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01. ONE-SHOT: It’s beginning to look like Christmas.
Monaco was far too quiet that night. Not the elegant, pretentious quiet Lando already knew — but a cold, cutting silence, the kind that made his heartbeat sound louder than the wind. The Christmas lights hanging along the streets reflected off the thin layer of snow, turning every corner into something beautiful… and lonely.
It was his first Christmas away from his family.
And he felt every detail of it on his skin.
Lando adjusted his scarf closer to his neck, a failing attempt to hide the overly sweet scent his body insisted on releasing. He wasn’t in heat, but he was stuck in between — between phases, between emotions — and that made any omega more sensitive than they wanted to admit.
He was distracted when he sensed it.
He saw the lights first, but he felt it before he saw anything.
A warm scent.
Deep.
Woody with something fresh — like rain right before it falls. He remembered it even after years without smelling it, but it should’ve been nothing more than a coincidence.
Lando’s heart tightened.
This wasn’t possible.
Not here. Not now.
But it was.
When he turned, Oscar Piastri was standing a few meters away, snow settled on the shoulders of his dark coat, hands shoved in his pockets, and the relaxed posture of an alpha who doesn’t need to make an effort to dominate a room. He was just as handsome as he had been when they were younger.
Lando froze.
Literally and metaphorically.
“Lando?” Oscar called, and that firm Australian accent sliced through the icy air.
The omega blinked a few times, trying not to look as affected as he felt. His scent flickered — sweet, nervous, too warm for the cold night — and Oscar’s look made it clear he had noticed.
Alphas always noticed.
“Oscar…” Lando breathed, the words coming out softer than he wanted, almost a whisper.
Oscar took a few steps toward him, slow, like he was approaching a frightened pup. His expression was soft, but the pheromones were there: steady, protective, trying to wrap around Lando even before he reached him.
And that only made the faint tremor running through Lando’s body worse.
“I had no idea you were here,” Oscar said, giving him a crooked smile — small, but not enough to hide the real surprise. “I thought you’d spend Christmas with your family like always.”
Lando shrugged, pulling his coat tighter around his chest.
“I changed my plans.”
Oscar nodded, looking at him with care.
Not pity.
Alpha care.
Warm, steady, attentive.
The kind of presence that always left Lando unsure where to put his hands.
“Do you… want to walk for a bit?” Oscar asked, his voice low, the tone of someone who understands an omega’s emotional state before he even says a word.
Lando should have said no.
But the cold was unbearable.
The loneliness too.
And Oscar’s scent… God, Oscar’s scent was making his chest relax for the first time in days.
“I do,” he answered, even though his voice trembled.
They started walking side by side, passing the glowing stalls of the Christmas market. The smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon floated through the air, but nothing was as noticeable as the way Oscar kept — discreetly — dampening his alpha scent so he wouldn’t pressure Lando.
An instinctive kindness.
A dangerous one.
“Are you… okay?” Oscar asked after a few minutes, not looking at him directly, respecting the space.
Lando bit his lip, eyes drifting away.
“Just… more sensitive than usual.”
Oscar made a low sound of understanding. He didn’t judge, didn’t comment, didn’t intrude. He just walked beside Lando — steady, reliable. The kind of presence that made the cold disappear.
And maybe that’s why Lando allowed the first closeness.
Oscar lifted his hand to gesture toward a narrower path between the stalls. Nothing major. A simple, polite movement.
But when the alpha’s gloved hand brushed the sleeve of Lando’s coat, a warm shiver shot straight up the omega’s spine.
Lando held his breath.
Oscar did too.
Their eyes met for one long second.
Scents blended.
Pheromones reacted on instinct.
Alpha and omega.
Connecting like no time had passed at all.
Oscar pulled his hand back first — quickly, like he’d been burned. The impeccable self-control of a well-trained alpha.
But his voice came out softer, rough around the edges:
“Sorry… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Lando shook his head.
It wasn’t discomfort.
It was something else.
Something warm, electric, that he didn’t dare name.
“You didn’t.”
Oscar stopped.
Just a little.
As if that simple “you didn’t” tugged at everything sitting quietly between them.
“Lando…” he started.
But Lando looked away before the conversation got too deep. It was Christmas, he was vulnerable, and Oscar had that alpha way of looking at him like he could take care of him for the rest of his life.
He couldn’t handle that right now.
“Do you want hot chocolate?” Lando asked, pointing to the bright stall ahead.
Oscar laughed.
Soft.
And that laugh made something inside Lando melt.
“I do,” the alpha said, walking beside him. “As long as you stay close. It’s freezing.”
Lando wanted to say he didn’t need to stay close.
But he stayed anyway.
And for the first time that night, he felt that maybe Christmas away from home wasn’t so bad… if he was next to someone who turned the cold into warmth.
And for the first time that night,
he felt that maybe Christmas away from home wasn’t so bad…
if he was beside the one who made the cold disappear.
…
The line at the chocolate stand was short, but to Lando it felt endless. Maybe because Oscar’s scent was getting closer. Or because the way the alpha stood just a few inches behind him — polite, but present — made Lando’s whole body warm from the inside out.
He tried to focus on the glowing menu hanging above the booth.
But Oscar was impossible to ignore.
The alpha leaned in slightly, his low voice cutting through the icy air:
“You're shaking.”
Lando swallowed hard.
He was — but not just from the cold.
“It’s just… the wind.”
A bad lie, said without looking back.
Oscar made a small sound of disbelief — a quiet “hm” that seemed to pass through Lando’s skin before reaching his ears.
“It’s not just the wind,” he said, far too calm, far too warm. “Your scent is… a little off balance.”
Lando held his breath, as if that would help.
“Oscar, don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m just… noticing.”
Because alphas noticed everything.
Especially when an omega was vulnerable, sensitive… calling.
The line moved forward. Lando forced himself to look at the smiling attendant who asked:
“Two hot chocolates?”
Oscar answered before Lando could open his mouth:
“Three marshmallows in his, please. None in mine.”
Lando turned toward him slowly, genuinely surprised.
“You remember that?”
Oscar gave that half-smile — the one small enough to hide nothing, the one that made Lando’s heart skip.
“I remember more than you think.”
Lando looked away, because if he didn’t, the feeling of being read so gently — so accurately — would leave him even more exposed.
They got their steaming cups and walked to a bench lightly dusted with snow. Oscar removed his right glove and brushed the snow off the seat with the back of his hand, clearing a space for Lando.
Such a simple gesture.
But so instinctively protective that Lando’s stomach tightened.
