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“But there is nothing else that I know how to do but to open up my arms and give it all to you…”
It cannot be overstated just how much Oscar does not play about Lando. Despite his emotions being generally difficult to read, the changes in his attitude and behavior when it comes to Lando are glaringly obvious. This goes for both positive and negative emotions.
When he feels that Lando has been slighted in any way, the rage just bubbles up, and all of a sudden, his face is flushed, and he is trying with all his might to restrain himself from saying or doing something incredibly unprofessional.
Needless to say, he does not take kindly to people talking badly about his man. It gets under his skin, even if Lando claims that he himself is not affected by it. Oscar just can’t handle reading lies and/or non-constructive criticism of his Lando. Of all people, he knows who Lando really is, and he can’t stand hearing the nonsense and not being able to do anything about it.
So imagine being Oscar today. You log onto Instagram the day after McLaren wins the World Constructors Championship for the first time in twenty-six years, and under Lando’s winner graphic, you see “Gonna be one of the worst drivers to ever win the WDC next year” and “How much did you pay the FIA?”. Peeved is a gross understatement.
A fiery fury takes over, and he has to fight the voices in his head telling him to respond telling every single one of the faceless profiles to go fuck themselves. Realistically, that’s a horrible idea, obviously. Telling strangers to go fuck themselves is wrong, but to be honest, he often wants to say worse. No matter how wrong it is, sometimes, the feeling comes so fast, it can seem like a good option for a split second.
He doesn’t do it. In lieu of risking his career, he texts Lando for some grounding.
O: Baby
L: hey love what’s up
O: Currently losing my mind. Need you to stop me from mass reporting idiots on Instagram
L: what are they saying about you???
O: Not about me
*Incoming Call from Lando Norris*
“Surely you’re not worked up over hate comments about me again,” Lando says immediately as the call connects.
“Sure am,” Oscar replies calmly. As calmly as he can in his current state.
At this point, this reaction shouldn’t be a shock to either of them. Lando knows Oscar would go to blows for him, and it lights him up inside. Especially when he can use it to his advantage.
“I don’t even read comments anymore, so why are you on the lookout for that bullshit?” Lando asks, a little irritated and trying not to get hung up on the fact that not only was he looking, but he did find some.
Oscar closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, not wanting to misspeak. “I wasn’t looking for it. I just wanted to see everybody congratulating you. God forbid I wanna see my boyfriend getting praised like he deserves.”
That makes Lando blush, and then it makes him mad that it makes him blush. He knows that reaction was Oscar’s intention, and he hates to give him the satisfaction. At least he can’t see it.
“I can tell by your silence that you’re blushing right now. I wanna see. Send me a pic.” Oscar says smugly.
“You are so unfair. You use my weaknesses against me, and I’ve had it,” Lando tries for teasing, but his voice shakes.
He’s powerless against him, of course, so he snaps a quick selfie and sends it off with a middle finger emoji.
Oscar giggles when he receives the picture. “So cute, baby.”
Then, the reason why this conversation even started reenters his mind, and he is immediately angry again. “Just don’t understand how people can see that sweet face and be so mean.”
Lando’s face softens, and he feels his body melting under Oscar’s words. He wishes he was with him right now. He knows Oscar would never tell him what the comments said, but the curiosity is about to get the better of him, and he’s going to look for himself.
Oscar never lets him do that, for good reason, sure, but he really wants to. So, he needs the extra support too.
He easily asks for it. “Can you come over? I can stop you from mass reporting stupid people on Instagram, and you can stop me from hurting my own feelings by reading through every comment lookin’ for the ones you saw.”
Among other things, Oscar’s rage blinds him from that aspect of it. He forgets that Lando is vulnerable to people’s unkind words, even if he claims he’s not. Talking to him about the situation can cause hurt for him too, and Oscar’s big reactions can make it worse. And at the end of the day, this is all because he doesn’t want Lando hurt. He remembers he needs to step back and put his money where his mouth is to ensure he’s not exacerbating a problem.
Oscar straightens his spine and breathes out again, pushing his heart back into his chest. “On my way,” he says decisively.
***
When Oscar arrives at the door of Lando’s hotel, some of the feelings have fizzled out, leaving him more level headed again. Lando lets him in, and he wraps him up in a crushing hug.
“Hello, my baby,” Oscar whispers into Lando’s ear, a release of emotion evident in his voice.
“Hey,” Lando replies, just as quietly.
A lot goes unsaid each time they hug. To Oscar at least, every time his body is flush with Lando’s, limbs tangled together in a completely non-sexual act, he feels like he could just float up into the sky and never come back down. That kind of connection feels sacred. And Oscar is acutely aware of it every time. When Lando nuzzles his face into Oscar’s neck, and it tickles him, and he scrunches his shoulder up, running away from the tickles, that’s when. That’s when Oscar knows he must have done something right in his life to have been lucky enough to make it here. To these moments.
