max and oscar had a thing when they were back in renault academy and it didn’t end on the best terms for whatever reason. fast forward a few years and max is no longer competing, oscar gets signed to f1 with mclaren, and who would his teammate be but none other than max’s best friend lando! lando and oscar have so much chemistry and tension and eventually they enter into a relationship. max is always super cold with oscar, even though oscar is doing his best to make amends. eventually max blows up at him because “the whole time we were fucking, you were liking my best friends posts and being his little fanboy” (aka oscar’s internet history is revealed). oscar is mortified and doesn’t know how to explain that yeah, he was doing that, and yeah, he’s with lando now but he really misses max and wants him back too and he feels awfully selfish about it all. lando would really like his boyfriend and best friend to be on good terms again, and he’s not an idiot — he sees the way they look at each other. and he had a crush on max back when max and oscar were doing god knows what, so… maybe he can fix all of this without any of them having to lose one or the other. cue him constantly inviting max on his and oscar’s days off, and inviting oscar to stream with himself and max, and making them all date without the two of them realising until it’s a little bit too late actually and they’re too deep into it and each other to care that lando’s successfully manipulated the whole situation.
if it hasn't been done yet maybe pianortrell 12/17 for the prompt game ?? <3
for my kink prompts
notes/warnings: have some tortured max for your trouble 😈
12/27 — EDGING + ORGASM DENIAL — PIANORTRELL
“Please. Lando, please, I need it. Please.”
Lando has to swallow against the pounding in his ears. Max has his head cradled in Lando’s lap and he’s looking up at him with big, imploring eyes, tears collecting prettily along his waterline. He looks desperate already, and Lando knows it’s too early for that; knows Oscar’s barely just gotten started.
“Maxie, you know I can’t,” Lando presses his hand to the side of Max’s face, heart tugging when Max leans into the touch needily. He does feel bad — he should feel bad. Except.
Max is really pretty like this. Gorgeous when he’s on edge and pathetic, laid out between Oscar and Lando like a meal for their eyes to feast upon. Even if Lando could stop it — which he can’t — he doesn’t think he would, and he feels a tug of guilt at that knowledge.
It’s not strong enough to blast through the arousal though.
Leaning down to press a kiss onto Max’s sweat-slicked forehead, Lando flicks his gaze to catch Oscar’s.
“You know I’m not the boss.”
Oscar smirks at Lando’s words, satisfaction bleeding across his features even as he looks back at Max, smile tightening. “He’s right,” he says levelly. “You know the rules, Max. I decide who comes and when.”
Lando can’t suppress the shiver that rolls down his spine, notch by notch. He feels blood rush to his cheeks when Oscar smirks at him again, expression knowing this time; the moment only broken when Max sobs, heartfelt and wretched between them.
“Oh, baby,” Lando soothes, hands back to cradling his face. “You’re doing so well.”
He really is. Much better than Lando had done when this had been the other way around; Max had had his work cut out having to deny Lando’s begging. But Max — Max is already valiantly trying to set his jaw again. So strong and good.
Oscar will reward that, Lando knows.
As though on cue, Oscar moves again, head ducking and taking Max down his throat in one fluid motion. A strangled gasp gets cut off somewhere in Max’s chest, his eyes staring up at Lando but not seeing — almost like he’s looking through him. Lando feels a twinge of unhappiness settling in his stomach, pinching at the hard line of Max’s jaw none too gently; earning a yelp for his action.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, even though he’s not, really. “Look at me, baby.”
“Doing so well, Max,” Oscar’s voice has them both shuddering even though the praise is solely for Max. The effect is all consuming, Lando’s spine rigid like he’s standing to attention even whilst he’s sat with Max’s head in his lap. “Good boy.”
It’s not rare, exactly, hearing praise from Oscar. But it’s honest. He means it, every time, and both of them are constantly on the hunt for it, doing what they can to earn it at any cost.
Lando’s mouth is dry. He tries to swallow a few times, one hand leaving Max’s cheek to card through his curls messily instead, tugging at the roots a little meanly. Max likes it, though; he moans, hips bucking inadvertently, a gagging noise emitting from Oscar where he’s got his lips around Max’s cock again.
He pulls off immediately, hands heavy and pinning against Max’s hips.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Max whines even as he writhes. Lando can see the muscles of his stomach working as he tries to move against Oscar’s touch, despite how good he’s trying to be. “I didn’t mean to, Lando — Lando pulled my hair.”
Rolling his eyes, Lando shrugs at Oscar innocently. “Accident.”
Oscar doesn’t buy it, of course. But tonight is about Max, so he doesn’t call Lando out on it; instead, he crawls up Max’s body, capturing his lips in a kiss that looks biting — demanding. Lando can see the hot press of their tongues sliding together from his vantage point, moaning as it goes straight to his dick, twitching against Max’s head.