“Thanks,” Lando murmured, sitting down.
Oscar sat beside him. Right beside him.
Close — but never too close.
And that was what made it worse:
the self-control.
The calm. The way Oscar somehow knew exactly where the line was… and where Lando secretly didn’t want him to stop.
They drank in silence for a few moments, watching the steam curl through the cold air.
“You always disappear at Christmas,” Oscar said.
“I don’t ‘disappear.’ I just… like to be quiet.”
“That’s disappearing, Lando.”
The omega huffed, half annoyed, half touched.
“You talk like… like you still know me that well.”
“Don’t I?” Oscar tilted his head, studying him with those calm, deep eyes — the kind that could disarm an omega without raising a single decibel.
Lando gripped the cup tighter.
An anchor.
“People change,” he muttered.
“I know,” Oscar replied. “But some things… stay.”
Something warm spread through Lando’s chest.
“Like what?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Oscar hesitated — rare for him.
Then, in a voice so low their breaths nearly touched in the cold air, he said:
“Like the way you heat up when you’re nervous.”
“I don’t—”
“Your scent shifts,” Oscar continued, gentle but steady. “It gets sweeter around the edges, but with a base of fear. It’s… very you.”
Lando’s breath caught.
They were too close.
This was going too far.
“Oscar…”
“What?” Oscar asked, eyes dropping briefly to Lando’s mouth — shameless, but perfectly controlled. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Lando opened his mouth — anything, any response —
but nothing came out.
Because the breeze shifted, carrying Oscar’s scent directly toward him: warm, woody, steady.
And Lando’s body reacted before his mind could catch up.
His scent rose slightly.
A soft note of warm honey.
Unintentional. Vulnerable.
A quiet request.
Oscar froze.
Took a slow breath.
Pulled back on every instinct at once.
“Lando,” he said, voice lower, almost rough. “If you keep smelling like that, it’s going to be hard to keep my distance.”
Lando’s heart thudded painfully fast.
“I… I’m not doing it on purpose,” he whispered.
Oscar leaned in just a little.
Just enough.
“I know.” His voice was soft, dangerous, unbearably tender. “That’s what makes it more… complicated.”
The silence between them turned warm.
Dense.
Charged with feromones neither could fully control.
Lando stared at the Christmas lights strung across the street, trying to calm the frantic beat of his heart.
“I thought you were in Melbourne,” he said quietly.
Oscar let out a soft laugh.
“I would be. But I decided to stay.”
“Why?”
“Because I felt like I needed to.” He turned slowly back to Lando, gaze serious and completely alpha. “And now I know why.”
Lando’s breath stuttered.
Oscar continued:
“I didn’t come to Monaco… by accident.”
The world held still — the snow, the lights, Lando’s pulse — everything suspended around those words he didn’t know how to absorb.
The silence between them seemed to breathe. A warm, full, living pause.
Oscar inhaled deeply — not to intimidate, but like someone gathering courage before a jump.
“Lando… I need to be honest with you.”
The omega looked at him slowly, heart beating where it didn’t belong.
“Oscar…”
“I didn’t come to Monaco by accident,” Oscar repeated, steady and unblinking. “I… was thinking about you.”
Lando froze.
Not physically — but in that instinctive way a body locks when something too big arrives all at once.
“About me?” he whispered.
Oscar nodded, jaw tense with restraint.
“Yes. These last months… I kept wondering if you were okay. If you were alone. If you needed someone.”
Lando’s eyes shimmered.
He blinked quickly, trying to hide it.
“I don’t need anyone, Oscar,” he said, more defensive than he meant.
Oscar smiled — that soft, knowing smile that always unraveled him.
“I didn’t say you do.”
He leaned in slightly. Just inches.
But enough to heat the air between them.
“I said I wanted to be here… in case you wanted company.”
Lando’s stomach twisted.
His throat tightened.
“Oscar…”
“Lando, look at me.”
The firm alpha tone sent a shiver down Lando’s spine.
He obeyed.
And found the most honest look he’d ever seen in Oscar’s eyes.
“I miss you,” Oscar confessed. “Not just who you were — but who you are now. And when I heard you’d be spending Christmas alone… I couldn’t leave.”
Lando’s breath shook.
His scent trembled — sweet, emotional, exposed.
Oscar noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“Don’t do that,” Lando whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t say things like that to me…”
“Why?” Oscar asked, even closer now. “Because you’ll believe me? Or because you already do?”
Lando opened his mouth — but nothing came out.
Oscar lifted a hand slowly — gently — and touched Lando’s cheek with the tip of his fingers.
Lando leaned into the touch.
Instinctively.
Completely.
Like an omega finding warmth after too long in the cold.
Oscar leaned in, and their lips were a breath apart.
A breath.
Almost—
That’s when Lando’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
He closed his eyes, frustrated, pulling back just enough to answer. Oscar withdrew his hand slowly, gaze never leaving him.
Lando answered with a small, pained smile.
“Hi, Mum…”
Oscar couldn’t hear the words, but he saw everything on Lando’s face:
the soft glow,
the tight longing,
the raw affection.
“Yeah… Merry Christmas to you too,” Lando said, voice lighter but chest heavier. “I’m fine, I promise… I’m just… missing you.”
Oscar felt his alpha instincts flare — fierce, protective, immediate.
Lando smelled like homesickness.
“I love you too, Mum,” Lando whispered before hanging up.
When he lowered his phone, he looked smaller.
Subtly.
Like someone holding himself together with tired hands.
Oscar didn’t think.
Didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t pretend.
“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” he said softly, warmth steady in his voice. “I know you live in Monaco, I know your place is here. But…” He breathed in. “If you want, you can spend Christmas with me. At my apartment.”
Lando blinked — caught off guard, touched down to the bones.
His scent shifted — fragile, glowing.
“Oscar…”
“It’s not pity,” Oscar added quickly. “It’s… because I want to. Because I missed you. Because your scent is small, and I…” His voice tightened. “I don’t want you to spend tonight like that.”
Lando looked away for a moment, breathing in, grounding himself — then turned back to Oscar.
His eyes shimmered.
But his voice was steady.
“I want to.”
Oscar exhaled — a soft, relieved sigh.
And without touching him again, he stood and offered his hand.
“Then let’s go home, Lando.”
The omega placed his hand in his.
And the entire world warmed.
…
The building where Oscar lived was quiet, elegant, softly lit by warm Christmas lights glowing from other windows. When they stepped into the elevator, Lando instinctively retreated to the corner, as if he needed something to hold onto — and Oscar stayed beside him, keeping a respectful distance, even though his instincts told him to do the opposite.
