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Lando loved his job.
He’d had to work hard to get where he was - getting a Master’s degree was not an easy feat with dyslexia, much less so when he was aiming to become a uni professor - and he was happy that he got to pass on his own passion to other people. At first, he hadn’t planned to become a professor, but had just wished to express himself through his art, his photography, as it came much easier to him than the written word ever had.
Luckily for him, he had only had to prepare most of his teaching materials - slideshows, handouts, quizzes, the likes - once, his best friend Max having looked over them to make sure there had been no mistakes sneaking their way in, and he had had a TA to help him grading the quizzes (and to help him read some especially horrendous handwritings, too) since he’d started his job. That had been nearly six years ago now, and Lando was 30, turning 31 in a few months’ time, and happy with where he was in life.
He had amazing friends and family that always had his back, he got to pass on his passion to eager, young students and his own photographs were still causing uproars and huge waves of success whenever he published some.
That was the thing - the topic of Lando’s works, the reason why his classes, out of all art department classes, were filled to the brim with students since word had gotten around that he’d become a professor as his main job, the reason why he was as sought-after as he was. He had a distinct style in his works, daring in the ways in which he showed things through his lens, provocative and suave and brutally honest. There was beauty in simplicity, in the way raw, unfiltered neutrality could be good and bad or both or neither, depending on how the viewer interpreted it, and people liked that, with Lando and his works, they received what they were promised, what they wanted.
They got life in all its aspects, bland and exciting and boring and passionate, lots of room for interpretation and none whatsoever, sneaking its way into their conscience and carving a space for itself there, lingering, not needing to wait to be remembered because it could never be forgotten. It was daily life, mundane, all-encompassing, thrilling.
The way Lando managed to capture the essence of the people, of the objects, it was unrivalled.
Lando, as at the start of every semester where he had new students, was nervous. To be fair, Lando was often nervous - he had learned to function that way, restless energy only captured when he was behind a camera, only to find its way into his art in some way or another. It was what gave his pieces the final twist that made them so interesting. He was standing in front of his mirror at home, fiddling with his brown curls that had grown long over the summer break. He’d put on a three-piece plaid tweed suit, aiming for that professor aesthetic, complete with a pocket watch - it was also the annual picture day, after all, and Lando enjoyed dressing to impress. Himself, mostly, but he liked receiving compliments as much as the next guy. He thought he looked kind of cute, too.
He ruffled his curls again before putting some perfume behind his wrists and ears, dabbing it across the thin skin stretching over his pulse points. Deep breath in, deep breath out, he downed the last sip of his coffee, grabbed his briefcase, phone, wallet and keys and then he was out the door, the mahogany wood locking in place behind him.
(He turned back around to lock up properly once he was halfway down the staircase leading to the basement where his car was parked. His apartment complex was on the higher end of the spectrum security-wise, but he would rather be safe than sorry, in the end.)
The professors had their pictures taken before the start of the first class, which, considering it was orientation week, was only at 10 a.m. for everyone, something Lando was rather grateful for. He was an early riser, but having his pictures taken before 8 a.m. would have meant waking up three hours prior to that, and waking up at 7 a.m. was something to enjoy for as long as he could, knowing that it would change again once he inevitably would be stuck teaching an 8 a.m. course. Picture day was exhausting as it was, as much as he also enjoyed it. As fate would have it, the university had foregone hiring anybody from outside, instead paying him extra to take the pictures of the colleagues and himself. He checked in on his fellow professors while he was at it, enjoying the small talk about how they had spent their breaks and revelling in the positive comments on his outfit choice. Additionally, some of them brought him coffee and pastries for his services, something he indulged in gladly.
“Thanks, Max, you’re the best,” he said as he was going through the pictures he’d taken of George, a law faculty professor and good friend of his since his own uni days. “I am aware,” Max replied, knowing how much Lando enjoyed the stroopwafels from the Dutch bakery across campus that was led by a grumpy Dutch man also named Max who had the cutest cats Lando had ever seen. “Max says hi, by the way, and does not wish you a nice day because you keep asking for free pastries.” His Max, though, his best friend, was a professor in the IT department, staying with Lando to help him with the rest of the photos after he’d had his own taken. “Want me to take yours next?” he asked around a bite of his own pain au chocolat.
“That’d be mint,” Lando nodded, taking a sip of water from his bottle, “and he keeps giving me the pastries whenever I ask, so who’s the real winner here?” He had his own photography station set up near the main entrance, the artfully crafted brick wall acting as the background for the pictures as it did every year. Max was the only one he trusted with his equipment, having run it by him a million times in the fifteen years they’d known each other now - not even the other professors from the arts department were allowed to touch any of it.
“Alright, up you go,” Max instructed, and Lando protested as his half-eaten stroopwafel was taken from him. “It’ll be your treat for after,” Max said. “Meanie,” Lando replied, moving to the designated spot on the stones. He knew where to look so that the camera would capture him - except his attention was taken away by a passerby, a young man headed for the main entrance.
The stranger was nobody of his current students, he’d have remembered him; dirty blonde hair falling in gentle waves, moles dotting a pale face with high cheekbones and kind dimples, accentuated chin making way for a strong neck, morphing into broad shoulders and tapering down– Lando would like to photograph him, he knew, felt it in his bones, the desire to capture the man’s essence. There was an air of mundanity about him, and it was that perceived mundanity that made all his pictures so interesting - nobody was mundane at all.
“Three, two, one!” Max called out, rudely making Lando shift his attention back to him.
Lando shook his hand. “Again? Sorry, I got distracted a bit,” he said sheepishly, putting on his most gorgeous, blinding smile. Max only rolled his eyes fondly. “Thought you were in love with photography? Seen someone you like?” he teased. Lando laughed, “Not as a model. Who I saw would make for an amazing model, though. Unmatched, even.”
He’d have to hunt the stranger down later. He must. There was no way around it. Lando needed to take this man’s picture for all he was worth (two million pounds, approximately).
Lando was only mildly surprised that the man ended up in one of his classes. Frankly, all of his classes were filled to the max, and considering that everybody wanted to be in one of them, he had several hundred students each year. Lando was glad that it was an elective course, though, not the man’s main subject (he had pulled the other man’s file open in the uni’s database upon learning his name - Oscar Jack Piastri - which Lando thought suited him. Memorable yet subtle, unassuming but inherently fundamental). It always made it easier to photograph people that weren’t in his classes as majors, mainly out of being potentially accused of being biased.
It was already risky to approach Oscar, who took photography as an elective, but Lando thought he was worth the risk. Later, though, first he had to get orientation week to be over.
The first day of classes was spent introducing himself and his course all over again, as well as attempting to remember all of the new students’ names, answering questions, setting down base rules, all that stuff. Lando enjoyed the social part much more than the rules. He also announced that applications to be his TA would still be taken until Wednesday and that interviews would happen on Friday with the help of Max and only for selected students seeing how many applications he would most likely receive.
Dismissing his second class of the day - the one with Oscar in it - meant that it was time for a coffee break, and after that, there would only be one class left to get to know and he’d be off by 4 p.m. His office hours were on Tuesday and Thursday from 4 to 5 p.m. starting the following week when regular classes would begin, so Lando was determined to make the most of starting work late and ending it early.
Doing things like coming up with a plan to find out if Oscar wanted to model for him. Professionally.
Naturally, he used the thirty-minute break he had to snoop around. Looking at Oscar’s schedule, his major, how often he’d be in his classes. He didn’t check the man’s documents, still wanting to at least pretend he wasn’t kind of abusing his power. Then again, even the dean had encouraged him to keep pursuing his art and offering to provide helpful resources, and checking Oscar's schedule to determine when he could best approach him was a helpful resource, no?
Besides, it wasn’t his first time photographing a student, and, if the vibes allowed for it, he paid attention to not include clear shots of their face. It would be fine whether Oscar agreed or not.
One more class, Lando told himself, and then he’d go home and come up with ideas.
Lando’s plans took a bit of a turn when the man that Lando had kept seeing Oscar around, Logan, a photography major, became his TA. Where Logan was, Oscar followed, meaning that Oscar had not only waited for Logan as he’d done his interview for the position, he also dropped him off at Lando’s office and picked him back up. Logan, for all his photographical talent, was also quite a talker - which was a good quality to have as a TA, and also meant that he kept talking whenever, offhandedly spilling little details about his life and, subsequently, Oscar.
It was the following Tuesday, Lando had worked with Logan for not yet two days, and he still couldn’t count everything he knew about Oscar on both of his hands anymore. Which was great, really, it meant he could approach Oscar more thoughtfully, but it also made him realize how he still hadn’t managed to just ask the other man if he was interested.
“You’re overthinking it, mate,” Max told him during their lunch break. They were sitting in the teacher’s section of the cafeteria, seated on a small table only meant for two. Max replied between two bites of a tuna sandwich, something that Lando had wrinkled his nose at, unashamed. He put a forkful of his chicken pasta salad into his mouth as Max spoke. “You always are. It’s always gone well, nobody has ever refused you and the pics were phenomenal. I mean, you’re you, who in their right mind would refuse an offer to work with you? When has anything ever gone wrong?”
“Never,” Lando grumbled around his food.
“Exactly, never,” Max reinstated, nodding. “I think you should just ask him. You know this.”
“I do,” Lando sighed, “I’ve just not been.. how do I say? I feel like these pictures can be nothing short of perfect. I have a vision, and if he says no, it won’t come true. Ever. That’d be devastating, mate. Might be my best piece yet, and it might not even happen.”
“It won’t if you don’t ask,” Max shrugged, leveling Lando with his gaze, meaningful and supportive all the same. If you need help, just say the word, yeah?”
“Yeah, thanks, Max,” Lando smiled softly.
“Him? Red-brown shirt? Or the white shirt?” Max said excitedly, pointing somewhere behind Lando. Lando whipped his head around, and, yeah, that was Oscar, who was currently carrying a tray laden with what looked to be a tuna sandwich, Logan walking next to him with Lando’s own choice of food on his tray. He spotted him and readjusted his grip on his tray, giving Lando a kind wave. Lando waved back as if hypnotised (and repelled by the tuna sandwich). Oscar looked over, too, as Logan waved, talking animatedly as he always did, and his lips curled into the tiniest smile, almost cat-like in its appearance.
Oscar apparently pointed out an empty table and the men sat down, engrossed in their conversation again.
“It’s maroon,” Lando said absentmindedly, having another forkful of food. Across from him, Max snickered to himself. “Wow,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, before changing the topic. Lando was grateful for that.
“You seem to be very close friends,” Lando commented with a smile. They were in his office during office hours on Thursday, Logan and him, and Logan, while going through the handouts for the classes for the following week, had told him another story about Oscar and him. This time, it was a story from when Logan first met Oscar’s family after having been invited down to Melbourne for a vacation. Oscar and him had met at boarding school in England, Logan himself hailing from America, and had hit it off, becoming inseparable.
“We are,” Logan nodded, and then his face morphed into something akin to shock. Lando looked at him over the rim of his glasses where he was checking the students’ portfolios - the ones from the photography majors, at least. “My God, I keep talking about him, don’t I? He’s just my best mate, that’s all, and most of my happy memories were with him, so-”
“Logan, please, it’s fine,” Lando interrupted him gently before the other man could trip over his tongue any more in his haste to explain himself. “There’s no need to justify. I’m glad you have such a good friend, if anything. Bring him ‘round if you want, yeah? Maybe he has some helpful input, too.”
“Really, that’d be okay?” Logan asked incredulously, eyes wide. The arm he had raised to his neck to scratch it sheepishly had slowly been dropped to the table. “I mean, I know he’d never ask, he wouldn’t want to impose, but I reckon he’s curious. About you, your work, you know, but who wouldn’t be? He asks what it’s like working with you every time, you know.”
“It’s only been a week, though?” Lando said, intrigued, then continued, “and I’m serious, it’s fine. As long as you do all the official work since you’re the TA and you can vouch for him to not snoop around where he shouldn’t, it’s fine.”
“Definitely,” Logan agreed vigorously. “Oscar wouldn’t dare even touch anything in here without your permission, I swear. He probably won’t even sit down unless told to.”
“Alright, invite him along, then,” Lando admitted. “Now, where were we?”
A knock at the door pulled them out of their thoughts. It was still office hours, after all. “Come on in, please!” Lando called out, smiling expectantly at the student who entered. Guanyu, if Lando had remembered correctly, a design major, Lewis’s area of jurisdiction. “How may I help you?”
Oscar accompanied Logan the following Tuesday, again for office hours. Logan had told him that the other man would be doing so, too busy with his own classes to drop by in-between when they prepared the coursework on Friday and Monday. Logan’s own classes had been adjusted to match Lando’s free periods. It led to him staying at uni longer, but he got compensated in both credits and money, so that made up for it, and Logan wasn’t complaining. Besides, he always had Oscar waiting for him when the other man was free, he’d said, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy working with Lando.
“Oscar, it’s nice to have you here. I’ve heard a lot about you, only good things, of course,” Lando greeted warmly, shaking his hand as he and Logan entered his office. It was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast against his own ever-cold hands. They were also smaller than his own, and he practically engulfed it completely as they shook hands, he noted absentmindedly. “Good to see you, too, Logan.”
“Like we haven’t taught a class together today,” Logan laughed, a familiar ease. Lando liked that the other man wasn’t as stuffy as his previous TAs had been, trying to sidle up to him and smooth-talk him whenever possible. Logan stated his opinions honestly, cracked jokes and didn’t call him ‘sir’ all while still being respectful - the best TA Lando has had so far. Lando doubted that whoever would inevitably come after him could live up to Logan’s liveliness and efficiency, but luckily that was still a while away.
“It’s an honour to be here, really,” Oscar said, and his voice was smooth, pleasant, like honey in Lando’s ears. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t exactly.. presume I’d get such an opportunity? I mean, Logan’s the TA, not me. Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he rambled before backtracking, making Lando chuckle warmly. “No need to be nervous. It’s office hours after all, no? You’re allowed to be here. Have a seat or look around if you’d like, I’ve got a script to review for a bit. If you’ve got questions, don’t hesitate to ask, I’ll happily reply. Albeit I presume Logan already tells you everything?” he teased at the end, making Logan blush a bit.
“I promise confidential things stay confidential!” he exclaimed, and Lando put a hand on his shoulder briefly, “No worries, I was joking. I trust you, Logan.”
“Is this really okay?” Oscar piped up, gingerly taking a book out of the bookshelf to the left of the room. Lando’s own publication; a compilation of his early works and how they came to be, how they got him to fame. Lando recognised it from across the room as he took a seat behind his desk. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ve also got water or tea, if you’d like? Coffee, too.”
“I’m good, thank you,” Oscar replied, just as Logan chimed in, “A water would be perfect. He just doesn’t wanna impose on you.” Upon seeing Oscar’s minimally scandalised expression, Logan continued, “What, it’s true! I know you, don’t even try denying it.”
“Alright,” Oscar grumbled while Lando poured them each a glass, keeping a few bottles in his office at all times for office hours. He placed them on the side of the desk, easily reachable for all of them. The students changed him and they fell into a comfortable atmosphere, the silence occasionally breached by Oscar and Logan asking questions and Lando typing away at his computer, the sound of Logan’s pen scratching across paper audible beneath it all.
After some time, approximately twenty minutes, just as a third student who had sought him out to get a school paper signed by him had left, Logan excused himself to the toilet, and Lando saw a window for opportunity.
“Oscar, please, have a seat,” he called out to the other man who had become engrossed in the book enough to read it while standing in front of the shelf. Lando hadn’t been bothered by it, but he preferred to ask his question eye to eye. If Oscar was startled by his request, he didn’t let it show on his face, instead asking, “Sure, is something the matter?”
“It’s nothing bad,” Lando reassured. Oscar took a sip of water, glass half-empty afterwards, and he kept it in his hands. So he did get nervous. So far, Lando had gotten a view of Oscar as a laid-back, relaxed guy, mostly from Logan’s stories, but also someone who either didn’t have many emotions or simply didn’t show them for whatever reason. Lando was sure that, as time progressed, he’d get behind that. “I merely have a question for you. You can definitely say no and it’s entirely professional and approved by the dean, just so you know that upfront.”
“Okay?” Oscar asked, letting go of the glass, his eyebrows furrowing in mild confusion. “I’m all ears, professor.”
Lando cleared his throat. It was now or never - he’d never wanted to photograph someone as badly as this man, and he was nervous to flunk it. “Right, yes. Well, you are aware of my works, obviously, but do you know what makes them so outstanding? Or what makes them memorable to you?” he asked.
Oscar didn’t take long for his answer, ready at the tip of his tongue. “To me personally, I like how they each showcase the impact of the person’s action. They’re minor, mundane things at first glance, but they leave a lasting impact on the people around them and on their lives, and the subjects may not even notice. At least that’s how I always interpreted it.” He was sure in his answer, not second-guessing himself despite talking to the creator of said works. Lando greatly appreciated it - oftentimes, when he asked his students, they’d backtrack and ask for his approval of their opinion, missing his point completely. Not Oscar, though.
“Precisely,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad you understand it. I’m going to make you an offer, Oscar: when I saw you, I already had a vision, an idea of how you could fit into such a picture, such a life. Would you be interested in a practice photoshooting with me? Just to see if it’d work out first, if it can be realised, but I’m genuinely convinced that there’s nothing to worry about in that regard. You’d make a quite near-perfect model, dare I say.”
“Not perfect because that’s the point of your pictures, too?” Oscar replied, and Lando smiled. “Again, precisely. The closest it could get, however. If you need time to think about it, that’s fine. We would also formally sign an agreement and the dean would be informed so you know it’s actually approved and not a scam or anything.” Lando leaned slightly forward in his chair, keeping his eyes on Oscar’s careful expression
“Oh, it’s fine, I trust you. Logan only reports good things about you. If that’s the case and there won’t be any trouble later since I’m your student, I reckon it’s fine.” Oscar shrugged.
“I assure you you won’t run into any issues. I’d just ask you to not tell anyone yet until after the practice session. I will inform you of all the steps and give you the agreement form during office hours on Thursday, if that’s alright with you?” Lando looked at him over the rim of his glasses, fingers already typing away at his computer to pull up the needed documents. A faint hint of a smile appeared on Oscar’s face, and Lando was delighted. Oscar would make for such a unique model.
“I’m honoured to have caught your attention, then. I look forward to it,” he smiled, nodding. Just then, the door opened, and Logan reappeared. “Good talk?” he asked, a teasing edge to his tone. It was Oscar who spoke up, “Very much so. Anything else I can assist with, maybe?”
“Could you give me an opinion on my latest pictures?” Logan asked, and the rest of the office hours flew by like that, the occasional student coming by to have questions answered and the constant stream of lighthearted chatter keeping Lando’s office more alive than usual. All in all, a successful day.
