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Lando is hot. Oscar is sure that everyone can agree with him on that. The problem? He’s pretty sure that, yes, everyone can agree with him, but no one actually finds him so hot that they spy him.
Okay, listen— he isn’t really spying. He’s watching Lando. And he’s also pretty sure that Lando knows, because his tops are becoming smaller and smaller, his lips are becoming glossier and glossier, his lingerie is becoming more visible as time passes.
It all started one day when, during a work out session together, Oscar was lifting some weights and Lando was doing some pilates, and Lando was moaning.
The thing is: Lando would only moan when the trainers were not there, looking at Oscar, and when their trainers came back he would stop and grin when their eyes locked.
So, yeah, Lando knew it from the beginning, and he probably likes it too.
Oscar blames their trainers, because it was their idea to train together, which started this in the first place— but if Oscar is being real honest, then it all started even before he first met Lando, but he really can’t bring himself to even think about those times, not now that he’s actually teammate with Lando, not now he really knows Lando, and it’s even better than what he thought it would be like, but also, not now that they’re fighting for the championship. Deep in his mind there is fear that at the end of this all, the loser will fall, and the winner, seeing the pain in the other’s eyes, will break down too.
Whenever one of them is on the top step of the podium, Oscar feel something heavy in his chest, and he tries to shut it down as much as possible, because he’s pretty sure that if he allows himself to think too deep about what that pain actually means— that he’s scared to lose Lando, which is probably going to happen anyway— no.
So no, he really can’t think about that, because he would probably have a mental break down, would stop racing, would do everything not to lose Lando.
You see, the problem is that Oscar dreamt about times like this when he was in F2 and Lando in F1, but when he reached the point when one of them had to win the drivers’ championship, in his mind he would make Lando win it: in his head, before going to sleep, he used to dream about winning every single race, break every single track record, take pole position in all the races; but when it was about to win the championship in his head? He would make Lando win it. Not because he believed that Lando couldn’t win it alone, but because he couldn’t picture himself on top, winning over Lando.
Flashbacks keep coming to him, about that time, time that he tries to ignores and silences inside himself, because he was so stupid for him to think about giving the championship to Lando, where was his winning mentality?— Oscar shook his head, trying to shake these memories through this movement. It didn’t work.
He remembers being awake just to watch the F1 race, hoping that Lando would be on the podium, and being proud of him when this happened. And then, his mind from this— sweet, Oscar would describe it this way in the loneliness of his head— memory moves without his consent, from what he would do after the race ended.
He would go back to his room, and since the darkness that hid him would make him brave, he would start touching himself. He would imagine Lando there and depending on how the race went, Lando might be proud of himself, smirking, on top of him, kissing his neck or maybe under him, looking small after a bad race, needing cuddle and sweet nothings being whispered to him in the darkness. He imagined how Lando’s moans sounds, and he’d just come whenever his head would dream up this sweet sound.
Oscar tried doing his exercises, but all these flashbacks kept appearing to him and he just couldn’t stop it.
But then, he heard a higher pinched moan, and he initially thought it was in his head, but then he made the lethal mistakes to move slightly his eyes and he makes eye contact with Lando, whose was doing bridges, and looked to him through half closed eyes, and Lando moaned again. There was no reason for Lando to moan for an exercise like this, Oscar rationally thought. Oscar have done this movement various time, and all could be heard was just heaving breathing if he was doing with some weights, otherwise nothing— God, he really had to stop. He tried closing his eyes, but he saw Lando looking at him with almost shut eyes.
Oscar just ran out of the gym, told his trainer that he didn’t feel good, that he needed some time alone, that was nothing serious, that everything was fine and the next day he will be able to finish his work out, but that day.
Months later, present day.
Lando doesn’t mention it the first time they see each other, or next, or ever, but his eyes contact lingers just a second too long, when they shake hands Lando’s smile is brighter.
Lando will be the death of Oscar, because he’s pretty sure that it’s against company policies to come to work so pretty. Lando’s lips are always glossy, his legs, mouth and hands are always soft, shiny and perfect. And when he raises his arms, the edge of some lace panties was visible. Oscar took a deep breath. Ugh. Today it’s going to be a very long day.
Very luckily for Oscar they have to do different tasks, which means that he won’t be seeing his very soft curls for a bit. Oscar thanks God.
