Oscar sees Lando glance up, piercing sea waves washing over him.
Then he hears a chuckle.
“Yeah, guess so.” Lando shifts so he’s facing Oscar fully.
They’re barely talking above a whisper, people too close by to be loud about it. He’s worried someone will hear but it also burns a fire in his gut at the scandalousness of it.
“Mmmm,” Oscar hums, shy and suddenly at a loss for words at the premise of Lando being so upfront.
“Don’t believe me, Osc?”
And that. That does something to Oscar. He can feel his clit fluttering between his legs— He crosses them.
Fuck, his face is probably so red, the heat is starting to warm him up. It’s frustrating because he can drive a car that could kill him and talk to the most important people on the planet and be fine but Lando Norris and his— that look right there. And that fucking tongue at the side of his mouth—Oscar can already feel wetness soaking into his panties.
Lando sits back in his chair, arms stretching high in the air. “I can prove it, can show you.” He smiles when he says it, tooth gap glinting at Oscar. “Can take you to my driver room.”
Oscar hears the words and they go right through him, making his pulse spike.
Lando is leaning forward now, lips parted like they aren’t sure if they want to assist in saying words. They do anyway— “Can eat a little snack for you.”
And Oscar doesn’t know where the courage comes from, maybe the fact that he hasn’t had a tongue on him in way too fucking long but…. he says, “Wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect reputation by thinking you’re a liar would we?”
That’s all it takes for Lando so softly shove his chair backwards and stand.
Lando’s standing and— so is something else. Oscar thinks Lando would try to hide it but remembers how unashamedly the man walks around with his bulge out.
And at the moment it’s not too different from his normal.
For a second they stare at each other, mostly Oscar unsure what to do.
“Come on then. Since you’re so eager to know the truth.”
Eager. The playful jab stabs Oscar and then leaks out of him, making fabric stick to him when he rises.
Not a word is said as they head back to Lando’s driver room.
Not a word is said as Lando falls to his knees, beautiful teeth shining at Oscar.
And not a word is said as Lando’s massive hands pull down Oscar’s panties—no, words are said, Oscar can just barely hear them over his own pulse.
“Fuck, Osc, I haven’t even touched you and you’re soaked.”
Oscar doesn’t care about embarrassment anymore, doesn’t care about the blush and the shaking. He needs Lando to shut up and— “You said you were gonna prove it, Lando. Can’t do that without your mouth full.”
That gets an eyebrow raise and a slack jaw out of Lando, shock.
But, it works.
Lando shuffles and wraps a hand onto each of Oscar’s thighs where they meet hips, spreading them wide. He rubs circles into Oscar’s skin and bones, getting so close air tickles his folds.
Oscar knows he’s glistening and puffy and already practically begging for it and that he should be embarrassed—he is, but it just makes him want it more.
Then, Lando plants his beautiful heart-shaped mouth that Oscar has stared at for years onto Oscar’s clit and flattens his tongue.
Lando starts moving, toying with his clit like this a game for him. It’s a balance of soft and firm, slow but paced.
It’s perfect.
And it’s making Oscar cover his mouth to prevent awful, incriminating sounds from escaping. Both hands clamping his lips shut.
Oscar’s hips try to buck up as Lando slips lower, tongue traveling down him and dipping into his hole, but Lando doesn’t allow it from the way he’s holding Oscar pinned.
A muffled ‘oh my god’ escapes Oscar by accident.
Lando hums into him in return and speeds up a little, starts using his lips to suck in all the right places.
There's too much in his stomach already, electricity building and building and building inside him. Nearing fireworks exploding in his gut. His head is fuzzy now, he can’t think—doesn’t know what noises could be coming out of him, doesn’t know what Lando is doing anymore.
He’s close, so close. He needs just a little longer, just a little more.
He’s—
Lando stops.
The man leans back in record time, hands peeling off Oscar’s sweaty legs. He can hear Lando breathing heavily, and can hear fabric ruffling.
