Work Text:
Lando has tried everything, everything to fall asleep. But he just can't.
He's twisting and turning in his bed, unable to shut his brain off. It's been like this for a while. A while. Since he got into Formula 1.
Lando's mind has always been like this, processing hundreds of thoughts and emotions all at once. He's unable to stop overthinking, to stop replaying conversations in his head. Every look or a laugh in the garage is suddenly about him. Every glare that a fan sends him if he doesn't sign something for them haunts him all day until it finally catches him. It overconsumes him, and he ends up torturing himself.
And it always gets him at night, when he's alone in the dark, when there's nothing but pure silence that leaves space for his thoughts to run free. When all he hears is his own breathing and his fridge buzzing.
But it has never been as bad as for the last 7 years that he has been in F1. It's that unbearable pressure that makes his nights sleepless. And it's pure torture. He can barely handle the pressure as it is, but it's a thousand times harder when you're running 48 hours without sleep.
It's becoming a serious problem. His team is starting to notice.
Struggling with insomnia his whole life, he had learned a trick or two that works for him and helps him fall asleep. He has his routine: 4 hours before bed he turns his phone off. No screens. Then, he takes a warm bath, using all types of oils, rubbing them on his skin, massaging it in. After that he enters his bedroom that's pitch dark. He lays on his bed and covers himself with his duvet that has been left outside to cool (if it's summer time), he puts in his Loop earplugs and lays there until he falls asleep.
That usually works. Well, it works sometimes. When it doesn't, he tries other things. And when he says he tried everything, he really means everything. Everything includes things like going on a three hour run in the middle of the night in hopes to physically exhaust himself to a point where he can't stand anymore. Or, taking a concerning amount of melatonins every night that got to a point where he was buying a bottle every third day. When he got immune to melatonin, he tried getting unbelievably drunk. He knows alcohol usually has an opposite effect with insomnia but he thought if he got so drunk he might pass out and wake up rested in the morning. Needless to say that didn't work, he stayed awake in his bed until he sobered up.
And of course he tried therapy. Safe to say it was useless since everything doctors suggested he already tried. He quit coffeeine years ago, yoga only bores him to death, he has the healthiest diets, he's an athelte for fucks sake. They told him what he already knew, that he's under too much stress, that he needs to work on that first, bla bla bla…
Finally he was prescribed some medication that actually worked. It messed up with his weight and all, but for what it was worth, cutting some calories is a negligible sacrifice.
Until that didn't work anymore. He only took the meds for a month before he had to double his dose, to triple it, until it did nothing for him anymore.
He remembers that night so clearly, he was laying awake in his hotel room, thinking about everything and nothing. He was so close to stepping outside in the street and asking someone to knock him out.
But the breaking point was at the previous race, when he, driving 300kph, fell asleep in the car and crashed into the barriers. It was then when Zak and Andrea started asking questions. They talked to Lando's trainer who told them only the basics. They didn't exactly blame him, but in F1 there's very little room for pity.
Needless to say, he's fucked. This is McLaren's season. His season. And he's fucking it up, for himself and for everyone else. There's a chance of winning a championship for McLaren, having a really fast car and two amazing drivers. So Lando can't start DNF-ing now. That only adds to the pressure. But he's being paid to do this. To deal with it. And he wants this, so, so bad.
It's 5AM, he needs to be awake and ready in an hour and then he's going to Woking where he'll have a few meetings for the upcoming race.
He gets up and starts getting ready since there's no point just laying there, letting the time pass.
Even though he's unbearably tired, he doesn't yawn or anything. Yeah, he's aware of the bags under his eyes and how he's dragging his feet, but his eyes are wide open. He barely blinks. He must look insane. That's probably why Oscar is looking at him like that. Oscar is sitting across the table, a stack of papers in front of him but he looks straight at Lando, not focusing on the ongoing conversation around him.
Damn, Lando must really look bat shit crazy.
When the meeting is finally over Lando exits the room even more tired than before, if that's even possible. He drags himself to the nearest place to sit which happens to be the beanbag that's placed near the table where the team usually has non-job related discussions. And that's when the thoughts begin to run again.
It's expected, really. There's no one around to distract him. The room is silent, no voices, no steps, no breathing. He can feel himself zoning out, looking intensely at nothing. Then the voices appear. He's not imagining them, just remembering them. It's Andrea and his disappointing tone, talking about his crash, his lack of concentration and focus. It's Zak, comparing his poor data with Oscar's.
And Oscar. Oscar and his look that's not pity or disappointment but something else. Something Lando still has to figure out.
“Lando!” Someone shouts and Lando practically jumps out of his skin. He's definitely awake now.
That someone happens to be Oscar himself, standing over him. He's wearing that look again, like he's trying to figure Lando out.
“Sorry,” Lando replies, guessing Oscar called out his name a couple of times.
“You look tired.” Is all Oscar says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And it probably is, considering his state. He wonders if Oscar always knew how tired he was, or if this is a new discovery for him. Maybe Zak and Andrea talked to him. Maybe they didn't need to and Oscar figured it out by himself.