When it’s time for lunch though, they eat it together. Oscar notices that Lando looks at him when he takes a bite, and that his mmmhs of appreciation of the food are a little too loud, but neither of them speak.
“Hey mate, do you want to go to the gym with me after we finish here?”
PANIC. Oscar chokes on his food, tries drinking some water but Lando has the bad idea to touch him while asking “Oh, are you okay?”, which makes it worse. After he clears his voice a few times and drinks water, everything seems fine.
“Are you all good, mate?” “Yea, sorry…” “That’s good! So… about the gym, what do you think about it?” Oscar ponders. He would feel bad if he says no, but— Lando is looking at him, “If you don’t want to go it’s fine, really,” “No, no. It’s fine. You text me the details, right?” “Of course!”
Oscar knows that it’s a bad idea, but the smile in Lando’s face makes everything worth it.
Lando texts him the details, he gets ready and when he parks his car outside he sees Lando and OH— he’s wearing shorts, really short shorts. He is really going to die today. He can already imagine the headlines: “Oscar Piastri, leader of the F1 drivers’ championship, died because his teammate and contender shorts were too short.” He will have to call Hattie tonight, he already knows.
They work out, they laugh, and Oscar would like to say that having a great time keeps him from thinking about what will happen at the end of the season, but every single time that Lando isn’t looking, Oscar has to remind himself to let go of the breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. Oscar tries to impress in his mind every moment, scared that this will be one of the last times that they do something like this together.
“I think I’m gonna shower, okay?” “Yea, no problem! I’ll head home! It was fun!” “See ya, Osc!”
Lando heads into the bathroom of the reserved gym, Oscar heads towards his car.
He drives for a few meters when he realises that he forgot his phone, ugh.
He goes back to the gym: he looks for it in the free weights area, but it’s not there, and the only place he entered was the changing room, the one that Lando is showering in. UGH.
At first, when he enters, the only sound that he hears in the water of the shower.
He finds his phone, grabs it and heads towards the door, the water stops and— “Oscah—OH!” Oh no.
He knows he should go, Lando thinks he’s alone, but he moaned his name.
He walks towards the shower, but he stops before Lando could see him through the frosted glass. Oscar can see Lando’s silhouette: his leg is being supported by the wall, and he has his fingers inside himself— Oscar can’t really tell how many are, wishes he could though— WHOAH! Oscar is shocked by his own mind.
I’m actually spying my champion contender? How am I supposed to go against him when I heard him touching himself? O my god. I have to go.
Oscar was about to exist when— “Oscaah!,” and a little quieter “come touch me, please. Want you” is heard. Oscar turns around, accepting that he will never be able to look Lando in the face any longer after this.
He just stands there, static, only his chest and eyes moving, and even that seemed too much to him: the moment is too sacred, and even if he moved slightly, the balance would be broken.
Time passes, but neither of them seem to realise that: Lando inside his shower, imagining what Oscar would do to him, how Oscar’s penis would feel inside himself, how his hands would feel against his skin: Would they be soft? Rough? Would he leave marks with his nails? What about with his mouth? Oscar, on the other end, was listening, analysing what he was hearing, trying to impress in him memory Lando’s silhouette and before he could even realise he was touching himself: when he realised, he felt disgusted, but Lando kept moaning his name, and he wasn’t that strong of a man.
Oscar continues to palm himself through the jeans, trying to not let any sounds, but— “OOH!” It's being difficult since Lando isn’t containing himself.
Oscar tries to walk closer to Lando and he wants to stop but he hears Lando moans his name, and based on how high pinched it sounded, Oscar is pretty sure that Lando won’t last much longer.
Oscar almost dies when Lando puts his head— luckily, he trains his reflexes and he’s able to step back— out of the shower to grab a dildo and a bottle of lube.
After this, Oscar decides to step back a observe afar to be more cautious.
He hears the cap opening, the sound of the lube coming out— How can Lando not be cold? The water is off and the room isn’t the warmest. He sees Lando propping his leg back against the wall of the shower, so he has better access for inserting the dildo.
“OH—ah. Ohmygodohmygod! This is good!”
After what seems century and a fraction of a second at the same time, Oscar hears Lando’s moan grow more more higher, and then a scream. A part of Oscar gets scared— maybe something happened, but after some time, he only hears heavy breathing, and then the water is back on.
Oscar exists the gym, without thinking at all, but he feels so heavy
Maybe he won’t call Hattie and tell her about his day.