twelve days of slutmas

by twitchywitchyg1rl

Summary:

twelve days of putting f1 drivers in slutty situations counting down to christmas (dec 25) !!
created by me & my assistant cowboychai
<3
different ships every day & i'll be updating tags as we go along

Chapter 1: bondage/edging (lando & oscar)

“Ugh, wrapping gifts is so boring,” Lando whines as he rips off a piece of tape. The tape folds over itself, and Lando grumbles even louder.

Oscar looks over and raises his eyebrow, trying to hide a smile. “We just started.”

Lando flops down across Oscar’s lap, pushing a box out of Oscar’s hands. “Can’t do it anymore,” he says, dragging his vowels out.

“You can do it, baby,” Oscar says as he uses one hand to massage Lando’s neck and shoulder.

The two sit on their living room floor surrounded by wrapping supplies and a big pile of gifts waiting to be wrapped. As usual, they’ve procrastinated, and this task has now shot to the top of the priority list as they have a Christmas party to attend tomorrow.

Neither of them are particularly having fun, but Lando is coping with it very poorly. He picks up a piece of ribbon and twirls it between his fingers, distracted by the silky material.

“This is so soft,” he says absentmindedly.

Oscar hums as he reaches down to touch. “Is it?”

“Mhm, I like the color as well,” Lando’s voice is quiet and soft.

“Me too. It’s a very nice green. Kinda looks like your eye color,” Oscar says plainly.

Lando turns his head to look up at Oscar, a grin splitting his face wide open. “Oscaaaar.”

Oscar looks away as his cheeks turn pink, realizing the grave mistake he’s made. “Stop.”

“Noooo, that’s super cute, darling,” Lando says as he grabs Oscar’s face to force eye contact. “You bought ribbon the color of my eyes?”

Oscar wishes he could just melt into the floor. “I didn’t buy it because of that. Just happened to be the same color, that’s all.”

“Riiiight,” Lando says as he leans up to plant a wet kiss on Oscar’s cheek.

Oscar’s nose scrunches, making Lando giggle. He tries to convince him that he’s telling the truth, but Lando won’t go for it.

A glint appears in Lando’s eye that can only mean trouble. “I have an idea,” he says abruptly.

“Oh great,” Oscar groans.

Lando narrows his eyes and pokes his finger into Oscar’s chest. “Mean.”

“What’s your idea, my darling boy?”

Lando knows he’s making fun of him, but it makes his heart squeeze anyway—Oscar just has that effect on him. With his little half smiles, and the sparkly eyes he reserves for Lando, and the jokes that he thinks are so funny. Butterflies have a permanent home in Lando’s stomach.

Lando averts his gaze back to his hands. “D’ya think I’d look pretty tied up in this ribbon?”

Oscar goes silent for long enough that Lando starts to worry he’s made a misstep. He’s scared to look back up, but Oscar handles that for him and places a finger under his chin to tilt his head up.

“You have no idea how pretty I think you’d look all wrapped up in this,” he says, full sincerity in his voice.

“Geez, you left me waiting long enough,” Lando says with a small, breathy laugh.

“Sorry, I was a bit stunned for a moment,” Oscar says honestly. “You always know how to catch me completely off guard.”

Lando takes this as a compliment. He grins and says, “I know.”

Oscar strokes his cheek and stares down at him. The focused gaze is too much for Lando to handle, so his eyes flutter closed.

“So?” He whispers.

“That is a wonderful idea, baby. Let’s do it. Tonight? Please?”

Lando giggles and opens his eyes to see Oscar’s crooked grin. He nods furiously and sits up so quickly he gets dizzy.

“Woah, careful there,” Oscar says, a smile evident in his voice.

“Shut up, and help me up, will ya?”

Oscar stands and holds a hand out for Lando to grab. Lando grabs it with unnecessary force just because he thinks it’s funny. Oscar’s exaggerated “Ouch” as he stumbles makes it worth it.

“You are so insanely lucky that you’re pretty,” Oscar deadpans.

Lando grins and says again, “I know.”

As soon as he turns to walk away, Oscar slaps his ass as payback, bringing a yelp out of him before he runs away toward their room.

Lando hits the bed running as he yells, “Wait! We forgot the ribbon. Go get it.”

Oscar arches his brow before Lando adds, “Please?”

Dutifully, Oscar returns to the living room to grab all the spools of the green ribbon he can find and a pair of scissors before rushing back to meet Lando. By the time he’s back, Lando has already stripped down to his boxers, which makes Oscar laugh, head tilted back.

“What? Just wanted to be ready,” Lando says frankly.

Oscar smiles his crooked smile and says, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

As Lando leans back with his arms folded behind his head, Oscar hypes himself up and places all the supplies next to him on the bed, along with lube from the nightstand.

As soon as his knee touches the bed, Lando says, “Are you not gonna take your clothes off as well?”

Oscar stumbles forward onto the bed, laughing at Lando’s impatience. And Lando smiles at him, the twinkle in his eye that always appears when he makes Oscar laugh.

Never in his life has Oscar laughed as much as he does with Lando. Sometimes, he laughs so hard he can’t catch his breath. No one has ever made him laugh like that. It seems as if it’s Lando’s life mission to make him laugh like that, which actually makes him want to cry and laugh at the same time.

He looks at Lando, sprawled out ready for him, and he focuses on his heaving chest that he’s failing to get under control. He presses his hand over his heart, feeling the way it’s pounding beneath his ribcage. If Oscar could crawl between his ribs and create a home for himself there, he would.

His biggest wish is to cradle Lando’s heart in his bare hands to keep it protected from the world.

“D’ya know what you’re doing?” Lando breaks the silence.

Oscar’s eyes snap back to Lando’s as he pushes a quick breath out of his mouth. “Not really, but we’ll learn together. I mean, I’m not gonna be doing any crazy knots or patterns. I reckon I’ll just turn you into a little Christmas gift.”

Lando does a real life tee-hee, and Oscar rolls his eyes, fondness threatening to bubble out of him in some physical form.

He makes quick work of removing his clothes before he’s back at Lando’s side, holding his face in his hands. He drapes his body over his and scrunches his nose again just because he knows Lando likes it.

Lando reaches out for him and pulls him down to kiss him. He feels the heat of Oscar’s cheeks under his palm and smiles into the kiss. When Oscar asks what he’s smiling at, he doesn’t say. The moment is too sweet to speak aloud.

His other hand drifts to Oscar’s lower back, pressing down to encourage him to press down harder with his hips. Oscar listens, and they fall into an almost hypnotic rhythm of kissing and gentle grinding.

Oscar pulls away, not wanting to break the spell but acknowledging that there’s still a lot they want to do. Lando tries to chase his mouth but gives up when Oscar snakes his arm down to wrap around Lando’s length through his boxers.

Lando groans, his back lifting from the bed as he starts repeating, “Off”, hoping Oscar will oblige.

He does, dragging the fabric down his legs as Lando squirms. Oscar stares at him as he sits back on his knees. His eyes are darting back and forth, and Lando realizes he’s mentally mapping out where he wants the ribbon to go.

Lando shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to prepare himself.

Oscar moves to grab a spool and some scissors before he says, “Obviously, I won’t tie them super tight or anything. But still let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all or if you want to stop or do something else or whatever.”

“Thanks, Osc. I’ll let ya know,” Lando replies, nodding.

Oscar nods, barely noticeable. “Okay. Would you like it if I told you what I’m gonna do or just do it?”

Lando props himself up on one elbow and reaches to rub Oscar’s bicep soothingly. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is. Don’t scare yourself, alright? It’ll be perfect, I’m sure.”

Oscar looks away, and after a few seconds, says, “Didn’t answer the question though.”

“Just do it,” Lando laughs as he flops back onto the bed. “I trust you.”

After leaning down to press a kiss to Lando’s forehead, he sits back up and gets to work. He asks Lando to put his hands together so that he can measure how much ribbon he needs.

Lando does it, crossing one wrist over the other and presenting them to Oscar. Oscar thinks he might have a panic attack and die right here. Before he freaks out for real, he continues on to measure and cut the appropriate length of ribbon.

Without needing further direction, Lando scoots down the bed and raises his arms up, resting his wrists against the headboard.

Silently, Oscar leans forward and wraps the ribbon around his wrists horizontally a couple times before wrapping perpendicularly to secure them, giving him the ability to tie the ends in a little bow.

“Jesus,” he whispers.

Lando strains his wrists, testing the give. Oscar stayed true and kept it fairly loose, so he didn’t feel panicky. He wants to see how it looks, but he doesn’t dare move now.

“Feel okay? You good to keep going?” Oscar asks.

Lando hums and gives his consent, sounding dreamy.

Oscar continues, lifting Lando’s chest to feed the ribbon behind his back before bringing it back around, the width covering his nipples perfectly. He ties the ends in a simple off-center bow, resting over his heart.

Focused now, Oscar sees his vision so perfectly, and he’s just glad his hands are working to bring it to life. He measures and cuts and wraps and ties. Each of his thighs gets a bow and several kisses.

His chest is heaving so hard, he’s fearful of the ribbon across his chest just snapping in half. He’s trying to take deep breaths, but how could he when Oscar’s delicate fingers are tying little green bows to his ankles?

Once it’s done and the kisses are left on his ankles, Oscar returns to the head of the bed and throws everything onto the nightstand except the lube.

“Okay?” Oscar asks, pupils completely covering his irises.

“‘m okay,” Lando whispers, already too overwhelmed to say more.

“Okay,” Oscar repeats under his breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Can’t see,” Lando says as he strains to see himself.

“Be right back,” Oscar says as he jumps up. He comes back with their Polaroid camera, flash on and ready.

Lando scrambles to try and position himself in what he thinks would be the most flattering position in his current state.

“Smile, baby,” Oscar says, and Lando does, pink blooming in his cheeks. Once it prints, he places it face down beside him on the bed because he heard that helps it develop faster. He’s not sure if it does or not, but he doesn’t care.

He runs his hands over Lando’s body, fingers ghosting over the silky ribbon covering his smooth skin. Lando’s stomach jumps at the touch—his arousal is getting painful at this point. A particularly rough press to his inner thigh brings a whimper out of him. Before he can complain, Oscar moves to check the picture.

He sucks in a breath as his eyes land on the perfectly developed image of the best gift Lando has ever given him. He flips it over to show Lando, and even Lando is stunned.

“Oh wow. I do look pretty,” he says.

“I know,” Oscar agrees, breathless. “You’re perfect.”

Lando blushes even deeper and decides it’s time to complain. “I’d really appreciate it if you could let me have an orgasm at some point because I think I’m about to explode.”

Oscar laughs and agrees. “Okay, but just so you know, you won’t be getting off easy. I need to keep you here like this as long as I possibly can.”

Lando grumbles. “Oh, perfect. Gonna die tonight.”

With a smirk, Oscar lowers himself so he’s eye level with Lando’s crotch. He holds eye contact as he wraps warm fingers around Lando’s cock, watching the way Lando’s eyes go wide for a split second before returning to normal. He smiles at him, making Lando roll his eyes. He’s stopped in his tracks when Oscar blinks slowly and sticks his tongue out to take a broad lick all the way from base to tip.

Lando groans as Oscar sucks lightly at the tip, moving down too slowly for Lando’s liking.

Hooking two fingers under the ribbon around Lando’s thigh, he pulls it taut and flicks his tongue across Lando’s slit at the same time, bringing a very pathetic whimper out of him.

“Jesus,” Lando whispers. His hips jump before Oscar holds them down with a heavy hand.

Much too quickly, Oscar pulls away saying, “Calm down.”

Lando huffs. “Whyyyyy? I was so close.”

“I know. That’s why I stopped. Now hush,” Oscar says, tone still playful but words hitting Lando like daggers.

Oscar reaches for the lube, and Lando’s legs immediately fall wide open. Oscar arches a brow with a smirk that Lando wants to slap off his face.

Chuckling under his breath, Oscar squeezes lube onto his fingers and rubs them together to warm it a bit. He guides Lando to bend his knees, and Oscar settles in between them, balancing one leg on his shoulder.

It’s the perfect height for him to kiss Lando’s ribbon-covered thigh as he slowly guides two fingers inside of him. As soon as his fingers slide in, Lando’s back arches, and he shudders. The stretch is his favorite part—the delicious burn and Oscar’s careful fingers.

His breathing gets labored as Oscar precisely scissors him open. He makes sure to keep him on the precipice, not allowing him to fall over the edge.

Oscar drinks up his whines, telling him he looks perfect like this, that he’s doing so well, but he can’t come until he says so.

Lando’s core is getting the workout of a lifetime trying to hold off his orgasm as Oscar presses sharply into his prostate. His legs shake, and Oscar tightens his grip on the one over his shoulder. He digs his nails in as he twists his fingers inside of him, and he almost loses it.

But Oscar is quicker. He notices the quick acceleration of Lando’s breathing, and just before he peaks, he pulls his fingers out.

“Fuck,” Lando grits out as his head falls back onto the pillows. “Please let me,” he begs.

Oscar shakes his head and leans forward to kiss both his cheeks. The motion pushes his leg back, making him cry out again at the stretch in his thigh.

“Now that you can’t wriggle out of my grasp, I can finally kiss all the freckles on your cute face like I always try to.”

Lando scrunches his nose and fights as best he can as Oscar places a kiss on each individual freckle on his face and neck. Oscar uses his free hand to grab the bow between Lando’s wrists and pull it tighter, a warning for him to stop squirming.

Lando whimpers, defeated. He feels like his bones have been replaced with bees, stinging his insides with every touch from Oscar.

Oscar pulls back and looks at him with eyes full of lust. Lando shivers under his gaze, and his hips twitch.

Oscar traces Lando’s bottom lip with his thumb as he asks, “Should I fuck you now or do you think I should wait a little longer?”

Eyes bulging out of Lando’s head, he shrieks, “NOW.”

A laugh bubbles out of Oscar’s chest, slicing the tension a little. His eyes focus on the tremble in Lando’s lip, and he can’t wait any longer. He coaxes his mouth open and sticks two fingers in his mouth, pressing down on his tongue.

Lando swirls his tongue around his fingers, holding eye contact for fear of what might happen if he doesn’t.

Oscar is looking at him with an intensity that’s a little startling, but Lando doesn’t hold back.

Soon, Oscar removes his fingers and leans back on his heels, pulling Lando’s leg back down with him as he wraps his hand around Lando’s cock.

Lando sucks in a breath and says, “Wait!”

Immediately, Oscar stops, and his face turns from fiery passion to pure concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Oscar asks, eyes darting everywhere from Lando’s head to his feet.

“My hip hurts,” Lando whines. “Leg was up too long, ouch.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. Here, let me straighten it out for you.” He moves over slightly and fully extends Lando’s leg with all the gentleness in the world. “Would you like me to massage your hip?”

Lando nods, whimpering as the stiffness is rubbed out. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to ruin the moment,” he winces as the pain in his hip radiates down his leg.

Oscar shakes his head and leans down to press kisses to Lando’s stomach. “You didn’t ruin anything, honey. I’m so glad you told me what you needed.”

“‘kay, I’m ready,” Lando mutters as the pain starts to dull.

“You sure?”

“Mhm. Now get on with it.”

“Yes, sir,” Oscar says with a salute.

Becoming increasingly aware of his arousal that hasn’t been dealt with, Lando lets all the desperation show on his face.

It seems to work because Oscar is in motion again, hand hovering trying to gauge where it’s alright to touch him again. Lando answers his question wordlessly by bringing his hand back into his mouth and repeating the action he was working on prior to the brief break.

Oscar closes his eyes and breathes out as Lando works to sufficiently cover his fingers with spit. He locks back in and puts his hand back on Lando’s cock, carefully this time.

“‘m okay,” Lando whispers.

Not that it’s a bad thing, but Oscar has always been overly cautious with Lando. Obviously, it’s quite a good thing most times. However, it can be annoying when Lando just wants to move on from things quickly, but Oscar prefers treating Lando like he’s glass until he’s 100% sure everything is better.

Oscar finally believes him and opts to push his other leg back, spreading him open without putting him in a painful position. His eyes fall to his thigh and he rubs his fingers across the green bow before squeezing, bringing a groan out of Lando.

He reaches for the lube again, and this time covers his own cock with it, stroking until he’s fully hard again. With his free hand, he touches Lando’s hole again to see the state of it.

Lando whines quietly and nods furiously, trying to convey that he’s ready.

Obeying the silent command, Oscar lines himself up and pushes into Lando as slow as he can, not wanting the stretch to be painful.

Lando’s mouth falls open on a gasp as he feels Oscar slide into him. His back flies off the bed, instinctively bearing down, trying to pull him in more.

Oscar reaches for Lando’s cock and squeezes tightly, helping to hold his orgasm at bay as he pushes all the way in, hitting Lando’s prostate with precision.

An explosion of stars bursts behind Lando’s eyelids, and he cries out, wanting to come so badly but wanting more to be good.

Oscar falls forward onto his forearms, enveloping Lando’s body with his own. He moves one arm up to grip Lando’s wrists as he snaps his hips into him—the friction between his stomach and Lando’s cock excruciating for them both.

Lando’s sounds are lighting fires in Oscar’s stomach, alternating between whimpering his name and moaning high in his throat. He starts to beg, and Oscar shushes him by kissing him again, which makes Lando feel so much more electrified. He’s grinding his hips, matching Oscar’s thrusts, and for some reason, Oscar is letting him.

Oscar is losing control—his grip on Lando’s wrists is making the ribbon dig into his skin, weakening Oscar’s resolve. He thrusts a few more times and abruptly pulls out, contradicting everything his own body is telling him.

Lando nearly screams in frustration as his whole body trembles.

In a blink, Oscar unties his wrists and pulls his arms down, massaging each one and each of his shoulders as well.

Lando sighs in relief but only gets a moment because then, Oscar is flipping him over and pulling his hips up, dragging him to his hands and knees. His arms are weak, so he just falls forward and rests his head on his folded arms.