It takes him a moment to reply, his brain still catching up with his words. “Didn't sleep well.”
He raises a brow. “Yeah, I can tell.”
Maybe Lando would've laughed if he had any energy left, but he doesn't so he just smiles.
He's about to crack a joke when Oscar interrupts him. “Lando,” he hesitates, “are you doing okay? You've been looking really rough the last few weeks.”
That takes Lando by surprise. Oscar and he have never really been that close. Sure, they get along, chitchating and playing paddle on race weekends, but they don't discuss things like this. They don't talk about the difficult sides of their job, not many drivers do. Also, Lando hasn't actually discussed his sleeping problem with anyone besides his family, his therapist and Max Fewtrell.
But look at Oscar, being all concerned, putting on his puppy eyes, looking actually worried. It makes Lando feel, well, he doesn't know what he feels. But he knows he doesn't like that feeling and that might be why him and Oscar aren't as close as they could be. But Lando is not thinking straight, so later he will blame it on his sleep deprivation.
He sighs. “I'm not doing okay, no. But thanks for asking.”
Oscar pauses. Maybe he didn't actually want to know how Lando's doing and was just being polite. Yeah, well, this is embarrassing. He should've just never talked. He never knew when to shut up, his stupid mouth always getting him in trouble. Maybe if he just never spoke again he would save what's left of his dignity, and–
“Are you not sleeping well?” Oscar suddenly asks, interrupting Lando's train of thoughts. He takes a seat on the chair that's facing him, and that makes Lando realise there's no escaping from this.
“Well, no, not really.” He says, and then it all goes down from there. “I haven't been able to get a full 8 hours of sleep in like, three months. I either keep waking up, or don't fall asleep at all.”
Oscar nods, letting out a quiet hum, like he's thinking. “Have you tried turning your phone off before going to sleep?”
And poor Oscar, he's just trying to help, but that really pisses Lando off. People always have some sort of advice, ‘do this’ or ‘have you tried that’, and it annoys him so much because there's yet for someone to suggest something that he hasn't already tried.
“Mate, trust me, I tried everything. I turn my phone off hours before bed, I don't drink caffeine, I don't take mid day naps, I tried breathing exercises, I tried meditation, fuck, I even tried counting sheep. There's really nothing I haven't tried.”
And it shatters Lando's heart a little to see Oscar so worried. He's thinking really hard, his pretty eyes focused on nothing while he searches for a solution in that pretty little head of his.
Okay, what the fuck.
What the actual fuck.
This is the next level of tiredness. This kind of nonsense has never crossed Lando's mind before. He must be going crazy. Like, lunatic type crazy. Like, danger-to-society type crazy.
“What are you going to do?” Oscar asks. Since when is he so soft spoken? Do his eyes always do that thing?
“I don't know. I mean, I can take it, but it's affecting my performance, and I can't keep making mistakes because they will cost us the championship.” Lando replies. If not having control over your own mouth was an Olympic sport, you bet your ass Lando would be covered in gold. “Don't worry though, Osc. I'll be fine. I'll figure something out. “
Oscar looks like he wants to say something, but decides not to. Then he gets up to stand in front of Lando and when he thinks he might just pass by him, he reaches his hand out and pets him.
Like, runs his fingers through his curls. Like, literally pets him on his head. What the actual fuck is going on.
Oscar puts on a faint smile. “If there's a way I can help, you'll call me, right?”
No, that's definitely not right. It's actually so far from right, it might be left. “Right, sure.”
He nods, “Okay.” he lets go of his hair, and suddenly Lando misses the warmth of his touch. “I gotta go, I'll see you later.”
He's left alone again, but this time his mind doesn't run off. He can't be bothered to think about everything and nothing, all he thinks about is Oscar, Oscar, Osc…
It's a few days later when he receives a text from Oscar. Well, it's not exactly a text, it's an attached link that leads to a website. It's about insomnia and troubles with sleeping in general. Has Oscar been thinking so much about Lando's problem that he did research? But Lando can't be bothered to actually go through all the tips for falling asleep that are listed, so instead he replies to Oscar.
tried it all already
but tnx
It takes Oscar only seconds to reply.
All of them?
Did you go through all 56 of them?
im not reading all thaf
but i alerady know i tried everything
For some reason that makes Oscar pause, typing bubble popping up, then disappearing, then popping up again.
Even the 48th one?
Curiosity gets the best out of Lando and he scrolls to the end, stopping at the number 48.
And Lando really had tried everything to fall asleep. Or so he thought. Turns out he was wrong.
- Sex.
Sex, particularly orgasm, is proven to be effective when it comes to troubles with sleeping. Sexual release indicates relaxation, reducing stress hormones like cortisol, and releasing sleep-inducing hormones such as oxytocin. Studies indicate that 64%-75% of people report better sleep after sexual activity. While both partner-based sex and masturbation have shown positive results, sex with a partner(s) have proved to be more effective due to the fact it offers forms of physical and emotional intimacy, which further releases stress.
Oh.
This is not what Lando expected at all.
