Work Text:
The champagne is popped, trophies are handed to their owners, and pictures (at least the ones that will fuel the teams social media for the next two weeks) have been taken.
The moment the last drops of champagne hit the ground, Oscar is gone.
The anger and frustration are almost palpable on his skin, he feels as though the champagne drenching his body is a proof of his failures, the mistakes he longs to avoid. His steps are soft and careful while he makes his way to his driver's room, but everything is more than visible on his face, even if the media insists on calling him “ice-man” or whatever stupid nickname they think makes him look stoic and poised.
Controlled, pr trained to perfection, but right now, everything feels like an open wound.
He tried to keep a straight face and stand beside Lando. Beautiful, gleaming Lando Norris with the biggest smile on his face and a handful of trophies to go with it. And fuck isn't he proud, he always is. Even back when the team made horrible decisions that turned their delicate friendship upside down his heart soared at the sight of Lando drinking his glory in.
But right now, even when it feels wrong for him to stay away like this when his boyfriend just won his home Grand Prix, he'd rather walk away, at least for a moment. Until his mind stops giving him reasons to be angry, until he stops feeling upset.
The second he closes the door behind him, everything quiets down. Not entirely, he can still hear the team celebrating outside, but no one's there to watch him, to look for the tiniest crack on his expression. A shower is due, clearly, his hair is damp with champagne and his fireproofs are sticking to his body. But he stops, looks around, exhales like he's been trying to breathe underwater for minutes, and collapses on the couch. Oscar sighs, his hands go over his face and just for a brief moment he feels like crying, not something he does much, but the overwhelming feelings come crashing down and he stops having control of anything, his eyes watering. So he closes his eyes tightly, like that's going to make everything disappear.
His mind is empty for a couple of minutes, body relaxed against the couch, eyes closed. And still, he hears the steps coming closer and chooses to ignore them, which proves to be useless when there's a couple of shy knocks at the door before it opens. Oscar knows who it is, no one manages his frankly pissy moods quite as nicely as his boyfriend.
The door closes, steps thud softly against the floor, and when Oscar decides to open his eyes, his frustration disappears like it was never there and instead he's overcome with fondness. The sight of Lando standing there all wet and glossy eyed hits like it always does, straight to the heart.
He's also… hurt? Oscar frowns, he forgets about everything else for a second and means to ask about the wound on his nose, but Lando shakes his head, a silent “it's okay”
—You disappeared.
It's not a complaint, more like an observation, and Oscar knows he's not angry because he's empathetic and understanding and too fucking sweet.
Oscar sits up, his hands immediately reach out for the other and Lando goes without thinking, taking his hands in his, a gesture that always stops Oscar's running mind. He likes to see it, the way Lando holds him with so much care, how his hands look so big around his own.
—Sorry, I couldn't stay there looking pissed off when you were celebrating. I thought I'd cool down and come back.
—Don’t worry, I figured.
But Oscar does worry, he doesn't want to put a dampener on Lando's mood.
—We can go back an-
—Fuck no— Lando interrupts, Oscar doesn't ask, he tugs the older closer and hugs him, his head rests on his abdomen and he melts when he feels big yet careful fingers threading through his hair. —I think we are done out there and we have to get on the stage in a couple of minutes anyway.
Oscar groans, he'd forgotten about that in his hurry to make the day end quicker. Lando laughs, soft, warm, and his problems disappear.
—How long until we have to go out there again?
—30 minutes tops.
Lando doesn't have time to finish talking, one second he's standing there, trying to get as close to his boyfriend as possible, and suddenly he's being pulled forward, balance nowhere to be found, and he ends up sprawled on top of the Aussie who immediately brings his arms around him.
—You know you could've just asked— Lando complains, but he's making himself comfortable where he is, fitting himself between Oscar's legs and trying to get his hands on the other wherever he can.
—Sure.