Lando had sent Oscar all the necessary documents just in time as promised, from the agreement form to a project outline and some examples of previous works with (former) students. Oscar, diligent as he was, had returned the form signed by E-Mail the very same day, attaching his schedule so Lando could check if they shared a free time slot. Insightful, foreseeing, leaving Lando feeling positively. He’d immediately shot a text to Max after reading Oscar’s mail, consisting of a message riddled with typos but uncaring about it as he knew that Max would get the gist anyways. If not, he’d give his best friend a call or ask in person. The professor had found a time that worked for both of them, Tuesday from 10 a.m. to noon, and he’d put in a request to use the smallest of the university’s photography studios that day immediately. Once that had been confirmed, which had only taken an hour, luckily, he’d informed Oscar via mail. Oscar had nodded at him upon entering the lecture hall, and Lando had taken it as confirmation that he’d received it and agreed with it.
Come Tuesday, Lando was nervous as he bustled about the studio, setting up the cameras and lights and greenscreen. He’d been at the studio a minute after 10 a.m. seeing as it was the closest one to his usual lecture hall, whereas Oscar needed to transfer over from a different building, what with being an architecture major and all. Logan had told Lando offhandedly about it, how Oscar had chosen photography as a minor to be able to properly understand his future field of work from all angles, not only the theoretical one (and partially because of Lando, too).
A sturdy knocking sound made Lando jump, lost in thought. “Come on in!” he called out after a second of collecting himself. The door opened with a creak, slowly but steadily, the heavy wood giving way to Oscar making his way in. Lando hadn’t requested him to wear anything particular, but he’d shown up in black jeans, white shoes and a white shirt, neutral as could be, perfect for test photos. Lando briefly wondered if he wasn’t cold, then remembered to greet him. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me here during your free time, Oscar, I hope you’ve had a good day so far?”
Lando liked doing practice photoshoots with people - it told him a lot about them how they behaved in front of the camera, what their best angles were and weren’t. It told him how he needed to behave with his camera to get the best shot, how much they were comfortable with, what situations they might prefer or not to have their picture taken and, in the end, how to create a meaningful masterpiece. It wasn’t meant to weed people out; if he saw something in them, he’d typically take pictures if they agreed. “I did, just a bit nervous, to be honest,” Oscar chuckled, licking his lips, presumably a nervous habit. He didn’t meet Lando’s eyes for long, eyes flicking around the room quickly to take everything in.
“Oh, well, I hope I can take some of that nervousness away as we go,” Lando said, placing a dark wooden stool in the middle of the camera frame, “if it’s because of the shoot. I promise there’s no pressure whatsoever.”
“Ah, I honestly prefer to be behind the camera. I think the last time I actively had my picture taken was by my mom when I was a kid,” Oscar said half-joking. He looked at Lando, surveying his reaction, and Lando laughed lightly. He imagined Oscar, toothy grin, sitting somewhere on an Australian beach while his mother asked him to smile for the camera. “Sounds like a good memory, yeah? That’s a good foundation to work with. If you really, absolutely hate it, you can still tap out, just so you know, but I just wanna see how we can best work together, what you’re comfortable with or not, what equipment to use, all of that stuff. Sound alright?”
“Yeah, cool,” Oscar replied, his shoulders dropping slightly, losing some of the tension they’d been holding. “Can I just-?” he asked, gesturing to a corner of the room while he unshouldered his backpack. “Oh! Oh, totally,” Lando exclaimed, showing him where Lando had stashed his own briefcase and jacket in a far corner of the room. While Oscar dropped off his stuff, Lando turned on the camera. Everything was adjusted, ready to begin. Lando was very glad that he’d hooked up his phone to a portable speaker, playing gentle music in the background.
“Take a seat, please, nothing special. Kind of like an ID pic at first, to get started,” Lando instructed, and Oscar followed nicely. He looked as awkward as one did when taking ID pictures, but it already provided Lando with valuable information about him. Photography, to Lando, was a highly social thing, a progress, always individual and unique and requiring flexibility. He directed Oscar around some basic poses for a bit, then asking him to sit how he normally would when studying, reading a book or scrolling on his phone, using those things as props, and with each picture, he noticed Oscar loosening up a bit more.
They made small talk while at it, Lando using those communications classes from several years prior to his advantage, easing Oscar into it. He tried out several lenses and light adjustments and cameras, had Oscar interact with the objects and even managed to take a few pictures when they just talked, catching him off guard and capturing his emotions as he said something particularly witty or funny. They got on well, as well as a professor and a student could, Oscar asking more and more questions and replying to Lando’s questions more detailed than before.
Time flew by quickly, Lando getting some gorgeous shots even in such a sterile, prepared setting, and ending the practice shoot with a whole mental notebook filled with information and ideas. Sure, he still had the idea that he’d had when he’d seen Oscar first, how he wanted to photograph him if possible, but that was a conversation for a different day.
“I had fun, actually,” Oscar said as he helped Lando deconstruct everything again. “Oh, wait, that came out weird. Let’s say I thought I’d be nervous for longer, maybe.”
“I’m glad you weren’t. Didn’t promise too much, did I? I personally think we work well together. If you would like to proceed, I’d be more than happy to. Your vibe is inspiring; I think, if it works out, I might create one of my best pieces with you,” Lando told him honestly, seeing no point in not being direct. It was true - working with Oscar held an incredible amount of potential, and he longed to tell him as such. He couldn’t wait to ask for Max’s opinion on some of the pictures later when they’d be meeting for dinner at Max’s place.
“No, you were right, there was no pressure at all. Thank you so much again for the opportunity, really, it’s such an honour to work with you,” Oscar replied as they went to retrieve their stuff, the last of the equipment secured and stashed away in its rightful place. Lando pulled his jacket on, whereas Oscar had only brought a sweatshirt. Lando froze just looking at it. Oscar didn’t even put it on.
“Please,” Lando said, “if anything, I’m honoured you’re willing to work with me. I’d be nothing without wonderful muses, truly. I only capture and showcase what I see.”
Oscar blushed, faint and barely noticeable, and Lando wondered how that would show up on camera. Beautifully, he presumed. They left the room and Lando locked up as they talked about what would be the next step; Lando telling him he’d send over an E-Mail including some of his ideas and plans. Oscar was to give him his feedback on it whenever he could. After saying their goodbyes, they went their separate ways, at least for lunch, both of them happier than before.
Lando shot a text to Max, riddled with typos caused by his haste, and received a call in return. “Mate, what are you trying to say?”
“Welcome, class, I hope you’ve had a successful week so far. I’d like to make an announcement,” Lando raised his voice once the chatter in the lecture hall had mostly died down. The rest of the murmurs faded out impressively quickly once he’d finished his sentences. He stood in front of the rows of students, Logan next to him - he’d be leading a portion of the class today by himself for the first time, the class that Oscar was in. It was Lando’s third time making this announcement today, but the reactions were always the same, predictable, and the students had probably already heard about it, anyways. It spread like wildfire year and year again.
“You may remember that, at the beginning of the year, I told you about a mandatory field trip that you will need to attend in order to get enough credits to pass this class. There will be two dates; you can pick whichever works best for your schedule. If none work, you just let me know and we will find a solution. Whoever is sick at the time of the trip they signed up for, we will also come up with a solution, so don’t worry too much about that just yet.” Lando paused, waiting so that everybody could follow him. He looked back at Logan, who’d set up the presentation in the background displaying the necessary information.
“Some of you may have heard about it already, but each year, I take my classes on these trips to properly see you all in action and enhance your skills and perception. Being handed in works in one thing, seeing them be created is another thing entirely. This year, we will be going to Bristol, once in December and once in June so it won’t interfere with exams. There will be a list uploaded to the coursework program where you can all sign up for your preferred dates, as well as information about the assignments, cost, duration, accommodation and modes of transport. I am suggesting you all read it after class and if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask either Logan here or myself. An answer will be needed by this time next week.”
Lando looked up into the class if there were any raised hands. He found several arms up, but only one of them he noticed immediately, eyes zeroing in on who it belonged to - Oscar. He called on the student, “Yes, Mr. Piastri?”
“I was wondering whether it’s possible to attend both field trips?” Oscar cocked his head to the side slightly; Lando had a clear view of him, seated in the second row, right at the edge, right across Lando’s centre stage, and the place in front of him was coincidentally empty. He looked magnificent, his unruly hair falling across his forehead, white shirt clinging to his biceps, a button undone.
“An excellent question,” Lando replied with a nod and a smile, “and the answer is yes, but only under certain circumstances. I do prefer to take a few more students on the first trip to have some more resources available for the ones who get sick and will imminently be moved to the second date. However, if the slots of the second trip are not all filled, it is possible for the students who either are missing some credits or have other valid reasons to attend a second time. But you cannot sign up for both trips right off the bat so as to give everybody an equal chance.”
After waiting for a moment in which all the remaining hands slowly but steadily dropped down, Lando continued. “The document will be made accessible at the end of the day. For now, I’d like to let Logan take the floor for the first half of today’s class.” He stepped to the side, taking a seat behind his desk, while Logan went to the front, Laptop perched on the edge of the second desk next to Lando’s. He’d switched to his own presentation, speaking up with a barely-noticeable shake in his voice and a sweet smile. Oscar discreetly shot him a thumbs-up, and Lando’s eyes crinkled up, taking notes as Logan introduced the topic of the day.
Lando never took his work home with him, but this evening, sitting on his sofa in his pajamas, he opened up his laptop, checking the list for the field trips. He scanned for Oscar’s name, cheering to himself when he saw that the other man had signed up for the December date.
“I saw you signed up for the December date,” Lando mentioned as Oscar placed his backpack on the floor, something making a thunking sound inside of it. Oscar flinched minimally, “Just my water bottle. Gets me each time.” Lando, amused, answered “Maybe you’ll need a new one soon?” They were in Lando’s office, this time during a free period for them both. Oscar had asked to discuss the further plan for their photoshootings, and Lando had offered to show him the results from the practice shoot, too.
“Maybe,” Oscar replied, “and yeah. I didn’t wanna take the risk of choosing the second date and getting sick then, albeit I had to argue with my mom about it a bit. She wasn’t too thrilled that I’d be a day late for our Christmas preparations.” Oscar fiddled with his fingers, intertwining them, face distorting into a grimace.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do they live far away? You’ve got an accent, I couldn’t help but notice.”
“Yeah, they’re still in Melbourne,” Oscar elaborated, and Lando’s eyes went wide. He’d chosen Bristol this year to be a bit closer to his family, staying there after the trip for the festivities, and in return had accidentally kept Oscar from seeing his own. “The travel time out there is around a day. It’s horrendous, really, but the semester break is long enough to warrant it. I went to boarding school here, so it’s nothing new to me. No need to look so scandalised,” Oscar jokingly mentioned the last part, then his eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out.”
“It’s no problem, Oscar, I don’t mind. I may be your professor, but we’re both adults, no? Albeit I am genuinely sorry about cutting short your time with your family, maybe it was a tad selfish of me to put the date so close to the holidays. Then again, I wasn’t allowed to let it fall into January due to the exams, I hope you can understand that.” He filled two glasses of water, sliding one over to the student, who took it with a nod and a smile.
“Thanks. No, it is understandable, don’t worry, and I don’t think it’s selfish. Or, if it is, family time is a good reason to be selfish, no? And I’m sincerely excited for the trip, I’ve heard loads of it, honestly.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Lando admitted, smiling at Oscar. “I’m glad you aren’t mad. Albeit I’m interested in the things you’ve heard about it?” There was a glint in Lando’s eyes, a matching one showing in Oscar’s as they widened. “They’re rather legendary around campus, did you know? But I will only share the details of what I’ve heard after I’ve seen for myself if it’s true or not,” Oscar teased, and Lando laughed.
“Well played, and I’ll hold you to that. Shall we talk about the photoshoot, then?”
“Sure,” Oscar agreed, and as it always seemed to be when Oscar was around, time flew by, talking about much more than just their private project. Lando got home late that evening, having dropped Oscar off at the train station so he’d catch his last connection home. He tried not to dwell on what it implied; on the way he’d felt talking to Oscar all this time, having dinner in his car together for convenience and pressure for time. Lando had made up for keeping Oscar for so long, that was all, or so he tried to tell himself. Max didn’t need to hear about this. (He’d probably already seen it coming.)
The second photoshoot took place in the city. Cambridge wasn’t utterly big, but it was filled with gorgeous spots. They met at a park not far from Lando’s place, albeit Oscar didn’t know that yet. And he wouldn’t, for the sake of professionalism, Lando firmly repeated to himself as he made his way there, camera equipment bagged and securely strapped across his shoulder as he walked the short distance to the park. He was early, a skip in his step, excited and ready to take pictures of Oscar in a more natural environment.
Lando spent the time until Oscar arrived analysing the light and angles and thinking about how the pictures might turn out. Sure, he had a plan for the session, but life liked to change those all the time. He grew a tad worried as Oscar didn’t appear five minutes after their agreed-upon time, having no way to contact him - he wouldn’t send the other man an E-Mail from his school account on a Saturday morning. As he was starting to fall into a spiral of thoughts, he breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted Oscar, face red and hair in disarray, hastily making his way over.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the student breathed, and Lando could see his chest rising with each breath. The weather was surprisingly warm, the last bits of summer before it would be colder soon blessing them, and Oscar was in a nicely fitting shirt and jeans, enhancing his proportions. Lando himself had bundled up in a thick hoodie either way, preferring the comfort the garment brought him. Oscar continued, “The train was late, and then I took a wrong turn, but I brought you a croissant, if you’d like? I stumbled upon this bakery and figured why not since I was already running late.” The other man smiled shyly after his short monologue, a tad embarrassed, his cheeks reddening for a reason other than exhaustion. He held out a bag containing the pastry that Lando hadn’t noticed before, too focused on Oscar himself.
“Oh, thank you!” he said, gingerly taking the bag from him. “I’m glad you could make it, I was just starting to worry.”
“You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?” Oscar asked, an edge of worry audible in his voice. Lando smiled kindly, “Don’t fret, I came early to gauge the possibilities of the shoot and prepare the cameras. We can eat first, though, so you can relax after your eventful way here? It’ll be fine.”
“I- yes, please, if that’s no bother.”
“Absolutely isn’t. Besides, now I’m suddenly hungry. Let’s sit?” Lando pointed to a nearby bench, and they made their way there, Lando digging for the croissant. He ripped it in two, offering one half to Oscar. “It seems you need some fuel, too.” Oscar took it with thanks as they sat down. After a few moments, the student spoke up.
“Please tell me if I’m overstepping, but I was wondering.. since we will meet up for the pictures more often, and one of us might be late again, and I’m not sure about using our uni logins to communicate on the weekends, would it be possible to exchange numbers? Of course not for private conversations, and I absolutely get it if not! I don’t want to put you into a precarious position or anything. I was just thinking it might be beneficial,” he said, big brown eyes flitting all over Lando’s face. It was endearing, his nervousness. Lando hummed around his croissant before replying.
“I was just thinking about that while waiting for you, actually. It’s kind of a gray area, but I suppose it’s fine if it’s truly only for the purpose of our project. Hand me your phone? I’ll put my number in.”
Oscar patted his pockets, looking for his phone and handing it to Lando unlocked. In Lando’s mind, many things were happening all at once - he, a professor, was giving his personal number to a student. It was only for the purpose of his art. He didn’t want it to be solely for that, he realised as he typed in the digits, leaving the name free on purpose, not about to put his contact down as ‘Mr. Norris’ even though he definitely should have. The lines of professionalism were blurring faster than Lando liked, but the rush of endorphins was addictive. “Here you go. Send a text so I have yours, too? And thank you for the croissant again, it’s amazing.”
“You’re welcome,” Oscar smiled, fiddling with his phone, and Lando felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket. “Thanks for trusting me with this, professor.” There was a lilt in his voice, teasing, barely audible, but Lando caught it nonetheless. He replied, gulping as the voices in his head went even crazier, “Please, while we aren’t at uni, you can call me Lando.”
“Alright, Lando,” Oscar tried it out, and Lando’s breath hitched with Oscar saying his name. “How would you like to have me for the first picture, then?”
Lando feared that Oscar was working hard to get his professionalism to be thrown to the wind. He should stop it, but he knew that he wouldn’t want to. Nothing was going to happen, he reminded himself, he’d put a stop to it once strictly necessary. So far, Oscar had done nothing to warrant that, and neither had he himself. Then again, Lando had a vision for his pictures that would annihilate even the faintest traces of an appropriate student-teacher relationship, but oh well.
The rain hit an hour into their shoot. It hadn’t been forecast, catching them both by surprise, especially Oscar in his shirt and lack of outerwear. It started as a light drizzle that they waved off and kept on working with, then morphing into a full-on rainshower. As it started intensifying, Oscar called out, “Let’s seek shelter, Lando, your camera’s getting wet!” He ran towards the professor, who kept on taking pictures until Oscar was right in front of him, capturing the raw motion and emotion that he was expressing. Then, it dawned on him that his camera had been too expensive to let it get soaked in the rain. “Yeah, good idea,” he confirmed, and they rushed to gather all their things.
“Where to?” Oscar asked, “this isn’t really my neighbourhood. Know any spots to spend the time until it stops raining?”
Lando blanked for a second. He knew he really shouldn’t say what he was about to, but the words were out of his mouth before he could truly consider what they meant. “My apartment isn’t far from here. Come on, let’s go!” he called out, looking over his shoulder, already a few steps ahead. Oscar snapped out of his stupor, running after him carrying the other half of the camera equipment. He followed Lando out of the park and down two streets before they came to a stop in front of an apartment building. The doors slid open for them automatically, and they hurriedly went inside, wiping their shoes on the carpet and shaking off some of the water.
“It’s this way, I’m on the third floor,” Lando said, voice now quieter, body shaking from the cold rain clinging to him now that the adrenaline was slowly wearing off.0i He led Oscar towards the staircase, seeing as the elevator was currently out of order. Luckily, the trek wasn’t too long, and before long, Lando unlocked the door to his home. It was a border he had vowed to not cross with Oscar, a student, the lines blurring further as they stepped over the threshold, but drastic times called for desperate measures or whatever the saying was.
“There we are, welcome to my humble abode. You can take off your shoes here, the bathroom is behind the last door on the right. Take a shower if you’d like, I can fetch you some clothes?” Lando offered as they shrugged off their shoes, setting the camera equipment down gingerly in the kitchen entryway. “If that’s no problem, I’d love that,” Oscar admitted, shyly nodding his head. His shirt was clinging to his chest and Lando swiftly looked away as he caught his gaze straying from the other man’s face. After a moment, he nodded, “Right, sure, towels are in the cabinet below the sink,” and trailed down the hallway, Oscar hot on his heels. Lando popped into his bedroom, the door slightly ajar as he rummaged through his wardrobe.