Well, he doesn't know what he expected, but it was not this for sure. Is Oscar aware of how this sounds? Is he also sleep deprived or some shit? Is he drunk? Lando checked at least 10 times if he read the message right. Did he actually say 48? Yeah he did. Maybe he meant 84? Well, no, the list ends at 56. Maybe he didn't mean to type that. But it's Oscar, he doesn't make typos. And he would've corrected himself by now.
He starts overthinking it, but then he realises he left Oscar on seen for 7 minutes now. Not sure about how he should answer, he hits the call button.
It rings exactly four times before Oscar picks up.
“Yeah?” Oscar answers, hesitant.
“Oscar.” is all Lando comes up with.
Oscar pauses for a second. “Hi.” He doesn't exactly sound like someone who just suggested having sex for better sleep quality.
“Are you messing with me?”
He lets out a sigh. “Sorry, did I cross the line? I was just curious."
Curious? About what? His sleeping routine or his sex life?
“Lando?” He doesn't sound like he's sorry at all. “Are you angry?”
That makes Lando snap out of his thoughts. “No, no. It's fine, you didn't cross anything. You just took me by surprise."
There's a pause again. The silence makes Lando even more unsettled. But then Oscar finally speaks.
“Have you tried it?”
“Tried what?”
Another pause. “Having sex before sleep.”
And yeah, Lando must be dreaming, because there's no way this conversation is happening. It's quite funny actually, not only did he fall asleep, but he's dreaming. He can't remember the last time he dreamt. And for his dream to be about Oscar asking him if he ever tried fucking someone till he fell sleep is just hilarious.
“Lando?’’
Well, dreaming or not, he can't seem to care anymore. Maybe Oscar does have some mind blowing, eye opening idea that will fix him.
“I mean, I tried, like jerking off. Didn't help though.”
Oscar lets out a quiet sound that Lando can't quite define. It's something between a sigh and a… giggle? “It does say on the website that actual sex works the best.”
Oscar takes another pause before asking “How did it feel?”
What.
“...What?”
“I mean,” he picks his words carefully. “Did it not feel as good? Maybe that's why it didn't work.”
“I don't know if that's why, but, I mean— it felt good. But I just ended up out of breath, laying in my bed, wide awake.”
Oscar makes a sound like he's thinking before saying “I think you should try it. Even if it doesn't work, at least you can say you really did try everything.”
And Lando appreciates that. Oscar genuinely has no reason for trying to help him out. They're teammates, sure, but they're also rivals. They want to beat each other. And there's really no better opportunity to do that than when your teammate is so tired he can't stay awake while being on the track.
“Thanks, Osc. I promise I'll try.”
Oscar lets out a quiet laugh. “I know you will.”
It's finally summer break. It came right on time, right when Lando realised he just can't drive like this anymore. He's a danger hazard on the track. He can't focus, can't keep up with the racing line, making contact with other drivers multiple times.
The break is just what he needs. He's not traveling anywhere this year, he's staying in his apartment in Monaco. In the next few weeks he'll fall asleep. Properly. Full eight hours. No waking up. He's determined to do so.
The thing is, finding someone to sleep with is not as easy as it seems. Sure, Lando has never had problems with finding someone to spend the night with. He's good looking, charming, famous, you name it. It's more about the circumstances than the person itself.
Firstly he'd have to hit them with the NDA. It's quite awkward, setting the mood and then handing them a pen and a paper with the ‘can you sigh here?’ But that's not even the worst problem. It's more about where they'll do it. It can't be at their place if he's planning on sleeping. Even if they'd let him, he's not waking up in some stranger's home. The hotel won't work either because someone will eventually wake him up and that's something he's trying to avoid. The best option, but at the same time the worst is his place. What if his address gets leaked? What if the person robs him while he's sleeping?
There's an endless number of scenarios where everything could go wrong, but Lando is still determined to try. He did promise it to Oscar, didn't he?
Oscar is also here in Monaco. Not that Lando's checking or anything. And not that it matters because they probably won't see each other around. That's because tonight Lando's going out, and the probability of seeing him in the radius of 50 meters from a club is equal to zero.
But Lando is not planning on having fun tonight. He's a man on a mission. Tonight he'll find someone to take home and he'll finally fall asleep.
That's why he's wearing his purple Ralph Lauren button up (only half-buttoned), the one he got from that sponsorship that got him so much compliments, paired with black Tommy Hilfiger jeans. To finish the look he adds a few silver necklaces and bracelets, and like cherry on top, his ridiculously expensive Richard Mille watch. Extravagant, really.
Besides being exhausted, he's feeling fresh, confident and hopeful. There's a car waiting for him outside. He steals one more glance at the mirror before he grabs his jacket and starts his night.
The drive is shorter than Lando remembers it to be. That might be because it's been ages since Lando was here in Monaco. On his way he passes expensive restaurants and bars, filled with people talking and laughing. Everything is so classy and serious, there's no neon lights, no drunk people on sidewalks, just rich people clinking glasses filled with expensive champagne.
When he finally arrives, there's already a staff member waiting for him in front of the club.