Alpha pheromones in small spaces were always intense.
Oscar held his breath twice.
Three times.
Four.
Lando noticed.
“You’re blocking your scent,” he murmured, not looking up.
Oscar swallowed hard.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you. You’re more sensitive than most omegas when you’re… like this.”
Lando let out a small, tired laugh at his own expense.
“Like this vulnerable, you mean?”
Oscar hesitated.
Because the truth was yes.
But he didn’t want to hurt him.
“Like this… open,” he corrected gently.
The elevator doors slid open.
Oscar guided Lando down the hallway to his apartment — a simple black door, no decorations. He unlocked it, turned on the lights, and let Lando step inside first.
The space was… welcoming. Calm.
It smelled like wood, coffee, and something that had always been so Oscar — a touch of eucalyptus.
Lando slowly took off his coat, looking around as if the apartment were an improvised shelter against everything weighing on his chest.
Oscar closed the door behind them.
“You can make yourself at home,” he said. “If you want a shower, clean clothes, something to eat… it’s all yours.”
Lando turned his back to him… and then it happened.
The omega took a deep breath.
His scent expanded a little.
Warm, sweet, fragile.
Asking for comfort. Asking for closeness.
Oscar felt his alpha instincts jolt hard.
He closed his eyes, trying to contain it.
Trying not to overflow.
“Oscar.” Lando’s voice came out soft, a blend of fragility and courage.
The alpha opened his eyes.
Lando stepped closer.
One step. Then another.
Stopped in front of him — so close Oscar had to brace himself not to exhale too sharply.
“You don’t have to… hold back,” Lando said, voice trembling but firm, looking straight into his eyes. “I trust you. You don’t have to hide what you are.”
Oscar’s chest tightened.
It hurt.
“Lando…”
“Please,” the omega whispered. “Don’t… restrain yourself on my account.”
Oscar felt his alpha instincts detach from the inside walls of his body — slowly, almost gratefully.
A bit of his scent slipped out: warm, strong, protective, with that grounding wooden heat.
Lando closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.
As if something inside him — something curled up for years — finally had space to unfurl.
Oscar stepped forward half a pace.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, even though his entire body was pleading for permission.
Lando nodded.
Fast.
Needy.
Honest.
Oscar placed his hands on his shoulders — firm, but gentle.
And Lando melted instantly, as if that touch were the first safe place he’d found in a long time.
Then, without warning, he broke.
A tiny sob escaped him.
Then another.
His scent faltered — too sweet at the edges — the unmistakable vulnerability of an omega who’d held everything alone for years.
Oscar pulled him into his chest immediately.
“Hey, hey… it’s okay,” he whispered, wrapping Lando carefully in his arms. “I’m here. I’m here, Lando…”
But that only opened Lando’s guard even more.
He fisted his hands in Oscar’s shirt.
“I also…” — his voice cracked — “I also missed you.”
Oscar froze for a second.
His heart simply… stopped.
Lando kept going, voice trembling with too much sincerity:
“I missed you for years, Oscar. Years.”
“Lando…”
“And I never did anything. I never reached out. Because…” — he swallowed a sob — “because you promised you would text me. You promised. When you left for Melbourne. When we were fifteen. You said you wouldn’t disappear. And you disappeared. And I swear to God I tried to hate you for so long, but I just… I can’t.”
Oscar shut his eyes, crushed by the memory.
“Lando…”
“I waited,” Lando whispered. “Every day, for months. Then for years…” He lifted his face, eyes shiny with tears. “And you never talked to me. Not once.”
Oscar felt his stomach drop.
It was true.
The promise was real.
And he broke it.
He cupped Lando’s face, brushing his wet cheeks with his thumbs.
“I was an idiot,” he said, voice cracking with honesty. “I… I wanted to talk to you every single day. I opened my phone and… froze. Because I thought you’d moved on. That you didn’t need me. That I was just some stupid alpha boy from school, and you…” — Oscar breathed in, his scent thick with guilt and affection — “and you were always too special.”
Lando sobbed.
Oscar continued, voice softer, closer:
“I’m so sorry, Lando. So, so, so sorry.”
He rested his forehead against Lando’s.
Lando closed his eyes, breathing him in like fresh air.
“I should’ve messaged you every day,” Oscar whispered, voice trembling. “I was a foolish alpha. A complete idiot. Because…” — his thumb stroked Lando’s cheek — “because you were the most beautiful omega of all. You still are. And I made you think I didn’t care.”
Lando cried again — but this time into Oscar’s chest, not pulling away.
Oscar held him tight, warm, letting calming pheromones pour out freely, without fear. He wanted Lando to breathe. To feel safe. To replace years of silence with comfort.
“I’m here now,” he murmured into Lando’s hair. “And I’m not disappearing again. Ever.”
Lando gripped his shirt, fingers trembling.
“Promise?” he whispered.
Oscar kissed the top of his head — soft, reverent, alpha.
“I promise.”
Oscar kept Lando tucked against him, the omega’s sweet scent mixing with the warmth of the apartment. Outside, the city remained quiet, glowing with distant lights and the muffled echo of snow — but inside, everything felt smaller, enclosed, intimate.
Oscar ran his palm along Lando’s back — a slow, careful touch, the kind an alpha uses when trying to say a thousand things without speaking.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to see his face. “I’ll grab something warm for you, okay?”
Lando nodded, still sniffling lightly.
Oscar led him to the bedroom. The space had that unmistakable scent of someone far too organized for his age — clean, calm, comforting… but still cold. Nothing lived-in enough to push the loneliness away.
He grabbed a large gray sweatshirt from the wardrobe — big enough to swallow Lando whole. The omega took it gently, as if it were precious.
“Thank you…” he whispered, voice soft and emotionally drained.
Oscar offered a small smile — the kind only Lando ever saw.
“You can use anything here. You know that.”
Lando looked away for a second, as if the words hit deeper than they should.
He disappeared into the bathroom, then returned wearing the sweatshirt — the hem hitting halfway down his thighs, making him look almost painfully delicate.
Oscar inhaled sharply.
And failed miserably at hiding how much it affected him.
He fought to control his scent, clenching his jaw, holding back the warm rush threatening to spill over.
But Lando noticed.
He always noticed Oscar first.
“Don’t hold back…” he murmured, voice shy, fragile. “I like when you smell like that.”
“Lando…”
“I trust you.”
Oscar couldn’t take it anymore.
Not because of desire — but because it was the most honest thing Lando had said all night.