But Oscar can't see, is frozen in place.
He was so close.
Finally, Oscar glances at Lando, at Lando and his award winning, championship winning, smile.
And Lando says, “I said a little snack, didn’t I?”
He wipes Oscar from his face.
“I just got a bit full, wouldn't want to spoil my dinner. Now would I, Osc?”
(a couple people wanted more of this so here, my beloveds)
over summer break lando needs to get his bottom two wisdom teeth pulled. oscar says he'll be there every step of the way and he is. he's there to take him home and help him stay elevated in bed. he makes (heats up) soup, makes sure lando takes his meds and drinks enough water. oscar makes sure to swap out the ice pack when it's no longer cold and kiss his forehead to see that toothy smile smooshed by gauze.
and the next day lando is less loopy and tired.
but he's something worse now—he's whiny.
"please, oscar, please. i need it, you've been so good at taking care of me. let me reward you, please, baby."
"lando, you know you can't. you can get a dry socket."
lando was standing in front of oscar just a second ago but now his knees have hit the floor and his mouth is breathing on where oscar's dick is beginning to fatten up in his sweatpants.
and then the worst thing that could possibly happen—happens. lando looks up at oscar with watery eyes like sea glass sitting upon a shore and says, "please, i need you, please."
oscar's not stupid but he is a weak, weak man. so he brushes his index and middle finger across lando's lips, dipping past them to slide inside a warm wet abyss.
it hits oscar instantly how bad lando needs this when he starts sucking, tongue slipping between oscar's two fingers and pressing into the webbing there.
gently as to not disturb lando's sutures, oscar's fingers spread to drag over the bumps and jaggedness of various teeth. he feels vibrations carry through his digits as lando moans at the stretch, the feeling of having a part of oscar inside him. lando's probably getting off on the fact that even now oscar is so, so tentative not to hurt him.
when oscar's other hand finds its way to delicately cup the strong jaw below and lando's noises fully develop into whimpers, oscar concludes he's right on the money.
he knows he should make lando stop before there's damage but his boyfriend is incredibly beautiful and needy—and oscar never really stood a chance did he?
and you know what, god, what's just a dozen seconds longer going to do? what's going to happen that oscar isn’t going to be there to fix anyways?
he'll be there, like he always is.
a dozen seconds turns into many, many more, like the little voice in the back of oscar’s head said they would. it doesn’t matter though because lando hasn’t glanced away, hasn’t even closed his eyes. they’re unwavering and so wet that oscar can see tears forming in the corners.
staring into the blown pupils, positive that his own look identical, oscar begins shifting his fingers back and forth on lando’s tongue. he feels the force behind lando’s suction, mouth so desperately pulling his fingers back in.
it startles oscar when wide palms splay over his thighs right below the hem of his shorts. they grip hard into the muscle and either lando yanks himself forward or oscar falls victim to the magnetic pull of arousal. oscar doesn’t know—doesn’t care, so caught up in how lando is now pressed flush against the tent in his bottoms.
the contact shoots through him like lightning and for a split second oscar thinks he just came in his briefs. he didn’t but he’s going to. so with one hand, oscar pulls himself out of the confines of his clothing and feels air sweep over his dick. it’s almost embarrassing how hard and leaking he is already, probably has been since lando started talking earlier—doesn’t even need to beg to get oscar going, but it’s so much better when he does.
lando’s eyes somehow open wider, oscar didn’t think it to be possible. and he’s whimpering, babbling incoherent words that sound like pleads with spit running down into his stubble.
it all goes a little too quickly when oscar’s palm wraps around his cock. only a few strokes and then he’s coming, pleasure fogging all his senses—ears ringing from the sheer velocity of it.
come lands on lando’s face, high on his cheekbones at first. then when oscar extracts his fingers from lando’s mouth his come spurts out to mix with the strings of spit and blood, the concoction dripping down lando’s chin in fat rivulets. it’s the thing that finally has tears spilling out from dark orbs surrounded by sparkling aquamarine.
