lestappen + guest
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Carlos felt like he was going to pass out.
His shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his back, his throat hurt from choking on his coffee not two minutes ago, and Max fucking Verstappen was asking him for... a threesome?!
Miami was the most cursed city in the world.
OR: Charles liked to be watched. Carlos does more than watch. (The lestappen+carlos threesome fic I've been threatening for months.)
Series
- Part 1 of lestappen + guest
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“Hello, Oscar,” Charles greeted, patting the spot on the couch next to him, urging him to sit down. Oscar was suddenly aware that he hadn’t said anything since entering the room and felt he should say something casual. Something breezy, and easy, and not at all awkward.
Something to cut the tension.
“I expected you to have your dicks out,” Oscar said instead because he was not breezy, easy, or anything other than awkward.
Oscar might actually be the most awkward person on this planet.
Why the hell did they want to fuck him again?
OR: The lestapstri threesome that nobody asked for.
Series
- Part 2 of lestappen + guest
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“You want GP to sit in a chair and... what? Watch me fuck you?”
“Yes,” Charles replied grumpily.
“And you want him to talk me through it like I’m on a hot lap?”
“Yes!” Charles said, a little less grumpy and more relieved.
"You want Gianpiero Lambiase to tell me how to fuck you,” Max clarified.
OR: The GP Fic™
Series
- Part 3 of lestappen + guest
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“Was there something you guys needed?” Lewis asked, looking between the two of them.
“We were wondering—” Charles started.
“You were wondering,” Max corrected with a laugh.
“We were wondering.” Charles turned to glare at Max, making him roll his eyes fondly. “Since you didn’t have any plans tonight, would you like to come upstairs with us to blow off some steam?”
Lewis waited for the punchline, but Charles shut his mouth and looked at him expectantly.
... what?
OR: When Charles Leclerc became a world champion sandwich.
Series
- Part 4 of lestappen + guest
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“Here’s to the winner,” Oscar said, winking at him and holding his glass up.
“The fastest man on track,” Max added, grinning at him.
“The best ass in the place,” Oscar tacked on.
“And with a mouth that could—”
“Okay, okay, okay!” Charles laughed loudly, cutting them off before they got themselves in trouble.
OR: Why limit yourself to one boyfriend when you can have two? (The last installment of the lestappen+guest series and the long-awaited return of lestapstri. Charles wins in Monaco and in life.)
Series
- Part 5 of lestappen + guest
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Sometimes, Oscar liked to be dominant. He wanted the push and pull of power between him and Max. He enjoyed taking charge of the situation and fighting to be on top, to come last, and to be the big, strong alpha dog.
But sometimes he also liked it like... this.
Where Max called the shots, and made his decisions for him, and touched him where he needed it the most.
He didn’t have to pick one role and stick with it.
He didn’t always have to be daddy.
OR: the surprise return of the lestappen+guest series that I swore I'd never write for again. Max and Charles take care of Sad Oscar™ after a shitty home race.
Series
- Part 6 of lestappen + guest