kindly requesting [comfort] with fwb/best friend eddie 😌 (love u queen mwah)
lindsey !!!!! fwb!eddie!!!!! you know my weakness, every time. <33
send me a prompt
mdni, 18+, smut, porn no plot, piv, no protection used, continued under the cut
[comfort.] sender makes love to receiver after a rough day.
“Fuck, dude,” He moans under you, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips. “Needed this. Needed it bad.”
You roll your hips, feeling every inch of his throbbing member press against your walls.
Eddie should not feel this good. You think to yourself.
But the guy shows up on your doorstep, all rattled and out of breath. He had stormed up your apartment steps and pounded on your door like he was trying to break it down. And before you could inquire about what the hell was going on, his hands reached for your face.
He did this from time to time. You had done it to him more times than you could count.
You fucked each other when neither of you wanted to think. It was nothing serious. Friends with a mutual understanding. Sometimes you just needed to fuck, and you both agreed that finding partners was too much of a hassle.
You were busy with work and school, he was too busy being a menace to society.
Both equally stressful things, of course.
But today must have been bad. He usually would lay it all out for you before getting down to business, but he could not get his pants off quick enough.
Your hand mounts firmly on his chest as you draw your hips upward, finally slamming down onto him with equal precision.
“Do you wanna,” You start to speak but his hips start meeting yours and your brain blanks. What were you even trying to say again?
For the first time since you laid eyes on him today, he smiles.
“Do I wanna what?” He asks, breathlessly.
“Do you wanna talk about-” You suck in a sharp breath, forcing all your weight on him so his cock is fully sheathed inside you for a second. “Talk about it? W-what’s going on?”
He reaches up to fondle your bare chest before propping himself up more on your headboard. He shakes his head, his sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead.
“Just a bad day.”
You shift on his pelvis, giving him only a bit of friction. “Anything I have to worry about?”
He presses a small kiss to the swell of your breasts. You think it’s sweet and tender at first, but then he begins extending his tongue out of his mouth and flicking your taut nipple with it. “Wasn’t the agreement ages ago that it's no talking about the shitty stuff while I’m stuffed inside you?”
You throw your head back, the view of him playing with your tits a bit too much. “Yes, but I’m just worried about you.”
His hands move from your hips and slowly begin traveling upward to your waist. He locks his arms around you before throwing you down onto the mess of the bed. You lie on your back, eyes wide and confused.
His dick is still stuffed snugly in your dripping cunt, but this time the curve of it is pressing inside you differently. Hitting that delicious area that Eddie usually toys with his fingers.
“Worried about me, hm?” He hums, sitting back slightly on his calves. He looks between the two of you, still connected, and dribbles just a bit of spit.
The sight alone makes you clench. You cannot even verbalize when he’s looking like that above you.
He smirks before slowly drawing himself out of you, “I appreciate the concern, sweetheart, I really do. But please, just let me drown my sorrows in this perfect pussy of yours.”
You jerk a nod, letting him unhurriedly thrust himself in and out of you. The feeling is maddening. You want him to speed up so bad, but he looks so spent above you that you say nothing. Just some broken moans in between each thrust and hushed whispers of his name.
He drops down on top of you, his elbows pressing into the mattress next to your shoulders. His face is wedged into your neck as he continues his prodding at your pussy. You push your fingers through his disheveled curls, grabbing onto him by the roots of his hair.
His motion never speeds up, if anything it just becomes more powerful. As he nears his end, you can feel his dick twitching against your g-spot. You know you are close, too. You push your hand between your bodies, but before you could even get near your clit, his hand is over your mound and rubbing fast circles against that sensitive spot.
When you clench around him, he’s chanting your name and stilling his movements completely. You feel him seeping out of you almost immediately, but especially when he retreats from your cunt.
He exhales, his hot breath fanning across your throat, “Did I say how much I needed that?”
You can only let out a giggle before he drops down beside you with a long, drawn-out sigh.
"I love you, I've always loved you you idiot! *then they kiss*"
🩷
Can I just say that I love you for not requesting a specific PP character? It's so fun to write for a variety! Immediately my brain went to the one and only Frankie Morales. I hope you enjoy what I came up with! Written on a commute home, smiling to myself.