“Mr. Norris, good evening,” he greets him while making his way to the line of people waiting to get in. “I'll be your VIP host tonight, please follow me.”
He doesn't wait in line, the host takes him straight inside. Once Lando enters, everything hits him at once. The colourful lights running across the whole club, the loud music that makes the floor vibrate, the smoke, the people… Maybe a few months ago, when he still managed to fall asleep every once in a while, he'd be enjoying this. The hype, the vibe, the people. Now he feels like he's missing out, even when he's right here, all the fun happening right in front of him, but he just can't enjoy it.
The host leads him up the stairs where the leather covered booths and crystal chandeliers are. It's the VIP area that he booked last night. He leads him to his table where a couple of expensive bottles of alcohol were waiting for him. Lando's not sure which alcohol that is, but it doesn't matter anyway, since he won't be drinking tonight.
The host then politely leaves, and Lando realises it might've been a little stupid to come here alone. All the other tables, besides one where some old creepy dude is seated and watching people dancing down in the mass, are filled with groups of people laughing and having fun. He knows most of them. Some are former drivers, most are businessmen and CEOs. Soon they'll start coming up to him to greet him or invite him to their table. And that is a distraction, and Lando’s not having any of that.
He starts looking around. Before coming here he thought about whether he should bring a girl or a guy home. He realised that it'd probably be safer if was a girl, since VIP areas are private, but not private enough. He catches a girl from a few booths away eyeing him, whispering something to her girlfriends. She's cute, brunette, big eyes, big lips. But then he notices she's not only with her friends, but a group of very serious looking men. One notices her looking Lando's way, then possessively grabs her by her waist. ‘Aggressive much’ is all he thinks before moving on.
He then starts looking down where the crowd is. People are dancing and singing, having fun of their lives. There's another girl ordering something at the bar. She's wearing a long black dress that makes her blonde hair pop out. She seems to come here alone, too. Lando can't hear what she ordered, but by the number one she showed the bartender with her finger it's safe to assume she's ordering only for herself. The host passes his table and Lando catches him right on time.
“I wanna pay for that girl's drink.” He points to the bar where she's still waiting. “Tell her she can come up here.”
The host only nods before making his way to the bar. A few seconds later he's pointing to him, the girl looks up and smiles at Lando before collecting her drink and making her way up to him.
“Hi,” is the first thing she says as she takes a seat next to him. “Thanks for the drink.”
Lando can smell her flowery perfume that she oversprayed. “It's nothing, you just looked quite pretty from up here.”
She laughs politely. Too politely. She laughs like girls who often get their drinks paid for and invited to the VIP area. “I could say the same about you.”
The next hour passes too slowly. Their conversation, even if it hasn't been too interesting from the start, turns into plain flirting and complimenting. Slowly they become more touchy, Lando's hand slides along her thigh, his arm wraps around her shoulder. And her palm rests against his chest while she giggles at his flirty jokes. They share a few drinks, though Lando only pretends to sip on them, and if she notices, she doesn't comment on it.
It's when their touching becomes a little too intimate for the public when a sudden wave of tiredness passes through Lando's body. His body suddenly feels too heavy to carry, his eyelids too heavy to keep them open. It's like he's shutting down. He hasn't felt like this in a very, very long time. He feels like laying down, preferably in his bed but this booth doesn't seem too bad either right now.
“Should we get out of here?” The girl asks. She doesn't seem to notice his sudden tiredness.
And he's not a hundred percent sure what he should do right now. Even though this was his plan all along, to find someone to have sex with and fall asleep. But to have sex you need energy, the energy Lando seems to lack right now. And what if having sex does the opposite? He's certain when he gets home he'll immediately fall asleep. Probably still in his shoes. What if this wakes him up? No way he's risking that.
He rubs his eyes and straightens. “Hey, sorry I have to go.” He gets up, yawns, pulls his phone out and dials his driver's number. “I have work tomorrow."
“What?” she asks, confused, probably a little offended. “I thought we were having a good time.”
“No, we were, a great time. But I really have to go now.” He says, hoping he sounds convincing. “Have a good night, yeah?” He turns around and leaves before she can reply.
The drive to his apartment is longer than it should be. He tries really hard to keep his eyes open and stay awake, and the sound of the engine which he's so used to doesn't help him.
When he finally arrives home he doesn't think twice before unbuttoning his already half unbuttoned shirt, taking off and throwing aside his shoes and unzipping and taking off his jeans. He makes his way to the bedroom, shutting off the lights and practically throwing himself on the bed.
And finally, after god knows how long, Lando falls into a real sleep. No pills, no oils and baths, no company. Real, natural sleep.
That is until an hour later.
Lando wakes up. His room is dark, quiet and the perfect temperature. His bed is perfectly comfortable, his pillows perfectly arranged. The blinds are blocking the street light from entering the room. The walls are thick enough so that the room is pitch quiet. No people talking, no birds singing, no fridge buzzing. Perfect conditions for sleeping.
‘This is not happening.’ he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to return to sleep.