Oscar doesn’t seem to mind, so he lets him stay like that while he sits back and stares at him. Still so pretty with his back covered in sweat, darkening the ribbon wrapped around his torso. He runs his hands down his whole body and bends down to kiss the insides of Lando’s ankles.

“Oscar,” Lando breathes out.

In response, Oscar grips onto his hip and pushes inside him again. A punched out moan leaves Lando’s mouth which leaves Oscar taking a deep breath trying to restrain himself.

He does slow thrusts at first then faster until the breath is knocked out of him as well. Lando’s begging is ringing in his ears, and his fingers dig in as he gets closer and closer.

“Can you talk to me?” Lando asks in a broken voice.

Oscar lets go of the breath he’s holding and slows down a little. “You’re so pretty, baby. Can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

Lando sniffles into his arms, a shiver running down his spine.

“I love you,” Oscar adds before grabbing hold of the ribbon on his back and pulling him up slightly to arch his back more.

The sound Lando makes when Oscar slips deeper inside of him pushes Oscar over the edge. His muscles flex as he tightens his hold on Lando, and he spills inside of him.

“Fuck,” Lando chokes out. “Please let me come, please.”

Oscar stays silent as he catches his breath, wanting Lando to hold out just a few seconds longer. His begging turns impossibly desperate, and Oscar runs his nails across Lando’s side as he moves to touch Lando’s cock.

Lando writhes and cries out, overstimulated and nearing his limit. As soon as Oscar starts stroking him, he slurs, “I can’t hold it anymore, please, I can’t.”

Oscar watches his muscles tense and relax, over and over again. “Okay, come for me, baby.”

Lando lets out a near scream as his whole body contracts, squeezing the life out of Oscar’s cock, but Oscar doesn’t care about his own sensitivity when he’s watching Lando have a full body orgasm. Because of him.

Once he finally spills over Oscar’s hand and the sheets beneath him, Oscar pulls out, and Lando goes completely boneless, sinking into the mess.

He whimpers quietly as he comes down, Oscar gently climbing over him to lay by his side.

Oscar pulls him over to get his arms around him, holding and soothing him.

“You okay?” Oscar asks, face buried in his curls.

Lando hums faintly, which in Lando speak means ‘yes, but I’m too far gone to talk’.

“Can I take the ribbons off to help you calm down?”

Lando shakes his head no.

“No?” Oscar has to make sure he understands.

Lando coughs and says, “Maybe jus’ the one ‘round my chest. Feel like I can’t breathe.”

Oscar moves quickly to untie him but respects his wishes to keep the other ones, which makes him want to ruin him all over again. Just not tonight.

Lando lets Oscar move him wherever he wants, dead weight in his arms. Once his chest is free, he takes several deep breaths and snuggles into Oscar.

Oscar kisses his head and whispers, “I love you so much. So beautiful and so perfect. And all mine.”

Lando drifts off to sleep as Oscar is speaking, but he hears what he says, and his heart flares up with love.

Notes:

thoughts feelings concerns lmk <33 more freak shit incoming

Chapter 2: choking/praise kink (charles & max)

Summary:

day twooo happy monday !!

Notes:

for all intents & purposes just assume they've done this before & charles isn't fucking with max's air supply for the first time on this random morning even tho i didn't explicitly say it . ok thanks have safe sex everyone

Max typically has a tough time asking for what he wants. In bed, that is. In every other context, every experience he has is perfectly curated to him—he makes sure of that. Too long he’s spent living for other people, carrying out other people’s dreams, being worried about how he’s perceived. He will never live like that again.

Now that he knows what his version of peace looks like, he never does anything to jeopardize it.

Sex is the exception to that rule. He almost never prioritizes himself during sex. The payoff isn’t even worth the humiliation he’d feel by verbally expressing one of his needs in the bedroom.

It’s not that he’s never satisfied. He is. As much as it pains him to admit, he has the sweetest, most attentive boyfriend in the world. Most times, he doesn’t need to say because Charles already knows.

When he doesn’t know, he begs Max to tell him, but Max rarely does. He can tell it frustrates Charles, but he doesn’t force him which Max greatly appreciates. Being the cause of his frustration riddles him with guilt, but it’s just too much sometimes.

His real preference is for Charles to force him to do what he wants instead. Perhaps, it’s equally humiliating to just let his body be maneuvered in whatever position Charles wants him in at any point, but he doesn’t care.

Giving up control turns him on the most, so if Charles wants him bent over his knee or on his stomach with his face smushed in the pillows, that’s where he gets him.

No matter what, Charles will tell him he’s magnifique or très joli, and Max will blush like crazy and pretend that he’s not.

Most times, Charles kisses his cheeks and doesn’t say anything about it. Sometimes, he’s in a teasing mood and will make it Max’s problem, but he’s usually discreet about it for Max’s sake.

He loves Charles more than he’s ever loved anything else in his life. It’s unbelievable that he found him in this lifetime. There never has been and never will be a person more perfectly suited for him.

He never thought he’d find someone who wanted him for the person that he is and not the person others wish he was.

It took ages for him to accept that Charles wanted him, but once he did, everything was so much better. His life is rich with experiences and feelings he’s never felt before and a beautiful angel next to him for all of it.

Even when he playfully smacks Max on the back of the head for leaving his socks everywhere, Max thinks he’s perfect.

As he sits in a comfy chair on the balcony of their hotel room, Max sips his tea and stares at the fog over the mountains in the distance. To have optimal relaxing time over break, they decided to book a hotel room in some random small town Charles chose just because it’s in the middle of the mountains. He’d said it had a “very cozy vibe” from the pictures online.

Rather than asking any questions, Max usually just hands his card over and lets Charles do what he wants.

The morning air is chilly, his mug acting as a heater for his freezing hands. He pulls his hood over his head, pressing it over his ears for a few seconds, shivering as they touch his head.

Refusing to admit that it’s too cold to be sitting outside, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, fingers grazing the little Monaco flag sewn into the edge.

He rubs it with his thumb, getting lost in his thoughts for a moment. The door slides open behind him, startling him out of his reverie.

Charles sees him jump and says, “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“Uh, clearly,” Max replies. “I didn’t think you’d be awake for at least a couple more hours.”

He reaches out to grab Charles’s hand and pats his lap, bringing him over to sit. There’s a perfectly good chair next to him, but Charles doesn’t question it. He plops down sideways, crossing his ankles to get cozy before wrapping an arm around Max’s shoulders and resting his head on top of Max’s.

Max’s arms circle his waist as Charles’s other hand traces the red letters over Max’s chest. Leclerc. He tries his hardest to suppress a smile, but Max can feel his cheeks raising on top of his head.

“Stop,” Max warns in advance.

Charles giggles. “I didn’t say anything!”

Max rolls his eyes. “I can hear your thoughts.”

Charles lifts his head to look Max in the eyes and brings his hand to hold his jaw. His eyes are so soft and sleepy, Max wants to scream.

“Come back to bed with me?”

Max tries to think of a reason to say no but comes up short. “Okay,” he says quietly.

Charles perks up at that. “Okay?”

Max huffs. “Okay.”

“Yayyyy, let’s go,” Charles jumps up and pulls Max up as well.

Max stumbles through the doorway as Charles drags him with more force than necessary. “Damn, what’s the rush?”

Charles glares at him. “Don’t act surprised. What did you think was going to happen when I saw my name plastered across your chest?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Maybe a compliment or two,” Max says with a smirk.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Charles says as they reach the bed. He tells Max to sit on the edge of the bed, Max tells him he’s not a dog, Charles looks at him pointedly, Max folds immediately. Tale as old as time.

“Good boy,” Charles says and pats his head.

Max’s jaw drops open. “You’re actually insufferable, like what the fuck?”

“Whatever. You like it,” Charles says, scratching his scalp.

“Not like that,” Max insists with a scowl.

Charles arches a brow. “Whatever you say.”

Max grumbles and complains under his breath until Charles’s gentle scratches turn into his head being jerked back.

“Ouch,” Max says, but it comes out breathier than intended.

Charles hums, pleased with what he hears. “Are you going to be difficult or can you be nice?”

He tightens his fingers in his hair, looking down at him with a look in his eyes that tells Max he should probably be nice.

In true Max fashion, he decides to argue instead. “Why should I be nice?”

Charles loosens his grip and brings his other hand to rest on Max’s cheek, warm hand replacing the remaining chill stuck on Max’s skin. “You already look so pretty in your hoodie, and I think you would look even prettier being nice and good for me.”

He brushes a piece of lint from his shoulder as Max takes a moment to think. Begrudgingly, he says he’ll try.

Charles is appeased, at least for now. He pushes him back, sending Max scrambling backward up the bed.

Foolishly, Max tries to remove the hoodie, craving skin to skin contact. Charles stops him at record speed. “What are you doing?”

“I want to touch you,” Max says.

“You can touch me and still wear this,” he pats Max’s chest with a smile. “At the same time.”

Max sighs dramatically and makes grabby hands toward him.

Charles grabs his hands and plants them on his waist as he moves to straddle him.

Not satisfied with that, Max immediately slides his hands under Charles’s shirt and forces him to take it off.

As soon as Max lays eyes on Charles’s pretty chest and his pretty happy trail, he forgets why he was complaining in the first place.

“Happy now?” Charles asks.

“Mhm,” Max nods happily. He returns his hands to their rightful place on Charles’s waist and strokes his skin.

Charles moves on and places his hands on either side of Max’s head before leaning down to kiss him, all teeth and tongue, bringing a surprised noise out of Max that makes Charles want to keep doing it forever.

Max’s fingers dig into his waist as he kisses him back with just as much fervor. Charles bites his lip and drags it toward him, and Max moans high in his throat.

“God, you sound so good,” Charles says as he bears down, putting more pressure on Max’s lap.

Max moans deeper this time, hips jumping under him. He uses his grip on Charles to hold him down in an attempt to keep the pressure for relief.

As much as Charles likes manhandling Max, he does enjoy the few and far between times Max manhandles him as well.

So he lets him move his hips, the force of his grip surely leaving bruises in his skin that he will savor later.

Once Max realizes that Charles is allowing it, he doubles down and guides him to grind down on him, the friction from the layers of pants nearly driving him crazy.

The kissing is less kissing and more panting into each other’s mouths at this point. Through short breaths, Max asks, “Can we please take our pants off at least?”

Charles kisses him again and nods. Max shoots up and pushes Charles off of him so he can remove his joggers and Charles’s as well. Charles falls with a squeak, glaring at Max.

Max doesn’t even notice—he’s too busy getting them as naked as possible as soon as possible.

Predictably, Charles stops him in his tracks when he tries to remove the hoodie. He whines, but Charles couldn’t care less.

“I told you, it stays on,” he says seriously. “You’re not being a very good listener.”

“Sorry,” Max mumbles.

“It’s alright, baby,” he says as he strokes Max’s cheek. “But don’t try it again.”

Max nods and looks away, slightly embarrassed and majorly horny.

Charles sits back against the headboard and pulls Max onto his lap, both moaning as soon as their hips touch. He wraps his arms around Charles’s shoulders and rests his forehead on his.

Their breathing syncs up before Charles pushes him back a little just to look. His eyes soak in every inch of Max while Max squirms in his lap, hating every second of the direct attention.

“I take it you like me wearing your name,” Max says with a cheeky tone.

Charles’s eyes darken as they focus on each letter again. “Love it so much. I can’t believe you like it.”

“Of course I do. Can’t let anyone forget that I belong to the sexiest boy in the paddock. Plus, it’s mega cozy,” he says as he rubs the wool between his fingers.

Charles groans and knocks his head back on the headboard. “Fuck, I need you so much,” he says as he digs his nails into Max’s thighs.

“You have me.”

Charles is on him immediately after the words leave his mouth. He pushes him back on the bed, following him down. He whispers into his mouth, “You’re so pretty and so perfect, mon cœur.”

Max’s knuckles are turning white from how tightly he’s gripping Charles’s biceps. He doesn’t think Charles even realizes that his hips are grinding into Max’s so intensely that Max thinks he might lose it soon.

“Baby,” Max breathes.

Charles doesn’t even register that he’s speaking, too busy with his nose and mouth buried in Max’s neck, leaving kisses and bites and whispers in the wind.

“Baby,” Max says with a little more volume.

Charles lifts his head and blinks out of his stupor. “Sorry, chéri. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Max says quickly. “I just need you to make me come soon so I don’t lose my shit.”

“Okay. Okay, I can do that,” Charles says, nodding oddly fast.

“What’s wrong with your head?”

Charles stops and tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“Why is it bobbling like that?”

Charles laughs. “Too overwhelmed with how much I love you to think straight.”

“Stupid,” Max says, laughing under his breath. He runs his hands up and down Charles’s arms.

They smile dumbly at each other before Max flips them over again, taking matters into his own hands. He crawls down Charles’s body, leaving kisses all the way down. Sitting himself on his hips, he angles himself so he can wrap his hand around both of them at the same time.

Charles groans, giving himself over to the feeling. Max’s eyes flicker, and he lets go to spit in his hand before continuing his movements. He jerks them both off, speeding up when Charles starts babbling.

“Feels so good, fuck, you’re so good at this.”

Max whimpers as he runs his thumb over their tips, Charles’s hips moving erratically under him.

Max can feel Charles’s eyes on him, watching his pleasure as much as he’s focusing on his own. As soon as he looks up, Charles shuts his eyes.

“I’m close,” he breathes out.

Max takes it as a challenge and puts his all into it, and Charles comes into his hand just a few moments later. He keeps going, trying not to let his own orgasm slip away. “Can I come? Please.”

“Oui. Come for me, baby.”

So Max does, his whole body tensing before adding his contribution to the sticky mess trickling down his fingers. His muscles ache from the exertion.

Charles looks down and groans again. “You made a mess on your hoodie.”

Too out of it to even look down, Max just mumbles, “You did too,” as he rolls off of Charles.

After a deep breath, Charles wills his limbs to move again to settle between Max’s thighs and put his legs over his shoulders. “Not done with you yet.”

Max lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes to collect himself before Charles’s fingers drift down to his hole to assess. He’s pleased to find that he’s still open enough from last night that he doesn’t need to waste time prepping him.

After he strokes himself a few times to get himself fully ready, he spreads Max open and pushes in cautiously, the mess they both made acting as lube for the time being. Max reaches out to pull him closer, giving him permission to keep going.

He sets a fast pace, pushing and pulling, jostling Max’s whole body. Completely uncontrollable moans and whimpers spill out of Max’s mouth.

“You’re being so good, baby,” Charles says as he pushes his hands under the hoodie to cup Max’s chest. “So beautiful, taking everything I’m giving you.”

Max’s back arches, a whimper clawing its way out of his throat. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Charles’s fingers dig in harder. “Fuck, you’re so sweet today.”

Max’s breaths quicken, and Charles moves a hand further up to rest lightly on the side of Max’s neck. His head tilts back on impact, exposing more skin for Charles to touch.

Mesmerized, Charles tries his best to continue his thrusts as he positions his fingers to wrap around his windpipe.

Max’s eyes fly open, and he swallows nervously. All his senses are being attacked at once in the most delicious way. He sees the uncertainty in Charles’s face, so he lifts his hand to cover Charles’s, encouraging him to squeeze.

Charles’s hips stutter, losing rhythm as he processes and follows Max’s lead. He squeezes lightly and slowly, watching Max adjust. His fingers tighten further, and a breathless whine comes out of Max.

He tilts his head back as far as it will go in this position, his body craving Charles’s touch, begging him to take control.

Charles holds his fingers there as his hips find the rhythm again. Max gasps for air as his body relaxes further into the bed in completely contradictory movements.

He loosens his fingers as he feels Max grow closer and closer to orgasm, but that just won’t do for Max. His hand goes back to envelope Charles’s, forcing him to squeeze again. When he does, he slams his hips at the same time nailing Max’s prostate. A choked moan is ripped out of Max’s throat as he comes all over himself.

His ears are ringing so loudly he can’t hear his own thoughts. The only sound that makes it through is a faint, “Magnifique”, as Charles comes inside of him.

Notes:

lmk any & all thoughts <3

Chapter 3: lingerie/body worship (lewis & nico)

Summary:

happy tuesday & happy day three <3

Notes:

i will never forget you brocedes

As he stares at himself in the full-length gold mirror in his bedroom, Nico thinks he has maybe never looked prettier. In the past, he’s felt terribly insecure and almost frustrated with his boyfriend for forcing him to dress up in such vulnerable and ridiculous ways. Saying no is obviously always an option—it just so happens that Nico never utilizes that option.

He doesn’t like disappointing people, especially Lewis. Whenever he can, he just does everything Lewis asks of him to keep him happy. It’s not a good mindset, per se, but it’s the one he decided to have very early on in their relationship.

It’s different now. He still does most of what Lewis asks of him, that hasn’t changed, but he does it because he wants to, not just because he knows Lewis wants him to.

Now, Nico actually enjoys arriving home to see a box on his bed addressed to him in loopy handwriting. The cards read different names each time, various pet names, silly nicknames, but honestly, he likes when it just says Nico.

The best version of himself that has ever existed is Lewis’s Nico.

Tonight, that’s exactly what the card read. “My Nico”.

you know what to do, be home soon – L

The contents of the boxes are different each time. Sometimes, it’s actually very sweet gifts, other times not so much.

This one fell somewhere in the middle. He unwrapped the tissue paper to reveal neatly folded light pink lingerie. A lacy babydoll-style teddy and a tiny pair of lace shorts that would cover essentially nothing.

His gut reaction of panic set in for just a moment, telling him that he could never pull it off—his body wasn’t made to wear things so delicate.

He is able to pull himself out of that thought spiral rather quickly, reminding himself that if his body wasn’t meant for it, then there wouldn’t be sizes or styles that fit him perfectly.

There’s a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind that Lewis has them custom made, but Nico hasn’t brought that up yet.

As he carefully removed the pieces from the box, he took a deep breath and grounded himself before texting Lewis to ask when he would be home. His response rattled Nico because he thought he would have more time. An hour was barely enough time to get fully ready for him, so he rushed to get undressed in order to get redressed in the attire Lewis left for him to wear.