"I love you, you Idiot"
Frankie Morales x Reader
words: 1.6K
(read below)
"Frankie, it's two in the morning."
You can't stand when Frankie does this. Coming over to your place shit-faced and feeling sorry for himself. It's something he's done since the two of you were teenagers, back when that kind of behavior wasn't so pathetic.
"I just needed to see you."
His voice is soft and his big dark eyes stare balefully at you through the narrow crack of your door.
"You can't keep doing this," you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. "You can't keep showing up to my place wasted. I have-"
Frankie looks indignant. "I'm not wasted."
When you peer more closely at him you have to admit he doesn't seem as bleary-eyed as normal. For not the first time in your life you wish just the sight of him didn’t make your heart seize.
Frankie has been your friend since before you got braces and before Frankie started wearing baseball caps. Childhood neighbors turned into adult besties. You can't imagine him not being in your life, which is why you suffer through the monthly occurrence of him getting drunk with the guys and then coming to sleep it off at your place.
Why does he continually come to you? Because you pamper him. You get him cold water and make up the bed on the couch. You give him sweet smelling pillows and blankets and force him to take an asprin before he passes out, snoring loudly as you berate yourself for doing it, over and over.
Most of the time he wakes up early next morning and gets the two of you breakfast from the bodega around the block. Over greasy bacon and egg he asks what you're doing that day. Grocery shopping, you tell him. Thrifting. Going to the park. Running errands.
He takes up your entire Sunday morning just hanging around, going on these errands with you, making jokes and bugging you to come play pool with him and the guys. And then he's thanking you for helping him out before he's suddenly gone, broad frame sauntering down the street. Back to his real life. And you're there watching him go, trying to convince yourself that those Sundays with Frankie aren't the best part of your month.
And now he's here, right on schedule.
"Please," he entreats, voice going even softer, fingers gently sliding between the crack to graze yours. "Just let me in. Five minutes."
Vibrations start where his fingertips brush yours. He's so warm, so close. You sigh, opening the door fully and ushering him in with a finger to your lips. You don't want your nosy neighbors complaining.
He brushes past you, curls spilling from under his hat as he lowers his head. He may not be drunk but he does smell like cigarettes. This draws a grimace from you as you go to the linen closet to retrieve a pillow and blanket.
Frankie watches you from beside the hearth, shifting his weight from foot to foot anxiously. He clears his throat when you begin to set up the couch for him to sleep on.
"You don't have to do that."
"It's what I always do when you come here after the bar." You straighten, frowning. "I sure hope you didn't drive here yourself."
"I told you, I'm not drunk."
He's leaning against the wall, his eyes following you as you walk over to him, suspicion all over your face.
Your head tilts forward, nose going to his collar and you think he tenses up when you inhale. Amongst the cigarette smoke is the musky scent of his skin and the laundry detergent he's used since college. You force your voice to stay steady.
"You were at the bar with the guys. I can smell Will's cigarettes on you."
Frankie blinks rapidly, voice a little breathless at the end. "I was there playing darts, yeah."
You hate that he looks so handsome right now. You hate that you've been nursing this secret crush on him for years. That you've had to watch him flounder from shitty relationship to shitty relationship all the while playing best friend.
You go back to plumping up the pillow on the couch before heading into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water. "You really weren't drinking?"
"No. I'm cutting back," he calls back from the other room.
You return, confused to see him sitting on the makeshift bed looking nervously over his shoulder at you. You hand him the water glass.
"This a midlife crisis thing?" You tease. "You turned forty so now you're on a health kick?"
You're thrown off when he doesn't chuckle in return. The two of you love to tease one another, shoulders falling against each other and braying with laughter when you’re both really amused. But tonight he takes the water glass and places it on the coffee table without taking a sip. He holds out his hand and sweeps it across the cushion next to him.
"Can we talk?"
You feel your stomach tightening but you nod. You continue to stand though, brows knitted. Something about sitting next to him feels too intimate right now. He licks his lower lip slowly, thoughtfully.
