”—announced it and sat up to retrieve the cheesecake he had taken from his parents’ place, just like he had mentioned earlier. He came back with two small spoons and sat even closer, their legs now tangled beneath the table as if it wasn’t unusual to be that close.
Lando felt lightheaded and stopped analyzing every movement, allowing himself to simply lean into the contact.
He took a spoon and dug into the slice of cake, bringing a small bite to his mouth. As the taste of cream and strawberry spread across his taste buds, a sound of appreciation escaped him. Carlos turned to look at him and smiled. “I know, Dolores is amazing—no cheesecake compares to hers,” he murmured, taking another bite himself.
Lando moved in closer to grab another piece before Carlos could finish it. Carlos noticed his intentions and grabbed the plate to hold it just out of reach. They laughed at the childish tug-of-war, far too entertained thanks to the lingering effects of the weed in their system.
Then Carlos offered him the last bite directly from his spoon, and Lando took it without hesitation. The other man set the empty plate down on the low table and said, “You’ve got a bit of cream right here,” softly brushing the corner of Lando’s mouth with his thumb, then bringing it to his own lips and licking it off under Lando’s gaze.
There was something in the way they moved around each other that evening that didn’t feel sexual at all. It was like they were completely at ease. Lando couldn’t explain the feeling, nor could he tell if it was just the altered state they were in or something real.
After the cake, they sat for a while longer, shoulder to shoulder, watching TV in silence—at least until Lando noticed Carlos staring off into space, lost in thought.
That’s when Lando decided he couldn’t keep ignoring the distant look that had clouded his friend’s eyes all evening. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that going to dinner at his parents’ house was the reason behind Carlos’s sour mood, and he also knew he probably shouldn’t ask anything. That wasn’t the kind of relationship they had—it was clear Carlos just wanted the distraction—but respecting boundaries had never been his strong suit. Being tactless was practically his specialty, and he wasn’t going to stop now.
So he paused the episode and turned to face him, no hesitation, no ceremony—just being himself.
“Why does going home make you feel like this?”
Carlos kept staring straight ahead, his head resting against the couch behind him, his body stretched out on the floor. He didn’t look over, but he started speaking.
“Our family’s always been really close. My sister Blanca and I grew up surrounded by so much love. We were always taught to chase our dreams. We weren’t spoiled or coddled, but you could feel the love—strongly,” he began, while Lando shifted onto his side to watch him more closely.
“I’ve always had a special bond with my mother. Her pregnancy wasn’t easy, and when I was born, she had depression that took her away from me for a while. So when she got better, she wanted to make up for all that lost time. My father was everything to her—when she was struggling, when I was little—she always told us that without him, she would’ve fallen apart,” he continued, still staring ahead, as if that was the only way he could open up without giving everything away through his eyes.
Lando understood.
"When he cheated on her, when he broke her heart… oh, it was awful, Lando," the dark-haired man whispered, catching him off guard. Hearing his name was more significant than being looked straight in the eye—it was like a signal, like he was telling him: you're the one I want to share this with. In that moment, Lando felt closer to him than he ever had, even when their bodies had been physically close before.
"I'll never forget my mother’s crying when he confessed it to her. I’ll always remember the look in her eyes, completely shattered… the times I heard her sobbing in the bathroom, and the way pain suddenly painted the walls of our home—the same ones that had always felt so full of joy to me," he finished, his voice nearly breaking.
Lando could feel the weight of those memories purely through the tone of his voice. So he reached out, gently touching Carlos’s fingers with his own—just a quiet gesture, meant to offer some kind of comfort.
"She forgave him. But from that moment on, everything changed for me. And I can’t forget it," he added, explaining why his mother had been able to move on, and he hadn’t.
The brown-haired man continued to watch him in silence, saying nothing—because anything he might’ve said would’ve been the wrong thing. Because there was no need to say anything. Carlos had shown him a part of himself, and all Lando could do was receive it.
After a long pause, both lost in their thoughts, Carlos finally turned to meet his eyes—and found them waiting for him, quietly present, comforting.
"Sorry," he murmured, as if just realizing how much he’d unloaded.
Lando shook his head without looking away.
"I wanted to know," he said simply, trying to reassure him that it hadn’t been too much—that in fact, it was exactly what he had asked for.
Carlos stared at him for another second or two, then quietly said,
"Lando?" His voice was close, his scent filling the space between them.
"Mmh," Lando hummed in response, his fingers still resting on Carlos’s, absentmindedly.
"If I kiss you—and just kiss you—am I breaking any rules?"
Lando was caught off guard by the question. Instinctively, his eyes dropped to Carlos’s lips, then came back to meet his. He shook his head, wordlessly.
Carlos didn’t wait for another sign. He leaned in just enough to close the space between them.
He kissed him slowly, the taste of strawberry and cream still on their tongues. There was no rush, no urgency to push further. It was just a kiss.
Their hands remained there on the floor, one resting on top of the other.
When they pulled away, Carlos leaned back slightly to give them space again.
"Wanna finish the episode?" he asked, like that moment had never happened.
Lando nodded, unsure what else to do, lost in thought and confusion.
Later, when he got back to Martim’s place, his best friend—still awake—gave him a strange look. It took only a second to read Lando’s face and see he was all over the place.
"Were you guys having sex?" Martim asked, eyebrows drawn together, trying to figure it out.
Lando shook his head silently—and that was enough for him to understand.
"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.
But Lando shook his head again.
"No. I’m just high," he said, brushing it off before heading to the bathroom, needing a moment alone with himself.
ShinyRayna on Chapter 1 Fri 18 Jul 2025 07:51AM UTC
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bluewolfsoul on Chapter 1 Sat 19 Jul 2025 09:58PM UTC
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ldk_1 on Chapter 2 Fri 25 Jul 2025 03:40PM UTC
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bluewolfsoul on Chapter 2 Sun 27 Jul 2025 10:42PM UTC
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creatus on Chapter 3 Mon 04 Aug 2025 06:38PM UTC
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bluewolfsoul on Chapter 3 Sun 10 Aug 2025 10:19AM UTC
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ldk_1 on Chapter 4 Sun 17 Aug 2025 02:25PM UTC
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bluewolfsoul on Chapter 4 Sun 17 Aug 2025 09:20PM UTC
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StringMan on Chapter 6 Thu 04 Sep 2025 12:48AM UTC
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bluewolfsoul on Chapter 6 Sat 06 Sep 2025 02:54PM UTC
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Iwannatakeanapwithmydog on Chapter 7 Mon 08 Sep 2025 03:33PM UTC
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