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Oscar barely manages to keep it in, swallowing with a good effort. He has to blink a few times, take a deep breath.
“Stop making that face, Oscar. You know I'm a sympathetic puker. I can't throw up right now.” Lando snarks, shaking his head.
“Then you drink my smoothie.”
“Why the fuck is it so green? It looks like vo–”
“If you say vomit, I'm going to push you into the lake. You just said you're a sympathetic puker. That's just gonna make you want to throw up.”
“But why does it have to be green like that?” Lando's face is so scrunched up Oscar feels a twinge in his facial muscles.
Because Steve doesn't know the kind I usually take and I forgot to send him Kim's tried and tested, un-puky recipes, Oscar thinks. He dumps the few mL remaining at the bottom of the tumbler. Not like those few drops are giving him a few extra hundredths of a second in the car anyway. He laments not properly talking to his new trainer.
“Here, try mine. He's tried out this new one today and I think I'm gonna kiss Jon on the mouth for it.” Lando thrusts a pink tumbler in Oscar's face.
Oscar takes a sip. Wouldn't hurt to do so. Lando probably won't be poisoning him for getting a few extra hours in the car for testing today.
It was delicious.
Before Oscar can say it, there's a voice from behind them.
“And why are we kissing Jon? Should my girlfriend be concerned? She already thinks you take me to too many parties.” Jon in question claps on Lando's shoulder. Lando dissolves in a fit of giggles, trying to cartoonishly smooch Jon.
Oscar thinks it is the strawberry that's giving the magic to the drink. It is sweet, just a side of tart and obviously the pink color added to the aesthetics.
Oscar takes another sip and licks his lips. He decides he likes the strawberry.
-
Oscar turns his head left when the makeup lady tells him to. He flexes his jaw a bit. He has finally lost some of the baby fat, doesn't look as much of a child now. His jaw looks kind of nice. She neatly sets his hair in a curve over his brow.
He thinks he looks neat. The lights in the makeup room are kind to him. He licks his lips, scrunching his nose. They are dry.
“Oscar.. you should moisturise your lips. They look so dry. Here, apply this.” Oscar flushes and takes the chapstick from the makeup lady. He applies it once and then applies another coat for a good measure. Purses his lips.
It tastes kinda good. Sweet. He purses his lips again and discerns the taste. Strawberries.
He turns around the stick in his hand to look for the name.
He is confident enough in his masculinity to apply lip balms even in public.
Or he doesn't care enough. Whatever the difference was.
-
McLaren must have devised their torture plans early in the season with testing sessions scheduled in morning for Oscar in an unseasonably cool Bahrain. Oscar shoves his hands deeper into the pockets. They could have done the testing in Australia.
Warm, summery Australia.
“And then, Lily gave the manager a fifteen minute lecture that the pigeon wasn't a bird that flew into our room but it was our pet that housekeeping tried to shoo out. He said sorry so many times, I lost count. I was trying so hard not to laugh she kept shooting me glares not to ruin the effect.” Alex got his story out between laughs. Laughs broke out in the group. Oscar let out a chuckle. Only Alex would bring his pet pigeon to Bahrain for testing.
Oscar zones out for a bit, looking at architecturally impossible placed potted plants on the ceiling. He is ready for the season, ready for the car. A fresh start and new opportunities. He is interrupted from understanding the physics of the pots when Lando is squirming beside him, nudging someone on his other side. Carlos.
Carlos who was deep in conversation with Doohan, gesticulating with hands and all.
Lando elbows him again and shoots Carlos a look.
Carlos sighs.
“Whatsup, Piastri?” He throws out, barely glancing towards Oscar, jutting out a fist which Oscar meets with his own. By the time Oscar is withdrawing his hand, Carlos is already turning towards Jack, back to droning on about diffusers, not waiting for Oscar's answer. Lando looks rather pleased with himself.
What's up, Piastri.
Oscar wants to remind Carlos how he had to muffle him the previous night, a hand on the mouth and another in his hair, pushing him into Oscar's neck to smother Carlos loudly moaning out Oscar's name.
He's broken out of his definitely inappropriate thoughts for the middle of the day mid-paddock horny thoughts when Yuki holds a palm in front of him. He takes it and they chat a bit about their vacations. He takes some suggestions on which places to look out for in Japan when they race there.