jesus christ, he’s a total mess.
and oscar can’t wait to clean him up, wipe away the fluids and stuff lando’s mouth full of cotton. he yearns to kiss those soft heart-shaped lips and pretty eyelashes that flutter in a way that makes oscar’s knees weak.
part of him feels bad, guilty, but it all disappears when he sees an absolutely massive, face-splitting smile thats so full of love spread across lando’s profile that oscar thinks the man might just be love itself.
actually, now that oscar’s thinking about it, lando is, undoubtedly.
it’s beautiful and breathtaking and he’s completely content with never breathing again if it means he gets to look at, feel that, worship that love.
local marshmallow may we have a snippet of anything you're working on at the moment? 🍫🍫🍫🍫
i do have a little snippet i want to share, thank you for asking sweet elena >⩊<.ᐟ
*clears throat* eckem excuse me, this thing on? *taps mic*
*dusts off google doc* okay
𝜗ৎ
He lines himself up—pushes into the heat he knows all too well and can never get enough of.
Seconds pass as Oscar allows Lando to adjust to the stretch. It amazes Oscar every time how his boyfriend is immediately putty in his grasp at just a little manhandling and something filling him up. He's moaning and breathing heavily by the time a whole 20 seconds has passed.
It’s his cue, his sign to get moving. Inside the rest of the way and then out. In again, slightly faster this time, and with wet sounds echoing across the tile.
okay so because of foreseen and unforeseen circumstances (i’m moving) i don’t have my valentines fic to post today PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!
BUT!!! i do have some landoscar yuri to make up for it👉🏻👈🏻
There’s glitter dusted over her chest, tacky from sweat and sparkling in the string lights hung crisscrossed from the pavilion. There’s a few different seats scattered around the rooftop but they chose a couch way in the corner. Well, chose is a stretch, more like blindly fumbling to the farthest area from the door while Laney’s tongue brushed the tops of Osca’s teeth.
Laney has already taken Osca’s top off—not that there was much of one in the first place thanks to Laney’s insistence. Next on her mental list is the bralette, her hands fumbling around the hem of it. Sure, it’d be easy to lift the material up and over tousled brown strands but she is desperate, had been since Osca dropped into her lap with that dumbfounded look on her face.
So she’s sliding the straps off Osca’s freckled shoulders and down her arms, the lace covering her nipples going with it. Laney thinks Osca’s the most captivating person in the world. The soft blush that's spread across her cheeks has begun to drift down her neck to mingle with the glitter there.
Laney lets her eyes travel downward to where her chest rises and falls quickly, to the pale expanse of skin to—her tits, ones that sit not overtly large or small. A sweet middle ground, rounded perfectly to fit in the palm of Laney’s hands. Which she finds herself doing almost absentmindedly, gravitating towards Osca like planets to stars.
They’re like velvet underneath the span of her hands, warm from the heat of the night, and so fair compared to Laney’s tan complexion. Fair with the exception of Osca’s faint pink nipples that almost perfectly match the lipgloss smeared onto her cheek (also Laney’s choice). Laney can see them when she shifts her fingers, the buds peeking out from between the webbing.
Normally, Osca’s fairly unresponsive to Laney’s toying but if she takes her mouth and suckles just right—takes a nipple between her teeth and tugs—thats a different story. So of course she does just that, like they're in the comfort of their own home, working it lightly at first. Then Laney gets rougher, nibbling hard and dragging a moan in the shape of a breath from Osca’s lips.
It’s a sweet harmony that she thinks deserves every award in the world.
“Laney, stop I—we can’t be too loud.” Laney thinks it’s a little bit silly to say now, as she has Osca’s bare chest in front of her for the whole world to see if someone really looked.
Laney doesn’t bother lifting her head to look as she motions vaguely to the empty rooftop with her hand. From where her tongue is dragging over Osca’s papillae she speaks, “No one is here, baby. Who are you worried about?”