Pulling out a hoodie - one of his favourites, hence one of his most comfortable ones, only the best for his guest -, a shirt, joggers, socks and a pair of underwear, he turned around, only slightly surprised to find Oscar standing in the doorway. He still jumped a bit at the sight, a manifestation of his heart speeding up inside his chest. “One of everything, take however much you want or need. Take your time, I’ll prepare you a cup of tea in the meantime. Sugar?”
“A bit of honey, if you’ve got it, otherwise not. Thank you so much. I’ll be quick so you can shower, too,” Oscar took the clothes out of Lando’s arms gingerly, brushing his fingers over Lando’s forearms in the process. If it was intentional, Lando couldn’t tell, but it caused goosebumps to rise on his skin. Oscar was getting under his skin, slowly but surely, and he couldn’t have that. Once the sound of the bathroom door locking echoed throughout the apartment, Lando changed out of his own wet clothes and into a comfortable hoodie and joggers, transferring his wet clothes to the washing machine. He briefly wondered whether it was appropriate to walk around in such casual attire when a student of his was around, but nothing of this was appropriate enough, so he discarded the thought.
The tea was at a drinkable temperature once the Australian man emerged from the bathroom and Lando had checked upon his equipment, which was luckily undamaged. Lando took the wet clothes Oscar was carrying awkwardly, disposing them into the washing machine, too, then turning it on after putting in detergent. “I’ll return it to you dry on Tuesday during office hours, if that works and you don’t wanna wait here until it’s dry,” he said. Oscar had started sipping his tea, looking around the apartment from his spot at the small kitchen island. “Are you not gonna shower? You got soaked, too.”
“No worries, I’ll go later. I’m all dry and warm again by now,” he replied, taking a sip of his tea, too. “You can stay as long as you’d like, it’s still storming out there. Do you maybe want to go through the pictures with me? I already checked the camera and stuff, it’s all good.”
“That sounds cool,” Oscar nodded,” albeit it’s still a bit weird to see myself like that? Through your lens, I mean. I’m not really someone who takes a lot of selfies or anything,” he chuckled, a deep and comfortable sound. Lando nodded sympathetically as he moved to grab the camera with which he’d taken the pictures off the counter, “Yeah, me neither. Taking pictures of other people is much nicer, and it makes you really think about the complexity of human life.”
They huddled closer so both of them could see the small screen, upper arms nearly touching. One picture showed Oscar on his back in the grass, eyes closed with a content smile, arms crossed behind his head. Another one captured him looking over his shoulder, the sun behind his head giving him a halo of sorts. A third one showcased him stretching, his arms raised, his shirt lifting at the bottom hem and exposing a tiny strip of skin, the trees and passersby in the background blurring together. “I didn’t know I could give off such a vibe,” Oscar whistled lowly, looking at Lando. “Impressed?” the professor challenged with a slight smirk, and Oscar’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he replied, “Yeah, actually. I’ve seen your work, obviously, but being its subject is another thing entirely.”
Oscar looked into Lando’s eyes, their brown colour being minimized by his dilated pupils. "May I?” he asked, reaching for the camera. Lando handed it to him willingly. Oscar exited out of the gallery, switching to portrait mode, and Lando had an idea. He grabbed a different camera off the counter, quickly turning it on. By the time he turned back to Oscar, the other man had already raised the camera up to his face, waiting for this moment to take his first picture as the sound echoed through the otherwise silent room. Lando copied him.
There was something about this picture that he’d be mulling about later, he knew. Oscar, in Lando’s clothes, in Lando’s apartment, handling Lando’s camera to take pictures of Lando. It sent shivers of excitement down his spine.
The clothes, a bit too big on Lando out of comfort, fit Oscar snugly. He took another picture, this time angled lower, his head not in the picture in exchange for the waistband of Lando’s boxers showing where the joggers were sitting low on his hips. Lando took a step closer, adjusting his position as he kept on taking pictures, hearing Oscar do the same. Suddenly, Oscar instructed softly, “Don’t move, okay?” and squatted down, laying on the floor. The hoodie was bunching up underneath him, but he didn’t seem to care about the cold tiles touching his back. “Stand over me,” he said, and Lando did, straddling his hips as they both took more pictures from their respective angles. It felt powerful and stripping himself of power at once, in a way, Lando on top feeling like he’d do anything Oscar asked of him right now.
Lando placed the camera on the kitchen island. He leaned down, taking one of Oscar’s outstretched hands, the other one not stopping to capture the moment. In the end, Lando helped Oscar up, who put the camera down next to the other one. “Now we have some more pictures to go through,” he said, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Mind if we sit?”
“Let me show you to the living room,” Lando replied, taking the cameras with him. He’d held onto Oscar’s hand until the last possible moment, not sure if he was imagining the squeeze the other man might or might not have given him.
“I get it,” Oscar said as they looked at the pictures he’d taken of the professor, “I didn’t quite before since I mainly take pictures of architectural structures. But I get it, I think. The layers there are to human pictures, the versatility. The potential, the room for interpretation. Thank you for teaching me that.”
“Always a pleasure to share a passion. You’re talented, Oscar. Now I won’t make you change your major, but if you’d consider it by yourself, I’d vouch for you.”
Oscar laughed at that, genuine and loud. “I’ll definitely consider it now. I think this might be my favourite so far, look,” he said, pointing at the screen. The picture showed Lando standing above Oscar, reaching for his hand, eyes sparkling and expression etched into something determined yet gentle yet explorative, tentative, even. His necklace was dangling out from his shirt, adding dimension to the picture. “Maybe you’re just a good muse,” he proposed.
“Thanks for the compliment. I’ll give it right back,” Lando reiterated as he leaned over Oscar to reach the coffee table and the other camera to look at the pictures he himself had taken. They went over them, neither of them scooting away from where their thighs were touching, warm and heavy and cozy. Then, they delved into a conversation about how Oscar had gotten into his majors, about how Lando had gotten into photography, and neither of them had any idea how much time passed. Lando prepared new tea for them at some point, ordering food as they’d forgotten to bring or prepare anything for lunch, sitting down closely and Lando showing Oscar more of his equipment.
Until Oscar got a call. “It's Logan, I'll take this,” he mumbled before picking up. Lando was able to make out bits and pieces of it. Upon hanging up, Oscar looked at him sheepishly. “As much as I’d love to stay for longer, I’m afraid I forgot I was to meet Logan and some other friends today. One of our friends is having a football game today and we promised to go and support him. It starts in half an hour. I’m so sorry to cut this short, Lando, it’s truly been an amazing day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry I kept you for so long, and thank you for today, Oscar. I had a great time, too. Good luck to your friend for his game,” Lando spoke, and Oscar replied in kind. He put on his shoes, wincing as he felt that they weren’t completely dry, and, with parting words, left Lando’s apartment. The door fell shut behind him, still clad in Lando’s clothes, the laundry forgotten in the washing machine, leaving the aforementioned man in silence. Lando had something to figure out for himself.
While the first trip would only take place in December, Lando still had to plan for it. Of course, the general outline was the same, but the accommodations had to be picked, the money paid, the lists of students and financial support from the school accounted for and so on and so forth. Luckily, he had Logan to help, as well as George and Alex, who would be the other professors on this trip. Lando always had two other professors travel with him, and it changed every year, but this time around, Alex and George had basically begged him to come. Lando had thought it suspicious, the amount of desperation they showed, but had agreed, curiosity getting the better of him. “Say hi to your parents and bring me back some of your mom's cooking, yeah?” Max had asked, and Lando had replied, laughing, “Like you won't be coming up for New Year's, mate.”
Neither Alex, being a professor in veterinary medicine, nor George in law had a particular affinity towards photography. Why they were scrambling to be in the position to accompany him was beyond him, but he was sure to find out soon enough.
His suspicions proved correct at the end of November.
The trip was only three weeks away. It had been a hectic few weeks with preparing for the first exams of the semester, grading assignments and planning the trip, and Oscar had fared no better - they’d been trying hard and failing to find a date that worked for them both to take more pictures, try out the next step on their agenda to prepare for Lando’s final vision (that Oscar still only knew bits and pieces about, mental copyright and easing him into it and all that). They hadn’t even found a free time slot on the weekends, either one of them having something planned, needing to prepare for uni, and Oscar had fallen sick one time, too. Lando had wished him well and given Logan a few of the tea bags he kept in his office, the ones that he’d noticed Oscar preferred.
Lando tried not to feel too frustrated about it. Frankly, though, it had left him miffed. Not only did he not get to take pictures of Oscar, he also simply didn’t get to see him outside of class (and the two times he came by for a quick chat during office hours). He shouldn’t feel any particular way about this, he knew, but he’d long accepted that he couldn’t help it. Max had shook his head, told him to “be careful if you go for it, I’d hate to see you unhappy either way” and that had been that. It had actually helped Lando out tremendously at accepting that he was interested in Oscar beyond a student-teacher relationship. He was far from being in love with him, but he most certainly wanted to get to know Oscar as a person even more.
It was a Wednesday, George and Alex were sitting across from him in his office for a private lunch break, and Lando had thought they were there to catch up a bit and talk about some of the trips’ details. He hadn’t found the time to hang out with them in private since the semester started, all of them absolutely swamped with more students in their courses than before, and had only seen them during lunch breaks and occasional team meetings. And they did talk about the trips, just not in the way he’d been expecting.
Lando, fork forgotten in his mouth, looked from Alex to George and back to Alex again, blinking, slowly putting his hand down on the table, narrowly missing his plate. “What?” he mumbled, realised the fork was still in his mouth and swiftly removed it. “Sorry, what?”
“You’ve got.. there,” George gestured to his own mouth, signalling to Lando that he had pasta in his face. He removed that, too. “Hold up,” he said, “let me rewind that. So I’ve been trying to find a way to deal with my potential feelings for a student while both of you are sleeping with said student’s best friend, my TA?”
“Yes?” Alex replied, a question more than anything else, high-pitched towards the end as he shrugged, a grimace splitting his face. Then, it shifted to utter confusion, “Wait, your feelings for who? Do you mean Oscar? Logan’s told us so much about him but we haven’t met him yet. Why do we not know about this? Lando, what are you hiding?”
“No, no, no,” Lando blocked the inquiries off, “that’s a topic for later. You want to come with me on this trip because you’re fucking my TA. Together. At once, probably, knowing you two. Explain yourselves. When, how, why? I need to know, both as your friend and your colleague whose field trips you’re planning to defile.” He leaned back in his chair, food forgotten for now, and stared his friends down.
“Do you need to know so you can trust us as chaperones or so you know how to pull Oscar?” George asked in return, and Lando fixed him with his stare, an eyebrow raised. “You first. I’m not saying anything before knowing the full story. Who else knows? I can’t believe Logan never spoke about this, he always tells me all the campus gossip. Well, he probably didn’t wanna run into trouble. Does he know you’re telling me this? When did he even find the time?”
“Yes, he does,” George answered, ever so dutiful, while Alex launched into a more elaborate explanation. The couple, upon speaking at the same time, smiled at each other, squeezing their hands together. It was disgustingly sweet. “Well, Logan approached us one evening at a bar across town. We had no idea he was a student, or your TA, and he also didn’t recognise us since he’s in neither of our classes. To be fair, he approached me sitting at the bar while George was using the bathroom; just started talking to me, nothing special. Well, when George came back, Logan, instead of backing off or being intimidated or anything, just included him in the conversation, ordered him a beer, even.” Lando nodded along to the explanations, having a few bites of food in between.
Weirdly enough, it gave him a bit of hope, hearing about this.
“We had an absolutely lovely chat until I finally remembered to ask why he’d approached Alex in the first place,” George continued on. “I’m still impressed by how confidently he said that he did it because he was interested in him. Looked me straight in the eye as he did so, then told us that when I returned, he was drawn to me, too, and just went for it. No risk, no reward, so to say. Pretty strong character trait, I think, and it incited me to invite him back home with us. You can probably imagine how that night ended,” George finished, mumbling a bit towards the end, but Lando caught it anyway.
“Who fucked who?” he asked, just to see the scandalised looks on their faces. He giggled as their shocked expressions took over, then quickly waved them off. “I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said, and followed it up, “I know y’all like to switch. So, are you making me sign an NDA?” It was said as a joke, but Lando’s face fell as George, law professor through and through, reached into his coat pocket and unfolded a neat piece of paper. “Actually, yes.”
Lando signed it, against his own belief.
“Alright, I’m curious and you guys should answer my questions if you want to accompany me. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he shook his head before continuing on, “but please tell me that you’re not just treating it as two little sexcations. George, please,” he pleaded, but George grinned at him not unlike Alex, whom Lando definitely trusted to sneak away for a quickie while the students were working on their assigned projects. “George, you dog,” Lando sighed.
“Well, and we will help you with Oscar, of course! If you need our help, that is,” Alex added semi-helpfully, but he made up for it with excitement. Trust him to play wingman, seeing as it had worked so well with Bakery-Max and Charles, his hairstylist shop neighbour, but that was a story for another time. A fond memory, at least, which was only minimal consolation in that moment. “I do not need help with Oscar, thank you very much,” Lando said pointedly, “because there is nothing going on.”
“But you want there to be something going on,” Alex challenged. He had a knack for budding romances and spotting (un)requited feelings from 50 miles away. At this moment, it was a curse, Lando thought.
“This is not about me right now, don’t deflect,” Lando admonished, “or I will bring Max along instead.” Alex, bless his heart, paled at the threat, even though there was no bite behind it. As much as he was worried about staying professional while they travelled, they were his friends, and if he could make them happy, he would do so whenever possible. A smiling George subtly shook his head as Alex looked at him, searching for support, and sighing in relief at George. “Empty threats,” George mouthed, and Lando glared at him.
“I need you to promise me two things,” he said. “Pinky promises.”
“Lando, we’re in our thirties,” George deadpanned. Lando and Alex both raised an eyebrow at him. Alex was the one who spoke first, “You don’t break pinky promises,” to which Lando nodded sagely. “In all seriousness, though, first off I need you to promise to take care of yourselves and of Logan, yes? I’d hate to see it if either or you got hurt, or worse, expelled.” All of them couldn’t hide their amusement at the reference, but Lando, still smiling, cleared his throat to continue on.
“I also need you to promise that whatever happens in Bristol stays in Bristol. After school work is done, preferably.”
Alex held out his pinky finger, Lando hooking his own around it. They both looked at George pointedly, who sighed but indulged them either way. With that, it was settled.
They talked a bit more after that, about their feelings for Logan, Logan’s feelings for them, what it meant for their relationship and moral values as professors, and it provided Lando with some much-needed insight.
Due to the lack of time during the lunch break, he evaded having to answer most of the questions they had about Oscar, but Alex, upon putting on his coat, told him with a warning finger in the air, “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, Norris. An eye for an eye.” George, just before pulling the door shut behind them, whispered, “We do switch, but that first night, they both had me at once.”
Lando did not know how to deal with that information. He let himself fall forward, his head thumping against the door.
Lando hadn’t been expecting Oscar when the young Aussie knocked on the door to his office on a Friday afternoon. The professor had just been packing up, the last class done and all the needed materials for Monday already prepared in advance. Oscar peeked his head in through the door after Lando had called out “Come in, please!”, eyes big, and he looked back out into the hallway before closing the door behind himself. He stayed close to the door. “Hi,” he exhaled, “have you got a moment?”
“Sure, always,” Lando offered, gesturing to his jacket. “I was just about to head out. Would you like to walk with me? You look like you need to calm down a bit,” he said, concerned. He hadn’t seen Oscar like that before. Oscar, upon his suggestion, visibly relaxed. He was carrying a messenger bag and wearing a thin jacket. “That sounds good, thank you. I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know, it was my first instinct to come here, I don’t even know if I should have-”
“Oscar, it’s alright. Deep breaths, yeah? Here,” he said, holding out a water bottle. Oscar took it, taking a huge gulp out of it. “Thanks,” he said again. “Sorry, I was just wondering, uh, if you- if you knew? About.. Logan? And.. the.. you know?”
“Professors Russell and Albon?” Lando offered, and Oscar slowly lowered the bottle after having put the lid back on. Lando gingerly took it from him as he saw how much Oscar’s hand was shaking. “Yes,” he said. His eyes still looked big and scared. “You know, it seems. But.. what does that mean for Logan? I just had to make sure that nothing would happen to him. Please, he can’t be expelled. This, being here, this is all he has, he can’t just head back to America. I don’t think anyone else knows, either-”
“-Oscar, please, relax. I’m not telling anyone,” Lando gently interrupted him, taking a step closer to put a hand on his shoulder. Beneath his touch, Oscar’s trembling slowed immediately. “They’re my friends and Logan is the best TA I’ve ever had. I won’t hurt my friends like that, and also not yours. Logan also mentioned to me that it was difficult for him back home, yes? Nothing’s going to happen to anyone, Oscar, don’t worry.”
Oscar opened his mouth, closing it again, no word coming out. “Oh,” he exhaled, and then, “fuck, I was so worried. He told me I shouldn’t be, but I had to check for myself. Damn, I shouldn’t even have come here, right?” he choked on his words, looking up at Lando despite being taller than him, having slumped against the door. Lando smiled at him reassuringly. “You know my door is always open if you’ve got any trouble, Oscar, no matter how insignificant it may seem. I will help you,” he firmly reinstated, squeezing Oscar’s bicep before drawing back his hand. It was warm and tingly where his palm had been in contact with the body heat that Oscar seemed to constantly radiate. He’d noticed it first when helping him find a position for a photo, and it hadn’t quite left his head since.
“Thank you,” Oscar said once again, not adding anything else, merely looking at Lando with a vulnerable yet extremely grateful expression. Lando took the initiative. “Now, walk with me? I’d like to hear about how infamous my field trips seem to be, you mentioned you’d heard some stories.”
Lando and Oscar walked across campus to the car park where Lando had parked his car, and Oscar interrupted himself as he spotted it. He’d been recounting what he’d heard someone from his major, Arthur, say about the field trips. Oscar had laughed in disbelief when Lando had asked if this Arthur had a brother named Charles who was a florist, exhaling, “Yes, he does! He won’t stop talking about his older brothers, but it’d be sweeter if he didn’t only talk about how miserably single he is in comparison. Do you know Charles?”
“I do,” Lando had replied, “Mainly because of Max, you know, the Dutch bakery owner? Those pastries are to die for, I’ll bring you one on Monday, yeah? Just drop by my office during lunch if you want.”
“Thanks, I’ve been hearing so much about Max’s pastries from my fellow students, but didn’t get around to- shit, Lando, look, that is a 765LT,” he said, pointing at it, “in a custom colour. Lando?”
Lando, catching his awestruck expression, proudly confirmed, “Yup, it is, and it’s my whole pride. I didn’t know you were into cars, but that works out wonderfully,” he said, happily clapping his hands. When Oscar failed to reply, still looking at the professor like he was a cow on the moon, Lando proposed, “Next time, let’s take some pictures of you in my car. Do you drive?” Oscar nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m free this Sunday at two,” he said weakly, hopeful nonetheless as he gazed back at the beautiful machinery in front of them.