He couldn't.
He turned and twisted. He uncovered himself and then covered himself back. He rearranged the pillows. But he was awake. Wide awake.
Why the fuck did he wake up? What could possibly be the reason he's awake right now. Everything was perfect. Everything was right. He should be asleep. He deserved it. He tried so hard, he tried everything. Why him? Why this torture? What did he do to deserve this?
Before he realised, tears started spilling and he was crying. They were tears of pure frustration. He got up and turned the lights on. His bed was staring at him, unmade from his failed attempt to fall asleep. That only frustrated him more. He started throwing the pillows, the duvet. He was being hysterical, but he didn't care. When he was out of breath he tried to calm down.
He went to the bathroom to cool down. He splashed his face with cold water and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were red, same as his cheeks. His terrible eye bags were worse than ever. At the corner of his eye he saw all the oils he uses for his before-bed rituals. The one that rarely helped. That broke him even more, he was angry and crying now.
His breathing is uneven, his chest tight. He feels like he's drowning.
He sinks down, sits down on his cold bathroom tiles.
Then, he remembered.
If there's a way I can help, you'll call me, right?
He pulls out his phone, and without thinking, presses ‘call’.
The phone rings once, twice, three times…
“Hello?’’
It's Oscar's voice. The one Lando could recognise anywhere, anytime. It's just that now it sounds a bit tired. Might be because it's the middle of the night.
“Oscar?” Lando manages to say between the sobs.
“Lando? What's wrong?” Oscar says, not sounding tired anymore.
“I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me.” He's trying to calm down his sobbing, to stop saying stupid things, but everything is just too much. ‘’I'm going crazy, Oscar. Nothing is working. Nothing. It's driving me insane.”
“Lando, calm down. Breathe.” he sounds more worried than tired now.
But Lando can't hear him. “I’m so tired. I feel like I'm slowly losing it. I just want to sleep.” he pauses, swallows his tears and then he says “Can you help me?”
There's a pause, then silence. And Lando regrets it all, calling Oscar, spilling his mind, crying like a fucking baby. That was stupid. This is stupid. He is stupid.
He's about to say something that's supposed to be an apology and hang up, when Oscar says “What's your address?”
Oscar arrives 20 minutes later, types the pin for the door that Lando gave him and enters his apartment. He finds Lando sitting on the bathroom floor, only in his boxers, hugging his knees and silently sobbing.
Lando doesn't immediately notice Oscar standing there until he hears his voice “Lando? Are you okay?”
He doesn't get startled, Oscar's voice could never scare him. He lifts his head up and sees him standing at the door, looking worried. He's wearing something that could be his pyjamas. His hair is messy, looking just like when he takes his helmet off after the race.
Lando just stares at him for a moment, taking in the sight that's in front of him. Then he replies “I don't know.”
At that Oscar takes a step closer and offers him a hand. Lando takes it, he gets up and wipes his tears. “I didn't think you'd actually come.”
Oscar doesn't reply, just makes his way to the living room, and Lando follows him.
In the living room Lando takes a seat on the couch while Oscar brings him a glass of water from the kitchen. He takes a seat next to him. “You need to calm down.” He hands him the glass and Lando drinks it.
“Take deep breaths.” Oscar says, “It’s going to be okay, we'll figure it out.”
And his voice, calm and reassuring, calms Lando down. He starts breathing more slowly, not sobbing anymore, and his tears aren't burning him so much anymore.
They sit there for a few minutes, not saying anything. Oscar gives him space and time to calm down, to gather his thoughts. When Lando fully stops crying and calms down, Oscar finally asks “What happened?”
And Lando tells him everything. He tells him how he took his advice, he tells him about the girl and how he left her in the club. And he tells him how he was so happy, so hopeful that he might just finally sleep. And Oscar listens, doesn't interrupt, lets him finish.
And when Lando does, Oscar slides his hand up and down Lando's spine. It sends shivers through his body. He tilts his head up to look at Oscar, only to find him already staring at him.
“Did you mean it?” Oscar asks, not removing his hand, not looking away.
Lando takes a moment to think, and then replies “Mean what?”
Another moment of silence passes before Oscar says “Do you want me to help you?”
It takes Lando a moment to realise what Oscar's referring to, and when he does his mind goes blank.
To be honest, Lando wasn't sure what he wanted when he called Oscar. Did he want comfort or actual help?
He hesitates. “I don't know.”
But Oscar doesn't hesitate, “I don't believe you.” He leans in closer. “You always know what you want. And you know exactly why you called me.”
It was true, of course. Oscar could always read him like an open book. “Can you help me?” It wasn't an invitation, more like a dare.
“I can.” He says, “I can make you stop thinking, I can make you relax. All you have to do is ask.”
Was this a terrible idea? Probably. But Lando didn't care. “Osc,’’ he leaned in “help me fall asleep?”
And that was all Oscar needed.
He pushes Lando on his back and places himself between his legs. He runs his hands along Lando's bare torso, over his abs, his pecs, his nipples. And Lando doesn't object. He fully leans into his touch, feeling everything.