"I got my license suspended today."
Frankie pilots helicopters for a living. It's the job he has wanted since he was seven years old. The job that makes Frankie happy, the one that gets him out of bed on dark days. The thought that he doesn’t have this piece of joy anymore throws you across the room, taking hold of his large forearm as you sit next to him on the couch.
"What? Why?"
"Random drug test found coke in my system."
Your stomach plummets as he hangs his head. "Since when do you-"
"Never. It was some guys from work. We went out to a party and they had some so I tried a bit. Once. It's not my thing but, of course my boss didn't believe me."
"So now you're drunk-"
You look at his beautiful face and see how anguished he looks.
"I told you I'm not drunk," Frankie says sharply. "I went to blow off steam and play darts with the guys, that's all."
He doesn't pull out of your grip; if anything he draws a little closer to you on the couch. Frankie inhales slowly through his nose and his big, dark eyes dart all over your face like he's trying to commit it to memory.
"I needed to tell you something and I wanted to be sober when I did it."
You feel shaky. You're afraid of what Frankie is going to say. This is the kind of thing someone says before they tell you something awful. This calm before a storm will come up from nowhere.
You lace your fingers with his, your face tilted to him. You give him your full attention, even as your body tenses up.
"What did you want to tell me, Frankie?"
He's so beautiful in the dim light. It makes his dark eyes look black and shiny like marbles, his strong features cut by the light coming in from outside your apartment window.
"When I got the call about the suspension I was with the guys."
"Right."
"But the only person I really wanted to see was you." Frankie's pebbled neck bobs as he swallows and you think you see a sheen to his eyes.
"Well, good. You know you can always come to me with this kind of stuff," you assure him, palm moving to rub gently at his spine. "I'm here for you."
He gives a gentle smile, nodding.
"You always are.”
His hand comes to cup your jaw, surprising you. You hold still as his big, warm palm holds your heating cheek.
"I realized you're always the first person I want to tell hard things too."
His wide thumb strokes the soft skin of your jaw, his dark eyes falling to your mouth briefly. You can feel your pulse start to pick up.
"You're the person I feel the safest around. I told myself it's because I've known you for so long and you're my best friend. But that's not it. At least, that's not all it is." He takes a deep breath. "It's the same reason I come here after the bar. Not because I’ve been drinking, but because I know the next day I can get you all to myself."
Your heartbeat is uneven, cheeks warm. You know that you're starting to grin, but you tamp it down just in case you're reading this wrong.
"Why do you want me to all to yourself, Frankie?"
His warm grin in reply soothes your nerves. Your eyes widen in shock when you see his head to tilt and his mouth almost brushes yours.
"You know why."
"Tell me anyway."
He cups your face in both his hands now, eyes crinkling. He speaks slowly and sweetly, voice full of affection.
"Because I love you."
Electricity is going up your body not just as his nearness but at his words. The ones you longed to hear for so long. You can't quite believe it. You're both trembling when he wraps you in his arms, bringing you half into his lap. His eyes begin to search yours, the serenity of moments before replaced by something else.
"What do you think about that?"
He's stroking your side with his thumb, his chest expanding as pink crawls up his neck. You realize belatedly that he's nervous because you haven't replied and you feel your mouth hitch to one side.
Your arms wrap around his neck, eyes dipping to his mouth as it nears yours, his lips pressing firmly to yours. You melt into it, body going boneless as he wraps his arms around you, crushing you against his chest. He kisses better than you ever dreamed, and he holds you so tenderly you can’t help but sigh against his mouth.
There wasn't much of a height difference between him and Evan. Maybe an inch or two at the most and even then that last half inch was mostly hair. But he still knew it gave Evan a bit of a thrill every time he remembered that Tommy was bigger; taller.
Every time he tipped up Evan's chin for a kiss, every time Evan looked up at him from beneath his lashes with that oh so innocent doe eyed expression, every time he had to tip up onto his toes just to catch Tommy's lips if he was looking away alway made Evan practically shiver with an excitement that wasn't going away.
