was inspired by a pic to draw osc with shaved sides. and apparently a modern mullet and plenty of piercings . does he look a little republican . maybe . BOOYAHHH
synopsis: he just looks so good like that, all relaxed in the driver's seat. he's practically asking for it.
tags: road head/hand jobs
word count: 1.3k
lando sits loose in the driver’s seat with his hands on the wheel, cornering at 150 miles per hour like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
it’s been days since his last win, but lando’s still riding the high, drinking in the remaining last bits of glory before the next race. you love the way a win changes his aura, makes him stand taller, grin a little wider. confidence rolls off of him in waves after a win. to some it might come off as cocky, but to you it’s like a drug, cracking open a carnal pit of desire in your chest every time you see him on that top step.
the car corners sharply around a hairpin and you stifle a scream, clutching at the straps across your chest as your stomach swoops– whether it’s your boyfriend or the car making you feel that way, it’s hard to tell– but then lando rights it with a smooth jerk of the wheel, flying down the straight like a rocket.
you love coming to track practice with lando; fast cars always leave you feeling buzzy with excitement. it’s not your fault your hands might start to wander while lando puts in laps, the adrenaline rush mixing with your arousal like a chemical reaction.
lando laughs, smug grin lifting the corners of his mouth as your palm rests on his thigh, lightly skating up and down over the firm muscle. it tenses under your touch and he makes a sound of warning as your hand finds his crotch–only for moment– and the car swerves before lando abruptly corrects it.
“baby…,” he says, voice strained as you palm him over his pants again, shifting to face him in your seat. “not while i’m– fuck–“
“i’m not doing anything.” your impatient fingers have made their way past the button of his pants, slipping past the taught fabric to take him in your hand.
lando tries to say something, but then you’re approaching a corner at breakneck speed and he curses, navigating the turn with some difficulty.
you pout, wrapping your hand around his length, holding the delicious weight of his already half-hard cock in your palm. lando’s breath stutters in his chest as your thumb skates over the tip as he fights to keep his eyes glued to the road barreling past.
he barely has the wherewithal to tell you to stop before you’re leaning over the middle console to spit onto your fist, pumping your hand until his cock is slippery with spit.
lando groans, the sound garbled as if he doesn’t quite realize he’s doing it. the car slows slightly in its final sector as the hot lap ends, before continuing to circle lazily around the track.
“lando that was 1:06:25– something happen at the end there?” comes the voice of the head engineer over a radio in lando’s earpiece. he grabs your wrist insistently, hard, before you can commit any more debauchery. you just bite your lip giving him the biggest doe eyes you can. he doesn’t believe you for a second.
“nah,” lando says, voice choked. he flicks his eyes to you in warning and clear his throat pointedly. “just not sure of the car yet. gonna keep testing it if that’s ok. no radio needed.” then he releases your hand, almost hesitant like he’s afraid of what you might do.
“copy,” says his engineer and the line goes quiet.
lando exhales a breath of disbelief, flicking his eyes to your flushed face. “you… are you trying to get me fired?”
you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “not at all. can’t i show my boyfriend some appreciation?”
“now?” lando’s incredulity is apparent while you just smile in response, keeping you eyes trained on his profile as you spit on your palm.
lando’s breath turns into a choked laugh of disbelief as you take him in your hand again until the sound of slick skin fills the car. his tip is angry and red, practically begging for you to taste it, and the feeling of the Gs deep in your gut as lando corners once more is enough to send you over the edge.
so you lean over the center console again, amidst loud curses from your boyfriend, bringing his cock to your lips. you slowly take the first few inches in your mouth. it’s almost sinful how perfectly he fits, stretching your jaw, the head of his cock just barely nudging the back of your throat.
“jesus…christ,” lando moans, shifting in his seat, hips jerking to push a little deeper into your throat. you sit like that for a few seconds, practically pressed against his abdomen, breathing heavily through your nose as lando squirms underneath you.
he pulls you off by your hair, swearing as you let out a strangled gasp, spit dripping from your lip onto his lap.
“fucking hell,” lando curses, breathless as you resume position, “you’re insane.”