When green eyes that turn emerald against the night sky glance heavenward, Osca is twitching her nose like she does when she’s nervous, when there’s something turning over and over in her head.
Due to many years of giving themselves up to each other, it’s immediately obvious to Laney what her girlfriend wants, what she needs.
Laney does ask but she’s also already lifting her fingers to Osca’s mouth when the question escapes her. “Oh, you need my fingers, yeah?”
Due to many years of devotion to each other, it’s immediately obvious to Laney what her girlfriend wants, what she needs.
Laney does ask but she’s also already lifting her fingers to Osca’s mouth when the question escapes her. “Oh, you need my fingers, yeah?”
An index finger slowly brushes against the corner of Osca’s mouth, pressing into the dimple of it. Then with the utmost care in the world the digit drifts downward to hook under Osca’s jaw bone, tilting her head up to look up at Laney—because she’s not, her eyes are fixated somewhere to the right.
At the motion, two wide brown eyes cast back over to what has always been their only destination. Laney shifts her thumb to stamp its fingerprint into Osca’s bottom lip.
“I believe I asked you a question that I’m gonna need you to answer, baby,” Laney whispers because of the sole fact that she knows how much her girlfriend loves it, loves the way it sends goosebumps over her entire body.
Osca’s mouth parts at the contact, the expectation—wet noises from drool sounding in the night at just the anticipation of it.
“Yes, I need them.”
“Need what, hmm?” Darker eyebrows than their opposite raise along with the question.
After it hitches, a shallow breath blows out onto Laney’s thumb. The throat the breath comes from bobs along after it.
“I— I need your fingers,” Osca whispers back like an echo.
And just as Laney goes to ask the most important question of the night according to her cunt, Osca continues.
“Please, Laney, please I—“
Laney doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a good girl. Fuck, she doesn’t even need to ask her to beg.
sharing some more of it because i’m actually pretty proud of it
here and here are other bits
Chasing more friction, Oscar rolled his hips, grounding him back to the present, and making Lando gasp like he’d never been touched before. At the moment, he thought it was possible he never had been—not like this.
Lando was having a proper crisis and Oscar was just staring at him, mouth parted and panting. He’d never wanted to know what Oscar was thinking more than right now. Was he experiencing the same thoughts—same molten pressure constricting his limbs?
“You’re so pretty like this,” Oscar whispered, tone low, but shy, like he wasn’t sold on saying it out loud.
Oh.
That’s far better than what he’d imagined Oscar was thinking about.
Then, skinny, nimble fingers brushed through Lando’s curls, tugging lightly. He let his head be tipped back with the motion.
“Yeah?” Lando murmured, trying to at least keep some of his dignity intact. It didn’t last long however because a second later Oscar was planting his mouth on Lando’s neck. Lando didn’t have any control of the soft moans that were liberated when Oscar kissed wetly at the skin along his throat. His lips traveled up to where Lando’s jaw curved into his ear.
The dampness where his dick tented his bottoms was spreading. Oscar had been pressed against him for so long Lando wasn’t positive it was solely due to himself.
“Yeah, but you knew that already,” Oscar breathed into his ear, voice a little shaky. The air sent shivers all over his body. Those pretty lips barely said anything yet Lando was on the verge of begging for more.
His fingers start to tremble, unkempt fingernails tapping erratically against the metal. The usual flush of his cheeks eats away at his entire face, the heat engulfing soft, freckled features. And it doesn’t stop there—it spreads to his abdomen, where he’s being torn apart from the inside out, flayed like a fish, meters away from the person who caught him.
Lando doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he simply doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s incapable of tearing his eyes away from the momento, infatuated by the way it takes up space, as Oscar is. It stings, but he can’t look away, hardly even blinks. The air-con makes it tenfold, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill.
or
Lando wins the championship and invites Oscar over after their separate holidays.