“Awesome! Prepare yourself, then. I hope you know how to handle 765 HP.”
If Lando picked Oscar up from his flat and took him all the way to Snetterton Circuit for not only pictures but also some driving fun and private pictures, that was nobody’s business but theirs.
“He's so young, Max, so full of potential and life and I could only dream to capture this youthful spirit,” Lando lamented over the phone that same evening. He'd brought Oscar home after their impromptu trip to Snetterton, gotten himself two chicken wraps for emotional comfort and called Max, who'd been in the middle of dinner with his girlfriend. He'd picked up anyways, so it was his fault, really.
“You talk like you're some old soul, mate,” Max replied dryly. “Wait, is that what it's about? You're worried you're too old for him? So did you decide to go for it, then, or are you still doubting it because he's your student?” He sounded somewhat excited, even, and Lando briefly thought that, as a fellow professor, Max really shouldn't be encouraging him to pursue a student-teacher relationship, but there they were. Max was his closest friend and would want him to be happy first and foremost, willing to support him through the best and the worst of decisions.
“Kind of,” Lando replied, shrugging. Bundled up in a blanket on his sofa, he'd put Max on speaker while going through the newest pictures that he'd transferred to his laptop in the meantime. They were nothing short of stunning, Oscar’s appreciation for the machinery clear in every picture. So far, those looked the most natural besides the ones that had been taken in Lando’s kitchen, and Lando felt the reverence radiating from Oscar transferring onto himself. Oscar had forgotten that the camera had been there at all at some point, and the resulting candids were indescribably personal. They had also taken some pictures in motion, Oscar driving the car around the track, hitting a drift, and Lando had been delighted - the noise, the skill, the raw emotions, they’d really done a number on him.
They’d intensified his curiosity about Oscar, his desire to connect with the other man, deep and intimate.
Oscar, he felt, started to open up more and more to him, and Lando wanted to confide in him, tell him things he’d normally only tell Max or his family, hang out with him more often, get to know what made him tick, how he worked best and what he looked like at his worst. He wanted to take him on rides, to restaurants, hug him hello and goodbye and reach out for him whenever possible.
Lando was his professor, Oscar was his student, Lando was about ten years his senior, on a completely different stage in life, more experienced in every aspect. Funnily enough, when they were together, Lando felt a similar level of maturity, of intellect, of knowledge and skills, and a deeply rooted desire to improve upon himself in Oscar, making the age gap seem nearly irrelevant - if it wasn’t for who they were. Then again, while Lando was careful in his actions, he could be rash, too, pursuing his happiness, which is what he prided himself in - not caring what people think, doing what makes him the happiest and trying to make the world a bit of a better place.
On the other hand, Oscar was like him in that regard, from what he’d gathered. He was determined, didn’t stop fighting no matter what was thrown his way, and wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. He worked hard and he held onto his values even harder. He loved, like Lando, the hardest.
“I mean, I’m not allowed to pursue anything with him, I know that. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to spend more time with him, though. I just feel like I don’t have to pretend with him, and I want to be able to get to know him more, all the mundane things, you know? I really think this could be worth the effort, but if it were to happen and were to get out, I’d be doomed,” Lando elaborated, hearing Max’s judging face through the phone, not needing to see him to know what his expression looked like at that moment.
“You already know the answer in your heart, don’t you?” Max asked in reply, softer than he usually would be. Lando sighed. “I do.”
“Also, even if you won’t teach anymore, your pictures would still be world famous, mate. I think people might even applaud you for your courage. Then again it might also not get out, at least I wouldn’t tell on you, and I don’t think anyone else would. Especially not Alex and George,” Max chuckled towards the end. Lando joined in, saying, “Yeah, that’d be too hypocritical.”
After a beat of silence, Max spoke up again, courageous, “When has anything ever stopped you from getting what you want? I can’t remember a time.” Lando smiled, alone in his room but not feeling alone in his heart. “You’re right, mate, thank you.”
“Anytime.”
They hung up soon after that, Max getting back to his dinner with Pietra, and Lando made a plan. He was going to ask Oscar on a date.
He set his plan in motion when Oscar dropped by during lunch break to receive the pastry that Lando had promised him. “How did you know I liked danishes?” Oscar asked, already biting into the flaky pastry filled with raspberry jam. He’d plopped down into the seat across Lando easily, looking like he belonged there. “You’ve got layers to you and your blush reminded me of the raspberries, it seemed like the most obvious choice,” Lando said, laying it on thick. Oscar laughed while blushing that exact same shade of raspberry Lando had referred to. His best friend Max and Bakery-Max would probably puke if they heard him right now.
“That’s.. some comparison,” Oscar said, voice a little higher than before. “Are you trying to tell me something?” There was a glint in his eyes, challenging, hopeful. Lando steeled himself, meeting Oscar’s gaze head-on as he spoke, clear as day, “I am, yes. I would like to take you out again, maybe for dinner and another car ride?”
“To talk about the project more?” Oscar asked, his breath hitching a little. Lando smiled, shaking his head, “If you want, yes, but mainly I’d like to get to know you more as a person. Privately. On a date.” He cocked his head to the side, expectant. Oscar’s blush extended from his cheeks down to his neck, blotchy and intense against his pale skin, and Lando craved to take a picture of it, ingrain it in his memory.
Oscar swallowed. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Lando,” he replied, nodding. A smile creeped up on his face, taking over his entire expression and making his eyes crinkle. The smile, radiant like the sun, seemed to engulf him, and Lando felt fondness bloom in his chest. His eyebrows furrowed, though, as he watched Oscar’s face fall a little, worry etching into his handsome features. He chuckled nervously. “It’s just that, well, you’re my professor,” he pointed out, “and I would really, really enjoy knowing you outside of uni more, so much so that I’m going against everything I’ve been taught and take you up on the invitation. I wonder what that makes me. I mean, it does go against all the rules, and I tend to live by them.”
“I’m glad you don’t this time, Oscar,” Lando replied. He snickered a little, too, not quite believing that Oscar had actually agreed just yet. “I understand where you’re coming from, trust me. I’m kind of risking my career here, but I think I’ll take that risk if it means being happy, with you, maybe.” It was honest, in the way Lando prided himself to be, but it made him even more vulnerable than asking Oscar out in the first place. He found, again, that he didn’t mind that when it was Oscar, even though it made him nervous. He trusted that Oscar wouldn’t use it against him. Oscar looked beautiful as his blush darkened another shade and he shyly met Lando’s eyes again, looking up from underneath his long lashes.
“I’ve got a good feeling about this, too. About you. Us, maybe,” he returned, smiling.
“How spontaneous are you? I could get us a reservation for today, I know someone who knows someone,” Lando said vaguely, lighting up at the reply, already having a restaurant in mind. The head chef, Yuki, had been one of his subjects and the pictures were some of his most famous works. He’d met Yuki four years prior when the young chef had just started his training at Lando’s favourite Michelin-star restaurant, and they’d hit it off right away, becoming unexpectedly close over a short span of time. Ever since, Yuki would get him a table with but an hour’s notice, no questions asked.
“I’m free, yeah,” Oscar replied, “I’ve got all my assignments done so far. Do I need to dress well?”
“You already do,” Lando complimented him easily, and it was the truth. “But I think formal wear is in order, yes, if that’s fine?. Nothing but the best for you, Oscar. Let me text you the details? I’ll call my friend right now for a reservation,” he offered, to which Oscar gave his approval. “I gotta say I’m a bit nervous. A high-class restaurant is new for me, but I trust you’ll guide me through it?”
“There’s no need to worry,” Lando reassured him, reaching out a hand across the desk, gingerly placing it atop Oscar’s where it was resting. It sent pleasant tingles down his spine. “Yuki, the chef, is going to inform the entire staff and nobody is going to bother us. I’m also highly convinced that you’ll look nothing short of dashing in your formal wear and I can’t wait to see you in it. I’ll pick you up and you’ll be the most handsome passenger I’ve ever taken with me.”
“You’re flattering me too much, Lando, I mean, look at you,” Oscar attempted to deflect, but Lando tutted playfully at him. “Remember that you’re my muse right now, yes?”
If possible, Oscar probably would have blushed even deeper. Instead, looking from Lando to the clock on the wall, he sighed, “I’ve got to head to class, but I can’t wait to see you later, Lando. Thank you again for the invitation and the pastry, it’s delicious,” His gaze lingered on Lando as he turned around at the door, closing it hesitantly, like he wanted nothing else but to stay in the room with Lando, duties be damned. Lando was inclined to agree as he waved goodbye to the other man.
The date went imperfectly perfect. Lando had sent a text to Oscar not soon after confirming the time, luckily having managed to get Yuki on the phone on the second try. Yuki had been about to start his shift at the restaurant and had just changed into his chef’s attire as he’d picked up the phone, listening to Lando with one ear as he prepared his tools at the same time. He’d perked up notably when Lando had told him the reservation was for a date, putting his knife down audibly. “I will get you the best available table in the restaurant. I’m going to text you the time in five minutes, hang on,” he’d exclaimed, hanging up the phone without waiting for a reply from the professor, who laughed at his friend’s antics. The text that followed only said 6:30 p.m., conservatory table, don’t be late or I will smuggle caviar into your food. good luck mate, get that man.
Lando picked Oscar up half an hour prior to the reservation. The student only lived about a 15-minute drive away from the restaurant so they’d still be early. As foreseen, Lando’s breath stuttered for a second when he saw Oscar, dressed up in a black suit with a maroon dress shirt. He’d neatly styled his hair out of his face, the soft waves still there, and his cologne filled up Lando’s nose upon entering the car. Lando had dressed up himself, a light grey three-piece suit and he’d gone digging out a pair of wire-rimmed glasses he didn’t wear all too often, usually going for his thicker-framed glasses. He’d taken extra care to apply his cologne properly, on top of cream on the insides of his wrist and behind his ears so it’d last longer (so that Oscar would smell it when hopefully hugging him goodbye later).
“I was right, you look stunning. This really is your colour,” Lando complimented him as he was still getting into the car. “It’s great to see you. Thank you for being so spontaneous.”
“Not so bad yourself,” Oscar teased. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then leaned over the middle console with an arm extended. Lando returned the hug, cheering mentally. “Ready to go?” he asked into Oscar’s ear shortly before they parted. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Oscar was in awe as they arrived, the car being taken by a valet driver, mouth slightly agape. “Wow,” he said, nothing else, looking at Lando with big eyes. “I’ve only ever heard of this place.”
“Now you get to experience it for yourself,” Lando replied, approaching the entrance. There, he was already greeted excitedly by the receptionist, a tall man with dark hair and a French accent whose name tag spelled Esteban Ocon.
“Ah, Mr. Norris and company, good evening! I hope you have had a most pleasant day so far. Chef Tsunoda has reserved a table in the conservatory for you, let me take you up, yes?” The man’s eyes crinkled up, expression open and friendly, and Lando briefly thought that he’d make for a good model, too, for a study on facial expressions, perhaps. Lando easily agreed, reaching out a hand to Oscar to offer some reassurance first and revel in touching him second as the other man’s smaller, warm hand found its way into his own. Out of the corner of his eye, Lando noticed someone else take Esteban’s place.
Esteban guided them throughout the restaurant effortlessly, keeping them out of the paths of any of the servers. He brought them upstairs and up to the conservatory, showing them to a table right next to a window wall that overlooked the river Cam. They were the only people in the conservatory, and Lando thought it might have to do with Yuki pulling a few strings. He made a mental note to ask him about it later. “Your waiter will be with you in just a moment. I wish you a very enjoyable evening, gentlemen,” Esteban bowed slightly with his hands clasped in front of him before seeing himself out.
“This is unlike anything I’ve imagined,” Oscar admitted, impressed. His eyes, big and bright in the candlelight, were looking around curiously. Right as Lando was about to reply, their waiter, another French man whose name tag said Pierre Gasly whom Lando knew to be Yuki’s boyfriend, brought them their menus as well as an apéritif and a small selection of hors d’oeuvres. “Greetings from the chef,” he winked, leaving them to it once more, and Lando made another mental note to thank Yuki for that, too.
“I hope it isn’t too overwhelming,” Lando said, trying out one of the hors d’oeuvres, “I just knew I had to bring you here.”
“Honestly, I don’t even know how to thank you for this. Never in my life would I have thought I’d find myself here. This table is probably more expensive than my entire wardrobe, like. How many favours did you have to call in?” Oscar asked, genuine curiosity openly visible on his face. Lando laughed. “I don’t think the table is that much of a state-of-the-art piece, no worries, and you’re plenty handsome even in just a good old hoodie and joggers. Also no favours, but I am good friends with the chef. Do you like the starters?”
“Oh, they’re delicious,” Oscar replied around a bite. “How do you know the chef? I don’t think you mentioned that earlier.”
“Have you seen my exhibition from four years ago in NYC? That’s him,” Lando provided, watching in slight amusement as first acknowledgement, then astonishment made its way onto the other man’s face, his jaw literally dropping, eyes wide open.
“That’s the chef here?! Logan was visiting his family back then and I begged him to go there from Florida to video-call me so I could see it. His brother took him without telling their parents, and that’s how he developed his interest in photography,” Oscar rambled on, and fondness settled deep within Lando upon hearing the story.
“Oh, I would’ve thought that he got you into photography? I mean, he’s majoring in it while you aren’t,” Lando observed, cocking his head. “I’m delighted you cared so much to see the exhibition, though. It must’ve been a great deal on Logan’s side, too.”
“I got him into it, actually, I like it because of my parents. They’ve been huge fans since you got started, it’s a proper long story. I just fell for architecture a bit more, you know, all the more technical aspects, the regulations. Creativity is amazing, just not my biggest skill, you know? It’s Logan’s, though. Reminds me that my mom threatened me to get her an autograph from you by the end of the year, or else,” he said, flushing a little bit. Lando laughed - he did that a lot around Oscar, he noticed. The professor generally laughed a lot, finding beauty in it and feeling better whenever he did, but it happened even more often when Oscar was around, ranging from hidden, small smiles to raucous, bellowing laughs that resembled crying and howling more than actual laughing.
“I’d like to hear the story,” Lando wished, and Oscar launched into it, Lando putting his head into his hands, looking at him in rapture as the student talked animatedly, big gestures and bigger expressions, so unlike anything he saw from him in class. At some point, Pierre dropped by to take their orders, and since they’d forgotten to check the menu, they ended up asking him for his recommendations. Pierre had hidden his amusement well enough, but not fully, providing them with personalised options to choose from.
(“No fish, please,” Oscar had said, “for either of us.” Lando’s head had snapped to look at him.
“But you like fish, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but you don’t.” Oscar had smiled at him, looking back over to Pierre. “No fish for either of us, thank you.”)
In the end, Lando ended up with an artfully combined dish consisting of duck, cranberries and other things that Pierre had listed which Lando had forgotten, while Oscar had been presented with a plate of venison medallions paired with an onion balsamico sauce. “It’s on me,” Lando reminded him as the expression on Oscar’s face morphed from nearly childlike wonder upon having his first bite to thinly veiled concern. “I want you to enjoy it. The food, the evening, hopefully also your time with me. I don’t care how much it costs if you like it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had something so delicious. Sorry, mom and dad,” Oscar replied, making Lando snort. “We can do something cheaper next time?” he offered the olive branch, to which Oscar nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely wonderful here. I’m having a perfect time.”
“Just like me, then. So, you asked about George and Alex?”
Oscar’s eyes sparkled. Lando briefly wished for a camera, wanting to capture the moment, the shine of Oscar’s eyes rivalling the full moon’s brightness behind him, ultimately deciding that, at this point in time, it was impossible to do Oscar’s utterly imperfect perfection any resemblance of justice.
When Oscar held out his spoon filled with Tiramisú to Lando, telling him to try it, Lando did, meeting Oscar’s eyes head-on. Oscar didn’t recoil, steadily holding his gaze instead. “It’s sweet, much like you, but with a perfect twist to it,” Lando summarised after he’d pulled off the spoon, tantalisingly slowly, winking. “You keep comparing me to food,” Oscar mumbled, an eyebrow raised, and he groaned and blushed inadvertently upon Lando’s reply.
“Maybe I just think you’d be absolutely delicious yourself.”
Somewhere in the background, Pierre cackled, nearly dropping a tray with empty dishes, and sent a text to Yuki with the quote. Yuki was sure to tease Lando about it in the future, maybe use it as blackmail against him.
“Thank you so much for this great evening, Lando,” Oscar breathed out as they were standing in front of Oscar’s apartment complex. Lando had driven him home after paying for the food, sending their regards to Yuki and retrieving the car from Esteban, who’d wished them a pleasant evening. Oscar continued, “This was truly special and I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I couldn’t have imagined it any better,” Lando replied, voice soft and sweet. They were standing closely together, facing one another, and Lando itched to reach out, hold Oscar’s hands and pull him impossibly closer. The faint trace of Oscar’s cologne, the nearly constant flush on his cheeks, his wind-tousled hair and gentle eyes made it difficult to stay in his own personal space. He yearned to send the other man off more intimately, or better yet, not have to send him off at all, even though he knew it was still way too early for anything.
“I look forward to our next date,” Oscar said lowly, confidently, leaning forwards. It felt like slow motion despite him moving rather quickly. “May I?” he whispered, halting mere millimetres in front of Lando’s lips, head tilted down and minimally to the side.
“Please do,” Lando hushed, barely audible at all, and then their lips collided. Gentle yet insistent nonetheless, plush mouths pressing in, moving against each other, Lando’s hands finding support on Oscar’s sturdy hips, who tightly clung to Lando’s upper back.
“Have a good night, Oscar,” Lando wished after a moment of just breathing into each other’s orbits.
“You, too, Lando. Text me when you’re home safe.” With another squeeze of his hands on Lando’s back, he was gone, and Lando was left longing but content.
Everything for the first field trip was fixed, approved, booked and set in motion. Lando was absolutely giddy with nerves, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. It was mere days away, meaning two things: Lando would get to be home for Christmas, which wasn’t far away, either, and Oscar would see his hometown, put into perspective through their camera lenses. It also meant that Lando would have to hold back and not kiss Oscar until all the other students were gone and they were hidden away in Lando’s hotel room. He’d gotten a room until the end of the trip to be closer to the students and not lead any of them to his family’s home to protect their privacy. The students, roughly forty of them, had rented out a couple of hostel rooms, rooming together where wanted. Oscar, naturally, had picked a room with Logan, the two of them insisting on getting a room for only them.
George and Alex, much like Lando, had been bummed about it, albeit the two other professors didn’t know about the recent developments yet.
