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Losing his virginity hadn’t made him nervous, not with either gender. At least, not that he could remember. It was sort of just… what came next. The thing that happened after all the making out and the touching and the grinding. He had been a teenager, it was a natural progression. He couldn’t remember being nervous about it.
But Lando was nervous now, sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, waiting for an inevitable knock. /That/ made him nervous.
Their first kiss, their first /real/ kiss, had happened a few weeks ago. Because the one before that, months before, that was technically their first kiss which consisted of fumbled lips pressed together in the darkened corner of a club in Melbourne, followed swiftly by ‘oh shit’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘that shouldn’t happen again’, didn’t count.
Then it did happened again. Since that night, they hadn’t stopped looking at each other with a level of longing that should’ve been reserved for romantic novels and period dramas.
So when it had happened again, it was real, and it was slow, it was Oscar gently pressing Lando against the wall of his drivers’ room, one steady hand on his chest, the other carding into his brunette curls, his voice low and coaxing, reassuring that it was okay, they didn’t need to hold back. And the way Lando had melted into him, had simply allowed it, had been something holy, something sacred between them.
Because if they were honest with themselves, those longing looks had started from the moment Oscar walked into the Technology Centre three years ago.
Now, sat on the edge of the bed, on crisp white hotel sheets, fingers twitching against the mattress, gripping and then letting go again, Lando thought maybe this level of nerves that he was sure he had never felt with anyone before, was warranted. It had been such a long time coming. Oscar had been insistent on going out for a /date/ before, a proper date, with dinner and a walk on the pier, and heading back to the hotel together. And he’d muttered something about needing to pop back to his room because his phone had died and he had to call his sister to talk about their mum’s birthday but he’d come to Lando’s room in five minutes. And he’d left a chaste kiss on his lips to seal the promise, a high risk move in the middle of the hotel corridor, one that had made Lando’s heart clench and stomach flutter and lips tingle with an unknown level of want.
The fluttering nerves were definitely warranted, then.
Because Lando really wanted this.
Oscar really wanted this too, that was more than obvious. But it seemed that he was far less nervous, being the one to initiate the contact at first, the intimacy. Carefully, of course, they were in public after all. Despite that though, Oscar was brushing their fingers and nudging their shoulders and making sure they were as close as possible as often as possible. Maybe he’d be more nervous when he came back into the room, given the inevitable conclusion to the evening.
If he ever walked back into the room. Where was he?
That’s when the slight panic started to set in.
What if he wasn’t coming back.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Lando had been stood up, both for dates and sex. It seemed, sometimes, people liked the idea of him, but not actually him. They liked the media image, the ‘fresh out of the car’ look, and how that was always presented as sexy and desirable, even though it was hot and sweaty and… icky. When actually faced with the reality, some people seemed to be disappointed. Apparently he was ‘too nice’ sometimes, or too polite, too gentle, and it wasn’t what people expected of a future World Champion and la la la, load of bollocks…
But what if that was exactly what Oscar was thinking right now? What if he was back in his own room, thinking now he’d been spending social time with Lando, flirting time, that actually he really wasn’t…
Of course, the spiral was very quickly stopped by the expected knock on the door.
Lando Norris – absolute muppet.
Once he’d taken a few seconds to calm his brain down, he actually managed to pull himself to his feet and rush to the door. And again, he took a moment to take a breath, before reaching for the handle and pulling it open. Oscar stood the other side, the vision of calm, of collected, of being exactly where he should be. The smile slowly pulled across his face, his dimples on perfect show, and it was enough to push any worried thoughts out of Lando’s head, leaving the residual nerves and anticipation bubbling away underneath.
“Sorry, Hattie wouldn’t stop talking,” he said with a grin. Lando just laughed in return, taking a step back and allowing Oscar to step inside. “Honestly, you’d think I don’t speak to her almost every day.” He was talking to cut some of the tension, that was obvious, but Lando was more than grateful for it, closing and locking the door behind them.
“Drink?” he asked as he brushed past Oscar, heading for the fridge.