Lando swallows. He lifts himself up, leaning on his elbows. His eyes follow Oscar's until they meet. And when they do, a look settles on Oscar's face and he leans in, connecting his lips with Lando's.
It's a gentle kiss at first, only Oscar's soft lips pressing on Lando's. Until it isn't anymore, and it becomes more angry, more impatient, more hungry. They're swallowing each other, tongues exploring each other's mouths.
Lando hasn't expected them to kiss. Hell, he hasn't expected Oscar to show up at all. But kissing makes all this just way more intimate. It makes it, well, real.
He pulls away which drags a long exhale from Oscar. “Hey,” he says when he manages to catch a breath. “I don't think we need to kiss, you know?”
That takes Oscar by surprise. He backs away, looking a little hurt. “Oh, sorry,” he looks away, shamefully. “I just thought– sorry.”
And Lando regrets it immediately. “Don't apologise, I just think that it's not necessary.”
“Oh, okay.” He says as he looks at Lando again. His bottom lip pouted. “I just thought you'd like it.”
And Lando's heart might as well explode. Because why does this 24-year-old professional athlete that's, mind you, on top of him right now, looking like a kicked puppy in the rain? How can Lando just act normal about that look on his face?
“Oh my god, you act like a child that was just told no.”
“What do you mea–” is all Oscar manages to say before Lando's mouth is on his again. Because fuck it. They are already doing something that they shouldn't, so might as well go all the way in.
Lando wraps his arms around Oscar's shoulders in an attempt to get closer, to feel him better. And like he can read his mind, he holds him by his sides to do the same. When their lips part once again, this time it's because Oscar moves his to Lando's chin, then to his jaw and stops at his neck.
He kisses his adam's apple, his thin skin that's a little rougher because that's where he shaves. And Lando just hopes he can't feel his pulse going crazy.
“Your cologne smells good.” Oscar says. “And all these shiny necklaces? You really went for it tonight, huh?”
Lando can feel his face burning. Because, yeah, he did put in an effort in getting ready for tonight. But getting complimented by Oscar? That makes him feel something he shouldn't feel. Something that a coworker shouldn't make him feel.
“You like them? They usually get me lots of compliments.” he tries to smile through the half embarrassment. He should be used to the compliments by now.
In return, all Oscar gives him is a curious ‘hm’ before pulling on one of the chains. “They make you look like a world champion.” He returns his mouth back to Lando's neck, but instead of wet kisses, this time he sucks the skin, hard enough to leave a mark.
Lando's shoulders shrug in surprise. “Oscar!” he grabs him by the hair to pull his head away. “You'll leave a mark.”
And as soon as he says it, Oscar makes that face again and Lando immediately regrets stopping him. Oscar looks at him through his eyelashes, his brown eyes meeting Lando's before he looks away in shame. Lando immediately releases his hair, feeling guilty as ever.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I should've asked…”
“I told you not to apologise.”
Then, Oscar rests his head on Lando's bare chest. “It's just that,” He starts twirling his necklace around his finger. “Your neck is…”
Lando waits for him to finish, but he never does. So he lets out a breath in defeat. “You can leave marks, but lower so it's not noticeable.”
At that Oscar lights up, a smile forming on his lips, bunny teeth showing. “Really?” He asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. He moves his mouth to Lando's collarbone, and this time he bites down. Not too hard, but hard enough to leave a mark.
It gets a gasp out of Lando. He grabs Oscar's hair for support, but ends up only pushing his head further into himself. Oscar bites, sucks and licks Lando's collarbone, the top of his shoulder before he moves to his nipple. He runs his tongue over it and that sends shivers to Lando's already aching cock. He wraps his legs around Oscar, seeking any kind of friction.
Oscar smiles at that, and like he can hear his mind, he rubs one of his knees against Lando's growing erection that's hiding behind a thin layer of his boxers.
It drags a soft whimper out of Lando and his hips jerk forward.
“I didn't think you'd be this sensitive here.” Oscar says as he runs a thumb over Lando's saliva covered nipple which earns him another whimper. “They are perfect. They're pink, like your cheeks.”
Before Lando has time to say something embarrassing, Oscar bites down on his other nipple, and Lando moans, his hips betraying him and rubbing harder on Oscar's leg.
“Fuck, Osc…”
Now Lando can see him smiling, his voice sending vibrations on his nipple “Mm, I love when you call me that.”
Lando bites his bottom lip to prevent more noises from coming when Oscar asks“Are you gonna hump my leg all night?”
In embarrassment, he covers his face with his hand. But still not accepting defeat, he says “You're the one who's still in his clothes.”
Not waiting a moment longer, Oscar sits up and takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere aside. Next are his pants for which he has to get up to take off. And as he does, Lando regrets it immediately when Oscar's warmth leaves him. He doesn't have to wait too long for it to return as Oscar takes his previous place between Lando's legs.
And like caught in awe, Lando can't stop staring. He'd seen Oscar naked before, sure, but he'd always had to force himself to look away, afraid of being caught staring. But now when Oscar's displaying himself like this, Lando can't help but to stare at his perfectly pale, smooth skin and his chest that he'd worked so hard on.