Oscar pulls away. “Keep still, or you don’t get to come,”
Even though Max looks dazed, head jerking abortively like he was about to chase Oscar’s lips, he nods, overly enthusiastic. It makes Lando laugh, a delighted sound pealing from between his lips. He loved Max like this — loves that Oscar knows exactly what to do to get him there.
It’s a little mean — Oscar’s been sucking Max down and pulling off just before he reaches orgasm for the past hour now, and Lando knows better than to think it’ll be over anytime soon. Despite what Odcar’s said — any orgasm Max can hope to achieve tonight is still far away, somewhere in the distance. Max appears to have forgotten that, eyes greedily taking in the way Oscar’s bobbing up and down on his cock, throat fluttering and working around him.
A moan leaves Max’s throat when Oscar takes him all the way down, Lando’s own voice echoing the sound. He can almost feel it, watching Oscar deep throat Max — he knows exactly what it does feel like, the memory of it paired with the unbearably hot sight before him almost enough that he can imagine it’s happening to him. He knows how tight Oscar’s throat is, how clever he can be with his tongue. Knows without seeing that Oscar’s licking up the big vein on the underside of Max’s cock right now, even as he convulses his throat around him.
“Oh, shit,” Max says, high and keening. His head is tipped back in Lando’s lap, eyes wild and blown black as he stares up at him. “Osc — Lando, fuck —,”
“I know,” Lando soothes. He digs his fingers into Max’s curls and pulls again, actions contrary to the gentleness of his tone. “I know, baby, feels so good, doesn’t it? Oscar’s mouth? So hot and wet and tight. Is he swallowing you down good, baby? I bet he is.”
He hears Oscar’s approving groan, even though it’s fullness through the fullness of his mouth; sees the way Max’s eyes widen even more, thighs starting to twitch and tense, and then —
Oscar pulls back off, tongue flicking out to catch the taste of Max from the corner of his lips.
The sob that leaves Max is bereft and aching. His stomach tenses with the effort of the lost orgasm, hips bucking against thin air as Oscar finally releases his bruising grasp.
“Fuck,” Max sobs again.
From above him, Lando can see the tears spill from his eyes, tracing rivulets down his cheeks. One gets caught on his upper lip and sticks there, a perfect little droplet. Lando can’t help but lean down, hinging at the waist to kiss it from Max’s mouth, moaning against him at the saltwater taste of it. He moves then, breaks their lips apart and licks a stripe up each of Max’s cheeks, catching the trails of tears and lapping them up.
A moan from further down the bed grabs his attention, eyes locked with Oscar’s — he’s watching with an expression that can only be described as ravenous, tongue tucked neatly behind his teeth. He’s got one hand firmly wrapped around the base of Max’s cock, not stimulating but pinning.
“What do you think, Lando?” He tilts his head, tone conversational. “Reckon he can take a few more?”
Lando flicks his gaze back down to Max’s face, taking in the desperation oozing from in waves. His face shines with tears and spit; every muscle in his body is tensed, primed for battle; his eyes are hazy, unfocused now when they try to look at Lando or Oscar. He looks wrecked.
Looking back to Oscar, Lando nods. “Yeah. Reckon he can, Osc.”
your last post.....you should be arrested. i'm calling NATO.
listen. LISTEN,,,,,,, i have been sitting with the first quote for like two years but i just recently realized how landomax it was. like
"what it felt like to rest your head on a friend's shoulder that still carries with it the creases from where you last placed your heart"
TELL ME THAT ISN'T MAX AND LANDO IN A NUTSHELL. ESP WHEN LANDO RESTED HIS HEAD ON MAX'S SHOULDER (WHERE HE LAST PLACED HIS HEART). im throwing up (but also i BEG of you all to go watch the spoken word version that Gabriella & Guillaume skated to a few years back. truly a piece of art)
but in all seriousness like last summer break was crazy. dubai in the winter was WILD. but this summer???????? holy shit. they really said we're not even going to pretend anymore and went and clung to each other while either matching or wearing each others clothes and then ditched all their friends to spend a few days together golfing and travelling to meet back up with lando's girlfriend. what the actual fuck. i needed an equivalent what the actual fuck post to match their energy.
Prompt: Things you said with too many miles between us (Max/Lando)—Max POV (1.2k)
"I wish you were here." Lando whispers, his voice grainy through the phone's speakers.
Max shoves his hands underneath his pillow to stop from reaching out to the cold side of the bed where he's placed the phone in a futile attempt at feeling less alone. He bites his lip as a stray tear escapes and seeps into the pillow case that only smells like him.
He doesn't know what to say, how can he put into words that every time Lando had walked out their door, he took Max's heart with him, every time Max watches Lando step into a race car, his stomach is a tangled ball of nerves until Lando steps back out.
Or maybe it's that he can't speak past the millions of shattered fiber glass pieces of his heart that are embedded into his lungs from when Lando sat him down and said that he was moving to Monaco and that Max had to stay here.