He pulled the top over his head, smoothing out the wrinkles and made his way to the mirror for the first look. Pleasantly surprised by how complementary the color is to his skin, he traced the straps with his fingertips, ghosting lightly across his shoulders.

He debated whether or not to put the shorts on before prepping but ultimately decided to after a moment of depravity left him considering how the mental image of Lewis’s fingers and heavy gaze trained on him in the full outfit might make it easier.

It worked, and here he stands facing his reflection, flowy fabric framing his hips and tiny shorts peeking out from underneath. There is a slightly unpleasant sticky feeling of lube in between his ass cheeks, but the night ahead of him will make it completely worth it.

He tilts his head, squinting as he adjusts the shorts, pulling them down a little further. As he does another nervous smoothing of the wrinkles, he hears keys turning in the lock of the front door. He gave Lewis a spare key many moons ago, but he’s still shocked every time he hears it.

Scrambling to get into position on the bed, he almost trips and faceplants into the sheets which reminds him of just how awkward he can be and how it’s a miracle that Lewis even likes to put him in these situations.

He is still giggling at himself when Lewis walks into the room, bringing an instant smile to Lewis’s face. He arches a brow and says, “What’s so funny?”

With a sheepish look, Nico says, “Nothing.”

“Yeah,” Lewis says with narrowed eyes. “Right.”

Lewis’s eyes rake over him, taking in the way he’s perched on the bed with his knees folded under him and his hands flat on his thighs, ready and waiting. He can imagine that the color that blooms in his cheeks under Lewis’s gaze matches the color of the lace he is wearing.

Once Nico can’t take it anymore, he asks, “So how long are you gonna stare?”

Lewis laughs under his breath. “Why? Got somewhere to be?”

Nico rolls his eyes and says, “No, but you do, and it’s on top of me, so if it’s not too much trouble, could you get a move on?”

He knows he’s testing his luck, but it’s so fun to see Lewis’s reactions when he does, so he likes to do it sometimes.

This time, Lewis just listens and moves toward him, shedding layers as he goes. Once he’s down to just his briefs, he sits next to Nico and reaches out to touch his face. He cups his cheek and rubs his thumb across his skin, under his eyes, down the slope of his nose, over his lips.

Nico’s eyelashes flutter as the touches get softer and softer. His thumb moves down, tracing his jawline before his hand moves to rest heavily on the side of Nico’s neck. Nico can barely keep his eyes open already. This is not a good sign for where his headspace is headed for the rest of the night.

His voice is barely a whisper when he asks, “How do I look?”

Laughing breathlessly, Lewis says in an equally quiet voice, “So beautiful, I can’t even believe it.”

Nico smiles softly, pleased with the answer. His fingers twitch on his thighs, wishing he could touch Lewis in return, but he’s not sure he’s allowed yet.

Both of Lewis’s hands settle on his shoulders, pressing his fingers into the knots in Nico’s muscles.

Nico fights with all his might to not start moaning this early on, but his muscles are so tight, and Lewis’s hands always feel so good.

Lewis hums in approval when a quiet sound leaves Nico’s mouth, pleased with how pliant he’s becoming already, and Nico feels proud but so embarrassed at the same time.

Lewis leans in to kiss the side of his neck, and he breathes in deep. “You smell so good, did you put perfume on for me?”

He can hear Nico let out a shaky breath before answering, “Yes.”

In a split second, Lewis’s teeth sink into the tender skin of Nico’s neck, and Nico gasps like he’s finally hit the surface after being trapped underwater. His whole body strains, trying not to scream as Lewis sucks the spot, breaking his blood vessels.

Without stopping, Lewis moves to grab one of Nico’s hands and place it on his own shoulder. Nico takes the permission and runs with it, squeezing one shoulder and wriggling his other arm out to fully wrap around the other side. He pulls him as close as Lewis allows, squeezing as tight as he can to try and dull the sting. Lewis lets go a few moments later, leaving Nico with a spit-slick purple mark where his neck meets his shoulder.

Nico’s chest heaves, relieved that it’s over. His arms fall limply to his sides as Lewis pushes him back to continue his staring. He always stares as if he’s in disbelief, like he’s never seen Nico before. It’s overwhelming for Nico to even think about, much less experience.

His hands follow his eyes, raking through his hair, stroking his face, running down his arms, flat on his chest. Nico squirms, knees starting to go numb at this point.

“So pretty,” Lewis says quietly. “Lie back for me, yeah?”

Nico hums his agreement and unfolds his legs to move himself to lie down, head resting on the fluffy pillows. Lewis leans forward to untwist the fabric bunched around Nico’s waist, arranging it so that it lays properly on his body. He hovers over him for a moment before patting his thighs, signaling that he wants him to open his legs.

Nico swallows and lets his legs fall open as Lewis moves to sit in between them. He lifts Nico’s left leg and bends it toward his chest before kissing the sole of his foot, followed by his ankle, all the while Lewis is murmuring praise.

He reaches his inner thigh and looks up to catch Nico’s eyes before he bites again, gentler this time. The shorts ride up further as Lewis presses forward, and Lewis’s eyes get stuck on the new sliver of skin. He drops his leg and starts all over again on the other one.

Nico reaches down, holding his hand out and hoping Lewis will grab it. He does, giving him a comfort squeeze before returning to his mission, one-handed this time.

“So perfect, baby. I’m gonna lose my mind,” Lewis says into his hipbone.

Nico whimpers and grips his hand harder. His eyes are squeezed shut as he tries his hardest to calm down before he embarrasses himself over just a few kisses.

Lewis untangles their fingers just for long enough to let go of his leg and climb on top of him. Straddling his thighs, Lewis does an experimental roll of his hips, feeling the lace brushing his own skin and clearly stimulating Nico further if the answering moan he lets out is anything to go by.

He leans down to whisper in Nico’s ear. “Am I making you feel good?”

A shiver runs down Nico’s spine as he feels the heat of Lewis’s breath in his ear. All he can do is nod and whimper again.

“Well, you look beautiful, all laid out for me,” he says as he straightens back up and runs his fingers over Nico’s nipples. “Can feel how hard you are under me, and it’s making me crazy.”

Nico’s hips twitch, jostling Lewis on top of him, making him laugh. “Love how sensitive you are here,” he says as he dips down to lick one of his nipples through the pink fabric. He flicks his tongue and sucks gently, savoring Nico’s sweet little whines. After he quickly does the same to the other, he runs his hands up his sides under the teddy covering his torso.

Nico instinctively tries to push himself up toward Lewis’s hands, craving his touch on any part of his bare skin.

Lewis presses his fingers harshly into his waist as he stares at the red marks forming from his grip. “Your skin looks so pretty marked up like this, I could stare at it every second until it fades and never get bored.”

Nico huffs, growing impatient. “Please, baby.”

“Please what?” Lewis asks, tilting his head.

“Touch me,” Nico breathes out. Before Lewis has a chance to argue, he adds, “Like really touch me.”

“I’m not done enjoying the view,” Lewis responds calmly.

Nico breathes out a long exhale trying his best to be patient until Lewis is done with the nonsense. Even though Lewis is saying nice things, he starts to get uncomfortable the longer this part goes on.

Lewis kisses the top of his head and keeps going, kissing every few inches down his body, stopping when he gets to the waistband of his shorts.

He hovers there for a moment, a moment that feels like five hours to Nico, before he asks, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, yes,” Nico nods furiously.

Lewis hooks his fingers in and pulls them down his legs, untangling them from his ankles unceremoniously.

The expression on his face has been one of awe this entire process, and there’s no signs of it ever leaving.

He trails his fingertips down the crease of Nico’s thigh, inching toward his ass. Nico’s breathing speeds up, thinking the anticipation might kill him soon. Before he can look down, he feels a dry finger poking and prodding at him.

Lewis’s movements pause when he finds the traces of lube and Nico’s hole already ready for him.

For a moment, Nico is afraid he’ll be upset, but his fears are thwarted by the growl that comes from Lewis’s chest.

“You prepped yourself for me?” He asks, low and heavy.

“Mhm,” Nico admits.

Lewis blinks and rubs at his forehead. “God, you’re actually perfect, I can’t even decide what to do with you. I wanna do everything.”

“Let’s start with anything at all,” Nico says, exasperated and dangerously close to a very premature orgasm.

Abruptly, Lewis stands to finally remove his own boxers. There’s a small dark stain on the front of them that neither of them want to mention.

He quickly grabs the lube and settles next to Nico on the bed. Nico blinks at him with a desperate expression, and he fully gives in.

With a quickness, he squeezes lube on his fingers and strokes himself as he surges down to kiss Nico with all he has.

Nico moans into his mouth, and his stomach jumps at the realization that he’s about to get relief. He can’t help himself from reaching up to hold onto Lewis’s face, squeezing at his jaw as the kiss deepens.

Some of Lewis’s weight drops onto Nico, and Nico holds back the humiliating noise that almost escapes him.

He lets go of himself and trails his fingers down until he reaches Nico’s hole, adding a little extra lube there just to be safe. He pulls away, and Nico whines before Lewis shushes him.

“Can you turn on your side for me?” Lewis asks softly.

Nico nods and uses his shaky limbs to position himself on his side with his back to Lewis. He tucks his hands under his pillow and trembles with excitement.

Lewis taps the back of his thigh, telling him to move his leg up, bending at the knee. He kisses Nico’s back before spreading him and guiding his cock into him as slowly as he can.

Nico’s gut reaction is to tense up until Lewis soothes him by rubbing his arm and murmuring encouragement into his ear. Once he’s a bit more relaxed, Lewis is able to slide all the way in. Nico grits his teeth to keep from screaming when he feels Lewis’s hips hit his ass.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

Lewis moves his hand to rest on Nico’s stomach under his top, periodically roaming to play with his nipples as he thrusts into him.

“This color is so stunning on your skin. Do you think I picked well?”

Nico hums, preoccupied with the feeling of being so full he can barely breathe.

“You’re so sweet and so pretty, my darling,” Lewis spews praise like he has no other thoughts in his mind.

Nico hasn’t been coherent in quite sometime. All he feels good for at the minute is rolling his hips back into Lewis, pushing him deeper inside of him.

Lewis puts pressure on his lower stomach, holding him tightly to his body, claiming him as his own.

As if Nico has ever been anyone else’s.

“Baby, I-I can’t–” Nico stutters out.

Lewis’s thrusts speed up as he holds him in place, overwhelming Nico’s senses to an unbearable degree.

“Are you close? Can I come? Please say you’re close,” he begs. If Lewis was going to answer, it was too late anyway. Nico wrapped a hand around himself and immediately lost all control of his body. A scream is ripped from his throat as he speeds up his hand, and a particularly sharp thrust punches the orgasm out of him completely. He goes completely stiff, clenching onto Lewis so tightly it’s a wonder he didn’t break him. He comes over his hand, body sagging from the exertion.

“My pretty boy,” Lewis wraps his arm around Nico’s leg and chases his own orgasm as fast as he can.

Nico is whimpering so beautifully, and Lewis bites down on his bicep as he comes inside of him. Nico gasps again, and tears spring to his eyes from the pain and the orgasm and the praise and the overwhelming love.

It’s all too much as Lewis collapses next to him, breathing heavily. “I love you so much,” he says through pants.

All Nico can muster is a mumbled “Love you.”

Lewis rubs his exposed skin, soothing wordlessly. He leaves light kisses on the bites, moments of tenderness on the comedown. He hugs him tightly to his chest, holding him through the shivers running through his body.

Nico curls into himself, exhaling shaky breaths. He can hear and feel Lewis taking deep breaths, so he tries to match them as best he can.

“Are you okay?” Lewis asks quietly.

“Yes,” Nico whispers, eyelids too heavy to even keep open.

Lewis leans in closer, angling his ear toward Nico’s mouth. “Yes?”

Nico hums, trying his best to communicate. Lewis whispers, “Okay, darling,” as he rests his head on Nico’s shoulder.

There’s comfortable silence for a few moments until Lewis speaks up again. “I know you’re not gonna want to, but we need to go get cleaned up.”

Nico groans, a complaint on the tip of his tongue. “I know, I know,” Lewis says. “But we have to, it’s not smart to just leave all the mess.”

Even though Nico knows he’s right, he still doesn’t want to move from his comfy position. He sighs. “Fine, help me up.”

Lewis stands and holds out his hand for Nico to grab, but Nico makes it harder on him and just lies there until Lewis moves all his limbs for him.

Once he’s finally up, Lewis wraps an arm around his waist and helps him walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. “Would you like to shower together?”

And just like that, Nico is perking up. “Yes, please.”

Lewis chuckles and sits Nico down on the edge of the tub whilst he fetches warm towels for the two of them.

“Are you going to help me take my clothes off?” Nico asks, a glimmer in his eye.

Lewis is back at his side in a blink. “It would be my pleasure, darling.”

They giggle and give each other a few pecks before Lewis stands him back up and does as he’s asked.

After the shower washes away the mess and the stresses of the day, they put on their pajamas and cuddle in bed before falling asleep curled around each other, right where they belong.

Notes:

so how’s everyone feeling so far are you liking the stories what are you up to this week lmk

Chapter 4: dacryphilia/impact play (george & alex)

Summary:

happy wednesday happy day four etc etc

Notes:

kind of a late upload on account of the fact that this was extremely difficult for me to write but i think it turned out so i'm happy w it

The worst weeks of George’s life are the ones when Alex has a golf tournament that he can’t follow him to. Distraction comes easy when he has his own tennis tournaments to participate in, but when he’s off and left at home alone, the boredom sets in, and his desire to be a little shit raises exponentially.

Most of his off time is spent resting or training like he’s supposed to, but going to bed alone is sad, and George doesn’t cope well with being sad and alone.

Alex checks in on him when he can, simple “thinking of you” texts, or a quick call to ask how his day was. They FaceTime at night when their schedules allow just to see each other’s faces. It’s just not enough for George sometimes.

He needs to be cuddled at night, Alex’s arm wrapped around his middle, pulling him back when he strays too far. He needs to be woken up with morning breath kisses in the early hours.

He wants to make pancakes for the two of them and find Alex eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon before they’re cooked.

His main problem is that he knows he’s dramatic, he just doesn’t care. Luckily, Alex has an admirable tolerance level for him and loves him through the theatrics.

However, there’s only so much Alex can take. George gets punished in more and more creative ways as time goes on. Just as luckily, George loves it.

He hates it, but he loves it at the same time. Alex will never go too far, and he’ll never force George to do anything he really doesn’t want to do, but George is down for most things. So it’s rarely an issue.

George’s winter holidays usually start a week or two before Alex’s, leaving him to his own devices for a while. Their little interactions are enough until they’re not. He can’t stop himself when his brain starts telling him to act out.

He starts texting Alex all day long, annoying little messages. Some are sweet, about how much he loves him and misses him. Some are born of anger and frustration. He posts about him, yearning on his close friends story just for their friends to slide up and make fun of the both of them. The icing on the cake is he sends him spicy pictures, in invisible ink of course, but Alex is already well past over it at this point.

During his free moments, he texted back when he could, but George wasn’t satisfied.

A: Why the fuck are you acting like this

G: Dunno what you mean

A: George

Stop

You’re distracting me I’m playing terribly because of this bs

G: Sorry

A: No you’re not

G: No I’m not

George fears he’s pushed too far. His suspicions are confirmed when Alex tells him that once he arrives home, he’ll be expecting George to have his own punishment picked out already.

Alex does this sometimes. Makes him choose his own fate. At this point, he knows which punishments fit which crimes, so he’s good at choosing. And he loves to be good at things.

He’s due to arrive home the next day, so George has a night to make his decision. George decides to sleep on it. He plugs his phone in to charge, turns the lamp off, and promptly falls asleep to his ocean sounds.

When he wakes the next morning, there’s a text from Alex informing him of his arrival time. George shoots out of bed and rushes over to the box in their closet that holds all their sex toys.

Sleeping on it worked because he now knows exactly what he’s looking for. He rummages through all the dildos and various ropes and ties before finally locating his favorite paddle. It’s long and thin, black with etched-out red letters that spell slut backwards.

A shiver runs through his body at just the thought of the letters being stamped on his ass later today. He really shouldn’t be so giddy about being punished, but such is life.

The conversation about incorporating pain into sex was quite a difficult one to have. The shame George felt bringing it up almost made him beg Alex to just forget the whole thing.

Alex has always been almost infuriatingly understanding—George sometimes feels as though he could tell him he killed someone, and Alex would just support him through it.

There was no real reason to feel so full of shame and guilt. Alex has also presented several of his fantasies to George in the past, and they had a productive conversation and moved forward accordingly. The world still turns, and their sex life is richer because of it.

That night, they were cuddling in bed after a long day. George had said he needed to speak with Alex about something but refused to say what it was.

He blurted out, “Do you think you’d be comfortable hurting me during sex?”

Alex was taken aback but recovered quickly. His hand stuttered where his fingers were running over George’s side, but after a moment to gather his thoughts, he continued the motions. “Can you explain more about what you really mean before I definitively answer?”

George sighed heavily before continuing on. “I dunno. Not like punching me or anything. I guess just like, spanking. With your hand or other stuff maybe.”

His cheeks burned like hellfire, and his brain was telling him terrible things about himself in the time it took for Alex to answer.

Alex listened and tried his best to have an open mind and fully think through everything George was saying.

“Would this be for like, punishments for stuff or just for fun or what?” He asked as neutrally as possible.

George thought for a second before responding. “Just for fun. At least for now. Just think it would add something for me…for you to be rougher than usual.”

“Okay,” Alex started. “We can try that. Sounds a bit scary honestly, but I want to try for you.”

George picked his head up from Alex’s chest to look at him, and he leaned forward to kiss him, soft and sweet. “Thank you,” he whispered.

A few weeks later, their journey to impact play began. Starting very lightly, doing constant check-ins and debriefs, and doing a bit of research helped them feel more comfortable.

Everything has escalated since then, the contexts have expanded and the tools as well. It’s all led to George standing in their closet, admiring his favorite paddle, absolutely elated that Alex is on his way home to punish him for acting out.