Mid conversation he catches Carlos’ gaze on him. The infamous glazed-out look fixated on Oscar's hand. Oscar smirks, flexing his fingers– catalogues the way Carlos’ mouth parts a bit more. Carlos had taken Oscar's fingers in his mouth, whining around them– each time he added another finger to his hot wet mouth, Oscar slipped the respective finger of the other hand into him. It was a fun game.
Oscar reaches for a grape and plops it into his mouth. Carlos tracks the path of his fingers, searing eyes lingering on Oscar's lips. Oscar licks them and Carlos finally looks away, physically doing a shiver like he was trying to break out of a trance. Oscar quickly looks around to see if someone caught on to their weirdness. Ah, looks like they were safe.
There are fruit bowls being passed around, something to keep up with acute rising afternoon temperatures and for the delays.
The spoon looks cartoonishly small in Carlos’ paw-like hands.
An assistant scurries over to give Lando his special bowl, ever the picky eater, and Oscar doesn't even attempt to contain the eyeroll.
Lando quickly abandons eating any of it and is trying to feed it to Carlos. He announces that he can get Carlos to eat five spoonfuls at once and is jamming spoonfuls into Carlos’ mouth. Max is cackling uncontrollably, Hulkenberg shakes his head. Stray pieces of strawberry escape some of the spoons. When Lando attempts to stick a sixth spoon in, Carlos pushes him, darting down to chew all the fruit. Suddenly, he stops chewing, eyes very wide. Oscar thinks there was no way there could have been a good outcome from any of it. Carlos is blinking rapidly now, sliding down to a chair, hands hovering above his stomach. Lando has stopped laughing and gets a guilty look.
“Carlos, are you..”
Carlos starts vigorously chewing at Lando’s words and nods with equal fervor. He is already turning around, dashing towards the bathrooms.
“Carlos–” Lando calls out, getting up to follow him but Carlos waves a hand. “I'm fine, cabrõn. Nothing wrong, I'll be back in a minute.” And disappears into the bathroom.
Max stares at Lando pointedly.
“What! You weren't stopping me. You could barely stop laughing.” Lando cries out.
“He'll be fine.” Oscar mutters, smoothing down a crease on his race suit.
Surely enough, Carlos comes out a while later, hair properly in its place and face normal. The session was going to start in half an hour and everybody was already making their way to their garages.
r u OK?
Oscar makes out the text on Lando's phone ahead of him. He sees the text bubbles.
never been better landito💪🏻
Nothing to worry about then. Oscar puts the matter at the back of his mind.
-
More than half of Carlos’ neck is covered with stubble, an amount of hair that isn't even on his head, Oscar thinks about himself meanly. The little scar sits pink on his cheekbone, a burst of imperfection on his otherwise otherworldly face.
Oscar replays the session in his mind, analysing lap after lap, the orange of the car still gleaming in his mind. He traces irregular shapes of the circuit on Carlos’ arm.
Sounds of the game Carlos is playing on his phone fill the room. Oscar thinks Carlos might be more chronic about his phone than Oscar was. He feels a tiny pang of hunger and groans. If they weren't in such a hurry to tear down each other, Oscar would have eaten something.
He reaches for the box on the nightstand. It was just fruit, a temporary solution for now.
Carlos sings something in Spanish along with the beat of the game's music.
Oscar has to fight to keep the rising wave of fondness.
A strawberry slips from his fingers, landing on Carlos' pec. Carlos, still too engrossed in that game, doesn't notice it. Oscar tries to reach for it with his hand but instead decides his mouth is closer and ducks down to Carlos’ chest. Closing his lips around the fruit, he scoops it up and chews it. Juice glistens on Carlos’ pec, just above his nipple. Oscar's mouth salivates and he swallows any horny thoughts before they can make themselves known.
He should clean it, yeah. It would bother Carlos, get him all sticky. Yeah, that makes sense. He's just helping out.
He darts out his tongue, flattening it, aiming for maximal coverage. He lets out a soft sigh when the sweetness of the juice hits his tongue, Carlos’ skin smooth and solid beneath. Before Oscar can stop himself, he does it again.
“Oscar..?” Carlos pipes up questioningly from above.
Oscar is too occupied with brandishing small kitten licks, chasing the traces of the disappearing juice.
“Oscar, what are you doing?” Carlos tries pulling up Oscar by his arms.
“Quit pushing me around. I'm having a bite.” Oscar scrapes his teeth along a nipple.