“As long as it isn’t Monster,” Oscar teased, earning himself a heatless glare from Lando as he leant down and pulled two bottles of water from the fridge. They hadn’t had alcohol with dinner, it was mid-season and they both usually made a choice not to. Besides, that was probably even more of a good idea, if they were going to…
Oscar’s hand was trailing down his back as he stood back up, nothing more than some gentle contact, re-establishing it after the rhythm had been lost with the twenty minutes apart. With a gentle smile, Lando was leading him to the sofa, sinking back into the cushions, placing the two bottles on the table in front of them as he did. Oscar sat down next to him, closer than he would’ve ever before, shoulders brushing again, and immediately the conversation was picked up again like they hadn’t stopped.
Suddenly it was easy again, it was right, it was simple. And now the touches were uninhibited. They didn’t have to hold back for fear of being seen. Oscar had extended an arm over the top of the sofa, and after a few minutes of Lando slowly leaning closer and closer, his hand was curling into Lando’s hair, fingers gently clutching the curls, and he was encouraging him into a kiss again. Lando was willingly accepting, hand landing on his jaw in return, unable to stop the slight pull of a smile over his lips against Oscar’s as he felt how smooth and clean shaven he was. But that felt right. It would have been strange if he was anything else. If he could admit it to himself, Lando had probably thought a lot about how Oscar’s skin would’ve felt under his touch, especially when his mind wandered, got lost, whilst Oscar was talking in an interview or on a stage, and Lando could just /watch/. Watch and appreciate.
He could appreciate even more actually touching.
It wasn’t long before they were tumbling past the point they had already reached before, the point where they both knew they had needed to stop previously, before they put themselves in a position they couldn’t act on. They could act on it now though, on the fact the kiss had turned slightly filthy, on the fact Oscar had slipped his tongue into Lando’s mouth, and the hand that had been resting on his side was now sliding up his thigh, up and up, switching something in Lando’s brain that was making him feel absolutely fucking feral. The nerves still bubbled underneath though, and his hands weren’t exploring as boldly as Oscar’s were. In fact, he was potentially holding back. It didn’t seem to be putting Oscar off though.
The younger was pulling away, standing from the sofa, a hand staying on Lando’s arm and sliding down to his wrist, then his hand, gently raising it and holding it out between them. “Shall we…?” The meaning was obvious, and yet Lando felt himself dumbly blinking back up at him like Oscar had just spoken fluent words in another language. And that was the hesitance that made Oscar falter, a slightly concerned frown drop onto his face. “Lando?”
And god, those eyes. Those stunning eyes, that could melt a fucking glacier. Because of course, it wasn’t that Lando didn’t want to. Of course he did. Right now, he wanted it more than winning the championship. It was just…
“Nervous?” The way Oscar asked that, so matter of fact without a hint of judgement, made Lando realise that actually the nerves were even more stupid than he initially thought. Because Oscar had read that from looking at him for less than ten seconds. He’d read it from the way Lando was gently biting his bottom lip, the way his fingers were twitching in Oscar’s hand, the others tapping on his own thigh. He’d read it from the slight haze across his eyes, and the ever so slightly out of sync breathing. So really, he had nothing to be nervous about. Because the person making him nervous was equally the person that could calm him in seconds.
“Yeah, but not like…” Lando pushed himself to his feet then, stepping close to Oscar, the tiny difference in height meaning he had to tip his head up slightly to brush his lips over Oscar’s again. “Not so much I don’t wanna do this.” Oscar needed to understand that. This wasn’t hesitancy, this was just being in his head.
“No, I know,” Oscar confirmed, voice steady and sure, telling Lando he really did know. “It’s weirder when we have to plan it like this.”
Lando scoffed gently and grinned, nodding in response. He was right, it did have to be planned, adding another whole level of anticipation to the proceedings. They had done the date part, and maybe this part was inevitable after either way. But in normal circumstances it would’ve been far more organic, spur of the moment, kisses on the street and fumbling hands in the elevator and ‘do you want to come to my room?’ in the corridor of the hotel. Not ‘let’s go for dinner in a team-agreed restaurant and then orchestrate some form of movement between hotel rooms where we have to check we aren’t seen’. It added a whole other layer of pressure to the situation. Perhaps that wasn’t helping.
But they were behind closed doors now, and Oscar was inches from him, and Lando really needed to just calm the fuck down and…
“But it’s okay, you can stop thinking. I can look after you…”
Okay, Lando’s brain totally short circuited at that, and whilst of course, /of course/, he had been attracted to Oscar before, had been for a very long time, the sudden rush of ‘fuck me you’re hot’ slammed Lando like a freight train, and the desperate need for Oscar to be all over him as fast as possible was overriding any form of nerves he had felt up until that moment.