It's the finality of his answer that makes Lando laugh, and Oscar brings him even closer if that's humanly possible, just because he can feel the rumble of his boyfriend's laugh against his chest and nothing could possibly make him happier.
Oscar finally breathes long and deep and allows himself to focus on the warm body on top of him, running his hands through damp locks all out of place, following the lines of muscles on his back and sneaking his hands under sticky fireproofs to feel skin and consequently the goosebumps that follow his touch.
—We have to take a shower—Lando mumbles after a couple of minutes, and yeah, they are both sticky with champagne and sweat, still fresh out of their cars.
—In a minute.
—Oscar…
—In five.
—That’s not how that works-
—Okay let's go together.
—You know they are going to give us shit if they come looking for us and we are both in the shower.
—When has that stopped you? Mr. Spontaneous blowjob before the press pen.
—Didn't hear you complaining, in fact you were very much enjoyi- shit! Stop doing that!
Oscar laughs, it takes him a literal second to sit up with Lando on top of him and throw the Brit over his shoulder, walking calmly to the bathroom.
Lando complains long enough, but just to redeem himself he takes advantage of his position and lands an open, heavy hand on Oscar's ass. Which in hindsight is a really bad idea because Oscar is carrying him and suddenly there's a hand on his ass squeezing and fucking teeth on his hips and-
They make it out on time, Andrea just has to call for them once.
-0-
Everything has settled by the time they make it to the hotel. The fans are happy with that one last appearance and the couple hopes it is enough for the next two weeks until the next race. They say their goodbyes to the team and with a sudden sense of urgency Oscar walks to his car while watching Lando do the same with a calm he can't find himself.
They have their separate rooms, of course, but technically speaking Lando has spent the days staying with his family, and one of their rooms always goes unused anyway, so when Oscar pulls the Brit with him he doesn't even question it.
Lando can't even try and decipher what Oscar's intentions are before he's being picked up and pressed against the wall, the other's lips warm against his neck. He goes pliant in a second, something about Oscar manhandling him like that always makes him swoon.
—You always look so beautiful when you are on the podium— Oscar starts, breaking Lando's haze. —So perfect, soaking in the people's support, your family's love and that fucking champagne all over you.
Lando groans, a mix of shyness and adoration at the way Oscar worships him like that, unfiltered, his hands following his words. Oscar nudges his shirt up and Lando follows without hesitation trusting Oscar not to drop him right there while he takes off the papaya shirt. The Aussie hums in approval, his hands squeeze Lando's ass with intent, kneading his fingers into the flesh and bringing him impossibly close, grinding, getting a sharp hiss out of Lando as the friction gets rough. And he can barely feel the shape of Oscar against him with their jeans on, but fuck it's good.
Oscar can't help it, the shirt is out and somewhere on the ground and he aches to savour the other's skin. He kisses under his jaw, sucks on his neck with all the intent to make it bruise and bites softly on his collarbones. Hiking him up just a little more, hearing him curse loudly before devolving into soft gasps as he finds his nipples, hard under the sudden temperature drop inside the room, and Oscar laps at them with his tongue, sucking, relishing in Lando's hands flying to hold onto his hair and pulling mindlessly when the stimulation it's too much.
—Osc- fuck- please please just oh…
The Aussie chuckles, satisfied, always eager to make his partner speechless.
—What do you want, love?
—Shit- bed, couch, I don't know, just throw me somewhere and let me touch you please.
He says please like he's begging for something, and Oscar is terribly weak for a begging Lando so he complies, walking to the bed and placing him in the middle of it with care. Lando catches his breath, body relaxing on the soft feeling of the bed under him and stretching his arms to reach Oscar as he crawls on top of him, cupping his face softly and pulling him close. He hooks his legs around his hips to keep him flush to his body, and finally brings him down completely, kissing him deeply, lips meeting desperately and grinding his hips forward shamelessly.