If he were actually angry with George, he’d never do this. The punishments are less serious than they sound. He’d never hit him in any way out of true anger.

However, a little annoyance or aggravation makes it deliciously spicy in George’s opinion. Sometimes, he does deserve to have slut branded into his skin when he acts out of line.

He switches off the light as he leaves the closet and goes to place the paddle down in the middle of the bed. He heads to their en-suite shower to prepare himself as best he can, both physically and mentally.

Alex arrives home as George is moisturizing his body post-shower. He doesn’t have time to get dressed, but he supposes it doesn’t matter anyway. The clothes would probably have lasted five seconds.

He calls out for Alex, alerting him that he’s in the bathroom.

Alex’s footsteps get closer, and George’s heart starts beating out of his chest. He is focused on finishing his skincare when Alex pushes the door open.

“Hello, love,” George says with a bright smile.

Alex just narrows his eyes and looks him up and down, like he’s surveying a scene. “Meet me at the bed.”

George nods and carefully places the bottle of serum back onto the counter before fluffing his hair in the mirror and leaving to follow him.

Alex is perched on the edge of the bed, twirling the paddle around in his hands, and George is about to pass out from anticipation.

“This is what you wanted?” Alex asks, his tone low.

George is scared to move, so he stands by the bed with his legs awkwardly crossed. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

When Alex just stares at him blankly, he adds, “Is that alright?”

Alex traces the letters in the paddle. “Hmm. I suppose it’ll do. Are you gonna tell me why you were acting like a fucking brat all day?”

Not really knowing what to say, George stays silent. Sometimes, Alex doesn’t really want an answer, and George isn’t sure if this is one of those times. Better safe than sorry, and safe is staying quiet.

Alex stares at him some more before beckoning him over saying, “Come here,” with a crook of his finger.

George goes without question, his excitement dissolving into fear now that reality has hit.

Once he’s in arm’s reach of Alex, he yanks him down onto the bed, pushing him down onto his stomach.

George hits the bed with a hmph, and the breath is knocked out of him.

“Lie flat,” Alex instructs.

George listens, pushing himself up so he can scoot further across the bed, and his legs won’t dangle too far off the edge. He rests his cheek on folded arms above his head.

The bed dips next to him, and Alex appears in his line of sight, leaning over him to catch his eye. His hand comes down to rest heavily between George’s shoulder blades, and George almost jumps out of his skin.

Much softer than before, he asks, “Before we start, what’s your colour? Are you still okay with this?”

George breathes deeply, checking in with himself. “Green,” he nods, holding eye contact. “I’m okay.”

Alex runs his hands through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, and George’s eyes flutter closed. He almost forgets the trouble he’s in until he feels Alex tracing a line down his back with the paddle.

His muscles tense, and Alex spits out, “Relax.”

It feels impossible, but George manages it. In a split second, there’s a smack to his ass, a sharp crack. It’s deceptively gentle—still stings, but it startles him more than anything.

When Alex sees that George isn’t backing out, he delivers another loud smack, less gentle this time. The leather stings George’s skin, an intense sensation radiating across his asscheek.

He groans as Alex massages the area he’s just hit. It hurts more than it helps, but George thinks maybe that’s the point.

“Are you gonna answer me?”

George barely knows his own name. “What did you ask?”

Alex chuckles under his breath, low and mean. “So you’re gonna act bratty AND dumb today?”

George takes offense to that because he’s really not acting. Alex’s fingers tickle down his spine as he squirms to try and escape. “Can you please just tell me what you asked?”

“I want to know why you blew up my phone with your nonsense knowing I was busy doing my job,” Alex says, digging the edge of the paddle into his back.

“Missed you,” George mumbles. Apparently, that answer wasn’t right because it earns him another slap to his asscheek that’s already blooming welts. He hisses through his teeth, moaning louder than he means to.

“Try again.”

“I’m telling the truth,” George insists, wobbly voice betraying him.

Smack. The strongest one so far sent pain radiating through his hip. “Ahhhh, God, ouch,” he whines, burying his face further into the sheets.

“You told a half truth. Tell the full truth,” Alex warns, pressing his fingers into the red marks.

George’s eyes well up with tears, and he cranes his neck to see if there’s any signs of letters in his skin yet. He can’t see from this angle, and he feels Alex’s gaze on him so he looks up, meeting his eyes.

“You’re crying already?” Alex asks, bringing red-tinged shame all the way up George’s body.

George tries to deny it, but as he shakes his head, a tear slides down his cheek with almost cartoonish timing. At this rate, an anvil will soon fall on his head. He almost wishes one would put him out of his misery.

“You’re trying to lie again?” Alex asks, disbelieving.

George presses into his eyes with his thumbs, feeling like he might go insane any second now. “No, no.”

Alex hums, trailing the paddle down his thigh. His muscles twitch in anticipation. “Tell me,” he says. When George opens his mouth to speak, Alex delivers the loudest, most terrifying crack onto the back of his thigh.

A sob is wrenched out of George’s chest, tears flowing freely now. “I did it-I did it because I,” he hiccups through his words. “I wanted this.”

Alex takes a beat and proceeds to lean down and press kisses to his thigh. His skin is warm, red spots covering where he hit. Finally, he can see the faint slut pressed into his skin.

George is shivering uncontrollably, whimpering softly. He might actually go mad if this carries on for much longer.

“I know, baby. It’s okay. You just wanted me to come home and ruin you, right?” Alex says, syrupy sweet.

Through sniffles, George acquiesces. He did miss Alex, that much is true. It just also happens to be true that he knew if he was enough of a brat, Alex would come home and have his way with him.

Done with the tender kisses, Alex moves to his other asscheek and strikes him again. “So pretty when you cry, baby. Your lashes flutter so sweetly, dripping with tears.”

George is moaning from deep in his chest, his muscles twitching nonstop. He’s past the point of speaking—he couldn’t form words even if he tried.

“Look,” Alex says softly.

With great effort, George picks his head up to look back, and he sees the brand on his skin, bringing awareness to his aching arousal at lightning speed. As he groans at the sight, his head falls back down, aching from the strain.

“Beautiful little slut,” Alex says with reverence. The paddle is out of his hand now, discarded on the nightstand.

George’s whole body is trembling, and his ears ring so loudly he can’t focus on anything else. Alex is being kinder now, a welcome reprieve.

“Colour?”

“Green,” George whispers.

One of Alex’s hands rests in between his shoulder blades as the other strokes his arm. “Do you think you can come for me? Or do you not want to?”

“Don’t wanna tonight,” George all but slurs. Sometimes Alex chooses for him, forcing a painful orgasm out of him or denying him of one if he really wanted it. But sometimes he’s sweet and lets George tell him what he wants to do.

“Okay, love–” Alex starts.

George interrupts him to whisper, “But I want you to.”

Alex takes a moment to collect himself, takes a deep breath, and says, “Apologize first.”

“‘m sorry,” George mutters immediately, not caring to drag it out anymore. He fears if he gets hit one more time, he’ll come whether he wants to or not.

“Can’t hear you,” Alex says as he drags his fingers back down to press into the stinging parts of George’s ass and legs.

George whimpers and coughs before trying again. “I’m sorry for acting like a brat and distracting you from your work.”

He lifts his head, and tears stream from his eyes. Alex is looking at him with an unreadable expression, so he assumes the second apology wasn’t good enough either. As he tries to speak again, Alex leans down to be eye level with him.

“Shh,” Alex says as he buries his fingers in his hair. George braces for a pull, but his fingers just rest there. “‘s okay, love.”

A shaky exhale leaves George’s mouth, and he closes his eyes again.

Alex is satisfied with whatever he sees in George’s face, and he lifts himself up to hover over George’s back as he frees his cock from trousers prison.

He squeezes George’s asscheek, deepening the redness there, and George cries out as Alex starts stroking himself. He holds his hand out for George to spit into, and George obeys.

He keeps one hand pressing into George’s tender spots while speeding up his hand, chasing his orgasm.

George is quietly whimpering, feeling so overwhelmed he can’t even breathe anymore.

 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Your skin is so smooth and so red, I can’t wait to see if you bruise,” Alex muses.

“Alex,” George pants. “Please, I wanna feel it.”

Alex groans and grips harder on the back of his thigh.“Lemme see you cry for me, baby.”

Of course, George does. He lets out a breath and lets the hot tears coat his cheeks as Alex moves his head to the side to see properly.

“God, I wish you could see yourself,” Alex is losing control quickly.

George can tell Alex is almost there, so he encourages him. “Come on, baby. Mark me up again.”

Alex works harder and curses under his breath before painting George’s back with his come, his release taking everything out of him.

The moments after are always tender. Alex snaps out of it and tends to George’s every need. He strokes his hair and asks him if he’s okay a hundred times. As quickly as possible, he fetches George’s big water bottle and his favorite snacks and brings them back for him.

It’s important for him to rehydrate and get some food in him for the comedown. When George has eaten some chocolates and is able to hold the water himself, Alex rushes out once more to grab a couple of warm cloths to clean them up with.

He gently wipes George’s face, rubbing the tears away and the crusties in the corners of his eyes. Moving on to his back, he’s extra gentle as he gets closer to where he’s in a lot of pain. He removes all traces of his release and kisses his back afterward.

As light as he possibly can, he swipes over his ass and thighs, letting the warmth soothe his skin. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the aloe vera he uses to cool George’s skin.

He apologizes in advance for the temperature, but George whimpers anyway when the freezing cold gel hits his heated skin.

Alex takes care of him, checking every box of George’s needs before helping move him to lie next to him at the head of the bed. He’s careful to keep him on his stomach and just lets him nuzzle into Alex’s chest, so he doesn’t hurt himself more.

“I love you,” George whispers into Alex’s skin.

Alex smiles and kisses the top of his head. “I love you, darling. Let’s talk about it in a few minutes, alright?”

George nods and snuggles deeper into Alex’s chest, using all his strength to not fall asleep.

Notes:

love you freaks

Chapter 5: remote control vibrator/overstimulation (pierre & esteban)

Notes:

gotta be honest you guys this chapter is not only late af but it also sucks. hey they can’t all be winners. but don’t worry because tmrw is really good so stick w me

“How do you feel about trying out our new toy tonight?” Pierre asks over breakfast.

Esteban looks up and blinks twice, mid-chew. “Can I finish my eggs before we start talking about shit like this?”

Pierre laughs into his mug. “Just thinking ahead.”

“Ah, just thinking ahead,” Esteban repeats with a knowing smile.

Internally, Esteban is growing more and more petrified by the second.

A few weeks ago, Pierre had invested in a very interesting device neither of them have ever tried before. Pierre can talk Esteban into almost anything if he asks nicely enough. He weaponizes Esteban’s love for pet names, and it works almost every time.

He likes to live by the ask forgiveness, not permission motto. Esteban has unfortunately grown accustomed to it by now.

So he impulsively bought a vibrating butt plug that he can control with his his phone as yet another way to torture Esteban. They haven’t used it yet—Esteban has been quite nervous about it.

Besides, an opportunity never really presented itself until today. The two were invited to a team dinner and were both dreading it.

Team dinners are usually boring to be honest, and they’d much rather be either sat at home together or at dinner just the two of them. It’s crucial they find creative ways to entertain themselves.

Admittedly, the creative ways have never involved something as risky as this, but there’s a first time for everything.

Esteban takes a moment to think and chew his eggs before sighing and saying, “Fine.”

Pierre perks up. “Really? You will do it?”

Esteban shrugs. “I guess so. We have to find excitement in some way.”

Pierre smiles in a way that fills Esteban with fear but is very thrilling at the same time.

“You have to promise to go easy on me though, yes?”

“Ehh, I cannot promise that,” Pierre says, being completely honest.

Esteban reaches over and playfully shoves Pierre’s arm before standing to clear their dishes and start the day.

—

By some miracle, Esteban convinced Pierre to let him have an orgasm before leaving the house for dinner. He pleaded, knowing that he would be able to hold out longer while they’re out if he was allowed one before they left.

Pierre was hesitant. He said no at first, but Esteban used his big brown eyes to get his way, as he often does.

The day flew by—it was a lazy day at home, ordering takeaway for lunch and catching up on all their tv shows. By the time they glanced at the clock, they had to jump up and start getting ready before they were late.

Pierre all but leapt into the shower, Esteban trailing behind him. He didn’t want him to, but Esteban didn’t care. He likes showering together. It feels special.

It was there that he pleaded his case. Once Pierre reluctantly agreed, he found himself pushed against the back shower wall, asscheeks spread open like it was nothing.

The cheeks on his face were heating up with the combination of embarrassment and the hot water.

Pierre is on his knees, licking into Esteban, swirling his tongue methodically. Once he’s satisfied, he replaces his tongue with his fingers and carefully scissors him open.

Esteban is above him making the most delicious sounds. Pierre supposes it works out because he needed him to be nice and open anyway for the toy. He just wasn’t planning on letting him come yet.

He’ll be nice for now since he definitely won’t be later.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs as his fingers continue to move.

Esteban sighs in relief and wraps a hand around himself, stroking and twisting. He comes into his hand just a few moments later, and Pierre removes his fingers.

“Okay, now rinse off, so we can go,” Pierre says as he steps out. For good measure, he adds, “Hurry the fuck up.”

Esteban laughs at his dramatics but hurries anyway. They get dressed quickly, Pierre fusses with his hair for much too long, and finally it’s time for the main event.

Pierre retrieves the toy and some lube from the nightstand and instructs Esteban to get on his hands and knees on the bed. Esteban lowers himself slowly to ensure he doesn’t wrinkle the few pieces of clothing he has on at the minute.

After covering the toy in lube, Pierre uses the remaining bits on his fingers to loosen up Esteban a little more.

“Are you ready, chéri?”

“Yes,” Esteban says quietly.

Pierre watches mesmerized as the toy stretches Esteban and slips inside.

Esteban groans as he feels it slip in, and the pressure is released then built up in a different way.

“Okay, all good. You can finish getting dressed now.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Esteban says with a teasing tone.

He stands and pulls his underwear and pants on as Pierre grabs his phone from the nightstand.

As Esteban is smoothing out his shirt, the toy starts vibrating inside of him, and he flinches and curses under his breath.

“How does it feel?” Pierre asks, genuinely curious.

“Like this dinner is going to be miserable for me.”

—

For the most part, the dinner goes smoothly. The food is yummy, and Pierre’s hand rests on Esteban’s thigh for most of the night. All things considered, it’s a good time for Esteban.

Until he sees Pierre pull his phone out of his pocket under the table. The vibrations startle him even though he sees it coming. It stays on a low level for a while, so Esteban gets used to it and is able to sit still enough.

As the night grows colder and longer, Pierre turns the levels up more and more.

Not only does Esteban feel like he’s going to explode, but he also becomes increasingly more paranoid that people can hear the vibrations, so he excuses himself to the restroom.

There’s a smirk on Pierre’s face that Esteban doesn’t miss, but he wishes he did.

As soon as he reaches the restroom door, he rushes in and locks himself in one of the stalls. It’s as if Pierre senses the exact moment he does it because the vibrations ramp up to the highest they’ve been all night.

He leans on the stall door and takes several deep breaths. He digs his nails into his palms and squeezes his eyes shut trying to focus on absolutely anything but this.

He pulls out his phone and texts Pierre to ask him to turn it down because it’s definitely audible now. Thankfully, Pierre listens and turns it down a bit. It’s a bit of a relief for Esteban but not much. His nerves are shot already.

As calmly as possible, he returns to the table and resumes the socializing he’s being forced to do.

Just when he thinks he’s used to it again, Pierre changes the vibration pattern.

He watches the way Esteban’s jaw tenses and the way he shifts in his chair. He knows he won’t be able to last much longer, so he ever so graciously makes up an excuse for their departure.

Once Esteban is in the car, he breathes out a huge breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “You need to speed home.”

Pierre laughs loudly, but he does just that.

“My body feels like it’s on fire,” Esteban complains.

“In a good way or bad?”

Esteban chuckles. “I don’t even know.”

Pierre steps on it, and they arrive home fairly quickly. Esteban is out of the car and in the house at record speed.

Before Pierre gets out, he cranks the vibrations up to the highest possible setting, and he hates that he misses Esteban’s reaction to it.

As soon as Pierre is in the house, Esteban is rushing over to him to pull him into the bedroom with a furious look on his face.

He’s almost doubled over by the time they make it to the bed.

Pierre laughs as he follows Esteban onto the bed, kicking his shoes off.

“It is not funny. I feel like my body is taking a screenshot,” Esteban says.

Pierre shoves his hands under Esteban’s shirt and pinches his nipples. Esteban’s back arches under him, and he whines without restraint.

“If you’re going to do that, can you please turn it down?” He pants.

“Hmm. No, I don’t think so,” Pierre replies as he leans down to kiss him. He sucks on his bottom lip as he presses his body down onto his.

Esteban whimpers into his mouth. “Please, I can’t take it.”

“Yes, you can,” Pierre says with finality.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns it down but switches the pattern again. A groan is ripped out of Esteban’s chest, and his hardness is pressing into Pierre’s stomach.

Pierre shows no mercy and starts grinding his hips down.

Esteban is panting and mumbling broken phrases, and Pierre thinks this is the most beautiful he’s ever looked.

“Merde, it hurts,” he whines.

Pierre reaches down and pulls Esteban’s cock free from his pants, jerking him off slowly.

Esteban needed maybe five seconds before his body was convulsing, and he was coming between them. He tries to catch his breath, but Pierre won’t let him.

He turns the vibrations up and sucks a bruise into his stomach. Esteban is begging him to stop, but Pierre knows he doesn’t really mean it.

When Pierre licks a stripe up his stomach, Esteban is coming again. It stopped feeling like bliss ages ago—all he feels now is agony.

“You’re so sexy, chéri. Just one more for me.”

Esteban’s head is thrashing against the pillows. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can, and you will,” Pierre says as he dips his head to take his cock into his mouth. He sucks at the tip after licking a broad stripe up the entire length.

