summary game: what if your british twink teammate turned up at your house and promptly went into heat and your girlfriend was there too and y'all looked after him
For the “I wish you would write a fic where…” game
i love u for giving me the opportunity to explore this throuple hehe, and also thank u for letting me know who you are, mwah ❤️❤️
“Lando,” Lily looks surprised when she opens the door of Oscar’s apartment to find Lando standing outside; pretty eyes the size of saucers, cupids bow more pronounced when her mouth is open like that. “Oscar didn’t say you were coming over…”
“I wasn’t,” Lando interjects quickly, wincing at the too loud sound of his own voice. There’s an urgency to it that he’s trying and failing to keep at bay. “I mean — it wasn’t planned.” A quiet descends, both of them looking at one another with an uncertainty that makes total sense, all things considered. But he barrels forward, because what choice does he have? “Actually, I need to — can I see Oscar? It’s important.”
“Oh, right. Of course.” Lily steps aside for him, her movements a little awkward; robotic even.
It makes Lando want to turn on his heel and run, but — well, Oscar had said hadn’t he? He’d told Lando to come if he ever needed him. And he does — need him.
He hadn’t really factored in the obstacle of Lily being here, though.
“Lily? Who was it — oh,” Oscar sweeps around the corner, stopping dead in his tracks. His gaze flickers between the both of them, his own uncertainty cloying.
Lando can’t help but wrinkle his nose. He can smell all three of them — the fresh, minty eucalyptus of Oscar; the dark, tart cherry of Lily; his own scent, vanilla and cinammon and just on the edge of too sugary right now. The apprehension in the room is deepening all of the layers of their scent profiles, the strength of it knee-buckling.
Literally.
It’s embarrassing — Lando knows that somewhere in the back of his mind. But the fog is descending quickly, enough so that it chases any logical emotions away with ease. He’s on his knees in the space between Oscar’s lounge and kitchen, cold seeping through the denim his jeans from the wooden flooring. He wonders if his knees will bruise with the force of his submission, but it’s almost an inconsequential concern, gone as soon as it arrives.
“Shit,” Oscar’s voice is closer, suddenly, and so is his face — Lando smiles dopily at him when Oscar cradles his face in his hands. “Lily, can you — he’s going into heat, I think — fuck.”
Vaguely, Lando can hear Lily moving around, the sound of her voice carrying.
“I thought he wasn’t due a heat for two months?”
“Yeah,” Lando focuses on the movement of Oscar’s lips, seeing more than he’s hearing the words they’re making. “He wasn’t. Must’ve been triggered by the race or something.”
The race. Right. Lando remembers that — or, more accurately, he remembers not racing because his stupid car wasn’t working. Some of his distress must be showing on his face because Oscar hushes him quickly, fingers tightening their grasp on his face.
“No, Lando, don’t think about it. Look at me.”
Lando wants to laugh. As if he could look anywhere else right now. Except — he does want to get a good sniff, so he wriggles in Oscar’s grip, manages to break free and moves to duck his head into the crook of Oscar’s neck, tonguing absently at the scent blocker there. It’s peeling and old anyway, not doing much to mask anything, but Lando wants it eradicated immediately.
“Lily,” he hears Oscar’s strangled call. “I don’t think we have long.”
“I’m here — just sorting the bedroom out. Got some stuff out so he can make a nest.”
Lando pulls back long enough to blink blearily at Lily as she reappears in the entranceway, face taut like she’s holding something back. He thinks she’s mad for a moment, can’t help the mournful mewl that escapes him for making an alpha upset, but Oscar’s chuckle rumbles against his chest, a hand gentle and caressing down the notches of his spine.
“She’s not mad at you,” Oscar reassures quietly. “She’s — you smell really strong, Lan, that’s all.”
Oh.
Oh.
Lando looks at Lily with a renewed interest now, something clawing and wanting and desperate in his gut. Shuddering, he reaches a hand towards her, drawing himself away from Oscar just enough.
“Stay,” he pleads. “Want both of you.”
He feels more than he hears the sharp inhale of breath from behind him, Oscar unable to hide the apparent shock. But Lando keeps his gaze focused on Lily, wetting his lip with his tongue and chasing the thrill he gets when her eyes automatically follow the movement.
She’s not so different to Oscar, really.
“Oh,” she says quietly, eyes piercing and deeply thoughtful. But then she’s stepping forward, entertwining Lando’s finger with her own and leaning over him to meet Oscar in a too-chaste kiss. “Yes, I think — we’ll take care of you, omega.”