Oscar gasps between kisses, grounding down on Lando roughly as his brain catches up with the heat that grows stronger on his body. Lando grabs at his shirt, tugging, and Oscar follows, letting him get rid of it, sitting up on his lap as he pushes him back and gets his hands on the buttons of his pants.
—Take these off, come on— Lando complains, Oscar laughs softly, getting up just to get rid of his clothes and do the same with Lando, teasing him slightly when he pulls his zipper down and all but feels him over the clothes, hard and wanting. He doesn't keep that up for much longer though, Lando is a vision like this, spread out on the bed, naked, skin flushed and reddish with warmth. And he doesn't even have to ask, he puts his hands on his calves, caressing the soft skin up to his hips, and his legs fall open like an invitation that Oscar wouldn't ever deny, making himself comfortable in what might be his favourite place on earth.
He doesn't go straight to touching his cock, but he hikes his legs up and on top of his shoulders and kisses the skin of his thighs, sucking and dragging his tongue close, close, but never where he wants him. Until he hears a low, desperate whimper, and Oscar decides to stop teasing him.
—You’re so needy— Oscar says softly, Lando bucks his hips up, a reflex, and the Aussie pushes his hips down. —So impatient.
Oscar looks up to meet Lando's eyes, his pupils wide, his eyebrows are drawn in a way that makes him look soft, desperate. Lando opens his mouth, he's about to complain again, but nothing makes it past his throat when suddenly Oscar's wet mouth is on him, deep, throat closing around his dick's sensitive head, pulling off with an obscene “pop” and a satisfied smile on his lips.
—You enjoy watching me suffer— Lando actually complains once Oscar pulls back.
—That’s cruel, I like watching you squirm— Oscar corrects, making a point by dragging his tongue up Lando's length, taking a couple agonizing seconds to lap at the slit, making Lando tremble, his legs closing around his head and his hands finding purchase on his hair.
—That- dummfuuuck— Lando's trying, really trying to fight him, but Oscar is relentless, hasn't let him get a moment of repose since the second they got to the room.
He's hot all over, simultaneously feeling like he's about to combust but also melting at every second of Oscar pushing his buttons without giving him a break. Which he usually doesn't do. He's sweet and so very soft, loves putting Lando in his place because he's purposely annoying and finds pleasure in making Oscar take control. But fuck, he's frustrated, and pent up. He isn't sure Oscar is fully aware of the way he is just giving himself to him, and knowing his boyfriend finds release in taking his pleasure to the limit is something that he's going to be thinking about for weeks on end.
Because really, Oscar is dead focused, every pull of his hair, every second of Lando's legs closing in pleasure are like a reprieve. He sucks adamantly, drags his tongue up and down and delights in the familiar taste, curls his hand around the base when Lando tries to set a rhythm holding onto his hair and gasps when he's denied.
—Osc… If-I’m gonna-
There's no way anything is leaving his mouth and making sense, not with Oscar bobbing his head like his life depends on it, cheeks hollowed, saliva dripping from his mouth along other things. Lando can't even hear himself over the wet sounds and Oscar's hums and groans that have him questioning his sanity for a second. Not that it would make a difference, Oscar is adamant in his purpose and no matter how much Lando warns him he's coming, he's not moving anytime soon.
Lando pulls at the soft hair between his fingers, a last, poor attempt at warning Oscar that he's about to lose it, but he doesn't even flinch, he doubles down -quite literally- and he goes down all the way, throat easing around Lando's length, tongue flat against him. He hears him gasp, sputter a frantic “fuck”, and next thing Oscar knows is that he needs to swallow or he's going to end up choking.
Oscar sits back, careful hands reaching for Lando's legs and caressing softly, watching as he opens his eyes to look at him, something akin to hunger glinting on them. He brings Oscar back down, kissing him deeply, ignoring the way his body still trembles with the reminder of a very good climax. And when the Aussie is relaxed Lando takes his chance, pushing the other off just to sit on top of him.