Their lips crashed together again with a level of eagerness that was driven by Lando, and a surprising lack of precision from Oscar, but it seemed like the want had just taken over now. Before Lando knew it, familiar hands were planting on his torso, fingers curling around his sides, and as their lips fell into a rhythm Lando was being walked backwards towards the bed.
When his knees hit the edge of the bed, he had to stop himself tumbling backwards, engaging his core muscles to keep them both upright, Oscar’s body then inadvertently plastered against his own, and a huff of a laugh tumbled into Lando’s mouth from Oscar’s lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to stop,” he laughed softly, breathing slightly elevated, hands still planted on Lando’s sides, now gripping his shirt and holding on.
“Sorry,” Lando immediately replied, though it was through a laugh too. “I’m not as used to…” To what, exactly? Someone else being the active one, the directive one, being moved rather than doing the moving?
It seemed he didn’t have to voice that though, because Oscar was shaking his head, brushing their lips once, then tipping his head to run down the side of Lando’s neck, hot breath ghosting over his skin, soft lips barely making contact. Suddenly the desperate need that he had been feeling only moments ago, that had burned hot and hard across his body, dropped to a low simmer, a deep pool in his stomach, a shudder running down his spine as Oscar’s lips returned back to his ear, running over the shell. “Lay back for me.”
Blinking once, twice, it took a moment to process the words, before Lando was complying with absolutely no argument, something he had a worrying feeling he would be doing a lot with Oscar. As he slid back across the sheets and settled against the pillows, Oscar grabbed the hem of his own shirt and tugged it off, discarding it to the floor without much thought, and climbing onto the bed over Lando. Trailing a hand down his chest, his fingers settled on the highest button Lando had done up (one purposefully lower than he normally would for any other occasion) and met his eyes. “Can I?”
Once again, the nod that came from Lando was near enough automatic in it’s compliancy, enough to make Oscar smirk at the movement and pop that button, then the next, then the next. Lando was hardly paying much attention though, because instead his hands were trailing down what he could reach of Oscar’s chest, eyes following, taking in the expanse of tanned skin, the toned biceps, the tendons that moved as nimble fingers pushed open each button. Oscar seemed to be equally mesmerised as he let the fabric of Lando’s shirt fall open, both staring like they didn’t see each other shirtless on a semi-regular basis. This was different, of course. They couldn’t exactly look before, it would’ve been too obvious. Now though…
Sitting up, Lando let the shirt slide off his shoulders, let Oscar tug it away and throw it off the side of the bed to join his own on the floor, and then hands could fall on hot skin, caressing and just /feeling/. Lando was sure he couldn’t control the groan that left his lips as Oscar’s mouth attached to his neck with kisses, light sucks, nothing to risk visible marks but enough to feel incredible. And right.
Rolling them over, Oscar’s back hit the mattress, and Lando moved to straddle his hips easily, hands planted either side of the younger’s head, buried in the pillows. There was a smirk over Oscar’s face again, knowing, not teasing, and he sent a hand up Lando’s left arm to squeeze over his flexed bicep, the solid muscle, toned and defined as he held his body weight above Oscar. A beat, and then their lips crashed together again, the kiss hotter and harder, as it was before, the equal amount of skin on display a leveller in an unfamiliar situation.
And Lando could’ve kissed him forever, really could’ve. Could’ve got lost on those lips, that tongue tangling into his mouth, until the world ended around them. But instead, Oscar was gripping at his hips, carefully rolling them again, mirroring Lando’s stance and straddling him then, rolling their growing erections together slowly to cause a moan to tumble from Lando’s lips. With that knowing smirk again, Oscar was sitting up, hands trailing over his stomach and popping open the button of Lando’s jeans, eyes fixed on his face. His expression was open, questioning, giving Lando the opportunity to shake his head, back-track, run.
Instead, Lando’s nod was defiant and sure. As sure as he had been about dedicating his career to racing in papaya.
The pile of clothes on the floor grew as each layer was peeled. Oscar had lost his underwear, but Lando hadn’t had a second to enjoy the view before his own underwear was being pulled away as Oscar’s lips were on his stomach, open-mouthed kisses, and Lando couldn’t do anything other than dive his fingers into Oscar’s thick, chestnut hair and /grip/. Moments later a hot mouth was enveloping his cock and more moans were falling from his lips, breaths panting, grabbing at the back of Oscar’s neck and gripping.