He let go of the control.
And the apartment filled with warm, comforting, protective alpha pheromones — like an invisible blanket. Lando let out a quiet sigh, almost a tiny, involuntary whimper — his body recognizing, accepting, fitting into Oscar’s presence as if it had waited years for this.
Oscar stepped closer, fingers brushing Lando’s chin to lift his face.
“Better?” he whispered, voice deep.
“M-much better…”
Lando gazed at him with eyes soft, vulnerable, heartbreakingly open.
“I… missed your scent too,” he confessed quietly.
Oscar touched his waist, guiding him back into his arms — as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them.
“I know, I know…” he murmured into Lando’s neck. “I was an idiot. I should’ve tried. I should’ve found you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Lando’s shoulder. “But you… you grew up and got even more beautiful. And I just… thought you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
Lando let out a teary little laugh — the kind caught between sob and confession.
“I always needed you.”
“And I needed you. More than I ever admitted.”
Oscar lifted him gently, guiding him to the bed — not for anything more than rest. Not tonight. Not with the past so raw.
They lay down.
Side by side.
Bodies close.
Breaths mingling in the soft blue hush of the room.
Oscar pulled the blankets over them and wrapped Lando in his arms — holding him like a piece of himself he’d finally found again.
Lando sighed against his chest.
“You smell… exactly how I remembered,” he murmured, eyes fluttering closed.
“And you smell like home.” Oscar smiled, stroking his hair.
Silence settled over the room.
Not uncomfortable silence — but the rare, precious kind filled with understanding. As if they’d finally returned to a place they’d known since they were teenagers.
Lando fell asleep first, fingers tangled with Oscar’s.
And the alpha stayed awake a while longer, watching the omega sleep with the calm expression of someone who had finally recovered something he thought he’d lost forever.
Their first night didn’t rush.
It didn’t need to.
They had years of distance to undo — and an entire lifetime to build.
…
The soft patter of light rain against the window replaced the stillness of the early morning. London was waking up grey, but inside that room the light was warm, golden — coming from the lamp Oscar had forgotten to turn off.
Lando was the first to move.
He didn’t wake up suddenly.
He surfaced slowly, like someone rising from a good dream. His body curled around Oscar’s, their legs tangled, his head resting exactly where the alpha’s heartbeat was strongest.
For a second, Lando thought he was a teenager again. Thought he had fallen asleep on the Piastri’s couch after spending the afternoon playing video games with Oscar, both of them laughing at absolutely nothing.
But then Oscar’s big hand moved on his back — sleepy, instinctive — and reality settled back in.
They weren’t fifteen anymore.
They weren’t apart anymore.
And it… felt right.
Lando opened his eyes slowly.
Oscar was still asleep, his face relaxed, long lashes resting softly, the natural alpha scent wrapping around the room without restraint — warm, steady, protective.
Lando felt small, safe, and something inside him almost purred at the feeling.
He stayed there watching for a few moments, until Oscar woke up too, blinking slowly, with that adorably lost expression of someone coming out of the best sleep of their life.
“Good morning…” the alpha mumbled, voice raspy with sleep.
“Morning…” Lando felt his face warm up.
Oscar lifted one hand and brushed a strand of hair from the omega’s face.
A gesture so simple.
So intimate.
So… natural.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Better than I have in months.” Lando took a small breath, almost shy.
“Me too.” Oscar’s smile was small, but real.
And right then, before either of them had the chance to think too hard, the room filled with it — the awakening of instincts.
Oscar’s scent grew thicker.
Warmer.
More focused.
A silent invitation.
And Lando’s scent answered, sweet and floral, with that fresh undertone that always gave away how sensitive he was.
Oscar noticed.
Of course he did.
“Lando…” he said softly, like a warning.
“I know.” Lando’s reply held no fear — just honesty. “You don’t need to hold back. We’re just… reacting.”
And they were.
It wasn’t carnal desire — not yet.
It was something older, deeper.
Body memory.
As if they had both been pulled back to a very specific night, years ago.
Oscar looked at him with a nostalgic softness.
“Do you remember that night on the balcony?” he asked.
Lando’s stomach flipped, because of course he remembered.
There was no forgetting that night.
“You were getting ready to move,” Lando murmured, staring at the sheets. “And you promised you’d text me as soon as you arrived.”
“I remember.” Oscar swallowed hard, guilt painted across his face. “I promised looking straight into your eyes. Holding your hand. Like it was… the most important thing in the world.”
“It was the most important thing to me.” Lando pressed his lips together to hold back emotion.
Oscar gently lifted Lando’s chin, making him look up.
“I’m sorry. Truly.” The alpha leaned in closer, their foreheads nearly touching. “I was young, stupid, insecure… and I convinced myself you’d be better off without me.”
“But I didn’t move on.” Lando whispered. “I spent years wondering… if I did something wrong. If I… wasn’t enough.”
Oscar closed his eyes, like the pain of that sentence physically hurt him.
“Lando.” He brought their faces closer until their noses brushed. “You were always enough. You were always… everything.”
Lando’s heart raced.
His scent softened and opened, vulnerable. Oscar reacted instantly, their instincts fitting together like puzzle pieces that had been waiting years to reconnect.
They leaned in.
A shared breath. A shared warmth.
A single inch of space between their lips.
Lando was one millimeter away.
Oscar too.
The electricity between them was almost visible — not lust, but reunion. Healing.
Oscar cupped Lando’s cheek with his thumb, a tender stroke that made the omega’s eyes sting again.
“I wanted to stay with you that night,” the alpha confessed. “I just didn’t understand what I was feeling yet.” A small side-smile. “Now I do.”
“And… what do you feel now?” Lando’s voice came out too soft, too hopeful.
Oscar leaned in slowly, slowly, slowly… Their noses brushed, their breaths mingled.
“I feel like I want you by my side,” he said. “No matter how. No matter where. No matter how much time we lost.”
Lando let out a shaky breath.
Oscar smiled. And whispered:
“Will you let me stay?”
Lando didn’t answer with words.
He simply wrapped his arms around Oscar, burying his face into the alpha’s neck, breathing him in.
It was the clearest answer in the world.
Oscar held him tight, protective, fitting their bodies together like that space had always belonged to them.
They stayed like that, letting the world remain outside the room.
And the first kiss…
well, it didn’t come yet.
But it was so close that both of them felt it — a promise hanging in the air, warm, inevitable, delicious.
After long minutes holding each other, Oscar kissed the top of Lando’s head and whispered:
“I’ll make coffee. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
But Lando opened his eyes instantly, clutching the oversized hoodie in his small hands.
