Chapter Text
“Yeah. Cute, okay.”
Lando is simply not paying enough attention to the short video clip they just did. Too casual, too busy with something else, whether that’s a new script for the media or new notifications on his phone, relaxed on the couch, tugging at the waistband of his trousers, pulling it lower by accident. Of course, it’s always an accident and nothing more.
Of course, it’s nothing new. Similar day-to-day media scripts, similar words, Lando’s been particularly good… Very good at it. Way better than Oscar, at least that’s what Oscar decided to believe.
There was always something — something scarily good in his green eyes, in the way he grins, puts his helmet on, zips his suit, that kept this feeling alive. Oscar isn’t sure if Lando has ever caught him watching, his hazel eyes following the movement of his hands, playing with the zipper and adjusting the collar tighter around his neck.
Oscar is also not sure if he would like that… if he ever did.
Lando leaves the helmet on the table, closes the visor, traces the line of his jaw once again just like he did for the video. It seems too natural — that’s what’s bothering Oscar the most. Perhaps Lando can read the question in his eyes, so he leans in, whispering in Oscar’s ear a simple truth that would ruin Oscar’s day for sure.
The warmth of his breath, the tone and little arrogance in the words that slip from his lips, as he licks them slowly after taking a drink.
"It’s not the first time I’ve done it."
Lost for a second as Lando glances at his helmet and back at Oscar with a small smile, raising his eyebrows with that hint Oscar always falls for. Oscar finally parts his lips and exhales softly.
"Oh. Did they ask you to do one before our take? I guess they’ll ask me to do the same. It’s pretty embarrassing, don’t you think?"
The idea of cameras filming him upside down doesn’t feel right to him.
There was something strange in that, something that made Oscar especially nervous about his words and actions. He even bumped his helmet into Lando’s in the first take while Lando… was very confident in what he needed to do for the camera. Yes, for the camera — a strong reminder and bright red warning sign in Oscar’s mind to keep it all casual and pure for his own sanity.
Lando’s lips twitch with a knowing smile as he quickly licks his lips again, touching the loose helmet strap with his fingers, the same one Oscar has been holding this whole time.
"Why don’t you take some practice before it? It will be less embarrassing if you try. How about…"
He is slightly hesitant before he finally words it:
"You try to film that on your own and send it to me? I will help you out, mate.
It’s a very innocent, almost generous ask. Lando is smiling wide, letting go of Oscar’s helmet strap before he leaves the room.
"Think about it. I want you to look as good as me in it."
NO.
It’s a very strong NO Oscar is about to say, but Lando does it once again.
How can you say no to someone who really wants to help you do better? Yet doing that for Lando would be way more embarrassing than doing that for the media team, but this is something Lando is not aware of, so it’s not his fault that—
Oh.
Oscar’s mind is already plotting ways to justify it for himself.
Yes, he would like to do that. Yes, he still thinks it would be painfully hard and will leave him red-cheeked, with his face buried in his hands from embarrassment. He brushes his hair back with an exhausted exhale. He will think about it… later.
There is no need to decide it right away. At the end of the day Lando is not pushing him, right?
The next media day in the calendar is marked with a big red dot. Next week, again. This time Oscar is sure he will have to try recording that yet again.
The idea of practice is quite tempting… well, they’re both drivers, who, if not them, know the importance of good practice? Of qualifying, of the race itself… even if Oscar isn’t quite sure where this is going to lead.
His lip hurts under the pressure. Oscar is thinking too much about something that probably doesn’t mean much or, most likely, doesn’t mean anything to Lando at all.
As if on purpose, Lando keeps getting bolder, giving Oscar those teasing looks with his raised eyebrows each time he gets the chance to remind him that the offer is still there, just waiting for Oscar to say “yes”, knowing they both will agree to entirely different things.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
Oscar opens the zipper, pulling the helmet out. Here, at home, it feels somewhat out of place, so strange. But doing that elsewhere? Even worse, as if he could be caught off guard doing something bad.
He puts his phone on do not disturb, pats the helmet and gives himself fifteen minutes to get ready: take a shower and change into something comfortable, a simple black T-shirt and shorts, taking as much time as possible to delay the whole thing.
hey
i want to practice. is that okay?
The message stays unread for longer than Oscar expects, so he starts practicing anyway without waiting for directions from Lando.
First, he adjusts his phone and takes a quick shot to check if the light is good enough.
Second, he tries to repeat the jaw thing Lando did, slowly leading his finger from one edge to the other. It looked good when Lando did that to the helmet, one that wasn’t even on him. Still, all together it looks bad.
As he is about to put the helmet on, he gets a message. Of course, it’s Lando.
hi mate
yes sure, send it over once you’re done, i’ll guide you
Little does Oscar know that at this very moment Lando is getting comfortable in his bed, slowly touching himself, not too eager. He knows it will take some time for Oscar to do it. He also knows he will ask him to repeat the shot multiple times before it’s enough for him to finish.