“Fuck, your mouth…” he groaned, and he just knew Oscar would’ve been smirking if he could’ve, and this time the smirk would’ve been smug. It had been a while, too long, and Lando found himself with his eyes squeezed shut trying to pray that he found some strength to not embarrass himself and come before they had hardly done anything. Mercifully, Oscar pulled off not long after, settling a few kisses to his hips and sitting up again. He glanced up to meet Lando’s eyes, crawling back up his body, planting a kiss every few inches onto his skin. Pressing his body the length of Lando’s, he brushed their lips again, foreheads rested together. Trailing down his spine, Lando settled his hand on Oscar’s arse and pressed him in slowly, enjoying the way Oscar lips parted in a silent moan.
“Do you… can I…?” Lando laughed softly at Oscar’s aborted words, raising an eyebrow and cheekily smirking in a teasing expression. “Shut up,” Oscar grinned, settling the weight of his body on Lando further, pressing a few more chaste kisses to his lips. “I want to fuck you.”
Suddenly the smirk was wiped from Lando’s lips, and he was blinking up at Oscar with a level of awe that he was sure was utterly stupid. He couldn’t find words, that he /was/ absolutely sure of, and all he could do, once again, was silently nod, eyes hazed with a level of want that he hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time.
It was Oscar’s turn to smirk, then. Slow, devilish, so familiar. But there wasn’t much Lando could do with that now, other than skim his hands down his sides, over his lower back, over the beautiful curve of his arse again, and force Oscar’s hips back in to roll, dicks pressing together in pressure that just wasn’t enough, and yet made both their breathing hitch in rhythm, Lando’s fingers digging into the soft flesh of Oscar’s arse.
Captivated by Oscar’s expression, Lando held eye contact, their hips rolling together sloppily, desperately, embarrassingly like Lando could remember doing years ago as a teenager with his first boyfriend. Except this time he wasn’t trying to get anything out of it other than watch the Aussie’s eyes glaze, his lips part, his moans come out as almost tiny whimpers, musical, addictive. His forehead dropped to Lando’s neck, his hot breath panting against his skin, and Lando really thought he had him for a second. Really thought that in that moment, he could do anything to Oscar, touch him wherever he wanted, and Oscar would be willing to oblige.
And then it switched.
Suddenly Lando’s hands were tugged away from Oscar’s body and pinned either side of his head. Oscar raised his hips, body above him so hardly any contact was being made, and he was looking down at Lando with a level of lust the Brit just couldn’t remember anyone ever wanting him with. Ever.
“Do you have…?”
“Suitcase.”
There was a nod. And then… “Stay.”
Oscar’s command sent a shudder down Lando’s spine, and even if he wanted to bite back, sarcastic, cheeky, like he always did with Oscar, there was no way he could. Instead, he dumbly nodded, eyes following Oscar as he rolled off the bed, moving to the corner of the room where Lando’s suitcase was sat, clothes strewn on top of it, around it, and hardly in it at all. He riffled through for a moment until he found what he was looking for. Lando propped himself up to watch, leaning on his elbows and smiling familiarly as Oscar grabbed a condom from the box, carefully and in the most Oscar way he had ever seen, closing up the box again and putting it back in the suitcase, before grabbing the bottle of lube and turning back to the bed.
Metting Lando’s eyes, he dropped the collect items next to him and climbed back onto the bed. “So do you bring these to every race weekend, or…”
Lando bit his bottom lip, grin cracking over his face, shrugging as he watched Oscar kneel between his legs. “Not /every/ weekend,” he replied. “But I like to be prepared.”
“Says the man late for every team briefing.” Oscar had leant down now, trailing kisses over Lando’s chest, expertly managing to cover his fingers in lube, blind as he littered kisses onto the golden skin in front of him.
“You’ve done that before,” Lando quipped, and a pair of brown eyes shot up to Lando. They hadn’t spoken about previous experience, other than what they knew of the other through the classic prying eyes of the press. And Lando hadn’t meant for it to be pointed, or purposeful. It was suppose to be a tease. But instead it came out as possessive, far more unsure than he intended, and the hot look Oscar set upon him told him that he knew he wasn’t seeking out a reaction. But he was going to get one.