With his heart racing, chest heaving, and a head full of cotton, Esteban comes once more. It was completely dry, everything already taken from him.

His body goes completely slack, and Pierre turns the vibrations off before fully lying down on him, holding him safely in his arms.

“You’re okay, it’s okay,” he whispers in his ear.

Esteban is borderline wheezing at this point, but he’s trying his best to calm down. Everything hurts so bad and so good at the same time. He knew it would be torturous, but he did not expect this.

Pierre is muttering softly, “So good, you did so good.”

He has half a mind to ask Pierre if he still needs to come himself, but he can’t find words to speak, so he will just have to hope that Pierre can take care of himself.

Not the first and not the last time Esteban has been left with stars spinning above his head like a cartoon character, but definitely one of the most intense.

As he drifts off, he thinks that he can’t wait to see what Pierre will put him through next.

Notes:

happy thursday my day is absolute hell so i hope yours is/was better than mine. tmrw will be better TRUST.

Chapter 6: first time/coming untouched (arthur & ollie)

Notes:

happy fridayyyyyy & happy day six! the halfway point i can't even believe it

Frigid air slaps him in the face as he pushes open the glass door separating the warm library and the bitter outside air. The teeth-chattering chill turns his skin to gooseflesh, and he wonders for maybe the hundredth time why he decided to attend university in England of all places.

As much as his mother didn’t want him to be so far away, she encouraged him to make the final decision for himself. Out of all the campuses he toured, this was his favorite. The location is stunning; it makes an exceptionally good backdrop for his social media posts. The class sizes are smaller which makes him feel a bit more comfortable, and they have a really good mathematics course.

Now, Arthur is alone in the dreary England winter with nothing to focus on but his studies. Which is, exactly as it sounds, boring as hell.

Freshly back from holiday break with a belly full of home-cooked meals and a new haircut from his mother, he is trying his best to return to his normal routines. He spent a while in the library, trying and failing to focus on whatever bullshit readings his professor assigned immediately upon returning to campus.

Dinner time has finally arrived, so there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. He just has to make it back to his residence hall without getting frostbite from the biting wind.

After a few torturous minutes of briskly walking across campus, he’s made it safe and sound. He rushes to the kitchen he shares with a few other students and grabs a plate of leftovers that his mother sent back with him to have for dinner. In his rush, he nearly runs straight into someone leaving the kitchen.

He looks up at the same moment Ollie says, “Woah,” with a big smile on his face.

Arthur can feel the tips of his ears heating up, but he blames it on the cold. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t see you there.”

Ollie laughs again, a kind of nervous little puff of air. “‘s alright. Are you going for dinner now?”

Arthur gestures towards his plate and nods with a subtle smirk. Ollie is so very endearing, it’s pure agony for Arthur.

This time, it’s Ollie who turns pink. “Right,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He looks down at his feet before asking softly, “Would you wanna eat together? I was just coming to get my dinner as well.”

—

The first time Arthur and Ollie crossed paths was very early in the school year. With no food left of his own, Arthur decided to purchase a hot meal from the canteen on campus. Ollie was there, doing the same. The last thing he ever wants to do is put himself out there and risk rejection just to make a new friend, but his brothers made him promise to try.

He watched Ollie choose the same meal as him, so he decided to ask, “Is the food here good? I haven’t even tried it yet,” like an idiot. It sounded like a bad pickup line, but he had no idea what else to say.

And Ollie said, “Actually, I haven’t tried it either. Smells good though.”

There were a few beats of silence before Ollie spoke again. “We can try it together. If you want.”

Arthur bit back a smile and nodded.

It was as simple as that. They learned all about each other over pasta and salad. Once Arthur starts talking, it’s difficult to get him to stop, and luckily, Ollie is the same way.

After that day, they were attached at the hip. Their rooms are just a few doors down from each other, so they’re rarely apart.

The dynamic shifted right before holiday break. Ollie is a born and raised English lad, but Arthur is from Monaco, so while Ollie stayed, Arthur had to travel home.

The idea of spending nearly a month apart was quite scary for them both. They both felt stupid about it, but they had become so comfortable seeing each other daily that the thought of going back home alone felt daunting.

The friendship had blossomed quickly and intensely. They both enjoy gaming, Ollie makes for a damn good photographer for Arthur’s Instagram posts, Arthur entertains Ollie’s obsession with Buzzfeed quizzes, this and that.

Perhaps the most important thing to note is that Arthur calls everyone and their mothers ‘baby’, and Ollie blushes at the drop of a hat.

All of these facts combined led to the seemingly inevitable fall.

The topic of sexuality never really came up for them. Considering that neither were pursuing anyone romantically, or even sexually, there was no relevance to the topic.

On a random rainy day when November met December, it suddenly didn't even matter anymore.

Sat thigh to thigh in Ollie’s bed, playing Mario Kart on Ollie’s Nintendo Switch, Ollie spoke it.

“I have to tell you something, and you can’t laugh.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow but stayed focused on maintaining the lead in the race. “Alright.”

“I dunno how to say it,” Ollie mumbled.

“Hurry up and figure it out, you’re freaking me out,” Arthur replied while getting launched off the track by a red shell.

“I think… well, I know,” Ollie started. “Uhh, I definitely have a crush on you.”

He said it fast. Fast enough that for a split second, Arthur didn’t even know what he said. He sailed over the finish line in first place as his brain finally processed the words.

Ollie finished in fifth, clearly very distracted by the situation. On a normal day, Ollie would’ve never let him win without some sort of sabotage. That’s how he knew he was serious.

He asked anyway. “You are serious?”

Ollie shook his head slightly, barely noticeable. “Yes, unless you’re about to have a bad reaction, then no.”

With a flash of bravery, Arthur leaned forward to kiss him, and the looming threat of holiday break felt more suffocating than ever.

—

“Yeah, of course I do,” Arthur smiles.

Ollie breathes out. “Okay, good. C’mon.”

Arthur has no choice but to follow him back to his room. This is the first time they’re seeing each other after the break due to Ollie staying at home longer than Arthur. They haven’t gotten a chance to meet back up, until now.

His nervous system feels more relaxed as his muscle memory takes over on the walk to Ollie’s room. Just being in his presence is dissolving tension.

Ollie sits criss cross applesauce on his bed, and Arthur plops down into the comfy chair across from him. The chair that he jokes is reserved just for him. Which, at this point, is much closer to reality than a joke. The moment they’re behind a closed door, the energy shifts.

Arthur feels like he might start to shake like an anxiety-ridden dog, so instead he opens his plate and stuffs his mouth with bread.

“So, how was your break?” Ollie asks happily.

Arthur answers around a mouthful of garlic bread. “You know how it was, mate. We talked the whole time pretty much.”

Ollie laughs, bright and open. “Yeah, you’re right. Just trying to make conversation.”

“It doesn’t have to be awkward,” Arthur says, trying to lighten the situation.

Ollie sighs over his spoonful of soup, nearly blowing it clean off the spoon. “Alright. Sorry.”

“You are making it unnecessarily weird. We already agreed that once we got back, we’d talk about whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely between them. “And we’re still us. We talk about everything.”

There’s a few minutes of silence while the two eat their dinner before either speak again.

“Did you mean all the stuff you said?” Ollie asks hesitantly.

“I mean everything I say,” Arthur says easily.

Ollie squints, pursing his lips.

“Fine. I mean everything I say except when I’m doing my jokes.”

“Just be honest! You said we were gonna talk, so talk!” Ollie says, exasperated.

“Okay, I am sorry. Of course I meant everything I said. I do unfortunately stand by all the cringy lovey stuff we said in the, like, five minutes we were forced to be apart.”

“Yeah, it got, like, immediately gross. But to be fair, we were already fairly gross with each other before.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I know,” he admits. “Our friends hate us a little, I think.”

“Oh, they definitely do,” Ollie agrees, chuckling. “Not to be all ‘what are we’, but what exactly are we?”

“I just wanna be us for now,” Arthur replies with his eyes glued to the floor.

Ollie nods, visibly processing his words. “Alright. Can I kiss you?”

“Think I will die if you don’t, so please do,” Arthur says earnestly.

“Please? I’ve never heard you say please for anything,” Ollie pokes at his chest as he settles sideways on his lap.

“I’m different now,” Arthur says, eyes darting down to Ollie’s lips.

Ollie’s cheeks heat up. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he answers as he leans in to kiss him. Ollie meets him in the middle as he wraps his arm around his shoulders and squeezes the back of his neck. He tastes the tomato basil soup and can’t stop himself from smiling into his lips.

—

The spring term continues this way for a while. Private, not secret. Their relationship would be impossible to keep secret; their friends are much too nosy for that. It’s Ollie’s first relationship, only Arthur’s second. Taking it truly day by day works best for them.

Ollie is perfectly sweet, and Arthur is fiercely devoted. Much of their relationship is the same as it always was. Arthur’s most favorite change is that he can get away with so many more pet names than before. He rubs his back and coos in his ear just to watch his cheeks turn red, and Ollie has to deal with it.

The furthest they’ve gone physically is makeout sessions that end in giggles and quick handjobs. It’s worth it to them to wait until they’re both fully comfortable.

Arthur is definitely quite shocked when one night, Ollie breathes into his mouth almost inaudibly, “I think I’m ready.”

Arthur pulls away slightly to rest his forehead on Ollie’s and take a deep breath. He places his hand on Ollie’s chest and feels his heart hammering out of his body. He presses down, applying pressure to instinctively help calm him down. “Are you sure?”

Ollie nods quickly. “I think so.”

Arthur’s heartbeats start to match his as he reaches up to hold Ollie’s face in his hands. “I need you to be sure, baby.”

With more conviction this time, Ollie says, “I’m sure.”

Arthur nods and tries his best to control his shaking hands. He feels a responsibility to take care of Ollie in many ways; he’s not much more experienced in this area, especially because his last relationship was with a woman, but the caretaker in him is overpowering the fear.

He kisses Ollie on his forehead and leaves the bed to search for the condoms and lube he acquired somehow. He suspects his brothers snuck them into moving boxes without his knowledge.

As soon as they’re located, he’s back awkwardly perched next to Ollie. The conversation prior is the worst part. And Ollie is looking at him with the biggest brown eyes he’s ever seen, wiping the thoughts from his mind.

“Are you alright?” Ollie asks.

Arthur laughs, a sort of unexpected puff of air. “I am alright, sorry. Are you alright? Are you ready to… start, I guess?”

Ollie laughs loudly, bringing Arthur back down to Earth. “Yes, love. How do you wanna do it? I mean, do you want me to… or–”

Blood rushes to Arthur’s ears as he ponders what to do or say. “If you’re comfortable trying it, I think I’d like–” Arthur panics more and more by the second. “Oh my God, why does this feel so embarrassing? Sorry, I will get it together in a second.”

Arthur can’t even make eye contact because he knows all he’d find in Ollie’s gaze is love which is too much to bear. His hands are squeezing Arthur’s arms in reassurance. He clears his throat and gathers himself. “If you're okay with trying it, I want you inside me. I think.”

He looks up as Ollie’s eyes go wide, and he sees him start to squirm, interpreting that as rejection of the idea.

“You don’t have to. We can do it, like, the other way around if that’s more comfortable for you,” Arthur scrambles to remedy the situation.

“No. I want to. Just a little shocked, that’s all. And also the idea was so hot I needed a beat to collect myself. But I want to do it for you.”

Arthur sighs in relief. “Ah. Okay. Perfect.”

Ollie takes pity on him and pulls him down for another kiss, kneading at the tight muscles in his shoulders, forcing him to relax. He pushes him back and whispers, “I can do it. Tell me where to start.”

The anxiety that was nauseating Arthur melts away, giving permission for all the blood in his body to go to his lower half.

“Do you want to prep me or do you want me to do it?” Arthur asks, trying his best to keep his nerves under control.

Ollie’s face scrunches up like it always does when he’s trying to make a decision. “I think I just wanna watch you do it. Is that okay?”

Arthur thinks he might faint.

Although he’s never gone all the way with another man, he’s spent plenty of time with himself, learning his own body. And you can learn a lot from tv shows and movies.

So, Ollie watches him, his breathing getting heavier as he watches Arthur’s fingers work inside himself. Arthur carefully avoids the spot that he really wants to hit, but he wants to be patient.

Ollie’s fingers twitch by his sides, but he keeps his hands to himself until Arthur tells him what to do next.

“Can I touch you?” He asks quietly.

Arthur nods, leaning towards him.

Ollie reaches for his biceps, running his hands up and down his arms, squeezing and lightly scratching, steadying himself as much as Arthur.

“Okay. I think I’m ready,” Arthur says, in between heaving breaths.

Ollie takes a shaky breath and leans up to kiss him again. Arthur gently rests his body on top of Ollie, smirking when he feels the evidence of Ollie’s arousal against his hip.

“So I guess you don’t need help getting there?”

Ollie giggles and smacks him lightly on his side. “Nah, think I’m alright, love.”

Arthur tells him it would probably be easiest if he was on top so that he can control the rhythm, which makes an uncontrollable, embarrassing noise escape Ollie.

He rolls the condom on and covers Ollie’s length with lube before taking a deep breath and guiding it inside him. His hand is flat on Ollie’s chest for stability, and Ollie has an unyielding grip on his thighs.

“Fuck,” Arthur whispers. “Hold on…”

Ollie’s gaze is locked on where they meet in the middle. His stomach strains with the effort he’s putting into not losing his mind completely. “Take your time, baby. Let’s breathe together, for my sake as much as yours.”

Arthur nods, eyes squeezed shut. They inhale and exhale together as Arthur relaxes and slides down further.

“T-This is so much more overwhelming than I thought,” Arthur says.

“Yeah,” Ollie agrees with a breathy laugh. “I agree.”

On a big exhale, Arthur is able to sit all the way down, groaning in satisfaction.

A guttural sound is punched out of Ollie the second Arthur lands on his hips. He breathes out, loosening his grip on Arthur’s legs.

Arthur places a hand on Ollie’s cheek, eyes darting between each of Ollie’s, searching for any signs of discomfort or uncertainty.

Ollie reassures him that he’s still okay, and Arthur relaxes a little further. He leans down, braces himself on his forearms, and noses up Ollie’s jaw to leave kisses on his neck. He starts along his jawline and moves behind his ear, his breath making Ollie shiver.

Pressing his chest to Ollie’s, he rolls his hips and clenches when his prostate is brushed, making Ollie clench his abs as he tries to hold on.

“Fuck, baby,” Ollie whispers. “You’re squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna break me, I think.”

Arthur whimpers and asks between kisses, “Do you want to stop and do something else?”

Shaking his head furiously, Ollie stretches to reach down and grab Arthur’s ass, rolling his hips for him and pushing himself deeper in the process.

Arthur shudders and moans, forehead dropping to Ollie’s collarbone. Together, they set a pace that causes twin moans to spill out of their mouths.

With all the strength he can muster, Arthur sits up and weakly guides Ollie to slide his knees up for him to use as leverage. As he leans back, Ollie reaches to run his hands down his chest and stomach. His gaze follows his hands, watching Arthur work as he presses down on Ollie’s thigh to lift up and sit back down, quicker and quicker.

Arthur’s eyes are squeezed shut, mouth hung open with a moan that comes from deep in his chest. He doesn’t see the way Ollie’s eyes snap open wide when his hands land on his lower belly, but he feels the stutter in his movements and looks down.

“What the fuck,” Ollie laughs in disbelief. He presses down and feels himself moving through Arthur’s skin. “Didn’t even know this happened in real life.”

“Me neither,” Arthur pants. His skin is slick with sweat, and he feels the tingling traveling up from his toes. He doesn’t get a chance to say anything at all because in that moment, Ollie forcefully presses his fingers deep into his belly and gives his all into a sharp hip thrust, and Arthur comes all over himself.

Arthur’s nails dig into Ollie’s leg, and Ollie is stunned into his own orgasm. He groans a long, deep sound and fills the condom.

Arthur whimpers at the feeling, and his body gives out. He falls forward onto Ollie’s chest, and they lay stuck together until they can breathe again properly.

Now that Arthur knows how it feels, he has a brief thought that he will never let Ollie have a moment of peace again.

Notes:

random arthur and ollie roommate au sure why the hell not

Chapter 7: sensory deprivation/emotional sex (logan & oscar)

Notes:

when i started planning slutmas this fic came to me in a that's so raven style vision. it's the one i was most excited to write & it's just as devastating as i wanted it to be !! i hope you enjoy cause i'm proud of this one <3
goes without saying i'm sure but i played fast and loose with the timelines & details of their friendship just enjoy the fiction ok

The moment Logan steps out of the airport doors, a wave of heat hits him in the face. Truthfully, it feels milder here than at home, but it’s always shocking for December to be so hot.

Christmas in Melbourne sounded a lot more magical than Christmas in Florida, so he’s sure the journey will be worth it.

He lugs his bags to his Uber and struggles to lift them into the trunk. They’re not that heavy, but damn near two travel days will exhaust a person to that point.

Oscar offered to pick him up from the airport, but he declined. Even though he’s spent many, many hours traveling alone with all that time to think, he still needs a little mental preparation time before he sees him again.

He watches and admires as Melbourne goes by through the window, beautiful buildings decorated with Christmas lights, street markets, parks full of people who look like they are really feeling the holiday cheer.

The vibes here are so much better than the vibes back home. It shouldn’t be surprising considering Florida is a hellhole in general, but it’s just as hot if not hotter, and no one is out and about feeling holly jolly the way they are here.

The nerves are starting to get to him as the car gets closer to Oscar’s place. He hasn’t seen him in nearly three years now, and a lot has changed since then. He would very much like to see him more often—their schedules are just wildly misaligned, and life gets in the way.

The last time they saw each other was eventful. They had a lot of fun, but there was an unmistakable sadness below the surface.

Oscar had come to watch one of his SportsCar races in the States when F1 was on a short break. Logan was so excited to see him. He made sure he had a fresh haircut, his hotel room was clean and smelled nice, and he even packed underwear that didn’t have holes in it.