Since their impromptu date, they’d again been swamped with coursework, but they’d started exchanging text messages - or, in Lando’s case, mostly voice messages. Neither of them particularly liked calling, both a bit apprehensive still and simply not the biggest fans of the concept, but sending messages, pictures, memes and little daily updates to each other had enriched their days significantly. In class, Oscar would beam at Lando, and Lando would nod back at him with the corners of his lips curling up. During office hours, Oscar would occasionally join Logan and him to do his own work in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Logan, Lando thought, most likely had his presumptions, but Oscar hadn’t told him just yet since they’d only been on one date so far.
Lando had finished packing his luggage, two big rolling ones that he was sure would raise questions, enough to last him for the entire break at his family home. They were set to leave tomorrow, the students travelling to Bristol by themselves. Logan had told him that most of them had opted to organize some form of car-sharing, few of them travelling by themselves or by train with all their camera equipment. Lando, who hadn't wanted to take the McLaren since it was a school trip and had so much stuff to carry, would go with George and Alex, Max taking him back after New Year's since he'd be visiting. The other two professors were set to pick him up early in the morning so they'd get the three-hour trip behind them quickly and start with the first assignment after lunch.
Until then, though - until he'd see Oscar again and had to pretend nothing was amiss, that he didn't want to press the other man against a wall to kiss him senseless - he had time to kill. Lando truly, honestly loved teaching, even though he'd never expected to fall for something other than photography. So that he was throwing caution to the wind like this, getting with Oscar despite all the counterindicatives, showed that he genuinely harboured immense hope and feelings for the student. He trusted himself to not act rashly in his presence, though.
Killing time consisted of calling up George, Alex and Max to get sweet treats together at Bakery Max's bakery, which was luckily open on Sundays, too. Max had enough profits and staff to open the bakery seven days a week, complete with highly sought-after tables within the main sales area of the business.They were always busy from when they opened all the way until closing time. However, Lando knew Charles, who in turn had convinced Max to keep a table free for them on such short notice. Lando loved knowing people. Max picked him up since his place was on the way, and they met Alex and George there, having arrived by car, too. As they were directed to their table, Lando was surprised to note that one of his students, a German lit major named Mick, kind eyes and messy blonde hair, was their server. He was in Oscar's class.
Mick brought them their drinks and baked goods swiftly, charming, polite and quiet as he was, and Lando hoped he was out of earshot as he shifted the conversation topic away from the nearing elections to something far more peculiar. Juicy, one might say.
"So, guys, how's it going between you and a certain someone?" He was clever enough to avoid mentioning Logan's name just in case, learning across the table, hungry for gossip. "Any plans to make the trip bearable yet?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me that I won’t be able to be all over both of my boyfriends,” Alex rolled his eyes dramatically, giggling afterwards, causing George to swat at his arm. “You can’t do that at uni, either,” he grumbled, notably displeased that HR had told them they weren’t allowed to do anything but hold hands while on school grounds or field trips. Lando hadn’t been a professor yet, some six years ago, but Max had, and he’d told him everything about how that meeting had gone down.
Alex went on, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he rubbed his hands together exaggeratedly, “However, nobody said anything about what we can or can't do after the daily activities are over. We do have to continue with our lovely little project, don’t you agree, Georgie?” His voice was sweet, feigning innocence, and Alex laughed openly as his husband quickly turned a violent shade of red. “Alex,” he gritted out, “no.”
“Alex, yes,” Lando encouraged, and next to him, Max was sipping on his macchiato with tremendous interest, too.
George attempted to put a hand on Alex’s mouth, but Alex dodged him, lanky limbs flailing around each other, as he called out, probably a little too loud in the small space of the bakery, “We’re attempting to recreate all the positions from the kamasutra!”
George put his face on the table with a thunk. Next to him, Alex looked proud of himself.
“Isn’t that meant for only two people?” Max asked, to which George piped up from where his forehead was still in contact with the table, miserably embarrassed, “Yeah, but that’s the challenge, to recreate them with a third person.”
Lando, who’d caught Mick’s worried gaze from behind the counter, gave him a thumbs-up to tell him they were all good. Surprisingly, he was too amused to worry about making them the other two chaperones on the field trips and possibly getting them all a letter of misconduct.
The drive to Bristol went by without a hitch. George and Alex picked him up in their car, a Mercedes AMG GT 63 in a strikingly vibrant shade of green - Emerald Green Metallic, Lando heard the tiny, proper version of George in his head correct - that fit them quite well, the motor purring all the way as they drove down the motorway. All the equipment was in the trunk, as well as their luggages, the two of them having managed to pack as much for three days as Lando had for two weeks. He wisely decided not to ask about it.
Once in Bristol, Lando had breathed in deeply, opening his arms, inhaling the smell of home. He’d been startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, and as he’d whipped his head around and opened his eyes, Oscar had been smiling at him. “Welcome home,” he’d smiled at him, and Lando had smiled right back, quickly hugging him. He knew Oscar wouldn’t be so casual with his affection had anybody been around who didn’t know about them. Logan and Oscar had arrived a tad earlier, just like the professors, to get a few moments to themselves. They talked about this and that, how they’d been, what they were going to do over the break, how they’d be spending the beginning of the new year.
After all the students had arrived, lunch had been had and the luggage had been stored in the hotel and hostel respectively, the real fun had begun.
First was a tour around the inner city, scouting for good picture spots, taking notes and maybe a few practice shots. The assignment was simple enough: the students all had to present three pictures, one in each of the following scenarios: an architectural structure by dusk or dawn, a motion picture of at least two people interacting with nature, and a favourite memory or moment that stuck out from the field trip.
Lando had assisted various students, given his own personal opinion and taken notes for himself, while Alex and George had handled the schedule, keeping track of the time and other organisational things, seeing as they didn’t have much experience with camera equipment and photography other than the basics. In the evening, they’d all returned to the hostel, a group of students suggesting they go to a bar to let the evening fade out nicely. Not all the students came; only about half of them, and George also stayed back, Logan notably absent, too. Lando preferred to think not too deeply about what they might be preparing for Alex; Oscar met his gaze with an equal mixture of slight amusement and cringe on his face.
Lando was sitting at the bar with Alex on one side and Oscar on the other, chatting to both of them, the other students spread throughout the bar. They were drinking Coke Zero and Fanta, responsible adults all the same, but the professors had bought every student a round. It was nice, relaxing, something Lando didn’t do often, and seeing Oscar loosen up and chat with one person and the next was rewarding to him.
At the end of the night - which was relatively early, considering that their alarms would be ringing at about six in the morning again -, Lando found himself struggling to say goodbye to Oscar. They obviously couldn’t be seen together like that, not even a hug being on the table, and they weren’t at the same accommodation, either. It was dissatisfying, having to leave him with a nod and a generalised “good night”, the same way he said goodbye to the other students, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth with how meaningless they seemed.
Naturally, Lando had to get it out of his system.
He was restless as he tried to sleep, tossing and turning, trying and failing to ignore what his body wanted.
Since he couldn’t have Oscar at that moment, the choice fell upon the next best thing - an innocent pillow.
Laying on his back, he rolled over, his half-hard dick pressing against the mattress. He propped himself up swiftly to alleviate the pressure, kneeling, causing the blanket to slide off his shoulders, exposing his bare arms and legs and sending goosebumps from the cold air of the room all over his body, his hairs standing up. He ignored it, not even bothering to take off his boxer briefs, as he pulled his dick out of them, wrapping his hand around it. He had half a mind to take his shirt off, freezing momentarily but knowing he’d warm up from the inside soon enough.
The slide was dry, rough, so he centered his movements on the head, playing with the foreskin, dipping his nail into the slit, aiming to get hard before anything else. It happened quickly enough; even faster when his mind began conjuring up the first tentative images of Oscar, of what he might look like under all his layers of clothing.
At least he couldn’t see what he himself looked like in the darkness of the room, flushed red and impossibly hard in no time.
Lando knew it wouldn’t be of any avail to push the images away; he’d done so for a while now, and whatever happened in Bristol, he told himself, would stay in Bristol. As he spat in his hand to ease the slide of his fingers around himself, he imagined it’d be Oscar’s spit, Oscar’s hand, Oscar’s mouth, the images blurring together. Involuntarily almost, his hips started rocking forwards, fucking into his loose fist, the tip of him catching on the pillow he’d pushed between his knees for comfort. It sent a jolt up his spine; electrifying in the difference in feeling, not quite enough and providing.. an edge.
He shifted so his dick, pulsating in his hand, was resting on top of the pillow, the lack of steady pressure keeping him on his toes. The Oscar in his head changed as well, his mouth, soft and sinful, morphing into a pair of firm thighs covered by pliant skin, malleable where he grabbed it, his big, tan hands a contrast to the pale expanse of Oscar’s hips that he mentally held onto, his fingers leaving the faintest of imprints.
“Go on, Lando, chase your pleasure,” the image of Oscar encouraged him, “but this is all you get. Make yourself cum using my thighs or not at all.” There was a challenge in the words, and had Lando been thinking clearly, he might have been embarrassed by how quickly his hips started moving, rutting against the pillow helplessly. His balls were still trapped by the fabric of his underwear, aching, but he couldn’t take them out. Like this or not at all.
Lando leaned forward, adjusting the angle as he frantically chased his pleasure, humping the pillow like there was no tomorrow. In his mind, the slide between Oscar’s thighs was slick, aided by both lube and his own precum, and he imagined the way his cock would rub against Oscar’s balls, tight with excitement. It added just that little bit of an unpredictability that he needed to edge himself further. “Is that all you got?” his mental image of Oscar supplied, looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you want me to see how much you need it?”
Lando moaned, unable to contain himself any longer. The sensation was overwhelming but not enough at once; he shifted backwards to stay balanced, spat into his hand again and put it on top of his dick, pressing down, continuing to move against the pillow. In his head, Oscar flexed his thighs, pushing his ass back towards him, and Lando slumped forward onto Oscar’s back as he helplessly fucked his thighs, whimpering Oscar’s name.
“Good boy, Lando, work for it. You might be older than me, but you just want to be told what to do, hm? Need me to guide you like you haven’t learned to cum all your life.”
It was all he needed, spilling all over the pillow with a loud groan, against his hand, some of it probably splattering far enough to hit the bedsheet, too. He was breathing harshly, movements only slowing down once he was completely spent, feeling dizzy and content.
Lando was mature enough to not feel embarrassed for his kinks or the way he’d rutted a hotel pillow like a horny teenager, but he guessed Oscar made him feel that young again.
Despite his maturity and confidence in his sexuality, he could only hope to be able to face Oscar the following day without blushing and stuttering and fumbling like a madman.
He was a goner; the stained bed was proof enough. Lando cleaned it up the best he could, put his shirt back on and went back to bed, this time falling asleep in nearly no time.
The second day of the trip greeted him with a very obviously fucked-out Logan. Lando wished he could unsee it. The one look he chanced at Oscar among the crowd of students told him that the other man was thinking similarly. Logan seemed drowsy, eyes puffy like he hadn’t slept a wink, but he wasn’t complaining at all, just quietly following whatever the professors ordered him to do. He even brought them coffee in the afternoon while everybody was supposed to be busy, going on a scavenger hunt to complete the assignments.
Facing Oscar hadn’t been a difficulty, to Lando’s own surprise. He’d neatly tucked last night’s memory away, separating it from his day-to-day life for now. However, there still had been no opportunity to talk to him, but they’d sneakily exchanged a few text messages whenever one of them had either felt safe or daring enough to not be caught.
Oscar:
Logan refused to outright say what happened
But he implied enough
I am traumatized
Lando:
Alex and George have been whispering to each other and giggling whenever they thought I wasn’t noticing
What did Logan imply?
These two here seem surprisingly energetic, as opposed to him
Oscar:
I don’t know where to start
Part of me wants to forget about it
The other, however…
At that particular message, Lando had looked over to where Oscar was sitting with a few other students; it had been during lunch, the lot of them sitting scattered on blankets on the grass in a park, the cold air and ground unimportant as they bit into store-bought sandwiches and wraps. Oscar had smiled at him innocently, not elaborating further. It had left Lando’s hackles rising in anticipation, Oscar’s sudden boldness catching him off-guard. Surely he hadn’t given away anything that had happened the previous night; his shirt wasn’t stained with cum and he’d told nobody about it.
Lando shook it off. Maybe Oscar just wanted to rile him up and tease him.
Truth be told, they’d been dancing around each other - while they hadn’t seen each other in person much, each time they had, they’d made out in every way imaginable. Slow, tentative, sensual, rushed, aggressive, desperate, you name it. Via text, there’d been implications, little ‘imagine if’s and ‘when we’s. One time, there’d been a voice message, an ‘I will’, a promise spoken into existence of what was to come at some point when the time would be right.
All in all, the day went fine. It was exhausting, but most of the students reported that they got their assignments nearly done, with the following day being the last one of the trip when they’d all be returning to Cambridge again. Logan, Alex and George had been eye-fucking each other all the while, effectively distracting the student from completing his tasks - even though he was the TA, he still had to do them, being relieved from his duties while the other two professors were there. At one point, Lando had rolled his eyes at George to demonstrate how painfully obvious they had been behaving. George had at least had the conscience to look sheepish, but he’d returned to whispering filth into Alex’s air right away.
Most of the time, the students had been exploring and taking pictures by themselves, the professors staying nearby to offer advice and help. It had left room for them to talk a bit more freely, and Lando’d nearly dropped his paper cup full of tea when Alex had told him about their plans for the evening.
“Daniel is in town?” Lando had exclaimed, his eyes going wide. The cold air was hitting his face, but the chill was forgotten upon hearing the news, the cup in his hands threatening to spill and clatter to the ground as he whipped around so quickly. “And he’s throwing me a party? He didn’t tell me.”
“That’s the point of surprise parties,” George provided. “And he’s right; you never celebrated your birthday. Besides, when have we last seen Daniel? Wasn’t it in, like, February when he came up here to seal the deal on his partnership with Lewis and Nico? It’s been nearly a year. We have to go, Lando, please,” George continued, looking at him pleadingly. While Alex may have thought it to be cute, Lando found it to resemble a petulant child, but it was unique to George, lovingly nagging. And the other man was right; they hadn’t seen Daniel in ages.
Daniel was an old friend of all of them; he was basically friends with the entire world, to be fair. They’d met him when they’d attended university themselves, Daniel in his last year when Lando had been in his first, studying business and communication. They’d met during Lando’s exchange semester in Catania, Italy, and Daniel had come to visit Lando in Cambridge the following summer where he’d met the others, too. Despite not having expected it, they’d stayed friends all the while, even though, most of the time, they’d been separated by over 14.000 kilometres and seven hours since Daniel, after completing his studies, had returned to Perth, Australia.
There, he’d opened a farm, and just the past February, he’d come back to Bristol to seal the deal on a partnership with Lewis Hamilton, fellow professor, and his long-distance husband Nico Rosberg, who took care of their animal sanctuary on the outskirts of Bristol. Their story was a peculiar one; Lewis had never shared all the details of their complicated marriage, not even during the annual party among the colleagues, tipsy and loose-lipped, but apparently they were happier doing long distance.
Daniel had also found a flat to stay in while in Bristol, apparently staying for a whole month this time. At first, hearing that the other man had been around for a whole week already without notifying Lando stung a little, but upon hearing that it was for a surprise party for him, he felt immediately appeased and slightly giddy again. Lando wondered how many people he'd invited; how many people had known and wanted to surprise him. He also wondered if there were people he didn't know (which was always a possibility with Daniel) and if he could bring Oscar. Alex seemed to read his mind.
“We'd like to bring Logan along, if that's fine, and it's your party so I think you should bring Oscar, too, if you want. Danny would be delighted to meet them both.”
“You already asked him, didn't you?” Lando asked with fond exasperation.
“Yup,” Alex grinned menacingly, “and he said, and I quote, “Aussie and turning Lando's head around? I've got to meet the bloke, like yesterday.””
Lando chuckled; that sounded like Daniel alright. “What did he say to Logan?” Lando inquired. If Daniel knew that the two professors had a thing, one that appeared to be turning more serious by the day, they’d never hear the end of it. Fond teasing, but teasing nonetheless. George fake-coughing loudly as Alex started repeating Daniel’s words told Lando enough; he broke out laughing. “Alright, I’ll just ask him myself later, then.”
However, there was more to the story - Lando and settling down weren't really two peas in a pod. It’s not that he’d never been in a relationship, it was just that they’d never lasted. After two to three years with his previous partners, either them or him had been ready to take things further, move in together, even get engaged, but that was always where things had become fragile and eventually broken off. His proposal being rejected had hurt especially badly, and Lando hadn’t been in a relationship since. That was some three years ago now. Lando hadn’t even hooked up with anyone, too hurt at first and too busy after that.
“So, you’re in?” George asked, already knowing that Lando wouldn’t say no. They were talking about spending time with Daniel, after all.
“Of course I’ll go, and Logan is obviously welcome, too,” Lando exhaled with a smile. “Thank you both so much.”
Lando, Alex, George, Logan and Oscar arrived at Daniel’s place together.
The music could be felt outside more than heard, a faint bass reverberating throughout the air. Daniel pulled them all into hugs, warm and tight and complete with gentle slaps on the back. He pulled Oscar and Logan in, too, proclaiming how delighted he was to meet them and ushering them inside. “Come on in and feel right at home! The bar’s in the kitchen, you can take whatever you like, just leave the last sip of the expensive bourbon for our late birthday kid,” Daniel boisterously laughed, clapping Lando on the shoulder, who laughed along. Next to him, he felt Oscar stiffen.
“Birthday?” Oscar asked with a raised eyebrow and a frown on his forehead, apparently connecting the dots - Daniel throwing a party, clapping Lando’s shoulder when speaking of birthdays. “Was it your birthday? I didn’t know,” he said, not accusatory, but confused, a bit hurt if you listened closely enough. Lando realised that, yes, he had completely forgotten to tell Oscar.
“Oh, yeah, already last month!” Daniel exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the tension that was growing in the air or choosing to ignore it. “I knew he wouldn’t remember to throw a party, so I did it for him, but I sadly wasn’t able to be here in time.”
“Last month?” Oscar replied, looking at Lando directly. Around them, the other three realised what was happening, too, and Alex had half a mind to attempt involving Daniel in a conversation with Logan to leave them some room. They made their way into what was presumably the kitchen, judging by the sharp white light spilling into the hallway from the doorframe.
“It was on the 13th,” Lando exhaled, feeling guilty even though it had been a genuine error on his part. Back then, the things between them had just been getting started properly, and he’d been excited about them so much, exhilarated to spend time with Oscar, that he’d seen that as enough of a gift and failed to mention his birthday. “I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to keep it from you; it was the day of our second shoot, the one in the city when it started to rain suddenly and you came over to my place, do you remember? I had so much fun with you that day that I forgot to mention it. It was a genuinely great birthday, though, if that makes you feel better.” He reached out to take Oscar’s hands in his, holding them loosely, warmth emanating from them as the music droned on around them.