“Not as many times as you’d think.” And once again, that could’ve been read wrong. That could’ve had Lando worried, that maybe Oscar wasn’t as experienced as he was assuming, and maybe he was the one that ought to be checking in more, taking more control, not the other way round. But Oscar’s words and movements were so sure, and his confidence was unmistakable, telling Lando his words shouldn’t be taken at face value either. Instead, it was simply reassuring. Reassuring that he didn’t do this all the time with just anyone.
Reassuring that he would do this with Lando, for Lando.
All thoughts of overanalysing each other’s words were gone the second Oscar began to push a cautious finger into Lando, lips still on his chest, mouth attaching around a nipple and sucking slowly. Lando’s body didn’t know whether to arch into his mouth or his fingers, so instead he wound one hand into Oscar’s hair, the other gripping the sheets, breathing falling into an elevated rhythm.
Strangely, Lando was sure he and Oscar didn’t know each other as well as other teammates did, given they’d raced together for almost three seasons now. Other teammates seemed to be closer, on the face of it, seemed to have spent far more time learning how the other ticked. He and Oscar were closer in different ways, in ways that didn’t show up on camera as well, in ways that spoke of chemistry and understanding, and the true meaning of clicking with someone without having to try too hard.
That was obvious in the way Oscar prepped him, in the way he thrust his fingers to the point of Lando tumbling soft, needy whines from his lips, before backing off and allowing him to breathe, card a hand through Oscar’s hair, gently drag him up to his lips, and force his next set of desperate moans against the Aussie’s mouth rather than into the warm hotel room air around them. He knew exactly when Lando needed more, needed less, where the perfect point of overstimulating him was, before pulling him back from the precipice he was hurtling towards, soothing him with shallow movements of his fingers and gentle kisses on his lips.
It didn’t take much for Lando to realise what Oscar had meant when he’d said he was going to look after him.
The whimper that fell from Lando as Oscar pulled away, knelt up between his legs, probably should’ve been embarrassing, but he didn’t have enough brain cells functioning for that. Instead, Oscar was soothing a hand down his thigh, and then busying himself rolling on the condom. Lando’s eyes were glued to him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, watching the way nimble fingers moved over his flushed and needy cock, the pre-come smearing down as he rolled the material down. Lando didn’t think he’d ever been as captivated by the simple task of putting on a condom as he was watching Oscar, the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, eyes down, hair falling forward, chest rising and falling rhythmically with his own elevated breaths.
Why was Lando ever nervous?
“How do you want me?” His voice didn’t even sound like his own, throat slightly croaky from the silence that had held, from his soft moans before, from the slightly dry air in the room.
“I want to see you. Is that okay?”
Fuck. Fuck…
The nod Lando gave in return was the most emphatic thing he thought he’d ever done. His eyes followed Oscar as he leant back into him again, hand sliding to his right thigh, behind his knee, encouraging him to raise the leg and wrap it around Oscar’s waist. He planted the other hand next to Lando’s head, leaning in and brushing their lips together gently.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
“You’re not that big, mate…” Lando had to tease, but the tone of his voice didn’t follow his joking words. Instead, once again, his voice was lost to his own ears, airy and distant, blinking up at Oscar like he was the most wonderous thing he had seen on this earth.
“I’m bigger than average,” Oscar teased back, and Lando felt himself smirk. He could believe that. In fact, Oscar was definitely bigger than him. He just needed something to cut through the tension, the anticipation thrumming through him. And of course, being the mocker was a good default for him. “Besides, you’re so tight for me, aren’t you baby?”
Holy fuck, Lando actually forgot how to breath for a second.
He was sure his pupils blew twice as wide, his dick twitched between them, and his hands were sliding over Oscar’s muscular shoulders, down his back, hips raising, cock nudging Oscar’s stomach, message clear.
With a knowing chuckle, Oscar was pressing a soft kiss to Lando’s lips, chaste and promising, before he was adding a little more lube over the condom and shifting forward slightly on his knees, reaching between them to guide his cock. Lando watched, as well as he could, until the second Oscar started pushing in. Then his head fell back against the pillows, a breathy moan leaving him, his eyes falling closed. Oscar dropped his forehead to Lando’s chest, reaching back to Lando’s other leg, gripping at his thigh for a moment as he slowly sunk into him. The leg wrapped around him pressed, the heel of Lando’s foot pushing into the small of Oscar’s back, making him arch slightly and sink deeper. They moaned in unison, Oscar planting his other hand next to Lando’s head and shifting up so they were face to face.