All for Oscar. It’s always all for him.

He and Oscar met over a decade ago. They crossed paths where many drivers cross paths for the first time, racing against each other in karting. Logan from the States and Oscar from Australia, both awfully far from home. Kids came to the UK for karting from all over the world, but most of them had their families by their sides.

Logan and Oscar were alone.

They clung to each other for comfort, celebrating when either of them had a stellar performance and indulging in chocolates in secret for an especially poor result.

One of his most treasured memories is standing on the podium together at the final race of their F3 season. Oscar on the top step, Logan to his right. Oscar had deservedly won the championship, and Logan was only four points down.

He’ll never forget looking up at Oscar during the Australian national anthem, and Oscar’s smile was practically splitting his face open. Logan could almost cry thinking about it now. He looked so bright and happy, and the moment he caught Logan’s eye, his smile turned softer in a way that made Logan’s stomach twist.

Things changed after that. Oscar went straight to F2 and dominated just like Logan knew he would. But Logan had to stay back.

Naturally, their friendship suffered, and it devastated Logan.

The road to F1 wasn’t an easy one, and it seemed as if Oscar made the transition seamlessly. He was proud, but he was jealous at the same time. It wasn’t Oscar’s fault, but in his weaker moments, it was hard not to blame him at least a little bit.

They saw each other less, texted less, but they made sure to check in every once in a while. Logan only saw him in person a couple of times, but every time was like old times.

Once a few years ago, he’d ended up in Oscar’s hotel room—innocently at first. They’d spent the day catching up, breakfast turned into lunch turned into dinner. It was just easy.

Reminiscing on old times, beating the same dead horses, all of it ended with them saying some not so platonic things as the night descended.

Not blatant, but subtle remarks that led to Oscar calmly reaching for his hand to guide him to the bed. They kissed until their lips went numb, then closed their eyes as they used their hands to get each other off.

They didn’t talk about it. There was really no need.

Then again, in Logan’s hotel room the last time they saw each other, the weekend Oscar was in the States for the SportsCar race. They spent the whole weekend together. Of course, Logan was busy for most of it, but when he wasn’t, Oscar had his full attention.

They laid in bed and showed each other funny videos when Logan was too tired to talk. They chatted up a storm when he wasn’t.

As naturally as the first time, the absentminded touches turned intentional, and for a weekend, it was bliss. Logan was Oscar’s and Oscar his.

The difference, he supposes, is that he was always Oscar’s. If at any point, even now, Oscar said the words, Logan would be fully his again.

It started slowly that weekend, and on Oscar’s last day, they had real sex for the first time. Sex that mended and broke Logan’s heart over and over again every time Oscar pushed into him.

Logan had cried silent tears in the shower after that. Everything was too much and would never be enough at the same time.

So for good reason, Logan is nervous to see him again.

As the car pulls up to Oscar’s front door, Logan thinks he might puke. He and Oscar will be staying in the Piastri family home for a couple of days before spending the rest of his visit at Oscar’s place.

He hasn’t seen the Piastris in ages, so he is very excited to see them as well. In the back of his mind, he wonders if there’s still a picture of him stuck to their fridge.

He’s pulling his bags from the trunk when the front door opens, and Oscar’s mom steps out. A little relieved it’s not Oscar, he smiles and waves.

“Hello,” she says in her melodic Aussie accent, smiling brightly. “It’s been forever, how are ya?”

She crosses the yard to meet him halfway, arms outstretched. Once he’s in her arms, Logan lets out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in his body for years.

Nicole feels it and squeezes tighter. She asks softly, “You alright?”

Logan hesitates before answering which of course, she notices as well. “Yeah, I’m good,” he says. He can tell Nicole doesn’t believe him, but lucky for him, she doesn’t push too far.

“Promise me you’re good?” She tries.

He shakes his head imperceptibly, and his voice drops to barely above a whisper before he says, “I can’t promise that.”

She pulls away and holds onto his biceps, eyes darting across his face as if she will be able to understand all of his thoughts and feelings by just looking into his eyes.

For a second, Logan is worried that she might be able to. She’s always had a very strong maternal instinct, and he’s felt protected by it on many occasions. He tries his best to look and act normal in front of her now.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” She finally says.

“Okay,” he says quietly, nodding slightly.

It’s at that moment that Oscar appears behind her on the front porch. Nicole goes out of focus, and his gaze sharpens on Oscar, like a lens has finally located the intended subject of a photo. He looks so Oscar. His stupid shorts and his plain colored tees.

“Wow,” he says, crooked smile on full display. The way his accent curls around the vowel feels like a soothing balm on Logan’s overheated skin. He is so fucked.

“You weren’t gonna tell me you were here? You just wanted to chat up my mum?” he jokes.

His jokes are so stupid, and Logan can’t help but laugh. “Yep. That’s exactly it.”

Nicole pulls him toward the house, smacking Oscar on the way. “Be nice, Oscar. Don’t be rude to your guest.”

“C’mon, he’s hardly a guest,” Oscar claims, clapping Logan on the back as he walks past. “The pictures of him all over the house back me up on this.”

Logan’s heart is attempting to claw its way out of his chest. The smell of the house takes him back years. Teenage Logan and Oscar running around eating them out of house and home before holing up in Oscar’s room and playing video games. He looks around and notes all the ways the house has changed over the years and all the ways it’s stayed the same.

When Oscar closes the front door behind them, he’s filled with an unbearable sense of regret. He regrets coming here at all already. His chest tightens as he’s thrown back into a life he stopped living years ago.

Nicole watches him and offers something to drink probably instinctively. “You can stay in the guest room if you like, of course. Or you and Oscar could have a sleepover like old times,” she added with a smile.

Logan cannot think of anything worse than being forced to sleep in Oscar’s bed next to him, like being transported back in time. But then Oscar laughs and says, “That sounds fun. Whaddya say, mate?”

Tight-lipped, Logan says, “Yeah. Sounds good. I’m up for whatever.”

If Oscar noticed any weirdness, he didn’t comment on it. “Perfect. Let’s go before she forces us to start doing chores.”

Logan laughs and trails behind him, doing his best to control his breathing as he walks closer to Oscar’s bedroom.

“So how’ve you been?” Oscar asks, a lightness in his tone that Logan couldn’t possibly muster right now. He takes Logan’s bag and rolls it into his room, holding the door open until Logan can step through.

Once the door is closed behind him, Logan knows he has to get his act together. He could never truly lie to Oscar, so he says, “Not great. But I’m happy to be here.”

A concerned look flashes over Oscar’s face, and Logan can almost hear his thoughts. “I mean, just a lot going on for me at the moment. I’m not like depressed or anything.”

“The way you’re saying that unprompted leads me to believe you are,” Oscar narrows his eyes.

Logan sighs and crouches down to unzip his bags. “Is it okay if I take a shower? I’m disgusting from traveling.”

Oscar is silent for a moment too long but finally says, “Yeah, sure. We’ll talk once you’re finished.”

Logan nods but doesn’t say anything. He gathers all his toiletries and clean clothes and heads for the bathroom across the hall.

He uses the shower to collect himself and wash away his nerves and emotions. He scrubs his body and scratches his scalp with shampoo as he talks himself down from a panic attack. He decides he’s capable of acting more normal than how he’s been acting thus far, so he pulls himself together and steps out of the shower.

Once he’s dried and clothed, he returns to Oscar’s room. Oscar is lying on his bed on his stomach scrolling through social media, feet dangling off the edge. Logan drops his dirty clothes on the floor next to his suitcase and jumps on the bed next to him, dramatically bouncing the mattress.

Oscar glares at him but can’t stop himself from smiling. “Feel better?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired,” Logan says truthfully.

“You can take a nap if you like,” Oscar offers.

Logan grins at him. “Thanks, but I need to stay up to beat the jet lag.” Quieter, he adds, “And I missed you. We gotta catch up.”

Oscar’s cheeks pink a little— it’s barely noticeable, but Logan notices everything.

“I missed you too. Let’s get snacks and play FIFA and chat,” Oscar asserts.

Logan laughs and nods in agreement. They go to retrieve snacks and get roped into helping Nicole with rearranging a piece of furniture just as expected.

With his comfort Australian snacks in hand, Logan returns to Oscar’s room with him, and they get cozy to play their game.

They catch each other up on their lives, Logan tells mostly truths, and Oscar gives him his signature blunt honesty. The light-hearted nature of it makes Logan feel better and reminds him of how much fun they have together.

Logan wanted to have a chill first day, so they laugh and play games for hours until they’re called out for dinner.

It goes like this for the couple of days he’s at the family home. He’s happy, reunited with his second family. They go into town to admire Christmas lights and go browsing at the markets, hot chocolates in hand.

The nights are a little tougher, Logan’s mind wanders, and he can barely sleep. He tries to focus on Oscar sleeping next to him, trying to match his breathing, but every time he does that, he feels worse.

On their last night, Logan wakes up in the middle of the night to Oscar’s arm wrapped around his stomach. At first, his brain doesn’t register the feeling. His stomach twists as he realizes he’s actually fully awake, and Oscar is indeed acting as his big spoon right now.

He turns his head slightly and sees Oscar dead asleep behind him, hair flopped in front of his face. He decides to count his blessings and just scoots back into him, drifting back to sleep.

A couple hours later, they both wake in the same position. Instead of running away, Oscar simply tightens his hold, presses a barely there kiss to his shoulder, and mumbles into his ear, “Mornin’.”

Logan exhales a laugh. “Mornin’.”

It’s better after that.

—

Once bags are packed and goodbyes are shared, the two head to Oscar’s place for the remainder of Logan’s trip. Staying with his family was one thing, but staying with him alone is a whole separate beast.

The first night is agonizing because it’s awkward. It should never be awkward between them. Logan decides they just have to talk before the whole trip is tainted by his mental turmoil. They turn toward each other in bed, and Oscar patiently waits for him to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

A furrow appears between Oscar’s brows. “For what?”

“For all of it. For not reaching out more–”

Oscar goes to interrupt him, but Logan holds a hand out to touch his shoulder. “Let me finish or I’ll never say it.”

Oscar nods, blinking like he’s itching to speak.

“For not reaching out more. For not telling you everything I felt. For blaming you when our lives went different ways.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before continuing.

“For ghosting after the last time you came to see me.” When he says this, he opens his eyes, and he can tell Oscar is putting pieces together.

Logan had convinced himself that it was Oscar who had put distance between them after that, but it wasn’t true.

“It eats me up inside. Thinking about how I did that to you. And how different things might be if I had handled it better. I don't know how you felt or feel about it, but I know what I feel.”

Oscar’s eyes are wide and shining, and Logan almost loses his nerve. The darkness around them acts as a blanket, giving him courage in the late hours to be honest with him.

“The times we were together… like that–” he gestures vaguely. “–were some of the best times of my life. I was–I think we both were–too scared to speak anything out loud for fear of rejection or for changing things irreversibly when all we wanted to do was stay the same. I couldn’t lose you,” Logan tears up a little but keeps it under control.

Oscar rests a heavy hand on Logan’s side over the blankets, trying to soothe and encourage him. He can’t stop himself from saying, “You would’ve never lost me.”

Logan closes his eyes and his voice cracks when he says, “I did, though.”

Oscar’s hand moves to Logan’s cheek, stroking his skin lightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Logan opens his eyes, blinking the blur away. “For what?”

Oscar gives his own apologies and explains his side of everything that happened between them. He felt things Logan never imagined he’d feel. It makes him feel so much worse that he kept him at arm’s length and didn’t talk to him properly.

“I’m so grateful that you invited me here. Even after I was a huge asshole. I’ve been having so much fun with you, but I’m also sorry it’s been so awkward because of all this,” Logan says once Oscar is done speaking.

Oscar smiles softly, and he runs his fingers through Logan’s hair as Logan rubs Oscar’s shoulder with his thumb.

“Thanks for telling me all this. And don’t worry, we still have more time for you to properly enjoy your Melbourne Christmas.”

Logan laughs, so relieved. The eye contact becomes unbearable, so Logan leans in and hovers his mouth over Oscar’s, holding until Oscar gives indication that he’s okay with it.

Oscar leans forward, closing the distance. Their lips touch, and Logan’s eyes burn again. “I missed you so much,” he whispers.

“I missed you so much more,” Oscar replies, deepening the kiss.

When they separate, their eyes search for each other as best they can in the dark. They both nod wordlessly, and Oscar asks, “Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Logan responds.

They fall into a rhythm, pushing and pulling at each other. It’s emotionally charged and insanely overwhelming. For now, once more, Logan is Oscar’s and Oscar his.

It’s slow and steady, Oscar responding to Logan’s every need before he even says anything.

Just as Oscar is getting ready to put his fingers inside of him, Logan stops him with a hand on his arm.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, worried.

“This is gonna sound crazy, I know,” Logan starts. “But can you cover my eyes with something?”

Oscar hesitates. “Why?”

Logan looks away. “I just really don’t think I can look at you this time. It’s too much right now. And I don’t want to know if you’re looking at me.”

Oscar clearly doesn’t understand, but he graciously listens to him anyway. He quickly grabs the sleep mask he doesn’t use out of the drawer next to his bed and carefully pulls it over Logan’s head, making sure it covers his eyes properly.

“Okay?”

Logan nods. “Yeah. I’m ready now.”

With shaky hands, Oscar continues. He’s gentle but thorough while prepping him.

Logan loses his breath as time goes on, other senses heightened now that one has been taken away. It’s quiet apart from both his and Oscar’s breathy sounds.

“Still okay?”

“Yeah,” Logan whispers as he reaches out for Oscar’s hand.

Oscar intertwines their fingers and lines himself up before pushing in slowly.

Logan’s back arches off the bed, and he sighs a heavy contented sigh. Finally, he feels whole again.

A shuddering moan leaves Oscar’s mouth as he starts moving. A lump forms in Logan’s throat, and he surrenders himself to the feelings.

Oscar is so gentle with him when he needs to be. So precise and completely in tune with his needs and wants. He pushes in deep and breathes, “Missed you so much.”

The first tears sting at his eyes, threatening to fall. This is exactly why he wanted his eyes covered, he knew it would be too much. He feels Oscar’s fingers dig into his hips, and he can’t hold it in any longer.

They slip down his cheeks, and he just has to hope Oscar doesn’t notice. His chest aches, but Oscar makes him feel so safe and so good. He never wants it to stop.

Oscar’s pace quickens, and he starts muttering compliments and phrases that make Logan’s hips move to meet his.

Apparently, he did notice the state of him because he reaches up to wipe Logan’s cheeks with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

Logan whispers back. “I know.”

Oscar’s nails are digging into his skin, and he knows he’s close. Logan reaches out for him, trying to find his face so he can pull him down for a kiss.

Oscar leans down and kisses him, soothing his aches. He kisses his wet cheeks and his forehead.

“Can I touch you?” He asks softly.

Logan nods and lets his face leave his grip.

Oscar’s hand wraps around Logan’s length, and he coaxes him to orgasm. He holds him through it, even while still chasing his own.

When Logan hears him whisper, “Baby,” he knows he’s almost there.

“Do it, baby,” Logan encourages.

Oscar groans and empties inside of him, shuddering the whole way. Logan can hear and feel him breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. He asks if he wants him to remove the blindfold, but he doesn’t want that. Not yet, at least.

He can’t bear the thought of Oscar perceiving him this physically and emotionally wrecked. Logically, he knows he can see him, but the eye contact would break him even more if that’s possible.

Oscar pulls out and lies down next to him. They breathe in silence until Logan hears Oscar’s breath start to stutter, and he removes the blindfold.

He sees Oscar’s eyes shining and wet, and he crumbles all over again. He rests his hand on Oscar’s cheek and smiles sadly. Almost under his breath, Logan whispers, “It’s okay.”

“I know.”

Notes:

genuinely cried my eyes out writing this logan sargeant i will avenge you

Chapter 8: sex club/exhibitionism (jenson & nico)

Notes:

wrote & am uploading this literally mid-flight so if there’s mistakes girl idk what to tell you i’m in the air rn. happy day eight tho <3

The air is heavy with the scent and feel of bodies on bodies. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not particularly pleasant either. As Jenson walks through the space, he surveys his surroundings, taking it all in.

He feels wildly out of place, but he reckons everyone feels like that the first time they visit a sex club.

He chose one that wasn’t too wild; he wanted to ease himself in. He’s here because he started feeling restless. Getting older comes with new challenges every day, but one of those is the complete dwindling of sex if not careful.

Jenson let life get in the way, and his sex life suffered drastically. At some point, he decided to research some ways he could make it exciting again.

Meeting people at his big age felt nearly impossible, so he was open to creative ideas. He stumbled across a page that explained the concept of sex clubs and lounges. At first, he was shocked. He’ll admit he was a little judgmental before he looked into it more and found one near him.

Overall, this one was pretty tame. No large crucifixes for people to hang from, no alcohol due to an abundance of caution when it comes to consent, and clothes are required in non-private areas.

It was more of a socializing area with the addition of semi-private and private rooms for sex if anyone chooses.

He thinks this will be good for him. He dated and slept exclusively with women for years until he finally decided he was ready to start living the life he wanted just a few years ago. So he’s very far behind when it comes to his gay experiences.

He’s slept with a handful of men and casually dated some, but nothing stuck. Imagine his shock when his first time with a man was indescribably better than sleeping with a woman. At first, it was just different. In a scary way and in a good way at the same time. Once his nerves dissolved, he could not believe that he’d been missing out on this all his life.

On the surface, he was playing the same role as it were, but everything about it was agonizingly different.

Although he wasn’t opposed to a relationship with a man, one night stands or friends with benefits situations were more his speed at least for now.

The place is well-ventilated, and thank God because one of his fears was that it would be stuffy and smell disgusting. There’s fans going at high speed, and the people here seem clean enough.

He fetches some water from a pitcher on the bar and sips it hoping the placebo effect will kick in, and it’ll loosen him up. At least he’ll be hydrated.

There are couples here, looking to add someone into the mix. He’s not sure that’s his thing. There are plenty of single people, or seemingly single people, so it’s encouraging.