“all for you,” you murmur, chest warm as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, twisting and jerking while your tongue swirls around the head of his cock.
it’s probably bad practice to be giving your boyfriend head in his company’s test car, but all it does is spur you on as the speaker in lando’s in-ear crackles to life. reminding you you’re not quite alone.
“how’s it going?” his engineer asks, and lando swallows down a choked moan as your head bobs up and down in time with your hand.
“fine! just fine! all good!” lando’s unable to keep some of the hysteria out from his voice; his hips jerk as you take him all the way down your throat again, a quiet gag escaping from between your lips. his fingers tighten in your hair, nails biting into your scalp, and all it does is fuel the fire below as you moan around his cock. “no worries. should be done in a se– second here.”
god, you wish you could fuck him dumb in this stupid car.
“you are going to kill me,” lando chokes through gritted teeth when the engineer closes the line again, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. you don’t respond, too busy bringing him closer to the edge to care.
too far gone, you barely notice the car speeding up down the long straight as you speed up your own movements, hand moving with your mouth around him. you can tell by the stiffness in lando’s body it won’t take much longer. and sure enough, just as you twist your wrist again, tongue flicking over the tip of his cock–
lando’s voice goes high and raspy, breath hitching like it always does before, “shit, baby, i’m gonna–”
with a drawn out sound of pleasure, lando goes tense underneath you as he comes, spilling hot into your mouth, just barely controlling the car around bends and curves. you stay down where you are, swallowing every last drop before popping you mouth off his cock with a low groan of satisfaction. if only it could help the deep, pulsing ache between your own legs.
lando sags in the seat as he hurriedly tucks himself back into his pants, slowing the car to a crawl as he pulls up to the pitlane entrance.
he spares a glance in your direction, taking in your cock-drunk expression and messed up hair and bites back a fond smile. “damn, you have a little…” he reaches out to swipe a thumb the corner of your mouth, catching the last of his release and pushing it past your lips. you sigh happily, squeezing your thighs tighter together.
lando shakes his head as the two of you approach the garage, biting back a shit-eating grin. he sees his engineer appear out of the garage and waves in greeting. but just before getting out of the car he suddenly leans forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. his bright eyes burn with a deep-seated hunger. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip again, and lando grins.
synopsis: he just looks so good like that, all relaxed in the driver's seat. he's practically asking for it.
tags: road head/hand jobs
word count: 1.3k
lando sits loose in the driver’s seat with his hands on the wheel, cornering at 150 miles per hour like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
it’s been days since his last win, but lando’s still riding the high, drinking in the remaining last bits of glory before the next race. you love the way a win changes his aura, makes him stand taller, grin a little wider. confidence rolls off of him in waves after a win. to some it might come off as cocky, but to you it’s like a drug, cracking open a carnal pit of desire in your chest every time you see him on that top step.
the car corners sharply around a hairpin and you stifle a scream, clutching at the straps across your chest as your stomach swoops– whether it’s your boyfriend or the car making you feel that way, it’s hard to tell– but then lando rights it with a smooth jerk of the wheel, flying down the straight like a rocket.
you love coming to track practice with lando; fast cars always leave you feeling buzzy with excitement. it’s not your fault your hands might start to wander while lando puts in laps, the adrenaline rush mixing with your arousal like a chemical reaction.
lando laughs, smug grin lifting the corners of his mouth as your palm rests on his thigh, lightly skating up and down over the firm muscle. it tenses under your touch and he makes a sound of warning as your hand finds his crotch–only for moment– and the car swerves before lando abruptly corrects it.
“baby…,” he says, voice strained as you palm him over his pants again, shifting to face him in your seat. “not while i’m– fuck–“
“i’m not doing anything.” your impatient fingers have made their way past the button of his pants, slipping past the taught fabric to take him in your hand.
lando tries to say something, but then you’re approaching a corner at breakneck speed and he curses, navigating the turn with some difficulty.
you pout, wrapping your hand around his length, holding the delicious weight of his already half-hard cock in your palm. lando’s breath stutters in his chest as your thumb skates over the tip as he fights to keep his eyes glued to the road barreling past.
he barely has the wherewithal to tell you to stop before you’re leaning over the middle console to spit onto your fist, pumping your hand until his cock is slippery with spit.
lando groans, the sound garbled as if he doesn’t quite realize he’s doing it. the car slows slightly in its final sector as the hot lap ends, before continuing to circle lazily around the track.