Tommy had always assumed it would eventually. That the novelty had more to do with the fact that Evan wasn't used to being with someone bigger than him, a man, than it had to do with the height, but it was still there. Evan still looked up at him with stars in his eyes and with this breath taking expression that always made Tommy's chest go painfully tight.
Evan liked being smaller, that much was obvious. He liked when Tommy manhandled him and he liked when Tommy boxed him. He liked it in the quieter moments too. When Tommy would scoop him up in his arms and hold him close and Tommy had caught Evan staring at the way Tommy's fingers dwarfed Evan's when they held hands a few times. He preened and smiled and got bratty until he got Tommy in whatever position he wanted and Tommy was only happy to oblige even if he did put a front, grumbling along the way.
So, Tommy knew Evan liked it and a part of him hoped Evan never lost the wonder that had when he experienced the sheltered security that came with being small with him; with Tommy. But...
Tommy didn't think Evan knew he did it. Or if he did, he was so used to it by now that he didn't notice anymore. The way he tucked his chin down, the way his shoulders rolled inwards, the way he deflated. Evan curved and folded and bent himself inward to be smaller and it didn't take much. A barbed word here, a harsh breath there, and the impatience was enough to send Evan curling into himself in a way that made his smallness seem like a retreat; a convenience. Except the convenience wasn't for him then and the retreat was just survival instead of comfort.
Tommy would know the difference.
He never wanted Evan to feel that way around him.
Tommy crossed the distance between them in three easy strides and bullied his way between Evan's legs, making his work table groan beneath the shifted weight.
Evan sucked in a breath and Tommy could practically see the apology forming on his lips.
Tommy curled a finger under his chin and tipped his head up, smiling softly at the way Evan twitched at the move the way he always did. His eyes lit up for the briefest of moments and Tommy couldn't help but stroke his thumb against the corner of those plump lips until they curled upward into a small smile.
"Where'd you go?" Tommy asked.
"Sorry," Evan said, trying to duck his head down again but Tommy didn't let him. "I didn't realize I was talking so much. You're concentrating. I can—"
Evan made to jump down but Tommy pushed into his space further, kissing him once then twice before he felt Evan give in and wrap his arms around Tommy's shoulders. He skimmed his hands up and down his sides before smoothing them into the small of his back and held him there.
"I like listening to you talk," Tommy said, kissing away the disbelief from Evan's face. "Even when it's something ridiculous about how long hippos can hold their breath under water."
Evan didn't say anything for a moment and Tommy knew he could push; he should push. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to be that person in Evan's life who made him perform when Tommy was perfectly content with the Evan he thought people didn't want to see. The one that had to duck his head down and hide his disappointment. The one that had to wince off a hurt and smile like it didn't. The one who was always okay.
If Evan needed to retreat, that was fine. Tommy just wanted him to know that he would be there when he came back.
Timid fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck before Evan tipped his chin back up and smiled.
"A water buffalo can hold its breath longer than a hippo."
"Oh?" Tommy smiled so wide he thought he was going to break his face. "Did you learn that today?"
Evan hummed, very smug, and how could Tommy not kiss him then?
'Tell me a secret,' says Buck, quiet in the soft dawn stillness.
They don't have a shift today but Eddie had woken up early for some reason watching Buck sleep, the slack pout of his mouth and the faint whistling of his snores. The kids are asleep and the house is peaceful and Eddie can't ever remember feeling this content before.
'A secret?' he echoes.
Buck is smiling, eyes bright with mischief, 'yeah, something I don't know.'
Eddie's been holding it inside a while, turning over the knowledge of it, delicate and precious, waiting for the right moment, the right gesture, letting it make him giddy. He knows Buck's answer. He knows if he leaves it too long Buck might beat him to the question.
'Oh, well, maybe you can help me with something, actually,' he says, grinning.
'Help you? Of course,' Buck nods, 'anything.'
'But you can't tell anyone else,' says Eddie, 'it's a secret.'
Buck mimes zipping his lips, solemn, 'I'll take it to my grave.'
'You won't have to go that far, I hope,' Eddie says, shifting closer, closing the space between them, almost nose to nose.
He waits in the anticipation, the thrill just before the leap, before he speaks, 'I'm going to ask my boyfriend to marry me.'