Oscar graced him with a small smile, a gentle squeeze of his fingers. “That was our first private shoot and you offered to call you by your name when we were in private. How could I forget? I just wish I’d known; I would have brought you a gift, maybe, and congratulated you, and made sure you could’ve spent it doing something you love.”
“But I did do something I love,” Lando insisted, blue eyes firmly locked on brown ones. “When is your birthday, then? So that I can do better this time around.”
Oscar smiled at that. “It’s April 6th,” he told him, “there’s still time. I’ll just make sure to make your next birthday worth even more. There’s a lot to catch up on here.”
There was a promise there, unspoked but heavily implied, one that Lando, against all his greater judgement, knew he would willingly cling to for as long as possible.
They spent the party mainly with each other, drinking a little and dancing much more, neither of them keen on getting drunk. It would be an early day tomorrow and they still needed to return to their respective accommodations. They had fun, talking, jumping around and, at one point, even grinding on each other. Most of the other partygoers Lando only knew in passing, but he didn’t mind, none of them knew Oscar or Logan and could tell on them. A few people they got into conversations with, making new contacts, but they always gravitated back to each other. Once, they spotted George, Logan and Alex in a three-way kiss in the opposite corner of the room as an especially filthy song was blasting through the speakers. “I can never unsee that,” Oscar shivered, making Lando laugh.
Daniel ended up driving them to Lando’s hotel. He’d stayed sober, surprisingly, and willingly ignored the fact that Oscar and Logan were staying in a different place. “Nah, minor details, you’re both staying here tonight. I heard there’s late birthday sex on the table, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Be safe, have fun, don’t get pregnant!” he’d joked before driving off, leaving Oscar and Lando flustered, red from the cold and the idea of sleeping with each other. At least the other three had left quickly enough to not overhear the exchange; Lando didn’t think he could handle the embarrassment and teasing that would’ve brought with it.
“He’s not wrong if you ask me,” Oscar breathed out eventually, looking Lando deep in the eyes, an unmistakable edge to his gaze, searching for an equal amount of willingness.
It was there. Undeniable, barely contained.
“Inside,” Lando exhaled, rushed and giddy, reaching for Oscar’s hand and pulling him along.
Neither of them would later remember how they got to Lando’s room, the overwhelmed glance the receptionist threw their way with a shake of their head, the way they sped up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Once the door fell shut behind them, Lando had swiftly turned around, pinning Oscar’s hand above his head against the solid wood, his other hand coming up to cradle his cheek as he leaned in to kiss the other man like he was parched and Oscar was the only source of water in a desert. Their teeth clashed, their tongues dancing over them, sending shivers down their spines as they greedily sucked and licked wherever they could reach.
Lando moaned into Oscar’s mouth, prompting the student to grab onto Lando’s hip with his free hand, his grip possessive, fingertips digging into the flesh through the layers of fabric. It was cold out, too cold, but now it was quickly growing too hot, so they both parted to shrug off their winter coats, uncaring of where they fell to the floor as they left their shoes in the doorway as well. “Come with me,” Lando murmured wetly against Oscar’s lips, complete with a flick of his tongue across the reddened, supple shape of it. Oscar followed him readily into the room, tidy and with a double-sized bed in the middle of it, the blanked neatly folded at the foot of it, which Oscar found himself being gently nudged towards. He relented, sitting down on the foot of the bed, the faintest outline of his slowly hardening cock visible where it just began straining at the fly of his pants.
Eagerly, Lando climbed into his lap, arms locking behind his thick neck and thighs caging Oscar in as they kissed again, Oscar tightly holding onto him now without the barrier of the winter coat, only a thin linen shirt separating them. He’d been eyeing Lando all evening, the shirt alluring with its shape where it hinted at how broad his shoulders were compared to the narrow shape of his hips, the way the collar opened to expose his collarbones, accentuated by a silver necklace. Oscar had been itching to get his hands and mouth on him all evening, so to finally be able to slither his hands underneath the shirt and feel his warm skin underneath his hands made him groan softly into the kiss. Lando grinded down on him in reply, sending a jolt through them both.
The professor was so, so tired of constantly having to contain himself around Oscar. All he wanted was to feel him, experience all of him, and in light of this being, apparently, late birthday sex, he felt justified enough to act on his desires and take all that he was being given. He ran his hands up and down the broad expanse of Oscar’s back, loving the way he himself felt obviously smaller despite being in Oscar’s lap at that moment, and hitched the hem of his shirt up - the maroon one, the one that showed off his figure so nicely, shaped by exercise and good food, soft but strong and so familiar just from observance. Oscar got the hint, raising his arms to let Lando take it off.
Seeing Oscar exposed like that for the first time was something else. Lando let out a noise, something between an approving hum and a whimper as he ran his hands up and down the other man’s arms, squeezing his biceps, his pecs, swiping his fingers over his nipples and feeling delighted when Oscar twitched in reply. His skin was malleable, unmarred, dotted by beauty marks that Lando ached to get his mouth on and memorize forever. He shifted his attention downwards after looking into Oscar’s dark eyes, silently encouraging him to continue, and hotly mouthed all over his neck as Oscar threw his head back. Lando felt the vibrations of Oscar’s pleased hum underneath his lips, grinding on him again. They were both nearly completely hard, perceptible even through the stiffness of their jeans.
Oscar, patient as he was, let Lando explore his body, let him roam his hands and mouth all over, accentuating his physique with little bites and playful marks. Oscar let himself fall back onto the soft mattress, guiding Lando lower and lower steadily until his upper body was thoroughly reddened and Lando’s face was hovering above his still-clothed dick, erection straining uncomfortably against the fabric. “Take it off for me, baby,” he instructed, voice raspy, faintly tugging on Lando’s curls to get him to look at him. Lando’s eyes were big and crystal blue and hazy, expression open, perceptible to whatever Oscar was going to say to him.
Oh, Oscar realised, Lando’s handed all the power over to me, just like that.
Oscar exhaled sharply at that thought, smiling at Lando. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Go on, you can do it for me.”
“Thank you,” Lando breathed, deft hands making surprisingly swift work of the buttons of his jeans. Oscar had thought it would take longer, but Lando was focused and efficient as he hooked his fingers into the waistbands and pulled both Oscar’s jeans and underwear down in one go. He’d slid to the floor at some point, kneeling on it, shuffling aside so Oscar could step out of the fabric and settling back in between the other man’s legs afterwards, face to face with his hardness, flushed red and nestled among neatly trimmed pubes. “You’re thicker than me,” Lando observed, gingerly wrapping his hand around it, engulfing him easily with how large his palm and fingers were. Oscar watched him intently.
Truth be told, neither of them had expected it to be like this, but they were already too far into it to care. Lando knew of his own kinks, but he hadn’t thought he’d enjoy it this much, having someone a decade younger than him be in so much control over him by barely doing anything except guiding him by his hair and verbally. Oscar, on the other hand, had definitely thought he’d be the one being told what to do, seeing as Lando was clearly the more experienced one of them with his decade of expertise that he had on Oscar. However, this was the way it was, the older professor on his knees in front of the young student, ready to please him and be at his beck and call.
Lando wrapped his lips around Oscar, and all thoughts went out of Oscar’s head. Lando sucked his dick like he was reveling in it, like this was everything he wanted to do for his life, and maybe, in that moment, it was true. He sank down slowly, dragging his tongue languidly along the length of him, across his tip, through the slit. He let his spit collect in his mouth, drooling it onto his cock and spreading it along, mixing it with the first few beads of precum and moaning at the taste of it. Fluidly moving up and down, sucking and hollowing his cheeks, closing his eyes and losing himself in the sensation, in the way it felt heavy on his tongue, pulsating as he pressed his tongue against the vein on the underside.
Oscar had no idea if it went on for minutes or hours, but it might as well have been a lifetime. With the way Lando was lavishing himself on his leaking cock, one hand fondling his balls and occasionally sucking one of them into his mouth, too, Oscar thought they could both die happily just like this, uncaring of anything that came after them. His hand was resting in Lando’s disheveled curls all the time, not pulling or pushing, just adding a comfortable weight, a reminder that they were in this moment together.
“Off, sweetheart,” Oscar gasped out as he felt his balls tighten, tugging Lando up by his hair from where he was currently suckling at his head. Lando whined, confused, clearly enjoying the increasing flow of precum. “I’m going to come soon, and I’d really like to go on for a bit longer,” he explained gently.
“But you can prep me after you come, no?” Lando asked, petulant, and he looked so gorgeous with his chest flushed and heaving from the increased amount of oxygen he was breathing in now, cheeks rosy. Oscar replied, “I’d like it if you fucked me tonight. I want to give you all of me; consider it a late birthday present, if anything,” he admitted, “but I’ll be too sensitive if I come now.”
Lando lost his expression briefly, looking and feeling like his brain had just rewired itself. He pushed himself up on Oscar’s knees, caging him in with his thighs once more, and Oscar could see where he had leaked into his pants so much that his jeans were dark in the front, wet enough to have completely soaked his underwear. Oscar’s eyes rolled back and he didn’t bother suppressing his groan. “You’re so incredibly hot,” he said, pulling Lando down by his shoulders to lock him into another desperate kiss.
“I can’t wait to feel you around me,” Lando whispered before biting Oscar’s lip as they parted for air, “I want you to make me earn it.”
“Fuck,” Oscar breathed out, heartfelt, roughly squeezing Lando’s asscheeks after shoving his hands underneath the fabric. Lando jerked into his hands, into the pressure. “You’ll be the death of me. I want to see you, baby, let me take them off.”
Oscar shoved Lando’s pants and underwear down haphazardly, Lando ridding himself of them as quickly as possible. He was longer than Oscar but not as thick, veiny and tan even there, and Oscar gave him an experimental tug, causing him to whimper and fall forwards, catching himself with his hands besides Oscar’s head. His curls were falling across his forehead messily, pupils blown and lips bitten red. “You’re gorgeous,” Oscar appreciated, “and I want you to show me now you’ll use that pretty cock of yours to fuck me. Show me that you’re as good as I think, yeah? You’ve got so much experience, surely you know how to please someone.”
It was risky, teasing Lando like this, bringing the age gap into this - but Oscar couldn’t resist, its alluringness too strong; he himself not having wrapped his head around it entirely yet. He was genuinely sleeping with his professor, someone with so much authority, and yet he had all the control here, Lando having willingly handed it over, and it sent a surge of heady power through him. Lando, however, moaned, and Oscar knew that he was into it, too, probably experiencing a similar thought process if he was able to form thoughts at all at this point.
“There’s lube in my luggage, let me get it?” Lando asked, voice tilting at the end, like he was seeking Oscar’s approval. “Sure, baby. Did you expect to sleep with me?” he teased, smirking, and Lando blushed. “Alex dared me,” he whispered, embarrassed, but made quick work of retrieving the item, along with a condom.
Oscar lay on the bed, breathing steadily, some light bruises having formed on his torso from Lando’s earlier ministrations, a tiny pool of precum having formed right where his pubes ended on his abdomen. In all his glory, all big muscle and soft edges, contrasts and enticing features, waiting for Lando, ready to tell him how he wanted to be fucked. Lando had no idea how he had the pleasure of being in the position to be at the receiving end of everything that made up Oscar’s affection.
Oscar got up, kneeling on the mattress, and turned around slowly, ensuring that Lando, lube and condom in hand, was looking at him. He looked over his shoulder as he spoke, “Get behind me and get me ready, will you?”
Lando obeyed him within the blink of an eye. With how quickly he moved, he might have given himself whiplash had he not been so utterly focused on what he’d been instructed to do.
His fingers itched to sink into Oscar’s awaiting hole, excitement bubbling up within his entire body, eager to feel his lover open up for him, even more eager to please. Inside of him, everything was a mess, his feelings spread through his entire body, whizzing around in his stomach and setting his nerves on fire. He couldn’t quite believe that he got to have Oscar like this; Oscar, his student who was a decade his junior, but also Oscar, whom he had developed strong feelings for in what felt like the blink of an eye, each little fact making Lando fall a little deeper, a little harder.
When Lando had first laid eyes upon Oscar, not too many months ago during orientation week, his first thought had been the following: I would do absolutely anything to get behind this man’s whole existence. I don’t know why, but I think there could be an incredible amount of potential in him. Of fire, of drive, of love. I want to witness it all.
And he did. In such a short amount of time, Oscar had given him so much, enriched his life, and it was almost scary.
However, there were more pressing matters at hand than how swiftly Oscar had - maybe unintentionally - managed to turn Lando’s life upside down. Making him open up, for example.
The first contact of the cold lube against his warm rim made Oscar suck in a surprised breath. Lando had grabbed the bottle and drizzled some onto him without warning, successfully ridding him of the last of his thoughts. There was nothing left except for Lando, fuck, Lando. The first finger breached him easily, assisted by the lube trickling slowly down to his balls, the professor dipping his fingertip in and out of Oscar repeatedly as he traced it down to chase the escaping lube. In the end, he pumped his finger in and out of Oscar slowly, a little deeper each time, attentively watching for his reactions.
Oscar’s body was tight, focused on holding himself up on the soft mattress and relaxing into the intrusion. “It’s been a while,” he said, “but I trust you’ll be good to me, won’t you?” Behind the assertiveness, there was the tiniest hint of a need for reassurance, and a whole lot of trust. Lando leaned forward to kiss the small of his back, using the momentum to rub over Oscar’s prostate with a good amount of pressure. Oscar groaned, arching his back, his finger slipping in to the last knuckle. “Another one,” Oscar instructed.
Lando reapplied some lube just in case - he liked it a little sloppier and hoped that Oscar did, too, and he also didn’t want to hurt the other man - and then hooked two fingers right behind Oscar’s rim, playing with it, putting pressure on it and lightly stretching it open, watching how it turned puffy slowly. He wanted to take a picture of it, the effect enhanced by the pale swell of Oscar’s asscheeks. His mouth was faster than his brain, apparently saying the words aloud, since Oscar chuckled darkly around a moan, replying, “If you fuck me well today, maybe I’ll let you.” At that, the professor whimpered.
After that exchange, the time spent preparing the younger man went by way too fast. Lando and Oscar both definitely loved dragging it out, but they were desperate to have each other for the first time. Lando’s free hand roamed Oscar’s body, fingernails leaving the faintest of streaks, three of his long fingers being swallowed up by Oscar’s hole easily. His hole was red, puffy, glistening with lube and loose enough for Lando to fit inside just so. Oscar himself had kept encouraging him, a mix of endearments and slightly mean comments, calling him his good boy and asking if he was capable of opening him up adequately in the same sentence. It was a rollercoaster, sending Lando’s mind reeling, loving both the praise and the mockery all the same, unable to focus on anything but Oscar and the noises escaping him, his own erection long forgotten as he had his eyes locked on Oscar’s own hanging heavy in between his legs.
Oscar hadn’t allowed to touch him there, which Lando had thought of as a crime. It wasn’t that Oscar was afraid to come too soon, no, but he’d said that “you need to earn it, sweetheart. Show me that you know how to work your own cock first before you touch mine,” like he hadn’t sucked him off before. Not that Lando was in the right mind to make that connection. Oscar probably wasn’t, either.
Pulling his fingers out left Oscar open, and since they had established that they liked it sloppy, Lando hooked two fingers into him to keep him spread open, drizzling lube directly into him with his other hand. Oscar moaned loudly, throwing his head back as the cold liquid entered him without warning, his entire body jerking. Lando briefly thought he might be punished for that, but then found the thought exciting, spreading the lube around his walls roughly. “You’re a menace, you know that?” Oscar gritted out, but it was clear that he was enjoying it and just didn’t want to admit it. “I want you inside, Lando, so you can fuck me nice and rough. Can you do that or do you only know how to use those perfect fingers of yours, hm?”
A tiny part of Lando was delighted to hear that he could use his fingers well. The much bigger part of his brain felt the inexplicable need to prove to Oscar that he could fuck him well and be good for him. To think that he was the older one here.. only made the dynamic more alluring to him, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
Oscar flopped onto his back, pushing a pillow beneath his hips. He looked into Lando’s eyes, a challenge mixed with a desperate want. “Fuck me, Lando, now. I need you.”
Who was Lando to resist such an offering?
Oscar, this young thing, so mature and driven and knowing what he wanted despite his age-related residual innocence compared to Lando, offering himself up to him yet still somehow holding the reins. It was making Lando feel dizzy with desire and want and the need to please.
Warm fingers, paler and much shorter than his own, helped him put the condom on, and Lando hissed sharply at the contact. He’d paid his own cock no mind, now red and flushed and the pearly white precum beading at the tip, running down the length of him. All six inches stood tan and rock-hard and the feeling of Oscar touching him to spread lube on him, of him needing to use both of his hands to engulf him completely, it was nothing short of exhilarating.
Lando still had a request to fulfill, a craving to satiate.
Breaching Oscar’s hole with the tip of his dick was as breathtaking as he’d imagined it - simply because it was Oscar and because Lando had been dreaming of this moment for a while now, quite literally. He was groaning in tandem with Oscar, pushing in inch by inch, excruciatingly slowly despite Oscar’s eyes pleading him for more. He wanted to make it last, just in case.
“I will believe you don’t want to take me if you keep going so slowly. Did you lose your stamina with your age?” Oscar exhaled, a teasing lilt to his voice, but Lando whimpered. He bottomed out, the last inch sliding in, his balls snug against Oscar’s ass, who smirked and exhaled in relief. “I knew you had it in you, sweetheart. Now show me what you can do with that thing.”
Oscar’s hands found their way to Lando’s waist, thumbs lovingly stroking over the jut of his hip bones, fingertips digging into his skin, not bruising but feeling like they were anyways. Lando held onto Oscar’s waist tightly, pulling back and going back in, testing out the pace and depth while also trying not to go insane with how heavenly Oscar felt around him, velvety and warm and tight, like a hug he’d never be able to get away from, keeping him in place. He started out with tiny motions, trying to not overwhelm them and find out what Oscar liked.
Oscar, apparently, liked it when Lando fucked him hard enough to feel and hear his balls slap against him. Lando moved quickly, not pulling out all the way, attempting his best to find Oscar’s prostate while keeping up a pace fast enough to get the sound of skin hitting each other to echo around the room. As Lando found Oscar’s prostate, the student’s back arched off the mattress, his hands and hole tightening around him impossibly. Lando struggled to hold onto himself, onto his sanity. He was breathing fast, rough, not unlike Oscar, from exhaustion as much as from desperate horniness. There was not a single thought in his head besides Oscar, fuck, please, Oscar. So close. Oscar. Oscar. Oscar.