He's still hard, leaking precum at the tip and all flushed.
—What?— Oscar asks, his boyfriend's heavy gaze glued to him.
—Oh nothing— Lando assures, but his eyes tell Oscar he's got something going through his head. He kisses him deeply, pushing his body's weight on top of him, grinding in a lazy, torturous rhythm.
Lando's sure he's got Oscar down for good, he can feel him moving against him like he's on edge, his hands find his butt just to bring him forward, closer. Lando is still sensitive, overstimulated, but he keeps moving, feeling Oscar's cock throbbing in need against his stomach, like he may come at any second.
—Lando…
—Mmh?
Their eyes lock, Oscar gasps, following every move the other does, looking attentively as he sits up, reaching behind him and stroking him at the same time. Lando's slow, careful, opening himself up while matching the pace he strokes Oscar with, watching him throw his head back, closing his eyes just to open them again, transfixed on the man on top of him.
—You have… no idea of h-how beautiful you are.
Lando blushes, red prominent on his cheeks even when he's already flushed with sweat and the exertion of holding himself up and open. Oscar does it on purpose, he knows him like the back of his hand. And he knows what makes him tremble, knows how much he likes the praise when it comes from him and only him.
—Stretching yourself open for me… I could come just looking at you— That's not a lie, Oscar's sure the view and the feeling of Lando's hand around him got his brain fucked up, making him feel like he's already inside him, like some tortuos mind game.
Lando doesn't have to reach much further, he has long fingers, and he moans out loud when he finds that one spot, falling forwards a little, letting go of Oscar and planting a firm hand on his chest. Oscar lets him, the hand over his heart feels warm and right, and he barely has to make an effort to bat Lando's hand working himself away to replace it with his, letting him lean forwards now with both hands on his chest.
—Good?— Oscar asks, though the answer is more than clear on his face as he pushes two fingers in.
Lando nods, pushing himself down on Oscar's fingers, eyes closed, digging his fingers into Oscar's chest, sure that'll leave a mark later.
—Osc… come on, I need you.
Oscar stops for a second, Lando's voice turns sweet when he is like this, needy and unashamed, something that works so easily on him.
—Are you sure?
—I can handle you— Lando says, confident.
—Oh I know— Oscar doesn't argue, instead he complies. Lando complains softly at the sudden emptiness when the Aussie takes his fingers out, resorting to complaining out loud when Oscar tries to move him, reaching for the drawer next to the bed for the lube.
Lando's impatient, he always is, and ignoring Oscar's thoughtful intentions, he stops him, spitting on his hand and reaching back to stroke him briefly, covering him in spit and precum, hissing loudly when the stretch settles as he pushes the other in and hands squeeze his thighs.
—Fuck, Lando… Careful.
—I’m fine baby— He is fine, no matter how tightly he closes his eyes when he lets himself down quickly instead of easing the stretch. It's comforting in a weird way, and the way Oscar holds him through those first seconds settles his nerves.
—Beautiful— Oscar says, his hands squeeze gently at Lando's thighs, tracing a teasing pattern on his sensitive skin. Lando sighs, leaning down to capture the other's lips in a kiss, moaning against his mouth, moving his hips slowly.
From here, Lando thinks, Oscar usually lets him set the pace, always the pleaser. He'll take a look at him and know exactly what he wants, indulging him when he feels a need for more. But this time, he feels Oscar's hands on him squeezing, gripping possessively from his thighs to his waist and digging his fingers on the skin until he gets a hold of his hair and suddenly Lando's being pulled back, the pull of his hair makes a shiver run down his spine but he can't think about that before strong hands leave his hair and settle on his waist, his brain already far away from rational thoughts as the Aussie thrusts into him with force.
Oscar hums approvingly, hands anchoring Lando by his waist, holding him right where he wants him while he fucks into him.