'Yeah?' says Buck, breathless, beaming, 'do you think he'll say yes?'
'I hope so. How should I do it? Dinner? Flash mob? Sky writing?'
Buck pinches him, kisses him, sweet and slow, 'I don't think you need to go that far. However you do it will be perfect,' he pauses, whispering, 'I have a secret too.'
'Hmm?'
'My boyfriend is going to ask me to marry him,' he says, his lashes dipped, 'and I'm going to say yes.'
'That's good,' says Eddie, filled up to the brim with happiness, 'he'll be pleased.'
Buck rolls on to his back and sighs, all wistful longing, hamming it up, 'I just hope he asks me with sky writing.'
Eddie groans, moving fast, swinging a leg over Buck's hips to plant himself on top of him, half wrestle, half embrace. Buck squawks, hinging at the waist to pull Eddie into a kiss, deep and endless.
'Did we do it?' he says against Eddie's lips, 'did we get engaged?'
'I think so,' Eddie nods.
'When should we start telling people?' Buck says, 'because it's the probie's shield ceremony next week and then it's Jee's birthday and I'm pretty sure May and Ravi are gearing up to announce they're moving in together.'
Their lives are so full, happiness radiating for every person they care about. They can have this one thing just for themselves, at least for now.
'Well it can wait, I guess,' says Eddie, holding Buck tight, 'depends on how long you can keep a secret
please try to see things from my perspective. - pianortrell 👹
oopsie, i hope this was everything u wanted and more... wasn't supposed to be this long but y'know... word count ran away from me
a/n: angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, established nortrell, osc being nortrell's stray cat third, post-sex, mentions of switch4switch landoscar, mentions of subdropping, prompt dialogue is never explicitly stated but oscar thinks it
prompt game! send me some dialogue and one of the specified ships, and i'll do my best to make it happen!
It's quiet after, in the way it always is.
Lando is busy curling into Max's side, kissing at the damp skin of Max's jaw. Oscar has to pull his eyes away when Max turns to whisper sweet-nothings into Lando's hair.
He can hear a soft, "good. You were so good. Proud of you", and it makes him ache.
If you asked Oscar how this whole… thing started, he doesn't think he'd be able to tell you. There had always been some sort of tension. Between the rushed handjobs behind motorhomes during Max and Oscar's F3 days, and the way Lando was constantly trying to eye-fuck Oscar, something was always bound to happen. He just… doesn't remember when it became this.
Oscar slides himself out of their bed. Their. Max and Lando's. Just big enough for two. There was no room for three. The thought makes him want to vomit.
On shaky legs, Oscar starts to rummage around, searching for his discarded clothes. The air of the bedroom is hot and sticky. Oscar wishes they'd opened a window or something, but Lando hates when his skin prickles and he's shivering in the middle of sex.
Oscar hates that he knows that about him. He hates that he knows that Lando's back usually aches after they get done and that Max likes to be spooned. He hates that he knows where they keep the chocolate stash for particularly intense scenes and he hates the way his stomach pits and swoops and the way it feels like he's seconds from throwing up. He hates—
"Osc?"
Oscar's head snaps up from where he's bent over, underwear in hand. He finds Lando's eyes, fluffy brows pinched tight as he watches Oscar. "What are you doing?"
He sounds small, if a bit vulnerable. He got like that sometimes, when the session put him in a place he wasn't prepared to go to. He knew what that felt like. Sometimes, Max and Lando both would gang up on him, make him come until he was sobbing and degrade him. Humiliate him until he was gasping on each breath. Then, they'd put him back together and he'd carry himself home, shower until his skin was raw, and crawl into bed.
He hated feeling like that. He hated the thought of Lando feeling like that.
Oscar hated a lot of things about this arrangement.
Most of all, he hated how looking at Max and Lando, together, without him, made his chest ache something awful.
"I—" he starts, unsure. Oscar stands up straight, but his shoulders hunch in when Max turns to look at him, too. He feels too scrutinized. Too seen. "I was just grabbing my things… Was gonna head out…"
Lando looks like Oscar had slapped him, curling soft and small into Max's chest. Oscar curls his hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm.