“Can I go with you?”
Oscar smiled.
That same teenage smile Lando remembered — soft, a little crooked, almost shy.
“Of course you can.”
They went to the kitchen still half-entwined, walking slowly, like two planets sharing the same gravity.
Oscar started preparing the coffee, the shirt he’d thrown on riding up slightly at his hips when he reached for a mug. Lando watched.
At first without noticing… then noticing too much.
It was impossible not to look.
Impossible not to feel.
Oscar felt Lando’s eyes on him — the sweet, gentle omega scent warming, becoming… interested.
The alpha took a deep breath, keeping control.
“Want something to eat?” he asked, grabbing bread, cold cuts, anything he could find.
“Anything,” Lando whispered softly from the counter, “as long as you’re here.”
Oscar froze.
Exactly mid-motion.
When he turned toward Lando, he saw the same look from years ago — sincere, vulnerable, starved for connection.
The alpha stepped closer.
Slowly.
Slowly.
“Lando…” he murmured, touching the omega’s chin with two fingers. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Lando didn’t move away.
Didn’t flinch. Didn’t run.
“I never wanted you to stop.”
The air changed. Their scents merged effortlessly.
Oscar felt a wave of instinct rise, hot and deep — the urge to pull Lando in by the waist and keep him close forever.
He steadied himself.
Lifted a hand to Lando’s cheek.
And Lando leaned into the touch like he had been waiting years for it.
“Look at me…” Oscar asked.
Lando obeyed.
And the second their eyes met, they both knew:
this was it.
Oscar leaned in slowly, giving Lando every chance to pull back.
But Lando didn’t back away. He leaned in too.
The kiss wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t hungry.
It was soft. Slow.
A kiss that didn’t happen all at once — it happened because it had needed to, ever since they were fifteen and making promises too fragile for how young they were.
Their lips touched.
First a timid brush.
Then a warm, certain press that made Lando sigh and stole Oscar’s breath for a heartbeat.
Lando fisted Oscar’s shirt, pulling him closer, and Oscar placed a hand on the omega’s waist, guiding him toward the edge of the counter.
The kiss deepened —
but didn’t turn desperate.
It turned tender.
It turned into memory.
Into reunion.
Into years of unsaid things finally being spoken without words.
When they pulled away, their foreheads remained touching.
Lando smiled softly.
“You still kiss…” he swallowed “the same way.”
“And you still taste like home.” Oscar laughed under his breath, nose brushing his.
Lando felt a pleasant dizziness wash over him.
Oscar’s scent was warmer, firm but not overwhelming — protective, grounded.
And Oscar felt Lando’s scent open in response, sweeter, softer.
He kissed Lando’s cheek.
“If you keep smelling like that, I’m going to lose control,” he warned—though his voice was low, almost a purr.
“I wouldn’t mind…” Lando whispered, blushing. “I mean… you don’t have to hold back for me. But I know we don’t have to… rush.”
Oscar gripped his waist gently, steadying himself.
“I don’t want to rush,” he admitted. “I want to do everything right. Ask for every step. Give you space. Listen to you.” A soft smile. “I don’t want our second chance to be hurried.”
Lando bit his lip.
His eyes shone.
“I don’t want to mess anything up,” he whispered. “But, Oscar… I can’t control the way my body reacts to you.”
Oscar moved closer, chest pressed to Lando’s, voice low in his ear:
“It’s normal.” A soft touch to his waist. “You’re a sensitive omega.” A brief kiss to his temple. “And I’m your memory-alpha.”
Lando shivered.
Oscar continued:
“Of course our instincts recognize each other. They never forgot.”
A warm, heavy silence hung between them.
Oscar pulled back just enough to see Lando’s face.
“I’m not going to touch you for real today,” he said gently but firmly. “Not while you’re still emotional. Not until we talk through everything.”
Lando nodded, breathing a little too fast.
“Okay. Yeah. I want that too. I want… to do it right.”
Oscar smiled and pressed his forehead to Lando’s again.
“Then stay with me today.”
“I will.”
“And tomorrow?”
“I’ll stay.”
Oscar intertwined their fingers.
“And after that?”
Lando answered without hesitation:
“After too.”
They both laughed, softly, with the kind of relief only people who’ve found each other again can feel.
And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Oscar turned back to finish preparing breakfast — but kept one hand holding Lando’s, fingers interlaced, the entire time.
Their first breakfast.
Their first kiss.
Their first real conversation.
And the first step of many more.
…
The day had been a balm — a necessary calm for two souls who had spent a decade navigating stormy waters.
The couch felt like a safe island; the dinner Oscar cooked, a peace offering; the subtle touches, silent promises.
But when night fell, the atmosphere in the living room shifted.
It wasn’t just the dimming of the TV or the quiet settling over the house.
It was biology.
It was gravity.
They were on the sofa, the movie long forgotten on the black screen. Oscar wore only a cotton t-shirt, the fabric stretched over the broad shoulders of a grown Alpha. Lando, curled beside him, wore one of Oscar’s shirts — and that alone was already a silent claim. The fabric carried the scent of pine, cold rain, and earthy notes from the Alpha… but now it was being overtaken by the natural sweetness of the Omega wearing it.
Lando shifted, closing the little distance that remained between them.
The air, once warm, suddenly turned dense — almost liquid.
Oscar clenched his jaw. He was trying to suppress his presence, keeping his dominant pheromones low so he wouldn’t overwhelm Lando, so he wouldn’t seem predatory. But when Lando nestled closer, the Omega’s scent hit Oscar like a physical wave: warm vanilla, ripe peach, and a faint salty hint of anxious skin.
The Alpha inside him growled — quietly, internally.
His control was hanging by a thread.
“Oscar…” Lando murmured, voice hoarse, vibrating through the silent air.
“Hm?” Oscar answered without daring to look at him, staring at some invisible point on the wall.
“You don’t have to hold back.”
Oscar swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple rising and falling slowly. His hands, resting on his knees, curled into fists.
“I’m trying to respect you, Lando.”
The Omega turned his face toward him, searching for his eyes. Lando’s pupils were blown wide, swallowing the sea-green irises — an undeniable biological sign of trust and invitation.
“Respecting me isn’t the same as erasing yourself,” Lando whispered.
And then it happened.
Lando didn’t do it on purpose — or maybe his instincts did it for him.
He released his scent. Not the usual softness, but something deeper — the scent of nesting, of openness, of need. It was sweet, tender, and devastatingly vulnerable.
Oscar’s heart stuttered.