“Come here.” Carlos mutters, toasty hands firmly molded around Oscar's arms, tugging him up. His voice is low, something about it settling low in Oscar's belly and he helplessly allows himself to be tugged up to Carlos' mouth. Carlos kisses him properly, slow and sure, contrary to the earlier frantic, hot and heavy ones a few minutes ago. When Carlos tilts his face, attempting to deepen the kiss, Oscar breaks off.
He reaches for another piece of fruit, sitting back on Carlos.
“Stop starving me, Carlos. I need nutrition.” He bites a grape. Carlos rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath. His hair fans over the pillow, face softly illuminated and Oscar melts, he is incapable of not doing so.
With another piece of fruit in his mouth, he leans down and presses his lips to Carlos’. They kiss around the fruit and Carlos fists a hand in Oscar's hair, pressing his hips upwards.
Yeah, Oscar's eating good.
Carlos suddenly breaks off, mouth hanging open, eyes owlish. His lips are stained, covered with strawberry juice. Carlos licks them and moans, throws his head back with a loud exhale.
He spins Oscar around in a lightning fast spur, settling between Oscar's legs and rests his forehead against Oscar's.
He is breathing fast.
The half eaten strawberry is still between Oscar's lips. Carlos catches a glimpse of it and loses it. He lets out a sound from his throat, close to a growl and forcefully bites the strawberry, smashing it between their mouths. Sweetness bursts into Oscar's mouth and he moans, swallowing the juice. Carlos is biting and sucking at his mouth, sipping from it, a hand firmly lodged in Oscar's hair to keep him in place.
“Fuck, this taste.. you..” Carlos raggedy breathes out, licking along Oscar's lips. His tongue maps the track of the juice that escaped their fused mouths. His sudden desperation is lighting the wick of Oscar's own arousal and Oscar squeezes Carlos’ ass in response, trying to meet back Carlos’ frantic energy.
“You make me crazy.” Carlos whispers against his lips, the breathy admission making Oscar's mind go hazy. He wonders what's bringing this up but can't fathom the brainpower for it when he feels Carlos’ hard cock against his thigh.
“Oh.. you…” Oscar breathes out, snaking a hand down between them to grip Carlos and Carlos shallowly thrusts into Oscar's fist the minute he wraps it around him. He goes back to kissing Oscar, moaning and breathing into his mouth. They were so frantic an hour ago, so out of their minds, grinding into each other was enough. Oscar supposes they can do it properly now.
“I can.. move over, I can make you–” Oscar pumps his hand a few times, trying to get Carlos to sit up to properly move his hand when Carlos cuts him off.
“No. In you.” Carlos’ vocabulary seems limited to grunts.
Before Oscar can refute or agree or say anything, Carlos is tearing away at the night stand, snatching the lube. He slips a finger into Oscar, adding another one, stretching and circling his fingers impatiently.
Oscar can't stop the moans, hand curling into Carlos’ bicep, trying not to cry out loud.
“Fuck, Carlos..” He breaks off when Carlos twists his wrist roughly. Carlos looks up, eyes bright and crazy. His face is flushed, light highlighting his cheekbones. He looks to Oscar's side and pauses for a second, two fingers pressed deep to the knuckle.
“What, fuck, don't stop. C’mon.” Oscar nudges him, wriggling his hips, caught up to Carlos’ desperation.
Carlos isn't listening to him though, he stretches forward and picks something up from the box.
He brings his hand to Oscar's face.
A strawberry.
Oscar lets out a soft moan.
He lifts his head, lips closing around the berry, teeth digging into it. Carlos lets him, watching him with wide eyes and parted lips. He curls his fingers inside Oscar and presses and oh fuck, Oscar chokes around the strawberry, a loud groan tearing free from his throat.
It is quick after that. Carlos slips in another finger and after a final twist, he wrings them free. He takes his cock into his hand, gives himself a few pumps and presses the head against Oscar's rim.
Oscar places a strawberry between his teeth and looks up at Carlos. Dark, flushed Carlos who was breathing heavily. He lightly scratches Carlos’ thigh.
Carlos swears something Oscar is sure the FIA would fine him handsome-ly for and bends down to pluck the fruit from Oscar's mouth. Oscar bears downs and the head slips in. He inhales sharply.
“Patience, Piastri.” Carlos grunts, muscles taut from holding back.