He goes to the dance floor and decides to just put himself out there in that way in hopes of finding some people to chat with.

The music flows through the air and thumps in his ears, sending vibrations through his feet and up his legs. He doesn’t know most of the songs, but he can enjoy himself anyway.

As he moves further toward the middle, he bumps into someone dancing just as hard as him.

He’s apologizing immediately on impact. “Oop- so sorry, mate.”

“It’s okay,” the person says back.

Jenson turns fully to see them and lays eyes on a blonde haired, blue eyed angel of a man. That’s a bit dramatic, but he was beautiful.

“Oh hello. You okay?” he asks.

He laughs and says, “I’m alright. What about you? You were dancing pretty hard.”

“I’m alright as well. This is actually my first time here. I’m not quite sure of the etiquette.”

That was a stupid thing to say, and he has no idea why he said it. Telling one of the first people he sees of his novice is wild for sure, but maybe it will go well.

“Ahh, okay. I can show you the ropes if you’d like. I’m Nico,” he says as he holds his hand out for Jenson to shake.

“Hello, Nico. Jenson,” he says, reaching out to shake his hand. “Do people usually shake hands?”

“Not really,” Nico says, smiling broadly. “You just seemed like a handshake type of guy.”

Jenson laughs, head tilted back. “Not sure if that’s an insult or not, but thanks for being respectful I guess.”

“No worries,” Nico says.

All Jenson can do is laugh because Nico is taking everything he says at complete face value and responding so matter-of-factly.

He guesses out of all the people he could’ve encountered, he’s glad it was someone as nonthreatening as Nico.

“So what are you really here for?” Nico inquires as he takes Jenson’s hands and starts dancing with him.

Jenson goes along for the ride. “Not sure, really. I’m open to anything I guess. Obviously some exceptions but I’m not looking for anything too specific.”

Nico ducks under his arm, making him twirl him around. He stops just shy of a full circle and presses himself back against Jenson’s front, holding his arms crossed around his stomach while they dance.

Jenson feels himself loosening up for real this time, feeling tension dissolve from his shoulders as his hips sway.

“Nice. Okay, I can work with that,” Nico responds.

That makes Jenson laugh because it’s clear Nico assumes something is going to happen between them. If Jenson wasn’t convinced before, he has to be down for it now. Disappointing Nico surely isn’t an option.

“I like your smile. You smile with your whole face,” Nico remarks.

Trying to bite it back is useless, so he smiles softly at that.

“You’re very kind. I like yours too,” Jenson says. He just has to hope that’s the appropriate response.

Nico spins back around in his arms. “Do you want to go check out some of the rooms?”

Jenson swallows nervously, but he doesn’t see a reason he should say no. He came here only wanting to say yes to opportunities, so he does.

Nice smiles and takes him by the hand, pulling him toward a back wall and around a corner.

“Ah, here’s an empty one,” Nico says, pulling a curtain all the way open.

Jenson looks around, eyes searching for anything crazy. There doesn’t seem to be anything—just a small room with a bed and a little couch. There’s lamps on dim settings and cleaning supplies in the corner. Which makes sense and makes Jenson feel better about the hygiene situation.

“What do you think?”

“I like it. Very private and simple,” Jenson says.

Nico thinks for a second. “Do you think you would prefer something a little less private?”

Jenson is taken aback by the question. It’s a valid question, but he hasn’t thought about anything that far. He’s even more surprised when his train of thought ends with him saying, “Maybe. What are the other options?”

Nico grins and takes him further back to a more open area. He sees a big circle of couches in the middle of the floor where people are doing everything from kissing to eiffel towers. His eyes widen for a second before he dials it back.

There’s a couple of rooms surrounding the space with no doors or curtains this time. They’re more open concept rather than typical one-door four-wall rooms. There’s full view of the main couch area as well as the other rooms around. This idea is more exciting to him.

He can feel Nico watching his reactions, assuredly gearing up to ask his thoughts. He speaks before he can.

“I think I like this more. Still a bit of privacy if that’s what you want but more public options as well.”

“If that’s what I want?” Nico repeats.

Jenson short circuits. “I didn’t mean you specifically. You as in like… people. Anyone.”

Nico laughs at his stuttering. “I know what you meant. Just thought your reaction would be funny. And it was.”

Jenson can feel his cheeks heating up in a most unpleasant way. “I didn’t not mean you though. I mean, I would definitely like it if it was you,” he adds because apparently he’s incapable of acting normal in this situation.

“Oh. Well that works out then,” Nico says.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that now that I know you’re interested, I can be more upfront with my thoughts,” Nico says as he’s moves to sit on a stool by the bar, pulling Jenson to stand between his legs.

“Everything before was you not being upfront with your thoughts?” Jenson asks as he follows, loosely looping his arms over Nico’s shoulders.

“Haaaaha. I mean my not safe for work thoughts that I’ve been holding back this whole time,” Nico answers as he squeezes Jenson’s waist.

“I see,” Jenson says, not knowing what to say at all.

“God, you’re cute. And I usually don’t like the cute ones.”

Yet another remark that’s not an insult, but not quite a compliment either.

“Thanks. I think,” he says, a little puzzled.

Nico pulls him in closer, boxing him in with his legs. “I really want to see more of you though,” he says as he carefully undoes two of the buttons on Jenson’s light pink button up shirt.

Not enough for Jenson to feel too uncomfortable but just enough for his heart rate to speed up.

Nico gets a glimpse of the tattoo that covers Jenson’s shoulder and chest, and his eyes get stuck on it.

“Wow.”

Jenson looks down. “What?”

“Nothing. Just did not expect this from you at all,” he says, a bit of awe in his voice. “Very sexy.”

“Not even gonna ask what you mean by that,” he replies, shaking his head. “Thank you.”

The two chat for a bit longer before Nico starts to get impatient. He shifts the conversation to more direct questions about what he’s comfortable with doing and making sure he’s truly interested.

He must be satisfied with Jenson’s answers because he removes his hands from where they’ve wandered under Jenson’s shirt and pushes him back to stand. Leading him back into the space he’d just shown him, he looks around and finds a comfy chair separated from the couches but still in view of everyone else.

He gestures for him to sit, and he sits in his lap when he does, straddling his legs.

Jenson’s hands clasp together behind Nico and come to rest on his lower back as Nico runs his hands from his cheeks down his chest under his shirt which is practically flapping in the wind at this point.

He leans down and kisses him for the first time, lighting a fire in Jenson’s chest. He presses harder into his back, pulling him closer.

His hands roam over Jenson’s chest, reveling in the smooth skin there, moaning softly when Jenson catches his lip with his teeth.

Embarrassingly quickly, Jenson can feel the blood in his body rushing to his cock trapped under Nico’s ass. He’s done for when Nico starts rolling his hips as if he can’t help it.

“Beautiful,” Jenson says under his breath. And he means it. He looks beautiful in his lap like this, the colored lights bouncing around his face.

They continue kissing like this for a while until Nico scoots back a little to reach between them and cup Jenson through his thin linen trousers.

The sound he makes into his mouth is crazy, but he’s pretty sure Nico doesn’t mind.

He presses down, testing Jenson’s resolve. Jenson apparently has none because his hips immediately buck up, giving Nico the go ahead to keep going.

He looks around before lifting up so they can fumble around to pull Jenson’s pants down enough to free his cock. Jenson groans when it hits the open air and then Nico’s hand wraps around it, giving a bit of relief.

“Is this still okay?” he asks softly.

“God, yes,” Jenson responds without hesitation.

Nico jerks him off as they go back to kissing, and Jenson has an unyielding grip on Nico’s waist, moving him as he sees fit.

His head falls back against the top of the chair as Nico swipes his thumb over the head. He looks to his left and sees two people leaned against the wall a few feet from them, eyes locked on them.

“Fuck,” he says.

Nico follows his gaze before turning back to him and asking once again if he’s okay. Jenson tells him he is and that he should really keep going.

Nico listens but starts to climb out of his lap. Jenson reaches out, catching his wrist. “Noooo.”

Laughing, Nico says, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

He drops to his knees in front of Jenson and rests his chin on his leg until Jenson spreads them for him to settle between. He leans forward and licks a stripe up Jenson’s cock, maintaining eye contact as best he can.

Jenson jolts, groaning.

Nico continues his efforts, adding his hand to cover where he can’t reach with his mouth.

A string of soft, desperate noises escapes Jenson’s mouth, and Nico grabs his hand to place it on the back of his head.

Jenson just rests it there, unsure whether or not Nico wants him to move him or just hold him there. Nico answers his question by reaching back and pressing Jenson’s hand down, pushing his own head down with it.

Jesus Christ. Never in his life has Jenson felt so out of control.

He turns to see if the people by the wall are still watching. They are, and now, one of them has his own cock out, slowly stroking it.

Jenson locks eyes with him and pushes Nico’s head down as far as his throat will allow.

Nico gags just slightly, and Jenson loosens his hold, giving him the option to get off if he wants.

He doesn’t, so Jenson does it again, bobbing his head this time as he stares at the people across the room.

Nico is sloppy with it, letting out unashamed moans around his cock as he sucks and licks for his life.

Jenson can’t take the overwhelming attention anymore, so he closes his own eyes and tips his head back to rest on the chair and enjoy the feelings.

Nico does a kind of swirl with his tongue that nearly sends him over. “Fuck, you have to get off.”

Doubling his efforts, Nico keeps going for just a minute longer, wanting him as close as possible.

“I’m serious. Have to get off,” he pants. “I’m gonna come.”

Nico listens this time and lifts his head but continues to work with his hands until Jenson stiffens and groans as he comes over Nico’s hands.

As Jenson catches his breath, Nico moves quickly to the nearest box of towels and wipes his hands and cleans Jenson up.

“Jesus, I think you sucked the life out of me,” Jenson breathes heavily.

Nico squeezes himself into the chair next to him and lays his head on his shoulder. “So it was good?”

Jenson laughs in disbelief. “Yes, it was quite good.”

After a second thought, he asks, “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m okay. I kinda prefer just getting other people off and not really myself when I’m at places like this,” Nico answers.

Jenson thinks if he blinks too many times, Nico will just vaporize, and he’ll have no proof of the angel’s existence.

But all he says is, “That’s so hot.”

Nico giggles. “Yeah, it just feels better for me, I guess.”

Jenson’s not really sure what to do now, and Nico notices his hesitation.

“It’s okay, you can leave now if you want.”

Jenson really doesn’t want that, so he stays. And he talks to Nico and does everything you’re probably not supposed to do in a sex club, and by that, he really means he gets to know him on a deep enough level that he can’t bear the thought of not talking to him again.

Eventually, they exchange numbers and go their separate ways.

Jenson did in fact get to talk to him again. Many times.

Notes:

i already know my friend is gonna text me shocked by this pairing well so was i when i thunk it . hope it was good

Chapter 9: cockwarming/size kink (mick & lando)

Notes:

give it up for day nine !! also i’m home for christmas so hello from three hours ahead of where i usually am

A pottery class. That’s where Mick and Lando met. Perhaps the most random origin story of all time.

Pottery was the absolute last way Lando ever thought he would spend his time, but ever since he started therapy, he’s been forced to leave his comfort zone and try a ton of new things.

His therapist convinced him that he needed to find a hobby that helped with his anxiety, so he’s been trying everything under the sun.

He’d found a studio that held classes for beginners and decided to give it a try. At first, he felt so silly that he wanted to leave. He was sure his anxiety was going to kill him.

The saving grace was all the affirmations he learned and positive self-talk. It’s ridiculous that he requires all this bullshit just to participate in a pottery class, but he’s accepted it by now. An anxiety disorder does that to a person.

He survived that first class, barely. He continued to go for the next few weeks, and he took note of everyone there with him. There were a couple familiar faces, not that he ever initiated conversations with anyone.

At some point, he noticed that one person had been there every week, sitting in the same spot whenever he could. At first, he watched him just to compare their techniques. Then, he watched him because the way his hands worked was mesmerizing.

At that point, they’d only spoken once. He’d looked over at Lando’s piece and laughed. Immediately offended, Lando just looked back with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing in a bad way. I was more stunned that yours looks so good and mine looks like shit,” he gestures toward his deformed…bowl? It was honestly so terrible Lando wasn’t even sure what he was trying to make.

Lando laughed as well. Awkwardly, because he can’t do anything smoothly.

“I dunno,” Lando answered. “Guess I’m just good at following directions.”

“Oh?” The boy said with a smirk that made Lando regret his answer. “Guess I need to get better at that then.”

So that was agonizing for Lando, of course. He replayed that interaction in his mind for days on end. Until their next one.

Minding his business, Lando was searching through all the glaze choices, trying to decide what color he wanted his bowl to be.

While he’s distracted rifling through the oranges and pinks, he doesn’t even notice the boy walking up next to him.

“What’s your vision for your perfect bowl?” He asks.

Lando almost jumps out of his skin. “Oh my Lord, you can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

He looks embarrassed then, which tugs at Lando’s heart a bit. Lando realizes he doesn’t even remember his name, or maybe he never knew it at all. It was too late to ask, so like a regular person, he asked the instructor instead.

Mick.

—

How exactly they got from such humble beginnings to their current status, Lando doesn’t know. But he’s grateful all the same.

Because now he has a boyfriend who doesn’t make him have panic attacks all the time.

Who buys him all the Kinder chocolates he can eat and fills up the gas tank in his car and only minimally complains when he’s taking too long to get ready.

Who snakes his arm around Lando’s stomach and wakes him up with kisses on the weekends.

He’s strong and sweet and perfect.

All that aside, the truth is that Lando thinks the sweetest part of it all is that he’s got a big fucking dick.

The kind that he can feel in his throat when he’s inside him. The kind that’s impossible to conceal when Lando gets him hard in public, which Lando always gets in trouble for. The kind that knocks the wind out of him and can make him forget any bad day.

He’s still surprised sometimes even though they’ve been together for months at this point.

As for Mick, he really lucked out with Lando who feeds his ego to a dangerous degree on the daily.

Lando really does feel very lucky to have someone who can support him on not just his good days but his hard days as well.

It just also happens to be true that one of his methods of support includes rearranging Lando’s guts.

Lando likes everything about it. He likes it in his hands, in his mouth, in his ass, between his thighs—he really should be ashamed of how slutty he is these days, but he can’t bring it in himself to care.

Besides, it’s not like Mick is ever complaining. He knows better than that.

On this particular day, Lando arrives at Mick’s place nearly in tears already. He hates crying, which is funny for someone who does it all the time. It's uncontrollable sometimes, and he does usually feel better after. It's during that’s unbearable.

As often as possible, he finds things to distract himself with while the tears flow so he doesn’t have to focus on it.

Mick shows up for him in these situations, helping as best he can.

After tossing his keys onto the nearest table and kicking his shoes off, Lando makes his way to the bedroom, trying not to scream the whole time.

Mick hears him stomping through the house and knows he’s in for a treat tonight.

Lando throws himself on the bed with all the theatrics of a Victorian-era man draping himself over the couch in anguish.

After a deep breath, Mick goes to meet him and figure out what’s wrong.

As soon as he lays eyes on him, he has to bite back a laugh. Lando is sprawled out on the bed in full starfish mode. Maybe it’s shitty, but he thinks he’s so cute when he’s sad.

“Are you gonna come hug me or do you want me to die here?” Lando mumbles into the blankets.

Mick has to really try hard to hold back the laugh now, but he succeeds, used to it by now. He crosses the room and plops down right on top of Lando, bringing an oomph sound out of him.

He tries to wiggle out from under him, not really trying hard because he secretly loves the comfort and pressure Mick’s body weight gives him, and they both know it.

Mick intertwines their fingers, and he feels the tension melt out of Lando’s body under his.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks in a whisper.

Lando sniffles quietly, and Mick begins to wordlessly take deep breaths, so Lando will try to match his breathing without arguing about not wanting to take deep breaths. It pretty much always works.

“Jus’ had a stressful day at work, and I kept making mistakes, and I felt like I was gonna puke or cry or scream or all three,” his voice wobbles as he rambles.

Mick hums, the vibrations soothing Lando a little. “I’m sorry your day was so stressful, baby. How can I help?”

“I dunno,” Lando mumbles.

Mick squeezes his hands and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. “You want some food or a bath or cuddles or something?"

Tears lightly stain the pillow under Lando’s cheek as he says, “I do want all those things. Butttt I think I want something else first.”

“Anything you want.”

Lando giggles. “Even your dick?”

A loud laugh flies out of Mick’s mouth before he can stop it. “What exactly do you want from it?”

Lando untangles his fingers just to pinch Mick’s side. “Can’t make fun of me when I’m sad.”

Mick chuckles again, jostling Lando under him. “You’re right, baby. I’m sorry. Yes, even my dick if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Lando says, nodding his head. “Can I just have it in my mouth for a while?”

Mick exhales, long and slow. He’s still not used to how sweet Lando can be and how open he is now versus how guarded he was when they first met. He never wants to take his vulnerability for granted, besides a little teasing every now and then.

He also can’t help the way his dick twitches at the thought of Lando’s perfect mouth keeping him warm.

“Sure, baby. Do you wanna stay in bed?”

Lando nods as best he can with his cheek still smushed into the pillows.

Mick lifts himself off of Lando and crawls up the bed, propping himself up against the headboard.

With great difficulty, Lando peels himself from his cozy spot and crawls in between Mick’s legs, looking up at him with dilated pupils.

Mick reaches out to cup Lando’s cheek and wipe away the tears stuck to his face before moving to remove his own pants and underwear.

Lando’s eyes follow his movements, feeling antsier by the second. He reaches behind himself to drape the blankets over his body for maximum comfort.

“You’re 100% sure this is what you want?” Mick double checks.

“Yes. Now, please let me,” Lando says, bordering on whining.

“Okay. Okay,” Mick whispers. He gestures for Lando to lay down in whatever position he wants.

After some wiggling and shifting, Lando ends up lying curled up under the blankets in between Mick’s legs, using his thigh as a pillow.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Mick says softly.