The scent said Take care of me. I’m yours.
Oscar turned abruptly, his gaze darkened, instinctive, purely Alpha.
“Lando…” His tone came out low, a vibration Lando felt deep in his chest. “If you do that, I’m not going to be able to control anything.”
Lando crawled forward across the sofa until their knees touched. He tilted his head, exposing the sensitive skin of his neck — the little scent gland pulsing softly.
“Then don’t control it,” Lando whispered against his lips. “I trust you.”
Oscar inhaled deeply — the scent he had dreamed about for ten years. His big hands rose to cup Lando’s face with trembling reverence.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” Lando’s eyes shone with unshed tears and want. “I waited ten years. And you?”
Oscar’s answer came raw, unfiltered:
“I waited the same.”
The kiss wasn’t gentle.
It was a collision.
Not the shy brush from the morning — this had hunger, the urgency of a decade lost. Oscar’s mouth claimed Lando’s, devouring every breath, every muffled whimper. The taste was familiar and new all at once — addictive.
Oscar gripped Lando’s waist with possessive strength, pulling him onto his lap. The Omega fit against him perfectly, light and trembling. Lando didn’t hesitate; his legs wrapped around Oscar’s waist, fingers tangling in the short hair at his nape, pulling him closer.
“I missed you,” Lando whined between kisses, rubbing his nose against Oscar’s scent gland, desperate for more of him. “I missed you so much, Oscar…”
“I’m here now,” the Alpha growled, dragging his lips down Lando’s jaw to the sensitive spot behind his ear. “I’m here… and I’m not leaving.”
Their scents thickened in the air, creating something new, heavy and intoxicating. Pine and Vanilla. Alpha and Omega.
Without breaking the kiss, Oscar stood.
His strength was natural, instinctive.
He carried Lando as if he were the most precious thing in the world — and he was. The sofa wasn’t enough.
Oscar took him to the bedroom.
Crossing the threshold felt like the final seal.
This would be the first time in ten years.
Oscar laid Lando on the bed slowly, but his eyes devoured every inch of him. Moonlight filtered in through the window, illuminating Lando’s skin, making him glow. Oscar hovered over him, bracing his weight with his arms, caging Lando in a protective shell.
There was no rush when the clothes finally came off — only devotion. When the oversized shirt was lifted away, Oscar traced the lines of Lando’s ribs with trembling fingertips, feeling the skin shiver under his touch.
“You’re so beautiful…” Oscar murmured, kissing Lando’s sternum, feeling the frantic heartbeat beneath his lips. “God, Lando…”
Lando grabbed Oscar’s wrists and guided his hands to touch him — skin to skin, heat to heat.
“I want you, Osc.”
The old nickname, spoken in that shaky voice, almost broke Oscar.
“I’ve always wanted you.”
Oscar trembled. The instinct to take, to mark, to protect screamed inside him — but love, deep and human and rational, anchored him.
The night blurred into pure sensation.
It was warm.
It was messy.
It was intimate in a way that transcended the physical.
Every touch from Oscar was a question: May I?
Every touch from Lando was an answer: Yes, please.
And when they finally joined, deeply, completely, the sound Lando made — a whimper tangled with a relieved sigh — branded itself into Oscar’s soul.
The sound of two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place after years forced apart.
There was no room for insecurity.
The room was saturated with their blended scents — a fragrance that screamed belonging.
Oscar moved with fierce devotion, eyes locked on Lando’s, making sure he was okay, that he was feeling the same overwhelming pleasure. Lando held onto Oscar’s shoulders, nails digging lightly into his skin, grounding himself in the Alpha who had always been his safe harbor.
Two bodies recognizing each other.
Two instincts calming each other.
Ten years of silence being erased by broken breaths and whispered confessions.
When the climax came, it was explosive, leaving them trembling, clinging to each other as if letting go meant falling into an abyss.
Long after, silence returned to the room — but now it was full, warm.
Lando lay on Oscar’s chest, listening to the heartbeat now synced with his own. The Omega’s sweet scent had softened, blending inseparably with the Alpha’s musk. Oscar stroked Lando’s back, tracing invisible patterns along his spine.
Oscar kissed the top of his head, inhaling deeply.
“I’m not leaving you again.” His voice was low, rough, carrying absolute certainty. “Never again.”
Lando closed his eyes, a small exhausted smile tugging his swollen lips.
He felt safe. He felt home.
“Then stay.”
Oscar tightened his grip on his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.
“I’ll stay.” He kissed Lando’s temple. “I’ll stay forever.”
And there, wrapped in the Alpha’s strong arms, protected by the scent of rain and earth, Lando fell asleep.
He was finally where he had always belonged — with his first love.
The love that never faded.
The love that returned to stay.
…
Winter had already passed, but inside the spacious apartment in Monte Carlo — all glass, polished concrete, and the plants Oscar insisted on taking care of — there was still that kind of quiet warmth that only homes with newly-rebuilt loves seemed to carry.
They had fallen into a routine they would never call a routine, because everything between the two of them was a little chaotic, a little sweet, a little too domestic to ever be considered normal.
Oscar worked from the large table in the living room, headphones around his neck, a half-finished cup of tea, and the subtle, steady scent of his alpha pheromones keeping the whole place stable, comfortable, safe.
Lando, on the other hand, wandered around the house with the calm ease of someone who had finally found the right nest to exist in.
Moving in together hadn’t been a complicated decision.
It had been natural.
After ten years apart and a reunion that had turned into night, then dawn, then morning, it felt like they were both tired of wasting time.
Monte Carlo was the perfect middle ground:
Oscar could work from anywhere — photography, design, and editing didn’t exactly require a fixed address.
And Lando, even as the head of Quadrant, could manage everything remotely… even if he sometimes disappeared into the company office “to check on new projects,” as he claimed, though Oscar knew it was more anxiety than necessity.
But in the past few days… something was different.
Oscar noticed it.
Oscar felt it.
And Lando pretended not to.
The omega was pale, tired, his natural scent more sensitive than usual, and the nausea had been going on for almost a full week. But every time Oscar asked, Lando gave him the same weak, stubborn smile:
— “Love, I probably just ate something bad at lunch.”
But Oscar knew.
He always knew.
That morning, he watched Lando from across the room — sitting on the huge couch, holding a water bottle, breathing deeply like staying steady had become a daily task.
Oscar set his tablet aside and approached slowly, trying not to overwhelm him with pheromones.
“You’re nauseous again.” His voice was soft, the kind that always melted Lando.