Oscar grins against his mouth and steals the strawberry right back. He clenches on Carlos, earning another litany of swear words and Carlos starts pounding him with abandon, hooking hands under Oscar's knees and spreading them wide, making way for Carlos. He feeds Oscar more strawberries, Oscar choking on some of them when the thrusts are too rough or irregular. Carlos changes his angle, shifts Oscar's hips around and he's found that spot and now he's nailing it with every thrust and Oscar comes like that, air scented with strawberries.
Carlos fucks him through it, rhythm stuttering after a while. He pauses, hips flush with Oscar's, looking at him for a second, eyes silently asking permission to come in him. Oscar grabs his chins and hauls him down, making him lose balance.
He slots their mouths together and Carlos’ cock jerks inside Oscar and he feels warmth spilling.
“Just like that, yes.” Oscar whispers, talking him through it when Carlos is twitching in his arms, running a hand through damp strands and along his back.
Carlos presses small kisses to Oscar's neck and Oscar melts into him, nose buried in Carlos’ hair. It felt nice.
-
They are late–
Well, not really. They both have afternoon sessions. Oscar can hear the cars on the track.
Carlos’ head is on his legs, both of them shuffled together on the cramped sofa in Oscar's trailer.
Oscar checks the time, shoos away Instagram on his phone. Applies his balm and chucks down half his bottle. Hydration is key.
He gently nudges Carlos’ head with a leg.
“Oy, c’mon. We've been here a while, someone might come and also we need to go.”
Carlos mournfully closes his motorcycle game.
He puts on the navy blue jacket and wrestles the wayward strands of hair back into their place. Then looks at Oscar.
“Kiss for good luck?” Carlos horribly waggles his eyebrows and is already diving in for a kiss. Oscar lets him, curling his fingers at the nape. He lets himself feel this soft moment.
“Why are you eating so many strawberries, Oscar?” Carlos exhales out shakily, hand tight on Oscar's arm.
“I haven't, at the moment.” Oscar raises an eyebrow. Carlos arches a brow back at him.
“My balm's strawberry flavoured if that's what you’re asking.” He offers, holding it up.
Carlos looks at the little stick for a minute.
“You have been using this since a few days.”
“Yes, Carlos, I have.” Oscar explains with rare patience.
Carlos grabs it from his hand, turning it around to inspect it.
“What happened that day?” Oscar suddenly asks. “Lando was cramming you with fruit and you went away. Everything was alright, right?” Oscar realises he had never asked Carlos about it.
Carlos stops his inspection and goes still. Suddenly, he's looking at anything but Oscar.
Oscar waits patiently for an answer.
He hears something, but Carlos says it too quickly.
“What?”
“I, um..” Carlos exhales, deflating, giving up the fight. “I got a boner. These days, I look, smell or see a strawberry and I think about you.” He's looking at the wall behind Oscar.
Oscar is trying very hard at that moment not to break into laughter. He's a bit unsuccessful.
“Cabrõn..” Carlos admonishes him, weakly punching him in the shoulder.
“‘M sorry. You just said that you got hard out in the open amongst everybody because you–”
“Oscar, shut up!” Carlos shoves him and Oscar lands on the sofa, shaking with laughter.
The tips of Carlos’ ears peek out from beneath the halo of his hair, hot red and Oscar concedes that it would have been embarrassing if somebody would have seen Carlos like that.
“Sorry, mate. Didn't realise I was Pavlov-ing you.”
“You were what?”
“You know, the dog, Pavlov conditions his dog.”
“Oscar, you are not making sense.”
“Mate, how do you not know– Pavlov. The guy who– y'know what? Forget it.”
“No. Explain it to me.”
“I'm not explaining it to you. Google it.”
Carlos gives him a stink eye, very displeased.
Oscar's phone dings with a notification. Okay, now he was late. He makes a let's go motion with his hands.
“Don't crash into my car, Piastri.”
“Stay on the racing line, Sainz.”
Carlos barks out a laugh. Oscar attempts to put the balm on Carlos’ lips.
“Oscar, no–” Carlos tries to bat his hands away, ducking sideways. Oscar manhandles him, corners him into a wall and applies it anyway. A thin sheen glimmers on obscene lips.
“Something to remind you of me.” Oscar whispers in Carlos’ ear, pressing the smallest of kisses to the spot below his ear. He hears Carlos’ quiet intake of breath and smiles against the tan skin of his neck. It was a nice boost to his ego to know how quickly he could get Carlos like that.
-