Lando loves sitting down on Oscar's thick thighs and riding him until he's left stupid and satisfied. But this? This is new, this is Oscar taking without doubts, remembering the many times Lando has told him he's his to have and acting on it however he sees fit. He likes it, the intensity, the raw feeling of the Aussie letting go of the day's frustrations while looking at him like nothing else matters, like he's the answer to whatever is going on in his mind.
A choked gasp leaves Lando's mouth, he struggles to find a grip to steady himself and ends up finding purchase on Oscar's legs, his back arched and head thrown back. Oscar watches, unable to keep his eyes away from his boyfriend, barely feeling the painful dig of his fingers grasping at his legs for support. It's always been like this, he had trouble meeting Lando's eyes when they first met and he has trouble keeping his eyes off of him now.
And Lando knows, he can feel Oscar's eyes on him every time, soft and fond most of the time, or heavy and burning with want.
Around them the air gets hot, the sounds of skin on skin and Lando's moans echo through the hotel room, hopefully not clear enough for the rooms next to them to hear the pleas carrying Oscar's name. The Brit tries to keep his voice low, bites his lips in a poor attempt, but Oscar is relentless, thrusting up like he weights nothing, like the effort isn't burning his muscles like Lando feels it on his thighs and arms while he tries to stay up, feeling like he's about to collapse every time Oscar is in too deep and in all the right places and-
Oscar slows down for a second, Lando whines, overstimulated but still hard and needy, trying to pick up the pace himself even if his legs are hurting with the effort. There's not much he can do, and Oscar takes mercy on him, sitting up, gathering Lando in his arms and holding him tight against him. He takes a moment, hands roaming around Lando's back, kneading on his shoulders as he all but melts in the embrace, his hips moving in small, almost shy circles. They're as close as they can get, Lando keens at every little movement that inevitably pushes Oscar inside him deep and hard against that one bundle of nerves that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids.
There's a moment of recollection, a soft lull that grows between them as Oscar kisses every inch of skin he can reach, biting down and tracing every little mole and freckle with reverence while Lando, absolutely gone, sets a slow rhythm with his hips, lifting himself enough to feel the pleasure of Oscar's cock dragging inside him, sitting back down and gasping as he rolls his hips, building the pressure just right.
That tranquility doesn't last very long, with them it never does, the desire burns too fast between them, too hot.
There isn't a warning, a sign, Oscar wraps his arms around Lando's middle and thrusts, hard, fast. And Lando can't do much but hold tight, fingers clenching and unclenching between soft, honey hair, breathing hotly against Oscar's neck.
Lando feels like he's been close for too long, but he's been holding on to a thin, weak strand of control to make it to the end when Oscar does, but it gets difficult. Oscar thrusts up, quick, deep and hard, and in the midst of it all he reaches between them, takes Lando's cock and as the other trembles with the contact, he closes his fingers around the base, drawing a desperate cry out of the olders' lips. Lando doesn't get to think about anything, rendered into a mess, moans high pitched and whiny. He wants to slap Oscar's hand away because he feels like he's about to explode, but he can't find it in himself to move, to shake Oscar out of whatever frustration ridden high he's on. His words are slurred, he can hear himself, and every thrust feels like he's about to black out. It's too fast, too hard, rough and too much-
—Osc- ah fuck— His voice breaks, and the next thing that comes out is not words but a sob, the only warning he gets to the tears that slide down his face without his permission. —Oscar… slowd-down. Wait fuck please.
Oscar halts, the urgency in Lando's voice is genuine, the sudden wetness against his skin isn't just saliva, and with a little bit of panic he lets go of his boyfriend and softly pulls him back enough to cradle his face in his hands and gasp quietly at the tears streaking his cheeks.
—Fuck sorry- sorry love. Did I hurt you?
Lando opens his eyes, not sure when he closed them to begin with, and finds himself amused at the worry written all over Oscar's face.
—Fine, not hurt— a sob cuts his words short, which doesn't help in convincing Oscar that he's not hurting. —Just too much.