Lando is smiling, biting his lip — too excited to see Oscar typing…something.
thank you for your help.
Oh, Lando for sure is not a very good helper, he can’t even help himself from getting overexcited and too hard too early. He cups himself with one hand, slowly caressing while typing with the other.
np mate, always happy t
o
The very next second Oscar hits send.
A video of him with the helmet on, trying to do the same thing — "slutty helmet pats” as Lando calls it himself. From side to side, slowly tilting his head. It’s not bad, in the warm home light, dressed like this, with that stupid fucking beautiful 81 on top of the helmet.
Lando lets out a small moan.
"Fuck"
He can feel the tension, the slow tease Oscar's pulling on him even though he surely never meant it that way. Lando is getting hard watching it. The soft “hi” in the beginning, nervous gestures and embarrassed “bye” at the end. He is most likely red under that helmet.
It shouldn’t feel that good. Lando’s plan of having a little jerk-off to his “mate”, so-called “colleague”, was supposed to be nothing serious, but he is already pulling his underwear down just to feel it better.
With his mind filled with all possible thoughts that are definitely not related to practice itself or, more precisely, related to the only practice involving Oscar’s hands and lips, it’s hard to find the right words.
is it that bad?
No, Oscar, it’s that good for me. Too good for me. I can’t guide you through practice except by asking you to do that naked one more time, and then one more time but in front of me, please, in this very bed.
Lando types slowly, while he keeps rubbing his dick.
nt bad, mate. i know u can do more, try to be more relaxed
mb smile
Stupid advice, but Lando waits, very patiently and very slowly rubbing himself. This has to be some kind of humiliation ritual. There is absolutely no way Oscar doesn’t understand what he is doing.
The second try happens very soon. Once again Oscar starts with a small “hi” and a soft nod… god help Lando. He is way more confident now, tilting his head, touching his helmet, his jaw, getting closer to the camera at the very end.
Of course, he is not aware that at this very moment Lando is rubbing himself harder, spreading pre-cum over his dick, only getting greedier for more.
Guidance. Yes, guidance. Lando’s brain is too foggy to think properly about it.
He wants one small thing from Oscar: to be just a little too reckless and leave the door open enough for Lando to have an excuse to take the bait and shamelessly be there for him.
The idea seems too risky, but this is exactly what keeps Lando on edge, moaning from pleasure and desire for Oscar to know what he is doing here, what kind of practice session they’re really in.
He hits the voice message button, breathing heavily as he gives new recommendations in an intentionally lazy tone:
hey osc, that looks good. you need to do one more…thing. imagine you’re…hitting on someone. you like them so much you want them to…uh…to know, yeah?
Lando realises it sounds too much like a moan and quickly adds:
yeah, i’m just thinking out loud.
As he hits send, a shameless smile widens on his face. He can’t help but think about Oscar.
His expression when he listens to it, his rosy cheeks, his nervous movements as he tries to hit on Lando like he’s a girl… or someone. The way he says “someone” on purpose still irritates Lando when he gets the third try.
He is painfully hard, but he can’t—not when he is about to get such a good treat. He likes it too much to let it end that quickly.
Helplessly he crosses his legs and grips himself tight not to cum too early.
Oscar is back once again, way more confident now, even relaxed in his movements.
He skips the “hi” part, touching his helmet, his neck, getting closer to the camera and finally lifting his visor. Lando can see his red cheeks and warm hazel eyes hesitate for a second. He lets out a small chuckle, pulling the helmet off.
“Fuck— It’s too—” Lando whispers.
Lando is getting faster, still watching what Oscar will do next.
“Was that good?”
The question sounds unsure. Oscar lifts his shirt to wipe his face as if his embarrassment is that easy to get rid of.
“Yeah?”
He most certainly asked that on purpose.
“Yeah—”
Lando answers impatiently, giving himself two hard strokes as he comes.
much bettr osc
better
8181.
An easy password for a hidden folder with photos and that one… video.
To be honest, Lando saved them all right away before Oscar hesitated and deleted them.
To be hoest, he had pleasured himself watching it — not even once, or twice, or…
Wet curls still cling to his forehead, Lando is feeling particularly wicked about the move he’s about to make.
That would be called gaining an advantage, taking the inside line.
Knowing where to hit pleases him even more than the tension and excitement running through him as he puts on the helmet, his favourite one — a golden one with a 1 on it.
Lando doesn't bother himself with putting a shirt on, wiping the last wet drops from his shoulders, before he hits the record button:
“hey osc. wanted to show you how that's done once again. so you can rewatch it before taking… well, just in case you need it”
Foggy thoughts are slipping through. This little thing does turn him on, the visor hiding his eyes, and the smile blossoming beneath the helmet.
Would Oscar like it more without the helmet?
Maybe it’s something better left unanswered as a small dirty secret in a folder with the code 8181.
But this keeps Lando up at night, slowly touching the edges of his jaw and wishing. Wishing for one little thing.