Oscar, of course, catches him staring and lets out a giggle. “You can touch, don't be shy.”
He hesitates, so Oscar takes his hand and runs it over his own abs, his waist, his pecs, until Lando takes over and continues to do so himself. He stops at the bottom of Oscar's abs, just above his boxers where an obvious outline of his erection is visible.
“Impatient, are we?” Oscar asks, and Lando wonders where the kicked puppy persona went. He doesn't have time to wonder for too long as Oscar pulls him by his waist into his lap. They're chest to chest now, they can feel each other's breathing.
Have Oscar's eyes always been this beautiful?
Lando kisses him again, just this time it's more panting into each other's mouth. They do that until Lando feels a hand going under his boxers and a palm running along his twitching dick. He gasps and holds Oscar's shoulder for balance.
Oscar pulls it out and it's leaking precum more than Lando had expected. “You're so wet already.. Fuck, Lan.” Oscar groans. He wraps his fingers around it and strokes the precum along it and oh, yeah. Lando likes that. He really likes that.
Slow strokes turn into faster ones and Oscar has to hold Lando's hips down to prevent him from moving. “You wanna fuck my hand? You're that desperate?”
It's so different from when Lando does it by himself. He's so out of it, he doesn't bother responding. Oscar does it so well, stroking him up and down, focusing on his tip on every third stroke. It drags short, breathless whimpers out of him.
But then, Oscar changes his rhythm, going awfully slow. “Lando. I asked you a question.”
Lando, frustrated, doesn't even register his words, tries to lift his hips searching for some fraction and fails, as Oscar's strong hand holds him down.
Still not given an answer, Oscar stops completely, and that earns him an angry whimper from Lando.
“Don't stop.” He says through heavy breaths.
“Answer me.”
He struggles for a moment before finally replying “It just feels good.”
Oscar doesn't even try to hide his smirk. “What feels good?”
Forced to swallow his pride, he replies “You.”
Thankfully, Oscar doesn't force him to elaborate and continues stroking him at his previous pace.
Lando rests his chin on Oscar's shoulder while Oscar works his wrist up and down, in perfect pace. Soon he feels himself on the edge and he wraps his legs around Oscar's waist. “I'm close.”
But Oscar doesn't stop, he strokes him faster, he wraps his hand just a little tighter.
Lando sits upright, holding Oscar's shoulder for support. “Oscar, wait, I can't– I can't come twice.” he manages to say through whimpers.
But Oscar doesn't budge. “Hmm, I think you can.”
And at that Lando comes with a loud moan, hot cum spilling over Oscar's fingers, over both of their chests.
They don't move for a moment, both of them trying to catch a breath. Lando can hear his own heartbeat pumping blood through his body. It's so loud, he's sure Oscar can hear it as well. He practically melts onto him, resting his whole body weight on him. It's nice, letting himself lean on someone like this. Especially on someone like Oscar, who can hold him.
Oscar is the first to speak. “You good?”
Good? Lando's more than good. A little dizzy, sure, but in a good way. He lets out a soft sound that's supposed to confirm he's okay, but Oscar doesn't register it, so he says “‘m good.”
At that Oscar runs a hand up and down his back before saying “We're not done yet.”
Lando doesn't get a chance to ask what he means by that before he's being lifted up, Oscar holding him by his ass and Lando's arms instinctively wrapping around him. He carries him to the bedroom where a chaos from earlier caused by Lando's tantrum awaits them.
Oscar looks like he wants to ask what happened, but decides not to and just places Lando onto his bed. He takes off his boxers and Lando takes the opportunity to do the same and oh. Oscar cock is, well. It's only slightly longer than Lando's, but it's way thicker. Not to mention how it's wet and twitching. He has an urge to touch it, stroke it, put it in his mouth… And he makes a motion towards it, but Oscar stops him.
He smiles at him, his teeth showing. “Aren't you cute.” he slowly pushes him on his back, picking up a pillow from the floor and placing it under his lower back. “I came to help you, didn't I? Tonight it's all about you.”
And that woke something up in Lando. The thought of Oscar taking care of him, fucking him how he likes, pleasing him… It sends shivers that travel through his body and end up at his cock that suddenly awakens.
Oscar notices because of course he does. He giggles. “And there you were, saying you can't come twice when you're already so hard again.”
He swallows. “Stop messing with me.”
Oscar listens, probably for the first time tonight, climbs on the bed and crawls to him. He stops between his spreaded legs where he leans down and slowly starts stroking him again.
“You're so perfect, fuck. Every part of you…” he lowers his head even lower, resting it on the inside of Lando's thigh. “Why didn't you call me first?” He tightens the grip on Lando's cock and Lando lets out a moan in surprise. “When I said you should try get fucked, I didn't mean go to the club and fuck some random chick.”
He doesn't elaborate, maybe because it's obvious what he's implying, but Lando can't really think properly right now. Is Oscar angry? Did Lando do something wrong?