"Oh," Lando whispers. Oh. Oscar feels like the biggest piece of shit ever. "Okay."
Max looks between them, able to sense that something isn't quite being said.
"Oscar, pal," he starts, adjusting the way he's got his arm around Lando. They fall into one another so easily, it makes him feel sick with want. Oscar has to look away from them again. He slips his briefs up his legs, skin tacky with dried sweat and a bit of lube between his cheeks. He doesn't care, he just wants to stop feeling so… exposed.
"Oscar, look at me."
Oscar's always been a weak man.
He finds Max's eyes, shining with something he wants to say but isn't sure how to ask for it.
"You know you can stay, right?" Max asks the question as if Oscar were a cornered animal, cautious and unassuming. For a brief moment, Oscar supposes he is like that. He feels ready to bolt. He was going to bolt up until Lando had called his name.
His eyes find the place where Max's free hand is rubbing up and down Lando's bare arm. The movement is almost mesmerizing and he's almost one-hundred-percent sure it would knock him out.
You know you can stay, right? And, oh. Isn't that just Oscar's problem? He doesn't know that he can stay. Hasn't known since this whole thing began.
At first, when they were done, Lando and Max would look at him, thank him with a smile, and ask, "you can let yourself out, right?" It had stung then, just as it does now.
Except, now, Oscar isn't being politely kicked out. He can feel it every time he lingers in their bed for just a bit too long. Lando has octopus arms, wanting to be plastered to someone's side—says he needs it—and has no problem clinging to Oscar when Max has gone to the bathroom to grab a wet rag. He'd be an absolute liar if he said he didn't relish in it.
Sometimes, when things went too far and Oscar had been thrown so off-kilter he couldn't find his feet, he liked to bury his face in Lando's chest and let Max slide in behind him. He liked feeling cared for in a way he was too afraid to let himself.
Oscar kept those feelings locked in a box, though. Pushed it far, far into the back of his mind and piled it with other things. Important things. Things he was allowed to want.
Max shifts again, making Lando whine. It brings Oscar back to reality, just a bit.
"Uh, yeah…" He scratches his neck, cringing at the way his hair is sweaty and sticking to his skin. He needs a haircut. Oscar needs a lot of things. "Yeah, I know…"
"So, why're you not staying?"
Lando says it like Oscar had personally offended him. Oscar tries to keep his face neutral.
"I really should go…"
It earns him a strangled noise, Lando wriggling out of Max's arms to crawl down the bed. He's still naked, but Max had wiped him down with a warm washcloth. It doesn't keep his skin from glowing, pearly and pretty under the warm lamplight. Oscar tries not to stare when he finds his t-shirt.
He needs to leave. He has to go. He has no place here. Their bed has no more room for him. He has no place—.
Lando's hand wraps around Oscar's wrist, warm and wide and heavy. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath, shoulders hunched as he stares at their hands. "Osc," Lando mutters, trying to find the taller boy's eyes. "We're asking you to stay."
"Why?"
He doesn't mean for it to come out that way—harsh. Cold. Lando looks pained once more and Oscar really needs to leave before he does something else to ruin this.
"What d'you mean why? We're asking you to stay, isn't that enough?" Lando's voice trembles, just the slightest, as he answers. Max starts to move, sitting behind Lando. He wraps an arm around his chest, keeping him from falling face first onto the floor.
Oscar doesn't understand. They aren't getting it. They aren't seeing it from his point of view.
Max frowns, hand splayed across Lando's chest. "We want you to stay, mate." There's a soft furrow between his eyebrows and Oscar wants nothing more than to smooth it out, kiss him there, whisper for him not to worry.
Now, Oscar really doesn't understand. He swallows, jaw twinging with the ache of it. He'd had Lando shoved in his throat for nearly thirty minutes while Max teased him. Oscar closes his eyes, trying to scrub the thought from his brain.
He rubs his hands over his face, pushing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He misses the rough callouses of Lando's fingers almost immediately.