“lando that was 1:06:25– something happen at the end there?” comes the voice of the head engineer over a radio in lando’s earpiece. he grabs your wrist insistently, hard, before you can commit any more debauchery. you just bite your lip giving him the biggest doe eyes you can. he doesn’t believe you for a second.
“nah,” lando says, voice choked. he flicks his eyes to you in warning and clear his throat pointedly. “just not sure of the car yet. gonna keep testing it if that’s ok. no radio needed.” then he releases your hand, almost hesitant like he’s afraid of what you might do.
“copy,” says his engineer and the line goes quiet.
lando exhales a breath of disbelief, flicking his eyes to your flushed face. “you… are you trying to get me fired?”
you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “not at all. can’t i show my boyfriend some appreciation?”
“now?” lando’s incredulity is apparent while you just smile in response, keeping you eyes trained on his profile as you spit on your palm.
lando’s breath turns into a choked laugh of disbelief as you take him in your hand again until the sound of slick skin fills the car. his tip is angry and red, practically begging for you to taste it, and the feeling of the Gs deep in your gut as lando corners once more is enough to send you over the edge.
so you lean over the center console again, amidst loud curses from your boyfriend, bringing his cock to your lips. you slowly take the first few inches in your mouth. it’s almost sinful how perfectly he fits, stretching your jaw, the head of his cock just barely nudging the back of your throat.
“jesus…christ,” lando moans, shifting in his seat, hips jerking to push a little deeper into your throat. you sit like that for a few seconds, practically pressed against his abdomen, breathing heavily through your nose as lando squirms underneath you.
he pulls you off by your hair, swearing as you let out a strangled gasp, spit dripping from your lip onto his lap.
“fucking hell,” lando curses, breathless as you resume position, “you’re insane.”
“all for you,” you murmur, chest warm as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, twisting and jerking while your tongue swirls around the head of his cock.
it’s probably bad practice to be giving your boyfriend head in his company’s test car, but all it does is spur you on as the speaker in lando’s in-ear crackles to life. reminding you you’re not quite alone.
“how’s it going?” his engineer asks, and lando swallows down a choked moan as your head bobs up and down in time with your hand.
“fine! just fine! all good!” lando’s unable to keep some of the hysteria out from his voice; his hips jerk as you take him all the way down your throat again, a quiet gag escaping from between your lips. his fingers tighten in your hair, nails biting into your scalp, and all it does is fuel the fire below as you moan around his cock. “no worries. should be done in a se– second here.”
god, you wish you could fuck him dumb in this stupid car.
“you are going to kill me,” lando chokes through gritted teeth when the engineer closes the line again, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. you don’t respond, too busy bringing him closer to the edge to care.
too far gone, you barely notice the car speeding up down the long straight as you speed up your own movements, hand moving with your mouth around him. you can tell by the stiffness in lando’s body it won’t take much longer. and sure enough, just as you twist your wrist again, tongue flicking over the tip of his cock–
lando’s voice goes high and raspy, breath hitching like it always does before, “shit, baby, i’m gonna–”
with a drawn out sound of pleasure, lando goes tense underneath you as he comes, spilling hot into your mouth, just barely controlling the car around bends and curves. you stay down where you are, swallowing every last drop before popping you mouth off his cock with a low groan of satisfaction. if only it could help the deep, pulsing ache between your own legs.
lando sags in the seat as he hurriedly tucks himself back into his pants, slowing the car to a crawl as he pulls up to the pitlane entrance.
he spares a glance in your direction, taking in your cock-drunk expression and messed up hair and bites back a fond smile. “damn, you have a little…” he reaches out to swipe a thumb the corner of your mouth, catching the last of his release and pushing it past your lips. you sigh happily, squeezing your thighs tighter together.
lando shakes his head as the two of you approach the garage, biting back a shit-eating grin. he sees his engineer appear out of the garage and waves in greeting. but just before getting out of the car he suddenly leans forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. his bright eyes burn with a deep-seated hunger. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip again, and lando grins.
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