The aforementioned man kept on letting out little noises, small pants and moans with each harder thrust, each stroke over his prostate, hooded eyes looking at him when they weren’t falling shut. “Lando, come on, make me come,” he demanded, wrapping a hand around himself, a plea and a challenge at once. “You’re so good, just a bit more and I’ll make you come, too,” he praised, making Lando’s brain short-circuit. Absentmindedly, Lando wrapped one of his own hands around Oscar, leaning back with the other one to get the angle more upwards, aimed at Oscar’s prostate more, and it had the desired effect. Lando kept on hitting it, thrusts nearly frantic, his thighs straining and feet numb, but he didn’t care about any of it.
All he cared about was making Oscar come. They stroked him together, aided by the precum, and his back kept arching off the bed with each thrust, his mouth open in a continuous silent moan. Lando flicked his thumb over the head of Oscar’s cock, hit his prostate dead-on, and Oscar came, his release spurting out from between their hands as he cried out loudly, a mix of a curse and Lando’s name. He tightened around him involuntarily, increasing the friction even more, Lando barely being able to push in anymore. It all caused Lando to join Oscar, tipped over the edge by the intensity of it all, his orgasm subsequently hitting him like a freight train, the tight coil in his groin finally snapping. He felt the condom fill up, grinding his tip into Oscar in aborted little movements, slowing down and slipping out as he calmed down, regaining a small amount of mental clarity.
Their chests were heaving, spent and exhausted and happy, and Lando collapsed on top of Oscar, ready for cuddles. They fell asleep like that. Cleanup would definitely be a bitch the following day.
Sneaking Oscar out of Lando’s hotel room was a challenge. They managed with Daniel’s help, preventing them from being exposed. It hurt Lando, having to hide, as much as it did Oscar, visible, palpable even just from the look in his eyes, ones that Lando had looked into so often now that he could read them like a book.
Waking up in each other’s arms had made them feel giddy and warm and soft inside, and to ease the cleanup, Oscar had returned the favour from the previous day, claiming he “needed to feel Lando hit the back of his throat, for science, obviously.” Lando had selfishly buried his slender fingers in Oscar’s wet hair and let him.
They had no time to talk, and barely made it in time for the last day. Oscar still needed to pack his clothes back in the hostel, and Lando also needed to pack up to get ready for his vacation with his family. Luckily it was only half a day with an evaluation and lunch planned before the students would all be sent to return to their own lives.
It went fine. Alex and George sent constant eyebrow wiggles Lando’s way, while Logan kept whispering into Oscar’s ear, causing him to turn beet red each time and look anywhere but Lando. That, in turn, was kind of cute. The professors saw the students off in the park where they’d had their first practice session, two days that felt like a lifetime ago with how much had happened since then. Never had he expected that his friends would be right; that the field trip would be what finally, finally got them together in the physical sense of the word. Lando didn’t feel reborn, no, way too experienced for that, but he felt rejuvenated, full of newfound courage.
However, he also felt anxious. He had had no chance to talk to Oscar about it, it hadn’t been planned and they still had to see each other at uni. They hadn’t officially established a relationship, either, so the boundaries were blurry, and as much as Lando had loved taking the next step, he felt off-kilter without having talked about it. Now, he would be staying in Bristol while Oscar was headed back to Cambridge. Parting ways felt nothing short of weird.
Oscar and Logan were the last to leave, intentionally so, the professors collecting their own personal belongings in the time it took the rest of the students to leave for Cambridge. As they pulled up there, the two students were waiting outside for them, the three basically jumping out the van. Lando and Oscar both knew there wasn't an opportunity to talk deeply in such a setting, and agreed on a call the next evening. Lando would be grilled by his family as well as Max would be arriving, so they postponed it for a day. The suspense was edging him in the bad way. They kissed each other goodbye, another next step, a small promise. Later.
Except that one day turned to two, turned to three, turned to a week, and then Lando flew out to Singapore on January 4th.
It hadn't been planned. Neither of it, really - going to Singapore instead of uni and ignoring the elephant in the room. The dean had excused him readily when he’d emailed, responding within a day despite it being the break, and Lando had thought of what it would mean for him and Oscar. Max had arrived in Bristol, too, and Lando had had an amazing time with his family, and he'd texted or called Oscar daily - they just hadn't spoken about what it meant, sleeping together, and what they were now.
Going to Singapore was the result of Daniel calling in a favour and Lando agreeing readily to it, always ready to help his friend. Daniel, bless him, had a farm back in Perth that was widely known and recognized - hence the deal with Nico and Lewis, too - and he’d been contacted by a Singaporean animal charity organization. They wanted to collaborate with him, too, both for reach and for the hopes of rescuing more animals, and they’d hoped to get even more exposure if Lando was the main photographer for the charity event. Lando had a big heart and had grown up with animals, even donated regularly to Daniel’s farm directly, and had agreed in a heartbeat, there for the cause. However, of course, that only prolonged the time he couldn’t speak to Oscar face to face, seeing as he went only back to Cambridge briefly to pack his suitcase.
His flight left early in the morning, and he arrived in Singapore on January 5th, having spent the entirety of the nonstop-flight pondering over himself and Oscar, interrupted only by brief bouts of fitful sleep. He’d missed him on New Year’s, wanted to kiss him badly. He’d missed Oscar at the airport, craving to be kissed goodbye and told to have a safe flight. He’d missed Oscar upon touching down in Singapore, not wanting to explore a new corner of the world alone.
Oscar was in Cambridge, attending what were temporarily Logan’s classes, wondering why Lando had only told him one day before classes started that he’d be gone for a week. Oscar had wanted to drop everything and rush over to Lando’s place, but it’d been nearly midnight and Lando had needed to leave for the airport in a mere six hours, still busy packing. They’d been on a call, each of them pausing to digest what had just been said, been left unspoken. The big, meaningful, “oh. What now?”
Lando asked himself just that as he arrived at his hotel. He let Oscar know that he had arrived safely, and Oscar gave him an update on how Logan’s first class had gone, and Lando’s heart hurt.
In such a short amount of time, Oscar had given him so much, enriched his life, and it was almost scary.
A part of him was in Singapore to help Daniel, no doubt. Another part of him, more hidden, persistent in his mind, was there because, with each passing day that they didn’t talk, Lando grew more and more scared. Even at his age and with his life experience, he was only human, and the uncertainty left him feeling apprehensive and sad. Of course leaving the continent didn’t solve that problem, but it helped him create some distance. A space he needed to truly think about what it all meant - him and Oscar, the ups and downs, the wishes and expectations, the implications of it all.
The nearly innate desire to be with him despite all the odds.
Frankly, who wouldn’t be scared? Who would take developing such intense feelings so quickly well, for a student, someone Lando had a responsibility for and a strict policy to not get involved with? Feelings that made Lando believe he was walking on clouds whenever he merely thought of Oscar’s smile, crinkling his eyes and lowering his head, as if he was shy for smiling at all?
Lando deeply loved him, and it scared him, and he needed some time to clear his head to properly deal with the realization, above all. He had a feeling, however, that Oscar might be in a similar boat. Lando didn’t doubt that Oscar felt deeply for him, too, but from his point of view it must be overwhelming as well: potentially being in love with your professor, someone you’ve idolized for a few years prior to meeting them, having to constantly walk on eggshells and being unable to properly share your relationship, when that’s such an important thing at such a young age. Not to mention the age gap, the societal stigma, all of that.
Singapore was a welcome little refuge.
The responsibilities kept Lando’s mind occupied every day of the week he was there. He found himself in a ton of new places, from hotel foyers to indoor parks to the Singapore Zoo and several animal shelters, even being interviewed by two international newspapers, and he’d return to his hotel exhausted but happy to help. Daniel convinced him to go out twice after some finalising dinners they’d attended, but Lando, against his former self, had left early on in the night, unable to shut off his mind.
Back at the hotel sooner or later, his thoughts would drift off as he found himself unable to fall asleep, back to Oscar, to the messages he had yet to reply to as they’d piled up during the day when he’d been too busy to check his phone. He replied to every single one of them, only to find himself even more awake, heart clenching in his chest where a deep longing had settled, dark and burrowing itself into its delicate fibres. He missed Oscar, and he wanted nothing more but to call him his boyfriend officially.
It was the second-to-last day; Lando would be returning to the UK in two nights’ time, but he felt a sense of urgency within him alongside his nervousness - if he chickened out now, he’d never forgive himself and lie awake with his restlessness and a ton of ‘what if’’s bouncing around in his head. It was 11 p.m., which meant it was 4 p.m. for Oscar, and Lando cared if he might still be in class or outside, but not enough to not risk it.
He called Oscar.
“Hey, Lando, is everything alright? How was your day?” Oscar asked upon picking up the phone, his face lighting up Lando’s screen and mood, so much was the effect that he had on him. When Lando failed to reply, voice caught in his throat, Oscar frowned, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Lando said, quickly composing himself. “How were your classes? Today was super hectic, and I just wanted to talk to you real quick. I hope it’s not inconvenient?”
In the background, Lando could hear Oscar’s steps, and from what he saw, the student was almost at his flat, the snow-covered houses and barren trees passing by familiar enough, paired with the soft crunching sounds of snow underneath the soles of Oscar’s shoes.
Oscar understood what he meant - inconvenient being code for is there anyone with you right now?. He smiled, nodding, “It’s perfect timing, actually. I missed you,” he admitted openly, and Lando’s heart swelled, assuring him of what he was about to say. Oscar sighed, an easy smile staying on his face, reassuring as he settled down on a bench. The coldness had him shiver a bit, but he stayed, commenting, “Maybe sitting down without wiping the snow away was not my brightest idea.” Lando laughed; those little quips always improved his mood.
“I miss you, too. So much, which is why I called.”
“Because you missed me?” Oscar asked. “That’s cute. You’re cute, too.” Lando took a deep breath, steeling himself, and spoke. No use in prolonging it; he’d end up even more nervous and might chicken out. So, here goes, he thought.
“If you’ll have me, Oscar, I’d like to call you mine. Properly. I want to go on countless dates with you and I wish you could see this amazing place with me and I also want to kiss you breathless right now and whenever I can. I wanted to tell you in person, but I couldn’t stand the wait anymore. I needed to tell you before I’d have gone properly insane with how much I want you, need you, even. Will you be my boyfriend officially?”
Oscar, for a second, was stunned silent. Much like the time difference, there was a delay with how quickly he registered and interpreted the words, buffering and rebooting before a bright smile overtook his features entirely. “Lando, yes, fuck,” he breathed out, “you don’t believe how much I’ve wanted this, for how long. I’d love to be your boyfriend, holy shit, this feels so surreal.” Lando smiled at Oscar’s sheer exhilaration, the relief, the happiness. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”
“I’d love that, too. I promise I’ll make up for it when I’m back.”
“We should probably talk about that, shouldn't we?” Oscar asked, almost sheepish with his soft smile and looking above his phone’s camera as he brought his hand to his nape absentmindedly. “I mean, fuck, we really could have handled the last weeks a bit better, no?” Lando watched on, enraptured, as nearly invisible snowflakes started falling, resting atop Oscar’s hair and shoulders, his face, only to be replaced by two others as they came in contact with him and his warmth. “I’m sorry we had no chance to talk about it. Would’ve saved us both some stress, I think.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Lando nodded along, letting himself drop back onto the hotel bed, almost all of the accumulated tension melting out of his body. “I’ll admit that leaving without talking to you is probably one of the worst things I’ve done to date. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you leave so suddenly, anyways? I mean, you’ve told me about the favour that Daniel called in, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
“It was mainly Daniel’s favour, but a part of it was me panicking also, I think. It was short notice, and in that moment that came just right for me - I knew that prolonging the wait for us to talk was bad, but I also needed to sort my head a little. I hate that it hurt you, too.”
“I could have asked you to talk after the trip, too,” Oscar replied. “And we sorted it out now, so better late than never. I finally get to call you mine, so there’s that, too.” Oscar smiled at him through the screen, more pixelated and snowy now, and Lando laughed, a genuine thing that he had barely remembered being capable of. He spoke, “And so do I. However, I’d like to come back to you when you aren’t frozen to death from being in the snow all day. How about you go home, Osc, warm up a bit, and before you know it, I’ll be with you again. I’ll make it worth the wait.”
“I’ll take you to that,” Oscar answered, moving up off the bench to start walking again, hood now drawn up over his head. They said their goodbyes and the call disconnected, leaving them both floating, waiting, longing, happy.
Oscar hadn’t waited for Lando at the airport, stuck in class still, but he’d rushed over to Lando’s place right after. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket, hadn’t even waited until the door had been pulled shut behind him before taking Lando’s face in both hands and kissing the everliving daylight out of him. “Oh,” Lando had exhaled afterwards, smiling against Oscart’s lips. “I could get used to this.”
“You will,” Oscar had breathed, diving in to kiss him again.
They’d sat down for a cup of tea afterwards, complete with pastries from Max’s bakery that Oscar had picked up earlier that morning, and talked it all out. It had taken hours, but it had been necessary and left them feeling light, hands entangled over the kitchen table.
“Actually, there’s one more thing I need to tell you about,” Lando said, moving to refill their cups with more tea. It was nearing dinnertime, and since Lando had no groceries at home as he didn’t want anything to go bad, they’d ordered food to be delivered within the next thirty minutes. Lando didn’t indulge in takeout that often, but he’d gladly paid for Oscar’s food, too.
“I’m all ears,” Oscar replied, smiling at him smugly, leaning over the table to give Lando a short kiss. Oscar seemed to be obsessed with that, and it had Lando all giddy inside. He began to speak, and Oscar’s eyebrows shot up. “The moment I first saw you, on the first day of orientation week, when Max and I were taking the pictures, do you remember that?”
“Goodness, yeah. I tried so hard not to stare at you as obviously as everybody else,” Oscar said, muffled by his own hands as he rubbed them over his face at the memory, a smile tugging at his lips nonetheless. “I’m not sure I succeeded.”
“You did,” Lando assured him, “but back then, I knew that I wanted you as a muse, a model. For the pictures that I saw you in.. well, let’s just say that now I feel much more comfortable asking you about them than I would have before. With everyone else, sure, no problem, but with you and my feelings for you? That wouldn’t have been professional at all.”
“Is it professional now?” Oscar teased him, making Lando fondly swat at him. “For real, though, what was your idea? Now I’m more than curious.”
“I wanted you in a black room, naked except for bright neon body paint on some parts of you.”
Oscar swallowed thickly, too stunned to speak. When he did, his voice felt scratchy in his throat, not quite like his own as he looked into his boyfriend’s eyes. “Is that idea off the table?”
“Hell no. It’s one of my deepest desires, really.”
“Good,” Oscar breathed out, pulling Lando into a bruising kiss by his collar. They had a lot of catching up to do.
Meeting up for that final photoshoot - official, at least; there’d be many more private ones - had them both feeling all over the place, nerves frayed, teetering the line between a professional relationship and the promise of what was to come; the wait until then and the rewards it would bring. Photographs, fame, great sex, you name it.
Lando had rented out a private studio for the occasion, considering that he wanted to get Oscar mostly naked for this shoot. He’d also purchased a bunch of body paint, purchasing more than necessary for future endeavors just in case. If this was any good - and it would be, he was certain - then they’d probably be going through all the tubs of paint rather quickly.
The photographer was already inside when Oscar arrived, bundled up in a coat. The heating in the studio had been dialed up to make up for the lack of clothing during the session and they’d put a protective sheet of plastic wrap on the floor in case they spilled any paint. “Hi,” Oscar greeted Lando, voice shaky from the outside cold as he came up behind him. Lando startled, nearly dropping the camera he was setting up, quickly placing it on its tripod to turn around and kiss the other man hello. “I’m nearly done setting up, just a few more adjustments,” Lando informed him. Since they’d turn off the light, he might need to adjust the settings again later, but there was no harm in setting up multiple cameras to capture multiple angles. “How about you already get comfy, hm? I brought you a blanket.”
“Thank you,” Oscar smiled, nodding. “Over there?” he asked, pointing at a corner where a curtain was installed as a makeshift changing room. Lando uttered an affirmative, already bustling about to fiddle with a different camera. They were both giddy with nerves, delighted for what was to come. Oscar swore he’d not often dressed down to his boxers so quickly. He reemerged with a fluffy green blanket draped over his shoulders, eyeing the table that held the body paints. Several jars of green, blue, orange, yellow, purple, pink, red and white were placed on it - Lando had truly gotten every shade he’d found, some of them even multiple times. There was also body glitter, which Oscar raised his eyebrows at. He struggled to imagine himself like this, naked except for the paint in a dark room, Lando capturing his best angles, but there was an appeal to it, to being put on display while also remaining somewhat hidden like that.
“I’m done here. You look good,” Lando approached Oscar, hands smoothly settling on his waist. They were cold, and Oscar shivered underneath his touch. “If the paint is even colder than that, I fear this is going to be a short affair,” he teased, kissing him anyway. Lando chuckled, “I’ll just keep you warm.”
“Not with those cold hands, you won’t.”
“Watch me,” Lando said and started to tickle Oscar, which quickly escalated in a little chase around the room. Oscar yielded soon enough, though, his blanket having fallen to the floor rather early on, “Alright, you win, I’m warm. Let’s go?”
“Absolutely. We can start with your underwear still on so you can get used to it?” Lando suggested, which Oscar found himself easily agreeing to. Even though the room would be dark, being fully naked in front of a camera made him feel shy, especially since Lando was the one behind it. Sure, they’d seen each other naked several times now, but the context had been majorly different. “I wouldn’t mind taking pictures of both of us with the paint, honestly,” Oscar suggested, taking a tub of orange paint and opening it. It smelled sharply, chemical with a hint of sweetener, orange or vanilla or papaya or something, he couldn’t quite tell. He put his finger in, testing the consistency, and put a little dot of it onto Lando’s nose as he came closer, catching him off guard. “Now we really have to.”
“Once we’re done with your solo shots, sure,” Lando smiled. Then, he scrunched his nose, “It’s wet.” Oscar laughed at it and handed him the tub. “Do your worst,” he said, spreading his arms.
Lando started with a line across his left pec, adding a smeared handprint over one of his thighs, alternating between most colours as he went to town on Oscar. He even put the red paint on his lips and kissed him right on his Adam’s apple, as if the handprint hadn’t quite been enough. He splattered more paint on him, placed every line and dot with care, and Oscar was mesmerised by his focus. “We’ll do two rounds. One where I’ll be careful like this, and one where I won’t be, to show the difference, the theme of the work, you know. That's alright with you?”
“Sounds perfect,” Oscar said, gulping. “For the third round can we do each other?”
“Sure,” Lando winked up at him from where he was currently at height with Oscar’s thighs, and Oscar realised his own innuendo. He blushed, and Lando rushed up to his face, painting his blush on him permanently. He kissed Oscar’s lips, and Oscar could taste the artificial strawberry flavour on his lips. He just assumed that the paint was safe for consuming, too, and if it wasn’t, he had no regrets. Once Lando was done, he directed Oscar into the middle of the empty studio as he wiped his hands clean, turning off the light with a remote afterwards.