It's all too much, Lando hopes Oscar isn't angry. “Are you mad at me?” he asks between gasps.
And at that Oscar's eyes soften, his grip loosens. “Of course not, Lan. How could I be mad at you when you're so pretty right now?”
“Don't know– you sound… fuck.” Oscar's strokes feel good, but they're too slow. “Oscar, c'mon.”
At that Oscar slightly lifts Lando's hips and grabs the back of his thighs. His mouth meets Lando's hole and he pushes his tongue in.
“Wait– that's! Oh…” a warm feeling overtakes him, Oscar's tongue working inside of him, spreading him. Lando never felt so warm.
“That's so good, don't stop…” He grabs Oscar's hair, pushing his face deeper between his legs.
He really thinks this can't get better, Oscar's hot tongue inside him, his spit dripping down his ass. Then, Oscar places his palm right above his cock, on the bottom of his stomach and pushes down. Lando screams, his hips lifting up, his grip on Oscar's hair tightening.
“Fuck! What was that?” He pulls Oscar by his hair to make him look at him.
Oscar's face that was once a smug smile is now back to the kicked puppy mode. His chin is covered in saliva and his hair is all messed up but he has never looked more innocent. His eyebrows are furrowed, his beautiful eyes looking at him through his lashes. He rests his head on Lando's knee.
“I'm sorry… Did it hurt? I thought you'd like it…” he looks down again, pretending to feel guilty.
And Lando might be fooled once, or twice, but not three times. “Quit that poor kicked puppy act. I've caught up.”
At that Oscar looks up at him again, an innocent look wiped from his face and replaced with something far more guilty. He smiles, “Oh no, I've been caught.”
Maybe Lando would've been mad if he wasn't so worked up. “Don't put pressure there.”
Oscar's not giving up, though. “Why? You don't like it?”
“It's not that… just feels weird.”
Not convinced, Oscar does it again, pressing more lightly this time, but Lando's hips jump up again regardless.
“Oscar!” Lando yells, lifting himself up.
Oscar tries best to hold his smile. “Okay, sorry. I won't do it again.” he gently pushes Lando back down, parting his legs and making room for himself between them. “Do you have lube?”
Lando nods to the nightstand, and Oscar stretches himself to grab it. Seems like he lost patience, he quickly applies some on his pulsating cock.
He places it at the entrance of Lando's hole and holds Lando by his waist. “This good?”
Lando nods, then Oscar slowly pushes it in, inch by inch, until he bottoms out. And when he does, Lando's eyes roll back, his hand covering his mouth to prevent noises from coming.
But Oscar's not having any of that. He takes his hand and holds it over his head. “I wanna hear you.”
Lando doesn't argue it, instead stretches his free hand towards him. “Closer?”
Oscar takes the hint, wrapping his free arm around him, and kisses him again. It's the sloppiest kiss so far, Oscar's mouth mostly missing Lando's, but it's a kiss nonetheless and Lando's satisfied.
He starts moving his hips, slowly, letting Lando get used to it. And when his moans evened and his hips started to follow the rhythm, he went faster moving in and out, feeling Lando's every twitch.
“Fuuck, ‘s so good.” Lando's head falls back, he's unable to hold it from pleasure.
“Was she all over you like this too?” Oscar asks, suddenly slowing down, but going harder, more aggressive, hitting Lando's good spots.
Not registering anything Oscar says, too focused on the feeling, Lando just starts mumbleing “There, fuck, right there…”
But Oscar's not giving up. “Was she pretty?” he says between gasps and moans.
“Fuck, that feels so good…”
“Did she touch you? Where?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
And that's all Oscar was waiting for. He picks up the fast pace again, hitting Lando's prostate with every thrust. His voice got rougher, his lips parted.
“I'm gonna come…” Lando mumbles.
“C'mon then, cum, baby.”
His mind going 200 mph, his whole body not his anymore, overwhelmed by the pleasure, it's the pet name that pushes him to the edge and he's coming, hot cum spilling over his and Oscar's stomachs.
For a moment, Lando relaxes, totally done. Oscar stopped the movement.
Then, Oscar sits up, looks down on him and smiles. He starts thrusting into him again, mercilessly, in and out. One of his hands grips Lando's cock while the other presses down on that spot right above it. “C'mon baby, come for me again.. I know you can do it.”
And Lando screams, pleasure overtaking him. He's shaking, tears spilling over his cheeks. Clear, watery liquid spills from his cock while Oscar pumps his cum into him and fuck.
Oscar falls forward onto him, with a loud groan.
“Fuck, Lando.” He says, wrapping an arm around him. “You're so good, you feel so good. I wish we'd done this sooner.”
But Lando can't really hear what he's saying. He's too out of it, in his own world.
“Next time just call me. Doesn't matter when or where, I'll come. I promise.”
He might've realised Lando's not listening, his eyes half open, his mind empty.
Oscar smiles and kisses Lando's sweaty forehead.
Right before everything goes blank, before his mind finally lets go of everything, all Lando can hear is Oscar's sweet voice. “Sweet dreams, Lan.”