The omega shook his head, but Oscar was already kneeling in front of him.
“Lando… it’s been days.” The alpha’s hand rested on his thigh, warm and solid. “This isn’t ‘something you ate’.”
Lando looked away, the tip of his nose slightly pink — such a small detail, but one Oscar recognized instantly as a sign of emotional discomfort.
“I don’t want to go to the doctor…” Lando mumbled.
“Why?”
Silence.
Oscar felt his chest tighten.
“Love,” he whispered, sliding his hand down to intertwine their fingers, “are you scared?”
Lando finally met his gaze. Brown eyes bright, tense, and vulnerable in the way only an omega could be when facing an alpha who truly loved him.
“I am,” Lando admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Oscar swallowed hard.
“Of what, baby?”
“Of you worrying… and me making a big deal out of nothing.” Lando bit his lip, shoulders curling inward. “Of going there and finding out it’s just some stupid virus. Or worse… that it’s not.”
Oscar took a slow breath — and this time, he let his alpha pheromones slip out in soft, warm waves, carefully controlled.
The kind of scent that wrapped around the body, warmed the chest, and promised: I’m right here.
He lifted a hand to Lando’s cheek, caressing the skin gently.
“Love… there’s no such thing as ‘making a big deal’ when it’s about you. If something feels wrong, I want to know. I need to know.” Oscar tilted Lando’s face up so their eyes met. “I’m your alpha, Lando. And you’re my omega. I take care of you. Always.”
Lando’s breath stuttered — his instincts responding to the promise, the firmness, the care.
“Let me take you to the doctor today?” Oscar asked, gentle but firm enough that saying no would be nearly impossible.
Lando hesitated — for only a moment — before leaning forward and hiding his face in Oscar’s neck.
The alpha embraced him immediately, surrounding him, protecting him, marking his scent there like the entire world fit into that single gesture.
And Lando whispered, small and defeated by his own fragility:
“Okay. I’ll let you take me.”
Oscar smiled against his hair, holding him a little tighter.
“Thank you, my love.”
And without realizing it, Lando released his own scent — warm, sweet, instinctive, seeking comfort.
Oscar closed his eyes.
It was beautiful.
It was worrying.
And deep down, something in his alpha instinct was already starting to suspect…
That this wasn’t just nausea.
That something was happening.
Something growing.
Something new.
Something theirs.
…
Oscar didn’t let go of Lando’s hand for a single moment.
Down the elevator.
Walking through the underground parking garage.
During the entire drive to the private clinic that treated omegas in Monte Carlo.
At every red light, Oscar glanced sideways at Lando, as if checking whether he was still breathing, still there, still his.
And Lando…
Lando stared out the window, fingers laced tightly with Oscar’s — too tightly — like he was afraid the ground might open up and swallow everything beneath their feet.
When they arrived, they were taken in quickly — privilege and money had a price, but right then Oscar was just grateful they didn’t have to wait.
The doctor, a beta with a serene smile, asked questions. Lando answered most of them while staring down at his hands. And Oscar answered the ones the omega couldn’t.
Then came the tests.
Oscar stood beside the exam bed, holding his hand while the doctor prepared the ultrasound.
“Breathe with me,” the alpha said softly, pressing his forehead gently to Lando’s.
Lando inhaled.
Oscar inhaled with him.
Their bodies falling into perfect sync, as if they were already being tuned for something bigger.
The doctor turned on the machine and placed the transducer on Lando’s lower abdomen — still mostly flat, still seemingly normal.
But within two seconds…
A sound filled the room.
A tiny sound.
Fast. Rapid-fire.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump—
Their hearts stopped.
The one on the screen… didn’t.
Lando’s eyes went wide.
Oscar felt the world tilt under his feet.
The doctor smiled — calm, professional, but warm.
“Congratulations,” she said, looking at the two of them as if she were handing over a whole new life. “You’re going to be parents.”
Silence.
Oscar wasn’t breathing.
Lando was trembling.
The doctor kept talking — explanations, gestational weeks, care instructions, everything they were supposed to hear — but neither of them seemed to take in a single word.
Lando slowly turned his face toward Oscar.
And Oscar…
Oscar was crying.
Soundless. Sudden.
Large, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, dripping onto his expensive shirt — which he didn’t even notice was getting wet.
Lando whispered, voice trembling:
“O-Oscar?”
The alpha leaned over him, cupping Lando’s face in both hands — as if he needed the physical contact to believe it was real.
“You… you’re carrying our baby.” His voice broke, soft and unsteady, almost unrecognizable. “Ours. Lando… ours.”
Lando broke too, his whole body melting.
Oscar pulled him into a tight embrace, arms wrapping fully around him, flooding the room with pheromones so warm and emotional that the air itself felt heavier, hotter.
And for the first time since the nausea started, Lando didn’t feel afraid.
He felt home.
He felt promise.
He felt future.
…
The first weeks were… transformative.
Not just for Lando, but for Oscar as well — and for the entire apartment, which seemed to breathe differently ever since the news of the pregnancy came to light.
Lando had changed.
But not in a sudden or uncomfortable way.
He had changed the way a pregnant omega changes: as if every cell in his body began vibrating to a new rhythm — ancient, instinctive.
He always woke up before Oscar.
And it was almost always the same scene:
The apartment still dim, only the soft amber glow of some indirect light on.
Lando curled up on the sofa — legs tucked in, a fluffy blanket pulled up to his shoulders, messy hair falling over his forehead. He always woke up with that calm but fragile expression. Sweet. Like he waited for the world to say good morning first just to confirm it was safe to exist in it.
And there was this new habit, almost unconscious:
His palm slowly slid over his still-flat belly, as if he were stroking a promise. Sometimes he didn’t even notice he was doing it. He just… did.
Oscar watched all of it in silence from the bedroom door, always a little melted.
Because Lando’s scent had changed.
Before, it was a sweet, soft, peaceful scent.
Now…
Now it had depth.
It was warm in a way that made Oscar’s entire body respond, like his alpha instincts woke up with all lights on.
There was a smooth, almost creamy base that reminded him of skin-warmth — but above that, a fresh, new note, indescribable. A kind of brightness inside Lando’s natural scent.
Oscar — who always thought of himself as controlled — completely lost his composure.
Whenever Lando had nausea, Oscar would approach slowly, kneel beside him, place a hand on his lower back, and release slow, steady pheromones like warm waves.
Lando’s relaxation was instant.
His breathing shifted.
His shoulders loosened.
His body softened.
It was pure instinct.
It was pure love.
It was so beautiful it almost hurt.