A few pictures in, Oscar found himself loosening up, responding intently to Lando’s instructions. He had no idea how to move his body, it all happened automatically. “Is the paint gonna smear when I take off my briefs?” he asked, realising how innocent and unknowing he sounded; similar to how he felt. This was Lando’s element, and witnessing it, being the target of it, was a feeling that he hadn’t grown used to at all. Lando replied, never once stopping to rush from one tripod to another. “It shouldn’t, but I’m gonna paint on you some more regardless.” Oscar was glad that his blush was hidden by both the paint and the darkness.
He heard Lando come closer more than he saw him, the only remaining source of light being a tiny lamp in the corner where Oscar had left his clothes. He was carrying three paint jars, faintly visible in the dark - pink, purple and white - which he placed on the ground. Oscar’s briefs landed somewhere in the direction of the table. “They won’t show up on the pictures anyways,” Lando shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.
Feeling the cold paint on his asscheek, one of Lando’s huge handprints coloured in a gradient of the three paints marking it up, made him gasp loudly. “It’s cold,” he exhaled, hands flying up to Lando’s shoulders. Lando kissed him to make up for it, biting on his bottom lip gently as he blindly drew a shape onto the other side with his fingertip. He reapplied some paint after they parted and loosely wrapped two fingers around Oscar’s dick, complete with a mix of all three colours on the head. “There you go,” he whispered teasingly into Oscar’s ear before taking the jars and returning to his work station.
Oscar only hated him a little bit at that moment, but he said nothing. Not yet.
From that moment on, the vibe changed.
Lando’s orders became more intent, precise and well-planned, and he dragged in a black chair as a prop at some point, invisible on camera, having Oscar drape himself over it however he instructed. Oscar began to struggle carrying out the poses; constantly fighting with his semi to stay that way and not turn into a full-blown boner just yet. He had no idea if it was visible on camera, if Lando could see it, but the other man knew Oscar well enough by now - he probably knew without needing to see or feel him up.
“Just like that, yeah,” Lando praised him as he bent his back, showing off the long line of his neck and torso, legs spread wide as he sat on the chair. It made his cock jerk, and he faintly heard Lando chuckle lightly. “Perfect, Osc, keep going,” he smiled in the darkness, and the shutters of each camera went off in short succession, Lando holding three remotes connected to the cameras in his hand and pressing their buttons. Not unlike Oscar’s buttons that he was pushing, subtly but permanently, getting him worked up in that way.
Oscar had long ago lost track of time, there were no clocks visible and the constant sounds of the shutter blended with the passing of the seconds. Lando had him balance on the chair, prop his feet up on it with his upper body on the ground like he was doing a glute bridge, told him to get hard, even, to touch himself and let him capture it on camera, relaxed and slow. Except that Oscar felt anything but relaxed, and didn't want to go slow; he yearned for Lando after what must have been half an hour in a half-hard state alone.
“Lando,” he whined as he tugged on his dick where he was kneeling in front of the chair, not caring about the implications of it. He was desperate by this point. “Come on, this is cruel. Surely you’ve gotten some good pics yet.”
“I sure did, but I could get more just for myself. You agreed to this,” Lando replied, and his tone of voice told Oscar that he wasn’t unaffected, either. Teasing him, sure, but also at his own cost. “You’re so pretty, how could I ever stop wanting you as my model?” Oscar wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but he could swear that he saw movement; Lando palming himself with his free hand over his pants.
“Can’t you come here and set the cameras up to take pictures by themselves? I want to touch you, Lando, please.” Oscar kept on stroking himself, playing with the head, smearing a droplet of precum over himself. He heard Lando grunt, a mix of arousal and approval, and he relented, “Smart, Osc, good boy. I did not exactly plan to be in the pictures, but why not. You can put some paint on me and we can take some shots just for our private collection, how does that sound?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Oscar whined, getting up from the floor despite Lando not having told him to. He stumbled towards him in his haste to get to it, reaching for the paint tubs while Lando kept on fiddling with his cameras to put in the automatic function. Oscar opened the tubs, haphazardly leaving the lids somewhere on the table for them to clean up later, and put paint on his fingers - orange, yellow, blue, green. Lando softly laughed next to him, “I’ve still got to get out of my clothes, baby, you gotta be patient.”
Right. Oscar couldn’t undress Lando now without dirtying his expensive clothes.
Luckily for him, Lando was done with his cameras and undressed swiftly. “Come on, let’s go back there,” he said, carrying a few tubs. Once in the middle of the room, Oscar didn’t hesitate to get his hands on his boyfriend. He pulled him into a kiss by the neck, his other hand reaching for his waist, crawling up and down his back and spreading the colours everywhere. Lando shivered as the cold liquids touched his skin, melting into Oscar’s touch. As they split for air, Oscar reapplied some paint, magenta and purple and indigo. They went on like this until Lando was covered in paint all over, Oscar’s frantic touches marking his skin, painting a picture of pure desire.
“Please don’t expect me to pose right now,” Oscar breathed against Lando’s dick that was now various shades of fluorescent yellow and green. Lando laughed, ruffling his hair. “You wanna continue? With the cameras?”
“Yeah,” he replied, and then swallowed him down. Lando’s hand tightened in his hair and he threw his head back. Through his teeth, he gritted out, “You’re so lucky I bought paints that are specifically safe to be used like that. I have no idea how they achieved that, but I thought you might pull something like that, you menace.”
Oscar hollowed his cheeks in return, pleased with himself.
Lando let out a shuddering breath as Oscar’s tongue swiped over his slit teasingly. “Alright, we can do this, baby. Be a good boy for me, hm? Take me all the way, as much as you can.”
Oscar steadied himself by holding onto Lando’s asscheeks and took him deeper, a silent affirmation. Obeying orders, almost. Lando’s hand latched itself onto Oscar’s soft waves impossibly tighter, afraid they might slip from his grip as much as he felt the last coherent thoughts slipping out of his brain as the wet heat of Oscar’s mouth engulfed him more and more. His abs were drawn tight, holding himself back from meeting Oscar halfway and making him choke on it.
He’d probably enjoy that, Lando presumed.
Oscar whined around him, fingers digging into his asscheeks, and Lando more felt rather than saw his boyfriend’s pleading eyes on him. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
Pulling off until only the tip was resting in his mouth, the paint all smeared and making the inside of Oscar’s mouth shine, too, he spoke, “Help me take you all the way down, please,” and really, who was Lando to resist such an inviting offer?
He praised Oscar again, patting his cheek and calling him good before steadily thrusting into his mouth, cold air no longer hitting his sensitive dick. Oscar’s tongue swirled around him immediately, easier now that he was aiding him in going down all the way, Oscar’s mouth stretched around him obscenely, and Lando felt blessed to see it due to the fluorescent paints. Desperately, he hoped that the cameras would pick up on it nicely, but he already knew that nothing would compare to the view he had at that moment.
When the head of his cock nudged the back of Oscar’s throat, grazing over it fleetingly, they both whined, hands tightening on Lando’s ass and in Oscar’s hair. From then on, they found an easy rhythm, slow but deep, Lando not even pulling out halfway before guiding himself back and deeper down Oscar’s throat. Oscar’s wet tongue kept caressing him all the while, their eyes fluttered shut and backs arched. A beautiful picture, an incredible moment.
They lost themselves like that for a while, Lando fucking Oscar’s throat, the student taking it as if his life depended on it, as if it was his sole purpose in life. It was slow and sensual, enough to make them lose their minds but not enough for either of them to come close to the edge. Lando briefly wondered how hard and wet Oscar was by then.
His attention was being pulled to Oscar sputtering around him, whining and pulling off against the pull on his hair. “What’s this?” he asked, voice hoarse and deep and making Lando groan before he had the mental capacity to even think about it. Lando felt it, then, a few of Oscar’s curious fingers touching the base of the plug he’d inserted a few moments before Oscar had arrived at the studio, tugging on it, making his rim widen and him moan again.
“Prepared myself for you,” Lando replied, and found that he didn’t sound much better than Oscar; equally wrecked despite the gentleness they’d been going at it with. “Honestly, I’d hoped for today to end like this, and I knew how much I’d be wanting you, so I didn’t wanna waste too much time getting either of us prepared.”
“I love you, holy shit, that’s so hot,” Oscar whimpered, foregoing his dick and sucking a hickey into the crease of Lando’s thigh, making his knees buckle with the slight tickling sensation. At the same time, he started teasing the thickest part of the plug in and out of Lando, seeing how far he could go. “I gotta go get the lube, unless you wanna use the paints. I’m not sure they were made for that,” Lando sighed out, lightly tugging on Oscar’s hair to get him to stop for a moment, but he realised his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
“If I can put them in my mouth, why can I not put them in you? You already put it on my dick, anyways, it would be a shame to wash it off now,” the younger man asked menacingly, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue to prove his point.
As Oscar teased the plug out of Lando, tossing it somewhere unknown and ghosted his fingertips over his sensitive rim, Lando had no choice but to breathe out an affirmative, “Fuck, yeah, alright, it’s gonna be fine.” In lieu of a reply, Oscar scrambled over to retrieve a few of the tubs, which Lando faintly registered to be blue, yellow and orange. He turned around, bending forward to rest his hands on his shins for the time being as there was nothing to hold onto nearby. Oscar sucked another hickey into one of his asscheeks as Lando felt a cold, wet finger dragging itself up and down over his entrance. He briefly wondered what colour it was, then shuddered in anticipation at the thought of reviewing the footage later.
The first finger breached him, swiftly followed by a second one as he encouraged his young boyfriend by pushing back his hips, telling him, “Osc, baby, please, I want you in me. Give me two already, the plug stretched me out good.” Oscar didn’t need to be told twice, plunging into the warmth and painting Lando’s insides as he immediately went for his prostate. Lando jerked where he was bent over, and Oscar kept on stroking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with each passing of his fingers, making the professor twitch underneath him. He feared he might fall over at some point with how intense it felt.
Introducing a third finger came with a pull at his rim and a cascade of coldness.
“Fuck!” Lando cursed, seeing a small puddle of yellow paint form beneath him. Oscar chuckled into the skin of his ass that he’d attached himself to, leaving his marks. He’d poured some paint over Lando’s crack, pushing it into him to get him slick and open. Lando pushed back onto his fingers, all three of them, the stretch eased by the wet paint, enjoyable now. He liked it when he could feel being stretched out, his rim giving way with ease as he was played with. There was a slick noise whenever Oscar pumped his fingers in and out of him, hitting his prostate accurately and occasionally making his fingers catch on the ring of muscle. Some of the paint was dripping over his balls, making him tremble, even more so as Oscar licked over it.
His dick hung hard and neglected, dripping into the paint puddle on the floor. As Oscar brushed over his prostate and the sensitive spot on his balls at the same time, he took a step back, into the puddle and felt something hard against his foot. Behind him, Oscar’s fingers halted in him as he giggled. “That was the blue one,” he said, placing the tub upright again and swiping some of the paint with his free hand. Lando saw him put it on his cock, which was most definitely as hard as his own, covering the shades Lando had put there before. “Think you’re good? All ready?”
“Yeah, I can take you, I want you to fuck me so bad,” Lando replied, voice breaking at the end of it. “Wait, let me just-” he broke off, kneeling down while trying to avoid the paints. Oscar pressed a kiss to the base of his spine. “You’re going to look so beautiful, all for me. Think it’s gonna turn green?”
“I know you’ll tell me if it does,” Lando replied, breathless. He couldn’t believe Oscar sometimes.
As he positioned himself on all fours, he felt Oscar adjusting himself behind him. This wasn’t the first time they were going without a condom, but definitely the most unconventional one. Oscar, for all that he liked being told what to do, also knew exactly what he was doing to Lando and how to make him feel good, using the surprise momentum to his advantage. It gave Lando whiplash, the way he could switch between his moods sometimes during sex, but it made each encounter unique.
Lando’s train of thought was brought to a grinding halt as Oscar nudged the fat tip of his dick against his entrance, hot and wet and delightfully insistent. A heavy hand found purchase on his hip, the other one holding him open so Oscar could watch his colourful dick disappear into Lando’s equally bright hole in the dark, hopefully visible on camera in some way or another. They both groaned, unable to contain it - the slide was slow and hard and wetter than usual, different than normal lube but not bad either. Quite the opposite; Lando felt as if he could feel even more of Oscar, somehow. He tried to stay put, Oscar’s constant pressure making him inch forward, so he actively pressed back into him, easing into it, focused on loosening up his muscles.
“There we go,” Lando exhaled as Oscar bottomed out, making him laugh lightly. “Can’t wait to see what you look like when you fuck me later on camera.”
“Holy shit, Lando” Oscar replied, nearly reverently, as he bent down, his teeth finding Lando’s shoulder to dig into as he started to shallowly move, knowing from experience that Lando wanted him to. Despite it all, the professor knew what he liked and wasn’t shy in communicating it - he may be into edging, but it was more fun, to him, if he started to get fucked into almost immediately, making his partner drag it out as long as possible. Lando’s back arched into the pressure on his rim, against his insides, up to Oscar’s mouth where it was placing kisses all over his upper back. He clenched his hole, the slide all-consuming, Lando trying to feel every nook and cranny of Oscar’s cock, trying to commit every single detail of it to memory.
“You feel so good inside me, baby,” he moaned, encouraging Oscar to give him more. “I can feel you all the way up in my throat, don’t stop.”
Oscar pulled out fully, only to drive back into him, not too fast but forcefully enough for Lando to let out a loud noise, able to feel it all. The grip on his hips, both of them now, tightened, and Oscar righted himself up so he could give Lando more, increasing the pleasure. “You’re so tight around me, too, it’s insane,” Oscar praised him, voice breathy and interrupted by a moan as Lando clenched around him intentionally as he pushed deep into him, over his prostate and beyond.
They kept going like that for a while, exchanging praises and groans and whimpers, Oscar fucking Lando deep and thorough, ensuring he’d be feeling it for a while, aiming to leave him hollow after, with the phantom feeling of his dick heavy and hot inside of him remaining for hours to come. It was what Lando craved, too, opening up easily and falling apart underneath Oscar’s ministrations, roaming hands and unrelenting hips, slick lips and filthy tongue. His eyes fell shut at some point, but it made no difference in the already-dark studio - there was Oscar all around him, and that was all that mattered, the intense feelings and nothing else.
Oscar came first, deep inside of him, on a particularly mean clench of Lando’s hole around him, no warning. Lando had lost himself in the rhythm of Oscar’s hips a long time ago, brain nothing but mush anymore. His boyfriend came with a shout, deep and guttural, and it had Lando pull out of his trance instantly, moaning in return as he felt himself being filled up with Oscar’s cum, hot and spluttering into him impossibly deeper. Oscar pulsed inside of him, but he didn’t stop fucking into him, instead increasing the speed, not minding his own sensitivity rising up. He collapsed forward over Lando’s back, hips nearly frantic at this point as they bucked up into Lando, spreading the cum around and making it leak out around him alongside some of the paint, a squelching sound audible in the otherwise near-silent room.
Lando came as soon as Oscar’s fingertips found the tip of his dick, sensitive and awaiting. He screamed as it hit him, being fucked and stroked through it, through what was one of the most intense and heady orgasms he’d had in a while.
Slowing down took them a while, both their movements and their heartrates, and they fell sideways to the floor as Oscar slipped out of him, letting the mixture of paint and cum flow out of him. Lazily, Oscar’s fingers found it, playing with it, smearing it over the globes of his partner’s asscheeks. “You look pretty like this,” he mumbled into his shoulder, mindlessly playing with his rim, twitching underneath the pads of his fingers.
“Let’s go home for a second round, yeah? Your flattery works, but I need a break,” Lando mumbled back, snuggling into Oscar, who replied instantly, “Speaking of second rounds, we forgot about a part of the photoshoot, didn’t we?”
“Shit,” Lando replied, smiling nonetheless. He made no move to get up, preferring to cuddle for a bit to calm down, which Oscar always agreed with.
He cursed again a few moments later as they got up and subsequently stumbled over the tubs of paint on the floor that they’d forgotten about, spilling some of it. “At this point, let’s just go home.”
Oscar laughed loudly, and they turned the light back on to clean it all up, themselves and the studio alike.
The end of the academic year came much quicker than either of them had seen coming. Reviewing the footage had taken a while, constantly interrupted by great sexual acts due to the nature of the majority of the pictures. In the end, though, Lando had managed to put together an exhibition of it, throwing in some of the pictures from their earlier sessions as well with Oscar’s permission. The launch went incredibly well, a huge event in downtown London, two weeks before the end of the second semester. Subsequently, that meant that Lando wasn’t around in Cambridge much, but since classes were nearly over, he was easily excused by the dean, Logan subbing in successfully. Oscar, as the model this time around, had been excused for the launch event as well, but had needed to return to university two days later.
Lando managed to be back for the last day of classes before he’d be hopping on a flight to Paris, having been invited to a photography event following his exhibition. Alongside his colleagues, he sent off this year’s graduates, staying for the annual end-of-year photos and taking some himself. Afterwards, he returned home to find Oscar already waiting for him, cooking dinner and greeting him with a kiss.
“I can’t believe how fast the year has gone by,” Oscar said as he turned back to the stove with a soft smile playing on his lips, “I mean, never would I have expected to end my first year of uni standing in your kitchen and calling you my boyfriend.”
“I’m looking forward to many more years of you cooking dinner for us as a couple,” Lando replied smoothly, sneaking his arms around Oscar’s waist from behind and resting his head on Oscar’s shoulder. “For now, let’s enjoy Paris together, hm?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Oscar turned around to give him another kiss, the carbonara taking shape on the stovetop. They spent a calm evening together, sitting on the balcony in the warm evening sun, watching the sunset while eating their food and then watching a movie together before retreating to bed. Their luggage was packed, ready for a trip to Paris. They still needed to be careful since they were still a professor and student respectively, and Lando would be working, but since Oscar was involved in the latest project, they’d get away with it as long as they kept the PDA in public on the down low (an immense feat, but they had practice). Neither of them could wait for the day that Oscar finished his studies or Lando stopped teaching so they could be together openly.
Lando woke up the next morning to Oscar shaking him, which was unusual since Oscar normally slept until the mid-morning at least while Lando got up as early as possible, and it was also before their alarm.
“Look at this, shit,” he rushed out, shoving his phone screen into Lando’s face as he leaned over him, bare chest rising and falling rapidly. Lando’s eyes adjusted for a few seconds and he groggily rubbed his hands over his face before he was able to read the screen. “Osc, babe, how early is it? Oh, fuck,” he interrupted himself, suddenly wide awake.
On the screen, Oscar’s chat with Logan was opened, who had sent him a screenshot of what appeared to be a local newspaper headline.
Breaking - Cambridge University: Two Professors Temporarily Suspended After Allegedly Repeatedly Being Intimately Involved With a Student