Oscar tightens his arms around Lando’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Lando lets his body float towards him, where it always wants to go. He has to lift up on his toes slightly to comfortably keep his arms wrapped around Oscar’s neck. His spine is stretched out, and Oscar is holding him safely in his grip. Nothing can hurt them here.
But then they pull away. Reluctantly, like every other time. Lando leads him to the bed, suggesting cuddles and watching a tv show together to forget about everything negative that plagues their minds. Oscar happily agrees, willing to do anything Lando asks right now.
So they cuddle, Lando draped across Oscar’s lap, rubbing circles into his thighs, and Oscar lightly scratching Lando’s scalp with one hand, drawing patterns into his back with the fingertips of the other. Lando decided on watching some documentary about the ocean, so it wasn’t anything too stimulating or action-packed. It really was just background noise as the two laid together trying to ignore the fact that a large part of the Formula 1 community were rejoicing right now because of Lando’s championship loss and threatening violence because of his Abu Dhabi win.
Oscar can’t understand, but he also kind of can. After Hungary, he can definitely sympathize with people going on rampages believing a win was not deserved. But at the same time, he is aware of the fact that the vitriol directed at Lando is much worse than anything he has experienced. He tries his best to be there for him, but he messes up sometimes. He lets his own emotions cloud his judgement and inform his decisions about how to help him instead of using his Lando knowledge. But they both know he tries his best.
So even though he knows he should, he doesn’t say no when Lando decides to turn the soothing touches into something more. There’s a million ways this could go wrong given both of their current mental states, but it always feels so right.
The circles on Oscar’s thighs turn into slow scratches and squeezes up towards his ass and back down his legs. In Oscar’s defense, he tries to urge Lando to just stay focused on the documentary that neither of them are paying attention to. Lando ignores him, and Oscar is not a strong enough man to deny him.
He decides that maybe an orgasm will make them both feel better, and then the idea doesn’t sound so bad. So he also doesn’t say no when Lando replaces his head with his wandering hands on Oscar’s lap. Maybe everything will be fine.
Those hands. Big and strong, but precise and delicate when need be. He’s delicate as he hooks his fingers into Oscar’s waistband, under his joggers and his boxers, silently asking him for permission. Oscar lifts his hips, granting it. He slides them down Oscar’s legs, gently pulling them off of his ankles when they get caught.
With steady pressure, he runs his hands all the way up the length of his legs until he gets his hands where he wants them. Oscar sighs as Lando makes contact with him, half-hard and steadily growing.
The complete silence is both comforting and distressing for Oscar.
It’s all Lando can really take at the moment.
He holds his hand out in front of Oscar’s face and locks eyes with him. Ever the agreeable one, Oscar spits in his hand as he awkwardly shifts his weight.
Lando’s hand returns to Oscar, and he wraps his long fingers around the base, gently squeezing before applying more and more pressure. Then quick and quicker strokes. Low, breathy sounds escape Oscar’s mouth, echoing around the room. He came here for grounding, and now he feels like he’s preparing for lift off.
In an embarrassing amount of time, Oscar feels his stomach tightening, and he barely has time to gasp out Lando’s name before he’s coming all over his hands. There’s a pleased smile on Lando’s face. Not one of his big, blinding smiles. A soft one. Just pleased. Like he’s proud of himself.
Lando hums quietly, almost unintentionally, as he wipes his fingers on the sheets. Oscar debates his next move before ultimately deciding on just returning the favor. Nothing intense.
He brings his hand to Lando’s cheek, gauging his reaction. He does what he always does and leans his face into Oscar’s touch, eyes fluttering closed. Oscar takes that as his sign to move forward.
He gestures for Lando to move up the bed, so he can be as comfortable as possible. Lando goes, situating himself against the headboard. Oscar places himself right next to him, by his head, not wanting to go too far away. He wraps an arm around Lando’s shoulders, urging him to lay his head down if he wants. Lando takes him up on the offer, letting himself fall further into trust and away from conscious thoughts.
—
As Oscar slides his hands across Lando’s body, taking his time with him, the nagging thoughts won’t leave Lando’s mind. He’s trying his best to keep himself in the moment. Up until now, he’s been fighting his mind, using the silence to straighten himself out. He thought that maybe an orgasm could help them both. He wanted to get Oscar off, hoping he would be distracted with a task at hand. It worked for a moment.
Now, it feels overwhelming. Oscar’s using his skilled, slender fingers to work him up slowly. The friction is agonizing, but he can’t tell if it’s pain or pleasure. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, trying to refocus his mind as Oscar strokes his face with his left hand while his right is speeding up on his cock.