Oscar became a different kind of ridiculous. The best kind.
He started accompanying Lando in absolutely everything.
Everything.
If Lando went to shower, Oscar sat outside the door, listening, asking:
“Everything okay in there?”
“You’re not dizzy, right?”
“Do you want me to come in?”
In the kitchen, he followed Lando like a shadow — ready to steady him, support him, grab something from a high shelf, stop any imaginary risk.
On the balcony, Oscar kept one hand on his back. Always. As if the wind might kidnap the omega through the railing.
Even when Lando tried to change the bedsheets, Oscar appeared with that serious face:
“Hey, love, let me do it. You don’t need to bend.”
“But I was just going to move this pillow.” Lando replied, holding back a laugh.
“Yes. And I’m going to move it for you.”
And everything came with an endless round of lovingly exaggerated questions:
“Did you eat properly?”
“Want water?”
“Want a cuddle?”
“Want scent?”
“Feeling anything different?”
“Do you want me to carry you to the couch?”
Lando laughed — laughed until he fell backward — but he let him.
Because it was good. So good.
Because Oscar had changed too.
The alpha’s scent grew stronger when the omega felt nauseous.
Stronger when Lando got anxious.
Warmer when Lando got sensitive.
Oscar slept glued to him.
Glued.
Arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, a leg thrown over him, as if he wanted to stop the universe from stealing them away.
And in the middle of the night… oh, yes.
Oscar would wake up for no apparent reason.
Roll over.
Open one eye.
And check if Lando was breathing well.
If he wasn’t sweating.
If he wasn’t too covered.
He thought he hid it.
He did not.
And Lando fell a little more in love every time.
…
The first baby purchase was the most adorable disaster in history.
They walked into a ridiculously expensive boutique — crystal chandeliers, shelves arranged with military symmetry, and newborn clothes priced like evening gowns.
Oscar lost his mind in exactly eight seconds.
He grabbed everything.
“Lando, look at this pacifier!” he said with a full smile, his bunny teeth — as Lando loved to call them — on full display from sheer happiness.
“Oscar… this costs as much as a used car.” Lando replied, mildly horrified.
“But it’s French.”
Two minutes later:
“Lando, this stroller has wheels that turn 360 degrees.” He pointed, gripping the handlebar like it was a miracle.
“Do you know what that means?” he asked, raising a brow at his alpha from head to toe, holding back laughter.
“No, but it’s incredible.”
Lando laughed so hard he had to sit down, one hand on his belly, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
In the end they bought: a ridiculously expensive stroller, neutral clothes because Oscar refused to pick a color early, a soft gray blanket, and a tiny mitten that Oscar slipped onto his pinky finger — then smiled like a shamelessly lovesick idiot.
In the car, in the empty parking lot, Lando rested his head on Oscar’s shoulder and murmured softly:
“You’re going to be the best dad in the world.”
Oscar closed his eyes immediately.
One tear.
Then another.
And he didn’t try to hide any of them.
The nesting instinct showed up next — quiet but overwhelming.
Lando began organizing things.
Moving small objects.
Folding blankets with a kind of calm mania. Placing Oscar’s clothes near the bed. Separating extra pillows.
He didn’t notice.
But Oscar… noticed everything.
One night, he found Lando in the bedroom — folding the same blanket for the third time — focused like he was performing surgery.
Oscar approached slowly, wrapped his arms around him from behind, and rested his chin atop Lando’s head.
“Hey…” he murmured. “You’re nesting, aren’t you?”
Lando turned red instantly. Color flooding all the way to his ears.
“I-I’m not, I just—”
“You are,” Oscar said with a soft smile, turning him gently.
He took the blanket from his hands, set it aside, and cupped Lando’s face between both palms — thumbs brushing over his warm cheeks.
“Let me do this with you,” he said, voice low, deep, alpha. “A nest is built by two.”
Lando shivered.
And slowly melted into his arms.
They spent the whole night setting up the nest:
Strategically placed blankets.
Pillows of all kinds — big, small, soft.
Clothes scattered around as scent anchors.
Their breaths mingling.
Slow kisses on the neck.
Softest touches.
A nest made the right way:
With love.
With instinct.
With care.
With promise.
…
Friends — the inevitable emotional chaos
Max Fewtrell was the first.
And he cried.
For real.
Red nose, hiccupping, hugging Lando so tightly that Oscar had to pull him off.
“I promise I’m buying a ball pit for the baby’s room,” Max declared, deadly serious.
Charles showed up the next day — Ferrari’s unofficial designer, of course he arrived looking painfully stylish — carrying a gift bag:
A thermal baby bottle.
A tiny onesie with the Ferrari crest.
“It’s to make sure they’ll cheer for the right team,” he said with a smile that was way too confident.
Oscar rolled his eyes. Lando laughed until he couldn’t breathe, fully aware their baby would end up a papaya supporter just like their parents.
And then… the photo.
Because Oscar wanted to announce it to the world his way: simple, intimate, real.
The photo was Lando on his lap, smiling shyly, one hand resting on his small bump — Oscar’s big hand over his, protective, fitting perfectly.
The caption:
“Our little miracle is coming soon.”
The internet exploded.
Monte Carlo exploded.
Lando’s Twitch fandom combusted into cosmic dust.
And Lando cried.
He truly cried.
Oscar held his face with both hands, thumbs stroking along his jaw.
“Hey… they’re happy for us.”
He kissed the tip of Lando’s nose.
“But no one will ever love you the way I love you. No one.”
…
Pregnancy brought out a new Lando, and pushed Oscar into a state of complete alpha.
Lando became needier.
Warmer. More sensitive to touch.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would drag his body toward the alpha’s, curling up slowly.
“Oscar…” — his voice came out small, pleading. — “Can I feel you?”
Oscar never said no. Never.
He pulled Lando against his chest, slid his hand down his lower back, pressed soft kisses to his sensitive nape — right over the mating mark — and released warm, steady pheromones that made the omega shiver all over.
And when the bump started to grow…
Oscar kissed it every night before bed.
“Hi, baby…” he whispered with his mouth resting against the warm skin. “It’s daddy. I love you. So much.”
Lando melted every time.
Every single time.
And sometimes — just sometimes — there was that moment when everything became too warm, too sweet, too instinctive:
Lando’s scent turned into hot honey.
The alpha responded instantly — body, mind, breath. His hands found familiar paths. The rhythm became deep, slow, careful. The entire world seemed to shrink until it fit only around the two of them.
No rush.
No pressure.
No guilt.
Only love, instinct, and promise.