"I don't—" he starts, then stops, taking in a sharp breath. He tries to gather his thoughts, searching for the right things to say. He doesn't think there are any right things to say. "We aren't… We don't do that."
The words hang for a second, heavy and thick. Oscar feels like he's trying to swallow down chalk.
Then, "we don't. But, we could."
Max looks so earnest when he says, glancing between Oscar and Lando. Oscar watches the way the hand on Lando's chest tightens, the skin under his fingers turns a bit pink.
Oscar feels like throwing up. It feels like too much. Everything feels too big for his body.
"Oscar, we want to. We want to do this. With you."
The chalky feeling starts to lessen when Lando shuffles forward again, enough to rest one foot on the ground. Enough to grab both of Oscar's hands this time. Oscar takes a deep breath, letting his eyes trail over both of them.
"But, there's no room…" It's his turn to speak softly, chin tucked to his chest. He fiddles with the t-shirt in his hand, unsure, but wanting. He wants them both so badly. "On the bed…"
"So we'll get a new one."
"Yeah, a bigger one. To fit all of us."
Max slips off the bed to stand in front of Oscar, trying to find his eyes as he looks at the floor.
"Look at me, baby. Look at us."
Oscar feels the warmth in his belly at the sweet name. It makes it easy to look at them again. He wants to melt with the way Lando is looking at him, like he could say a thousand things with his eyes that his mouth can't.
It clicks for Oscar, then.
"Are you sure?"
Lando coos, sliding one of his hands up into Oscar's hair. He cups his neck, bringing him closer.
"Why d'you think we've been taking so long with the aftercare lately, ya muppet?"
Oscar's cheeks pinken, suddenly shy. He whines, something pathetic. Max laughs, something sweet and so, so fond. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Max lets his knuckles across those pink cheeks, tender. "Didn't want to scare you… You might think you're hard to read, but we can see when you're trying to run. We noticed every time."
"But, at the beginning… You didn't—"
Lando interrupts him with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "Oscah, mate, there's currently cum dripping out of my arse and you wanna talk semantics? Just get in the fricken' bed…" Oscar feels sheepish, but he feels softened. All of his prickly edges felt like they'd been snicked off.
"Didn't know you knew that word, Lando," Oscar teases, letting his hand slip a bit to tangle his fingers with Lando's. It gets a chuckle out of Max and makes Lando tug on his hair. Oscar can't stop his face from splitting wide and warm, smile too big to contain.
"You fricken' muppet… Give me about an hour… Puttin' that mouth back to good use."
Oscar giggles when Lando pulls his hands away and turns around, muttering under his breath about Oscar "being an ungrateful, little brat", and how he's "gonna show him."
Max cups Oscar's cheek now, and the smile shrinks, but it doesn't lose any of its brightness. Max's hands aren't nearly as big as Lando's, but they're just as comforting. Just as loved.
"Want me to crack the window?" he asks, quiet. Oscar's eyes shine with something he thinks might look like love when Max asks. His own fingers wrap delicately around Max's wrist, head turning to kiss his palm.
Then his wrist.
His shoulder.
Then, eventually, Oscar holds Max's cheek in his hand and kisses him.
Caro I saw you reblogged the AU prompts post sooooo if you want one:
5 (or more) facts about an AU where Buck runs a doggy daycare and Tommy has just adopted a bonded pair of dogs.
ok, first time doing this so i'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting!