“Come on, baby, wrap your legs around me.”
Lando hadn’t had much time in life to explore any kinks he may have. He knew he liked his hands being tied. The one time he’d been blindfolded by an ex was fairly enjoyable. Fairly run of the mill stuff. But in the moment, nothing could’ve convinced him that Oscar calling him ‘baby’ wasn’t his biggest kink of all.
Complying quickly, Lando’s raised legs meant Oscar could sink even deeper, hips meeting Lando’s arse and yes, okay, fuck, Oscar was definitely bigger than most he’d taken because without even trying, tip of his cock was nudging his prostate, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure through Lando’s body.
Oscar was tipping his head down then, lips pressing into Lando’s in a searing kiss, letting him get used to the feeling, slowly settling more and more of his body weight on Lando, finding the happy medium where they could have as much skin on skin as possible, but Oscar had freedom of movement. Clearly dissatisfied, Oscar was reaching next to Lando’s head and without breaking the kiss tugging a pillow from the pile the Brit wasn’t settled on, dragging it down the bed. He broke the kiss then to send a hand to Lando’s arse, lifting his hips with Lando’s movement and settling the pillow under them. “Comfy?”
All Lando could do, once again, was dumbly nod, another moan leaving him as Oscar’s cock jostled inside him with the movement. There was a smirk on Oscar’s face, but it wasn’t unkind. It was satisfied. It was promising. It was a look that said ‘this is just the beginning’.
And it was true. He hadn’t even fucking moved yet.
That was soon rectified though, when Oscar began a rhythm, not as deep as he had initially settled inside Lando, thrusts more shallow, getting them both warmed up and ready. Lando was willing to take anything Oscar gave him in that moment, hands still running down his back, feeling his hot skin, breaths panting, eyes fixed up onto him, watching the way the pleasure began to fall on Oscar’s expression.
As he picked up the pace, Lando felt a shot of satisfaction that Oscar was in fact enjoying this as much as Lando, face dropping to bury into his neck. “Fuck… Lando…” The moan was panted, the first proper moan tumbling from Oscar’s lips. And finally, the last piece of tension released from Lando’s body and he was completely melting into the mattress under him.
Within a few minutes, Oscar’s thrusts were picking up, harder, deeper, starting to press into Lando’s prostate with every other movement, causing his moans to hitch up, become more of a breathy whine, slightly desperate and definitely more needy. He sent a hand into Oscar’s hair again, dragging his head back up so he could crash their lips together once more, tongues tangling, slopping with the movement of Oscar’s body against him.
“Want more…” Lando near enough whined, and it only served to make Oscar slow, eyes down and fixed on Lando’s expression.
“Yeah? You want it harder?” His tone was dripping with tease, enough to make Lando shudder, tighten his legs around Oscar’s waist, shift to raise his hips a little and force Oscar to sink deeper on his next thrust, making them both moan.
“Harder…” Lando panted in confirmation, his own cock now painfully leaking between them, getting rubbed by Oscar’s stomach on each thrust, the friction on it’s own teasing.
“How hard, baby?” The words were breathed into Lando’s ear where Oscar had dropped his head, sucking on his earlobe, then pressing kisses down his neck.
Lando wasn’t sure there was an answer for that, and even if there was he wasn’t sure he could form the words. Instead, his hands slid down his back, to his arse once again, grabbing at the flesh and pushing Oscar’s hips, making him sink right to the hilt and hit his prostate, Lando’s moan falling from him loud. Probably too loud. “Harder…”
If Oscar was wanting to tease more, Lando’s hand gripping, forcing his hips, had sealed the fate that he didn’t have a hope in hell of continuing that one. Instead, his own moan was also loud, though not as quite as bad, and he was shifting to plaster his body over Lando, still kissing and nipping at his neck, but now his hips were starting up again, faster, building, building, until finally…
The sob of relief Lando let out as Oscar began to pound against his prostate was probably heard on every other floor of the hotel, but he didn’t care. Then Oscar’s hands were reaching back and grabbing at his wrists, dragging his hands away from his skin, pining them beside his head again and resting his body weight onto Lando’s hands, fingers entwined, gripping, hips thrusting hard and fast into Lando.