He smiles softly, eyes locked on Oscar's, who wipes the tears away with careful fingers and slowly but surely loses the worry in his eyes, a small, almost ashamed smile appears instead. The audacity, Lando thinks, he's sitting there with Oscar still inside him and very much about to come, and he has the audacity to blush.
—Sorry Lan, I just- got carried away i th-
—Shut up— Lando interrupts, landing a kiss on the other's lips. He tries to pull himself up with no success, his body refusing to move on his own accord, and a surprised laugh cuts through Oscar's thoughts.
The Aussie holds onto Lando and carefully lifts him, a hand splayed over his back as he places him softly on the mattress, hovering on top of him and melting against his warm body when he hugs him.
—You are something else— Lando mumbles, kind of entertained. He hears the other groaning, a complaint, but he kisses his neck like an apology. —Again, I'm fine. You know I like you rough and a little mean.
Granted, Oscar's never been this rough but Lando isn't complaining.
Oscar goes to kiss him, slow and soft, like he didn't just fuck Lando into an overstimulated mess, and the Brit hums contentedly.
The kiss turns sloppy, open mouthed and wet, both still hard and hot all over, and Lando sighs, hooking his legs around Oscar's hips in a silent plea.
Oscar hesitates for a second, but Lando grinds against him, wanting.
—Come on Oscar, fuck me.
It works like a charm, Oscar places a soft kiss on his temple before settling between Lando's legs and aligning himself to his entrance, pushing slowly and carefully. Lando is sure something, he doesn't know what, is bruised, he hisses as Oscar bottoms out again and his body is a mess of yes yes yes and tears gathering at the corner of his eyes again.
—Please baby, I need you.
For all that he's been holding on all this time, suddenly Oscar feels like he's a touch away from losing it entirely. He obeys, thrusting in and out again, Lando's body takes him with no resistance. He's a lot gentler, and when he reaches for Lando's cock, the way he cries out has him stopping for a second just to be pulled down into a searing kiss.
Lando feels it coming and even then he's surprised by the intensity of it all. His body gives up quickly to the insistent press to his prostate and the hand wrapped around him and he comes with a choked gasp, almost crying into the kiss. It feels like a never ending thing, his body trembles, he holds onto Oscar like a lifeline, surely leaving marks on his back.
Oscar watches, enraptured by the way Lando unravels, his body tightens and softens through a couple of minutes where he stays deep but still, his hand still jerking Lando off through his orgasm, getting sticky and slick, letting go when the fingers on his back dig in with a vengeance and his breathing threatens to turn into sobs again.
And that breaks the Aussie too, Lando tightens around him in all the right places and brings him close to capture his lips in a messy kiss. Oscar can't say he lets go. It's more like a punch to the stomach, sudden and intense, his brain struggling to catch up to his body, and he's barely aware of the way he moans Lando's name like a prayer. He shivers, pulls out carefully, hearing a soft noise of discomfort that makes him grimace and look up to Lando. But the older is smiling softly, his fingers finding his hair at some point and brushing through deliberately.
Oscar drapes himself on top of Lando for a moment, both still breathing deeply and shivering through the afterglow of everything, that and the air in the room getting cold. The temperature drop makes Oscar move, rolling off of the other just to pull him close in a half hug and drape the bed covers over their bodies.
—Are you okay Lan?—Oscar asks, worried about Lando groaning in what could be either pain or discomfort when they moved around.
—I think I can't feel my legs— Lando laughs, which doesn't take away from Oscar's worries. —But I'm fine, love.
—Sorry about that, I wasn't thinking.
—There’s nothing to be sorry about, you know I'm always in for you to rough me up a little.
Objectively, not a little. His legs feel numb and he's already feeling sore. But that is a little price to pay if Oscar is going to fuck him like that.
Oscar hums, not really convinced, but doesn't push. Instead he runs his hands soothingly across Lando's body, pressing down in soothing caresses whenever Lando's breath hiccups in certain places.