Oscar tells him he is doing a good job breathing. He whispers his thanks, but the praise doesn’t sink in right. It sits on top of his skin, burning. He is trying to let himself enter the floaty headspace that always makes him feel safer. He breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to find it. His chest is heaving, and it feels like his heart is trying to escape his body.
Usually, Oscar would make him talk, forcing words out of him, even when he is on a different plane of existence mentally. But this time, he’s not for some reason. Lando is glad; he thinks that would push him over the edge, and the tears would start.
His skin is crawling, and his fingers are twitching, restless. Nothing is helping expel the ball of energy sizzling in Lando’s chest. Oscar is cooing in his ear, and it should be soothing, but it’s not enough.
His hands are resting under his own thighs, trying to apply pressure to his tingling fingers. He can feel the tears forming, but he blinks them back, so he doesn’t cause a scene. He briefly wonders if Oscar is noticing his uneasiness and just isn’t saying anything, or if he just can’t tell. None of his thoughts are making sense, and he wants to unzip his skin and leave it behind.
He should say something. But he doesn’t want to make it awkward, and he doesn’t want to disappoint Oscar. That’s the worst possible scenario. So, he pushes through. He brings awareness back to his body where Oscar is touching him, and he finds that all the points of contact are scorching his skin rather than calming him.
His brain is unbelievably muddled, and all he can think to say is,
“Red.”
The world snaps back into focus as Oscar’s hands leave him. He feels the trembles beginning, and Oscar’s voice seeps in his ears, and he’s calling his name, but he can’t respond. Oscar is gently holding his face in his hands, searching his eyes for what’s wrong.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Lando looks up at him, blinking slowly. Oscar’s eyes are wild, the anxiety in his own face evident, apologizing, even though he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for.
Lando’s eyes close again, and he is sagging into Oscar’s side, completely boneless. His body starts to ache from the tension, and goosebumps appear on his skin. Oscar gently pulls his pants back up and covers him with the blankets before pulling him fully into his side.
Oscar is pleading now. “Baby, please tell me what’s wrong.”
“‘M sorry,” Lando mumbles.
“Hey, hey. Don’t be sorry. Just wanna make sure you’re alright. I don’t care about anything else,” Oscar rubs Lando’s arm and side in slow, soothing patterns.
Lando’s lip pokes out and starts to tremble. The tears are flowing as he tries to sort through the fragmented thoughts in his head.
“Didn’t wanna… didn’t wanna disappoint you,” Lando whispers.
Oscar squeezes him tighter to his body and kisses his curls, once, twice, three times. “You didn’t disappoint me, Lando. You never could, I promise. What’s going on in your head?” His tone is not dissimilar to that of someone trying not to scare a spooked animal.
Lando breathes out, shaky and uneven. He is still not sure what to say. Oscar is murmuring encouragement and reassurances in his ear, proving again just how good he is.
“Was just too much,” Lando finally chokes out.
Oscar’s movements still for a second. “I’m so sorry if I pushed you too far. You’re okay now, you’re safe. I got you.”
He’s still too floaty to properly explain what he is thinking and feeling, but Oscar’s words are slowly starting to seep through his skin to his bones. It feels good. Much better than before.
“Wasn’t your fault. Pushed myself,” he admits.
“Alright, you’re okay now. I’m here,” Oscar repeats, for his sake as much as for Lando’s.
They breathe together, Lando holds onto Oscar for dear life, and Oscar lightly strokes his skin, placing gentle kisses every so often. A little more silence. Lando is ready to speak after a while, Oscar eager to listen.
“I’m sorry,” Lando starts. Oscar goes to interrupt him to tell him not to apologize but Lando shushes him.
“I’m sorry for not saying anything before it got to this point. You were perfect. Was super out of it in the brain department... Think all this talk about the mean comments got to me even though I thought I was fine. Just a bit hard to cope with the fact that such a large percentage of people believe you don’t deserve one of your biggest accomplishments. It’s harsh, ya know?”
Oscar breathes out, anger bubbling beneath the surface once more. “I know, love. I’m sorry I brought it up to you as well. I should have dealt with my emotions about it on my own. And I should have checked in with you more.”
“‘S alright,” Lando says quietly, punctuating it with sniffles.
“How about I order food, huh? You can get something in your belly, hopefully that will help a little. Then, we can cuddle, and I will tell you how proud of you I am, yeah?”
Lando nods, perking up at the idea of food. He is actually extremely hungry, now that he is back on planet Earth. He feels a lot better. After talking to Oscar about his feelings. Which is not normally something he likes doing. He knew Oscar would be receptive; he just let himself fall so far down that it felt impossible to claw his way back to reality to actually reap the benefits of Oscar’s devotion.
“What would you like to eat, my baby?” Oscar asks as he pulls out his phone to order their dinner.
Lando smiles, feeling Oscar’s warmth spread through his body like honey.
“You decide,” he says.
Because he trusts him.