It was rare, very rare, that Lando’s mind went quiet. But in that moment, his only singular thought was Oscar.
His orgasm didn’t even creep up on him, didn’t even build. He was sure his body gave him absolutely no warning. Oscar didn’t even have a hand on him, instead both wrapped in Lando’s, sunk into the pillows, gripping hard as he youngers moans were joining Lando in the air around them, loud and needy. When Lando came untouched between them, and came /hard/, painting both his and Oscar’s stomach, body tense and shuddering, it only encouraged him. His hips moved faster, chasing his own release, his moans drowned out by Lando’s as he came, and then filled the room again as Lando went near silent under him, small whimpers leaving him as Oscar still hit that spot inside him, hair stuck across the sweat on his forehead, eyes glazed with wetness as need. It was that view, the view of Lando laid under him, wrecked, that send Oscar barrelling over the edge, burying himself deep inside Lando as he came, dropping his head to his collarbone and sucking his skin to muffle his near-shout of pleasure.
There was a soft ‘oof’ from Lando as Oscar collapsed on top of him, and a groan as his hands were released. Lando flexed his fingers a little, then moved his hands to trail down Oscar’s back, dipping into the sweat that had pooled in the dimples at the base of his spine. He turned his head, pressing kiss after kiss against Oscar’s temple, until he raised his head to meet his eyes, smiling with so much fondness and affection that Lando’s heart seized on the spot.
“Fuck…” Lando breathed, because his brain still hadn’t rebooted from his mind-blowing orgasm, from the fact Oscar had fucked him like that. From the fact Oscar had fucked him like that and was now looking at him like that.
A chuckle came from Oscar, deep, slightly croaky too, and he was pressing a kiss to Lando’s cheek, then the other, then his lips, gentle, caring. “You… I didn’t even touch you, and you…”
Heat flushed through Lando’s cheeks and he looked away, suddenly finding the shitty hotel room artwork on the wall next to the bed very interesting. “I know… sorry…” There was some shame in his voice, something deep and engrained from someone in his past that he tried really really hard not to think about anymore. But he did, sometimes.
“No, Lando…” He felt fingers on his jaw, gently forcing his head back, his eyes falling back up on Oscar’s expression. “It was so fucking hot…”
The reassurance slammed Lando immediately, and he couldn’t help but smile now instead, even laughing softly as Oscar rubbed their noses together, then dropped another kiss to his lips. He was still buried deep inside Lando, and as he shifted his hips, another long moan left them both, and Lando’s dick made a defiant attempt to twitch. Chuckling softly, Oscar pressed another kiss to his cheek. “I mean, I’m going to need at least half an hour,” he teased, making Lando laugh quietly again too.
“I probably only need twenty minutes,” he teased back, because he had to. Because it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t.
With an eyeroll, Oscar was then pulling out of him slowly, smirking as Lando’s expression slackened, mouth falling open, and an overstimulated breath left his lips. “Would you put money on that?” he quipped back, eyebrow raised, kneeling up and rolling off the condom to tie, throwing it into the doorway of the bathroom to deal with later.
“Probably not,” Lando conceded as Oscar came to lay next to him, reaching to the beside and grabbing a couple of tissues to wipe his and Lando’s stomach. It wasn’t the best, but it would do for now, until they could both find the ability to move. Oscar then laid on his front, slotting his left leg between Lando’s, laid half on top of him so he could reach his lips. He pressed a few kisses there for a moment, then his jaw, before he was settling his head onto the pillow next to him.
“That was amazing,” he breathed, with a level of wonder in his voice that Lando felt he didn’t deserve. But still, he was grinning turning his head to face Oscar, pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes against the feeling of Oscar’s hot breath over his lips.
“Yeah,” he replied, voice low, hand caressing down over his side. “It was… thank you for looking after me.”
With a chuckle, and a grin that Lando just caught as he opened his eyes again, Oscar was pressing impossibly closer, wrapping his arms around Lando, rolling him so he laid on his side too and he could press almost every inch of their bodies together. “Always,” Oscar replied, and it was stupidly cheesy and could’ve been heat of the moment, but Lando knew he meant every word. “I’ll always look after you.”