Lando looks up at him one last time, thoughts still racing in his head, heart beating out of his chest, and lets out a shaky breath before reaching out to take Mick’s length into his hand.

His fingers are freezing cold, so Mick flinches, causing Lando to flinch as well.

“Sorry,” he says quietly.

Quickly, he guides his favorite part of Mick into his mouth, sucking lightly on the tip, trying to help Mick feel good as well.

Mick sucks in a breath, his hands hovering over Lando, not knowing what touches would feel good for him yet.

As Lando leans more and more forward, filling his mouth as much as possible, he takes Mick’s hand and rests it in his hair.

The permission relaxes Mick a little more, happy that Lando feels okay enough to be touched.

Once Lando is satisfied with how full his mouth feels, he slowly rests his head back down into Mick’s thigh, trying not to jostle him too much. He’s so grateful that Mick is willing to do this for him even though he knows he would rather have his fingers buried in his hair, using Lando’s mouth the way he wants to.

Of course, Lando loves that as well, but it’s also special to be connected and intimate with him in a more innocent way.

Lando’s eyes slowly close, and with Mick lightly scratching his scalp, he turns boneless in record time.

His breathing evens out, and Mick hums his favorite song. The tears dry up, and his thoughts slow down.

He vaguely feels Mick pulling up the blanket, tucking it tighter around Lando’s shoulders. After that, he’s pretty much entirely mentally gone.

The comfort and warmth lulls him into a light sleep. Mick continues to stroke his hair and his cheek until he wakes up again.

The ache in his jaw suddenly hits him as his eyes open again, and he whimpers softly.

He blinks until the world is back into focus and flits his eyes up to Mick, just to see him already looking back.

Mick locks his phone and brings his other hand down to loosely wrap his arms around Lando’s shoulders. “You okay, darling?” He whispers.

He waits for Lando to give any indication that he is before he speaks again. “I think you need to pull off now, I’m sure your jaw doesn’t feel good.”

Lando whimpers, clearly unhappy but knowing he’s right. He has no idea how long he’s even been here. He nods and pulls back as slowly as he can.

“Thank you,” he tries to say, but his voice is broken.

Mick’s eyes go soft as he says, “Let’s get you in the bath, baby.”

He helps Lando stand and hugs him tightly once they’re up, letting Lando nuzzle his face into his chest. He holds his hand while they walk to the bathroom, sitting him down on the counter while he runs the water and pours Lando’s favorite lavender bubble bath in.

Lando knows the moment he sinks into the water, he’s going to doze off again, and that’s exactly what happens. He lowers himself in, and Mick kisses the top of his head, and it’s lights out.

Notes:

much like jenson button i also like to add mick in random places like a barbie idc i love him. also i have to make one or both of them cry in every fic i just think they look pretty when they cry who’s gonna beat my ass about it

Chapter 10: mutual masturbation/hero worship (lewis & franco)

Notes:

day ten i can’t believe we’re almost done. uploading this from a coffee shop drinking the most delicious latte good mornin all

It’s always one step forward and three steps back for Franco. All he wants is to prove himself to his bosses, the fans, his family, and himself.

Every time he takes a step in the right direction, something happens that humbles him beyond belief, and he gets behind again. He tries so hard, but the results say otherwise.

He loves to drive. More than anything in the world, he loves to drive. He can’t even remember a time when he wasn’t driving in some capacity, and it scares him that there could be a reality where he doesn't have a seat in F1 anymore. The fear is paralyzing.

Maybe worst of all, he feels alone in it. Logically, he knows there are plenty of other amazing drivers who have been in the same boat. But in reality, he can’t think of one that he would be able to go to for advice or encouragement.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but he deflates a little every time he sees Max hugging and congratulating Kimi on a good result or giving Gabi a pep talk after a hard race. Max is undoubtedly one of the greatest drivers of all time, and it hurts knowing he’s ready and willing to support younger drivers, just not him.

What hurts even more is the way Lewis dotes on stupid Isack. Isack, who is not even in a top team but somehow performs like he is. Isack, who is one year younger than him and ten times more successful. Isack, who is being promoted to Red Bull after his rookie season. He guesses it makes sense that Lewis would favor him, with his talent and all. But Franco has talent as well. Just without as much of an opportunity to prove it.

Max is kind, contrary to what the world says about him. He would love to be a part of the little rookie squad that Max pours into, but it’s different with Lewis. He grew up watching Lewis dominate the sport his entire childhood. Not only that, but he admired his willingness to speak up for causes he believed in—as well as speak out against those he didn’t.

He liked his style and the way he carried himself. In Franco’s eyes, all this and his tattoos on top of it all made him unbelievably cool. He can admit that he finds it all wildly attractive. But–

It wasn’t a crush. It isn’t a crush.

Everyone loves Lewis. When the topic of GOATs of F1 comes up, Lewis’s name is always thrown on the table immediately. And he fully deserves that.

There’s a nagging thought that refuses to leave his brain that it just might be a crush, but he nips that in the bud every time it surfaces.

Maybe he idolizes him a bit too much, but it can’t be more than that.

Every time he sees Isack gravitate toward Lewis and Lewis welcomes it, Franco wants to scream.

But then, at other times, he’ll turn to Franco and hold his hand out for a friendly shake, and Franco forgets about everything.

Desperate, Franco decides to try and make his own moves. He finds him after races and commits his friendly, toothy smile to memory. He conveniently places himself next to him in pre-race catchups and drivers parades, and really anywhere else he can.

It starts to work, much to Franco’s satisfaction.

The two get more and more acquainted with each other; he has even managed to get Lewis to shell out a few pieces of advice for his driving.

Over time, he begins to feel that Lewis is enjoying the newfound friendship as well. Of course, he can’t know for sure.

Until Lewis randomly messages him for maybe the first time ever. Just to ask him what his plans are for the short break.

Franco practically freezes in place when the notification comes in. He immediately turns his phone off and orders some food for dinner as a distraction.

He doesn’t reply until the next morning. He tells the truth. That his schedule is pretty open other than a couple of boring meetings.

Lewis invites him to come back to Monaco with him and stay for a couple days, and Franco thinks he’s never been more shocked in his life.

The concept of Lewis Hamilton inviting him to stay in his penthouse is mind-boggling. And for what exactly?

Before this exact moment, he’d thought he was completely exaggerating their connection. It’s almost too much to comprehend that he actually wasn’t.

Now the question is, what is their little situation in Lewis’s mind? Obviously, Franco is going to say yes, but he honestly has no idea what he’s getting into.

Asking someone to stay over can be innocent. A friendly staycation of sorts. Maybe he’s just one person in a larger group of people who are invited. That possibility makes him feel a little better. But what if it is just him? No, surely it’s a bunch of people. Inviting only him would be crazy.

With shaking hands and a lot of typing and deleting, he finally responds and tells him that sure, he’ll join. Instead of spiraling about it further, he just eats his breakfast and jumps in the shower.

His shower brings all sorts of impure thoughts about the penthouse to his brain, but he puts full focus on thinking about absolutely anything else and washing his body as fast as he can.

—

As soon as his plane lands in Monaco, the jitters take over his body. He starts to rethink every decision he’s made in his life that brought him to this point. He doesn’t even know what to freak out about yet; he just knows there’s something that warrants a freak out.

He sends a message to Lewis that he’s in town. He’s not exactly sure which of the luxury penthouses is his, so he waits for Lewis’s direction.

Once he’s made it, he has to take several deep breaths before facing Lewis. Who does he think he is? This has to be a practical joke or something. Not too long ago, they barely spoke to each other. How he got here is a great mystery.

“Hey, man,” Lewis says, sounding as silky smooth as always as he gestures for Franco to enter.

Dragging his suitcase behind him, he finally enters Lewis’s place, and it’s even more luxurious than he imagined. Damn, if this is what being one of the top paid F1 drivers gets you, he needs to try harder. He winces as that thought crosses his mind.

Lewis seems friendly enough, but what’s unsettling is the complete lack of other voices. Either he’s the first one here, or his worst nightmares have come true.

It’s just confusing. On one hand, it’s actually his biggest fantasy come to life to be alone with Lewis in his fancy penthouse, nothing but time on their hands. On the other, none of this makes sense, so he’s highly skeptical.

He squeezes his suitcase handle and finds his voice to hesitantly ask, “Am I the only one here?” just to make sure.

A furrow appears in Lewis’s brow, confusion flashing across his face. “I mean… besides me, yeah, mate.”

Franco must look confused as well because Lewis adds, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Yes…” Franco replies immediately. “Well, no. I’m not sure.”

Lewis laughs nervously and reaches out to take his luggage. Franco lets him out of pure curiosity alone. He follows him to what he assumes to be his own bedroom.

Franco stops in his tracks in the doorway, which seems to spur Lewis into action.

After leaving Franco’s luggage next to the bed, he returns to Franco’s side and grabs his hand.

Franco’s eyes widen, and thankfully, Lewis speaks first.

He guides him to the bed and sits before patting the space next to him. “I won’t bite,” he says with a small smile.

So Franco sits, staring at his folded hands in his lap, heart pounding.

Lewis ducks his head, trying to catch Franco’s eyes. “Are you alright? You seem scared, and I don’t want you to be.”

Franco swallows before forcing himself to respond honestly. “I guess I’m just confused. I didn’t really expect it to just be the two of us. I don’t really know why you’d want me here specifically.”

He blushes as he speaks, the vulnerability burning him up inside.

When Franco looks up, Lewis looks a bit taken aback at his words.

“Right,” he starts. “Did I misjudge this whole situation?” He gestures between them.

Franco tilts his head and looks around the room trying his hardest to put two and two together, but math has never been his strong suit.

“I just need you to be really straightforward with what you’re thinking and what you want. Maybe I’m an idiot, but I can’t understand what you’re meaning.”

Lewis exhales and places his hand on Franco’s back, tentatively, like he’s waiting to see if Franco will tell him to stop.

He starts talking quieter than before. “I was under the impression that there was…something between us. Something… not platonic, I guess. So I thought the break would be a perfect time to go out on a limb and explore it if that were the case.”

Franco’s stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl out of his body. He’s stunned silent again. At some point, he realizes that Lewis is probably internally freaking out as well, so he speaks again.

“I did not know you felt that way literally at all,” he says with a breathy laugh.

“Oh.”

Franco nods, his mind twisting and turning trying to sort out the facts.

After a few seconds, he decides that if Lewis was able to say it, he can too. He focuses on a small flower on the bedroom rug as he practically whispers, “I thought that also. I just thought I was making it up.”

With one hand, Lewis rubs circles on his back and rests the other on Franco’s thigh. Just as tentatively as the first time he touched him.

Franco relaxes under his touch and dares to look at him again. There’s an expression on his face that softens his features, brown eyes shining.

So quietly that Lewis has to lean in to hear, Franco asks, “So what am I doing here?”

“Whatever you want,” Lewis whispers, punctuated with a reassuring squeeze to his thigh.

Franco breathes deep before he says, “I want you.”

Lewis nods at an uneven pace, eyes darting back and forth between Franco’s.

“Can I kiss you?” Lewis brings his hand to rest on Franco’s cheek.

Franco doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He’s never been in a situation this dire before. Lewis Hamilton. His hero. Perhaps the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Sitting next to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and asking if he can kiss him. Who could blame him if all he thought to say was–

“Please.”

Lewis gently pulls him in with a hand on the back of his neck and a thumb rubbing his jaw.

His thumb digs in as Franco’s lips touch his, slow and shaky.

“It’s okay,” Lewis whispers into his mouth.

Franco nods, breathing heavily as he finally unclasps his hands to wrap one arm around Lewis’s waist.

Their bodies instinctively arch toward each other, searching for connection as the kiss deepens.

Lewis pulls away first and rests his forehead on Franco’s. “Don’t wanna overwhelm you.”

Franco chuckles. “Much too late for that, I think.” He tries to lean back in, but Lewis stops him with a hand on his chest.

Franco’s lip pokes out before Lewis says, “I’m serious. If this goes any further, I just wanna keep it chill.”

“Okay, anything you want,” Franco says, eyes wide and trusting.

Lewis smiles softly, tilting his head to observe Franco’s face. “You’re so sweet. What you want matters too.”

Franco hums his agreement, but the look in Lewis’s eyes is so hypnotizing, he’s not even sure what he said.

He feels like he’s in a dream world, like he entered a parallel universe when he stepped off the plane.

It’s stupid and irresponsible, but he knows in his soul that he’d do anything Lewis wanted him to do.

Of course, Lewis is smart enough to circumvent that. He’s doing everything to make sure Franco stays comfortable.

In a blink, they’re lying on the bed on their sides, facing each other. Lewis is running a hand up and down Franco’s arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Franco is in a daze, unsure of where to put any of his limbs.

“I have an idea,” Lewis says softly.

“Hmm?”

“To keep it from becoming too intense,” Lewis begins, and Franco huffs in response. “Relax, this doesn’t have to be the only time we see each other like this.”

The astonishment shows on Franco’s face. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of this not being a one time thing. This realization changes the whole situation.

There’s no time for this thought spiral when all he wants to do is kiss every inch of ink covering Lewis’s body or have Lewis kiss every inch of his body, either way, he’s not picky.

“Sorry, go on,” he urges.

Lewis smiles and smooths down Franco’s hair. “I think we need to start slow. How do you feel about mutual masturbation?”

Franco blinks and keeps up the spirit of honesty. “I don’t even know what that means.”

This makes Lewis laugh his stupid giggle, tooth gap on display, with nothing but fondness in his eyes. With someone else, Franco would be embarrassed to admit these things or act like this. It’s different with Lewis.

“Fair point,” he says. “Basically, we’d lie next to each other, and I’d touch myself while you touched yourself.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Franco had no choice but to agree to the terms and conditions Lewis was giving him.

It did all sound very hot to be fair. So once Lewis has finished with his explanations, he says, “Yes. I love that idea.”

Lewis’s smile splits his face wide open, and then, a shyer expression crosses his face. “Okay?”

Franco smiles back, placing a hand on Lewis’s hip. “Okay.”

Quite frankly, if Franco had his way, this whole conversation would’ve lasted ten seconds tops so he could finally feel some relief. But Lewis has his way, like he always does, so they had to discuss things first.

With Franco’s okay, Lewis leans forward and connects their lips again. This time, he pulls him nearly flush with his own body and holds a heavy hand on his lower back.

Franco moves easily, his body reaching for Lewis’s touch. He runs his hands under Lewis’s shirt, craving his bare skin.

Lewis gets the hint and pulls away just to remove his shirt, Franco’s eyes following every movement. He curses under his breath at the sight of Lewis’s bare chest, reaching out to place his hand flat in between his pecs. His hand slides over to his heart, and he feels the thump thump under his fingers.

Franco is delighted when Lewis takes it upon himself to take all his own clothes off, followed by Franco’s. He almost blacks out when he sees all of Lewis.

“Alright to continue?” Lewis asks gently.

Franco rolls his eyes as if to say, “On what planet would this not be alright?”

His mouth simply says, “Yes.”

Lewis pulls him in harshly, like his reins have been loosened. Franco groans as Lewis bites down on his bottom lip and pulls it toward him.

Their hips move of their own accord, grinding against each other. Their limbs are tangled—nearly every inch of skin is pressed together.

They carry on like this for a while, kissing deeply and rolling their hips absentmindedly. Franco whimpers when Lewis targets a spot under his ear.

“Please,” he whispers.

Lewis smiles into his skin and says, “Please what?”

“I need-I need something,” he chokes out.

Lewis runs his nails down Franco’s back, and Franco arches violently, hips twitching. “Okay, baby.”

Franco whimpers at the pet name, his mind going completely blank.

“You can touch yourself now,” he says.

Franco nods helplessly and reaches down to stroke himself as Lewis gently brushes his hair out of his face.

A moan is punched out of him as he spreads precum over the head and down his length. His eyes are squeezed shut, but he can hear Lewis murmuring encouragement in his ear.

“Can-can you touch yourself too?” He whispers.

Lewis hums, deep in his chest. Their bodies are so close that Franco can almost feel it.

The hum becomes more of a rumble as he wraps his fingers around himself.

Franco’s gaze drifts down to watch him, speeding up his own hand. Lewis looks beautiful like this and sounds even better. Slowly stroking himself, tattooed hand flexing as his other is cradling the back of Franco’s head.

“I wish I could touch you,” Franco pants.

Lewis laughs softly. “I know, baby. Next time.”

The denial along with the promise of a follow up brings a mortifying whimper out of his mouth.

“Tell me,” Lewis mumbles as his words start to slur. “How long have you wanted this?”

Still, Franco can barely believe this is even happening right now, so his brain isn’t firing at full speed.

“I dunno. Feels like forever, I guess.”

Lewis groans. “Tell me why.” He reaches out to slow Franco’s hand to allow him to think and speak clearer.

Franco whines but obeys. “Can barely think right now. I dunno. Everything about you. You’re beautiful.” Franco is short of breath, but trying his best.

“You’re so–,” he trails off as his eyes trace over Lewis’s body. “So strong.” He runs his hands up and down Lewis’s arms and chest. “And so kind.”

He looks up to make eye contact with him. “Wanted you forever.”

Lewis’s movements have become erratic by this point, hips stuttering. He moans low in his throat as he locks eyes with Franco.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he says through heavy breathing.

Franco’s hands twitch with the need for release. “Please,” he begs.

Lewis nods, giving him permission to go the pace he wants to. Franco lets out a breath and speeds up, twisting his wrist at the rhythm he needs. “Thank you,” he breathes.

At that, Lewis moans and comes into his hand as he squeezes the back of Franco’s neck.

“Holy shit,” Franco chokes out as he leaves crescent shaped marks on Lewis’s chest, fingernails biting into his skin. He holds his breath and comes into his hand just a few seconds later.

They lie together panting, hands sticky, for a few moments as they catch their breath and return back to normal brain functioning.

“Well–” Franco says.

Their foreheads fall to rest on each other, and Lewis laughs breathlessly into the small space between them. “Yeah.”

Notes:

i love you franco