we're gonna add a sprinkle of canon and make it so that buck found blaze and saved him and then found his owners and the way the reunion made him feel, got him to find a job at a doggy daycare. he's the favourite of the dogs and can be found in the middle of them at all times just getting licked to death in there;
two dogs are rescued from a fire and taken to the shelter by the ambulance (they just had some smoke inhalation) and they are scared that they don't wanna leave the back of the ambulance and one of them snarls at the paramedic who tries to get them out; slowly and carefully, buck manages to get into the ambulance, ignoring the audience he's garnered from the other firefighters; buck gets snarled at but manages to get close enough to earn the doggies' trust and that's when he notices that one of them doesn't have a leg and that the other one is very protective of the other;
with patience and calm, buck manages to take the three-legged dog into his arms while the other follows close-by, never taking his eyes off buck and the other dog; buck thanks the firefighters for bringing them, noticing how one of them keeps glancing between buck and the dogs, "feel free to visit them anytime" buck says and goes into the shelter, he names them chip (the protective one) and dale (the three-legged dog) and they slowly get more and more comfortable around buck;
one of the firefighters, the one buck spoke to, comes to visit the shelter the evening after "i had to finish my 48 but i really wanted to see how they were doing" he says when buck greets him, "they're doing great, actually, they were just scared" the firefighter nods and buck smiles "do you want to see them?" and despite being nervous, he agrees, on the way buck introduces himself "i'm evan, evan buckley, most people call me buck" "tommy kinard, most people call me tommy" and buck laughs and ofc tommy has the heart eyes;
they go in to see the dogs and they are excited to see buck OFC and then they look at tommy, who keeps his distance just in case, with curiosity and a small bit of fear; buck sits on the floor and waits for dale to get into his lap like that's his place and tommy watches as chip investigates the scene, like making sure dale is in good hands, before looking up at tommy again; buck pets chip's head who doesn't look away from tommy and then buck urges tommy to slowly sit next to him, and even if he's unsure, tommy does it, slowly and carefully sitting next to buck and chip zeroes in on buck and tommy's knees touching when they're sat down, mostly bc it's very close to dale's snout, but tommy notices too and he and buck lock eyes for a moment before he moves away; chip seems to relax at that and then proceeds to sniff at tommy's legs and snarls quietly when tommy moves his hands too fast onto his lap; "relax" buck says, to both dog and human "he's just trying to figure you out" and then he grabs tommy's hand, chip's eyes intent on that, and tommy inhales sharply but buck is more focused on getting chip more relaxed, hands together buck slowly urges it closer to chip who is so focused too; when they're close enough, chip sniffs tommy's hand, moving his head back when tommy flinches his fingers a little at the sensation "it's okay" buck says, to both of them again, and chip comes back to sniff tommy's hand, getting slowly closer and closer until buck urges tommy's hand to pet chip's head and it's like both dog and tommy hold their breath, chip relaxes first and then tommy and buck watches as tommy gets more confident in petting chip who slowly gets more relaxed around tommy and even climbs onto his lap enough to sniff at tommy's face and licks his cheek, his chin and jaw and tommy laughs at it, smiling wide as the dog gets bolder in his licking, tail wagging like a helicopter rotor;
chip firmly in his lap, buck urges tommy to pet dale who had been watching the whole thing from the comfort of buck's lap, and slowly tommy lets dale sniff at him, watching how chip pauses to watch it all, and then slowly pets dale's head who quickly gets comfy with him and even sneaks a couple of lazy licks at tommy's wrist who smiles widely when chip relaxes against tommy again, "they are precious" and buck breathes out a "yea"; after a while bc neither of them wanted to leave and even the dogs whine when they get up, leading to tommy squating to get a few more enthusiastic licks from both dogs while buck watches;
"you should come back again" buck says from the other side of the counter and tommy smiles "yeah, will you be here?" buck smiles "i own this place" "oh, right, uhm, i will be back then" and does the finger guns on his way out "see you soon, tommy" "see you soon, evan"; and tommy comes back, whenever he's free, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, and buck is there but sometimes he's busy but chip and dale get more and more comfortable around tommy and then he talks about adoption and buck is very adamant that he can't separate them and is blabbing about responsibility and space and all of that when tommy holds his hand and says "i want them both" and buck relaxes and starts working on the adoption papers and stuff and when it's finished tommy goes "feel free to visit them anytime" and buck smiles;
and buck does visit and slowly tommy gets the courage to ask him out and blah blah blah happily ever after where they share a house with chip and dale who definitely sleep in their bed everynight even though they are not supposed to but "come on tommy look at those eyes" and tommy is never winning an argument bc now he has three puppy eyes looking at him at all times!
i also just realised that i might have gotten the prompt wrong BUT uhm i hope this makes up for it!!! also chip and dale to me!! (chip is the australian shepherd but with heterochromia and dale is the three-legged golden retriever)