Maybe it's that he's tried to astral project himself a hundred to wherever Lando is in the world, to sleep next to him one last time and hold him close—but never was able to.
"Mate, I—" He tries but his voice breaks.
Max can hear Lando's stifled tear-filled gasp, the way he gets when he's trying to be strong and hold it in—Max only knows all of Lando's noises from over the phone now.
"Max, Max, Max." Lando says his name like a prayer. He digs his nails into his palm, steeling himself, knowing what comes next. "Max, I love you, I miss you—fuck." Lando's voice catches. "Why aren't you here." Lando says, it's anything but a question but Max answers anyways.
"You know why. It's—it's better this way." That's what you had said back in December, he doesn't say.
Max can hear Lando squeezing his eyes shut and walking himself through the deep breathing exercises they had always practiced together. Max can feel his own shoulders loosen as they both mimic each other over the phone line.
Lando speaks first. "I bought your favorite tea today, I didn't even think about it until I was back home and you weren't there and mate I don't even like earl grey."
He smiles and hopes that Lando can hear it in his voice. "You should make me a cuppa when you feel alone." Max hears a thump and then the rustling of fabric. A moment later his phone beeps with a video request, he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, hoping he doesn't look as wrecked as he feels, he hasn't even dealt with his hair today—he answers anyways.
"Hi." Lando says softly when it finally connects. You would think that Monaco should have better wifi.
"Hi." He says back, trying to ignore the lovesick smile on his face in the corner on the tiny screen.
It doesn't matter, Lando's wearing the same one. There's semi-dried tear streaks running down Lando's cheeks and Max wants to kiss them away.
"I wish I was there to give you a tissue, muppet." He says in lieu of what he really wants. He looks next to him at the bare bed and then back at Lando. "I wish there."
Half of Lando's mouth quirks up into a sad smile. "I'm making you a cuppa." He hears before Lando's phone clatters down and he's staring up at Lando's bland ceiling, there's an overhead fan on that he can see the blade of, it's kind of making him sick to watch through the shoddy connection.
The electric kettle clicks to life and Lando's face pops back up, there's more color in his face now. "I'm back." All Max can do is smile back. Sometimes Lando gets chatty when he's sad, other times he shuts down, it depends on what he wants in return. Today's a chatty day. Lando chatters about his newest chassis, the way his seat makes his butt go numb, team secrets Max is pretty sure he's not supposed to know, but Lando needs to fill both their silences.
The kettle beeps when its done and Max is staring at the ceiling again while Lando prepares their cups. It's too late for Max to go into the kitchen and make one of his own. He checks the time difference again and it's almost 6am in Monaco, Lando needs to be at work soon and Max should be in bed. It doesn't matter when Lando is looking at him like he would doggy-paddle across the English Channel to get to Max.
Max watches as Lando places Max's mug on the table—some Renault one Lando stole from the cupboard when he wasn't looking. He's pretty sure Lando has somehow balanced the phone resting the side of the mug because half his screen is filled with steam and then he can see Lando sitting across from him.
For a precious moment, he can forget that he's still in a too cold and too big house and that this is still their daily routine. Max has never told Lando that he makes his tea too strong, that earl grey needs a gentle touch or the bergamot becomes too bitter—it's the thought that counts (and he can always rescue with milk anyways.)
"What's that?" He says when he sees Lando's eyebrows moving as he talks but can't make out the words. Lando takes a sip of tea and then repeats himself.
"I said I think we made a mistake."
Oh.
A mistake of 1,033.5 kilometers.
"I think I made a mistake." Lando says again. "By not letting you come here. You-you wanted to and I said no and now look at us." Lando gestures to his half empty apartment and Max's heart breaks further. "Fuck, Max, I didn't think I would be as happy here as I was at home, but it's fucking dreary here and it doesn't even rain half as much." He watches helpless as Lando cries over his mug, clutching it close to his chest, like it could warm him from the outside in.
Max closes his eyes at the urge to wrap his arms around Lando. "How much longer do we have?" He says already knowing the answer.
"Two weeks and three days." Lando replies instantly, it's on their shared calendar.
"We can make it, it's not long mate." Max tries to inject encouragement into his voice, he can't tell if he succeeds. Lando's knuckles are white around the mug and his shoulders are at his ears, filled with tension.
The heartwrenching image of Lando having to throw out Max's full mug of cold tea pops into his brain—and that's what breaks him. He shoves a pillow behind his phone, propping it up, and covers his face with his hands, trying to keep it together for Lando, His shoulder shake with silent sobs and he listens to Lando reminding him to breathe and takes a bone rattling inhale, thinking back to his therapist's words and imagining releasing the tension with each breath.
He opens his eyes and Lando's face is right there, no table in between them, no distance in between them.
"17 days." Lando says.
"17 days." Max repeats.
———————————————
Hiii
*twirls hair* so uh this isn't really a mini fic. But yeah!! Hope you enjoyed! <3