—I don't want to leave now.
Oscar frowns, trying to remember what the other is talking about, and he sighs when he does.
—Do you have to?
—I do— Lando chuckles. —I can't miss this party, lots of friends and people I don't get to see often are going to be there.
—I know, I'm joking. You deserve to celebrate this win, I know it's important.
Oscar would never take away from Lando's victories, he could never tear Lando away from the spotlight, he shines too brightly to be kept hidden.
—Are you okay though?—Lando asks this time.
—I’m fine, Lan. I was being stubborn and stupid, but it is what it is.
—Does that mean I can convince you to come with me to the club?
—Absolutely not.
Lando chuckles, he knows Oscar isn't a party guy, but he never misses the chance to try and convince him to go somewhere with him. He's indulged him a few times, and Lando loves having Oscar close, never touching or giving their relationship away but always close enough to deter anyone from trying to get too close.
Oscar tightens his hold around his boyfriend, the way Lando sighs happily makes him feel oddly possessive, makes him want to keep the other there with him for hours. But alas, Lando has to leave, and when he sits up and presses a soft kiss on his lips before walking to the bathroom, Oscar doesn't complain.
He comes back from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, his curls wet and a look in his face that borders on murderous. Oscar is slow to realize what's happening, sleep clinging to his mind, but he yelps when the other falls into the bed again and makes his way between his legs, hands holding onto his thighs to put his lips over his skin.
—Land-uh shit.
Words are lost on him, Lando bites down on his thigh, hard enough to make a sharp sensation travel through his body. And just like that first one, he keeps making his way along his thighs, sucking hard and sinking his teeth like he's about to take a bite out of him.
Oscar lets everything happen with amusement and confusion written all over his face, groaning and moaning at every little movement, feeling the mess of harsh teeth and saliva just dropping down his legs. He reaches for Lando's curls, but the glare he gets in return stops him halfway, only for Lando to take his hand and pin it strongly against the mattress.
Can't move, can't touch, and definitely can't stop whatever has Lando borderline brutalizing his skin, so he settles and lets it happen.
He's halfway hard again when Lando seemingly decides he's had enough and without a word steps away from a confused Oscar.
—What was that about?— Oscar asks, he sits up and gasps in disbelief at the way his thighs are covered in big red marks, already turning into a purple hue.
—Payback.
He doesn't explain, but he lets the towel fall as he walks to look for his clothes and Oscar isn't sure if he should feel ashamed or amused at what he sees.
There's marks everywhere, round bruises that he didn't realize he put there, some resembling his bite a little too much. In between he can make out the shape of his fingers, clear as day around his thighs. And when he turns around Oscar feels a hot rush overcome him. His ass and the back of his thighs are red, a bold proof of what just happened, of Oscar going so hard and deep he managed to leave a mark on Lando's tan skin.
Embarrassingly enough, he finds that really hot, but he puts that away from his mind and instead he sits up, grabs his underwear and walks over to a half dressed Lando, sneaking his hands around his waist and bringing their bodies together.
—Sorry Lan.
—It’s fine— Lando reassures him, his hands holding onto Oscar's softly. —Just wanted to settle the record, good luck wearing your short shorts for the next few days.
It's vengeance, that's what it is, but Oscar can't find it in himself to be even slightly mad about it. After all, he isn't the one that looks like he got mauled.
—Are you coming back to the hotel or should I leave first?— Oscar asks, he leaves a few apologetic kisses along Lando's neck.
—Go, I'll probably stay with my family for one more day and then take a flight back home.
—I’ll stay, text me tomorrow when you wake up and I'll drive to you.
Lando hums approvingly, finally finding it in himself to move away from the Aussie to finish getting dressed.
Oscar kisses him goodbye and sighs like a lovestruck idiot when Lando finally leaves. And he walks to the bathroom with a small smile on his lips.
They're going to be okay.