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The rain was a relentless drum against the windows of the hotel suite in Spa, a cold, grey backdrop to the suffocating heat inside the room. Oscar sat on the edge of the bed, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a rhythm far faster than any he’d ever sustained in the cockpit.
He was wearing his team hoodie, the heavy fabric of the McLaren kit acting as a shield, but underneath, his skin was crawling with a mix of anticipation and a shame so thick he could basically have a full blown melt down about it any minute. Under the hoodie, the lace of the black bra - which Lando choose - felt like a brand, as if he was nothing more but something for Lando to dress up in fancy lingerie. The edge of the bra was digging into the soft skin beneath his "tits," as Lando had called them last time.
He felt ridiculous. He felt like a freak. He felt so incredibly, devastatingly needy that he thought he might vibrate right out of his skin, that if Lando doesn't get here within the next 5 minutes he will do it himself if he has to.
Lando was in the bathroom, the sound of the running tap clicking off. A moment later, the door opened, and the light from the hallway spilled across the carpet, illuminating Lando’s silhouette. Lando didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, looking at Oscar, his gaze heavy and knowing. He could probably smell the arousal on him, the scent of a man who had spent the last hour marinating in his own desperate thoughts. Could see it in Oscars face.
“You’re still wearing it,” Lando said softly, his voice a low rumble that made Oscar’s toes curl into the plush carpet.
Oscar didn’t look up. He couldn't. He just nodded, his fingers twisting the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Yeah.”
Lando crossed the room, his footsteps silent. He stopped right in front of Oscar, his knees brushing against Oscar’s. He reached out, his fingers catching the hem of the hoodie. “Let me see you, baby. Show me how pretty you look for me tonight.”
Oscar’s breath hitched. He let out a shaky, broken exhale as he lifted his arms, allowing Lando to tug the hoodie up and over his head. The cool air hit his skin, making his nipples peak instantly against the lace cups of the bra. He felt horribly exposed, his pale skin flushed pink, his shoulders hunched forward in a futile pointless attempt to hide.
Lando let out a long, low whistle. “Fuck, Osc. Look at you babyy.”
He reached out, his thumbs tracing the line of the lace where it met Oscar’s skin. His palms smoothing over the swell of Oscar’s chest, squeezing the weight of him through the fabric.
“My gorgeous girl,” Lando whispered, and the words hit Oscar like a physical blow
Oscar’s brain stalled. He hated it. He loved it. He wanted to scream at Lando to stop, and he wanted to beg him to never let go. He felt disgusting, sitting there in expensive lingerie, his dick already twitching and leaking into the matching silk panties he had on underneath his joggers.
“Please,” Oscar whimpered, his head falling back as Lando’s thumbs brushed over his nipples, the friction through the lace making sparks fly behind his eyelids.
“Please what?” Lando asked, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned in, his lips grazing Oscar’s ear, his breath hot and damp. “You want me to touch your tits, baby? You want me to tell you how fucking hot you look in this lace?”
“Yes,” Oscar sobbed, his hands coming up to clutch at Lando’s forearms. “Yes, please, I- I feel so weird, Lando, I feel so fucking weird.”
“You don't look weird,” Lando murmured, his hands sliding down to the waistband of Oscar’s joggers. “You look perfect. You look like you were made to be dressed up like this. Made for me to play dress up with.”
Lando didn't waste any more time. He tugged the joggers down, and Oscar kicked them off, feeling the sudden, sharp chill of the room on his bare legs. He was left in just the bra and the panties, tiny, sheer things that did nothing to hide the desperate state of him. His dick was a hard, insistent weight against the silk, the fabric darkened at the tip where he’d already been leaking.
Lando’s eyes dropped, his pupils blowing wide as he took in the sight of Oscar’s lap.
“Look at that,” Lando breathed, reaching down to press his palm flat against the front of Oscar’s panties, crushing Oscar’s dick against his belly. “Look how wet you are. Just like a little cunt, leaking for me.”
Oscar let out a high-pitched whine, his hips bucking up against Lando’s hand. He felt so small, so utterly conquered. Lando’s hand was warm and heavy, and the pressure was the only thing keeping Oscar from falling apart right then and there.
“Touch it,” Oscar begged, his voice cracking. “Lando, please, touch my- my clit!”
Lando made a dark, satisfied noise in his throat. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of the silk panties and tugged them down, just enough to expose the head of Oscar’s dick. It was pink and angry, the slit weeping. Lando didn't wrap his hand around it. Instead, he used his thumb to rub slow, teasing circles right over the sensitive head, exactly the way someone would pleasure a girls cunt.
Oscar’s vision went white. He slumped back against the pillows, his legs falling open in a silent invitation. He was shaking, his whole body covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
“You like that, don't you?” Lando asked, his eyes locked on Oscar’s face. “You like being touched like a girl. You like feeling gorgeous and dirty all at once.”
“I do,” Oscar whispered, the honesty of it feeling like a confession. He was still so emberassed about it all, but he just couldn't help himself. “I do, fuck, Lando, it feels so good.”
Lando leaned over him, caging him in, his scent of that expensive fragrance partner and expensive soap filling Oscar’s senses. He brought a hand up to Oscar’s face, his thumb tracing Oscar’s bottom lip.
“I’m going to make you feel so much more than that tonight, Osc,” Lando promised. “I’m going to open you up and see just how much of me you can take. My pretty, desperate girl.”
Oscar’s breath caught as Lando’s hand traveled down, past his twitching dick, to the tight, puckered heat between his thighs. Lando’s fingers were already wet with Oscar’s own slick, and when he pressed a single finger against Oscar’s rim, Oscar thought his heart might actually stop.
“You’re so ready,” Lando murmured, pressing his finger in, just a fraction. “So open for me.”
Lando’s finger stalled at the entrance, just a shallow pressure against the sensitive, puckered skin of Oscar’s rim, but it was enough to make Oscar’s world tilt. The rain outside seemed to fade into a dull, distant memory, leaving only the sound of Lando’s heavy, rhythmic breathing and the wet, squelching sound of Lando’s thumb continuing to ruin Oscar’s "clit."
“Look at you,” Lando whispered, his voice vibrating against Oscar’s collarbone. “You’re shaking so hard, Osc. Is my pretty girl scared? Or is she just that desperate to be filled up?”
Oscar’s eyes squeezed shut, a hot tear escaping and tracing a path into his temple. He felt so small beneath Lando, his body a map of contradictions, strong, athletic legs that could hold a car steady at 300km/h now trembling and splayed wide, his chest, broad and capable, now encased in delicate black lace that pushed his skin up, making him look soft. Making him look like something meant to be consumed. Like prey.
In a way, you could maybe call him Landos prey, he thought to himself.
“I’m... I’m desperate,” Oscar confessed, the word hitching on a sob. He barely regustered what he was saying. “Please, Lando. I want to feel you. I want to be... I want to be your girl.”
Lando let out a sharp, jagged breath, clearly affected by the admission. He leaned back just enough to look down at Oscar’s lap. He reached for a bottle of lube on the nightstand, the click of the cap sounding like a gunshot in the quiet room. He fumbled with it a little, squeezing it so that the liquid would come out quicker, he poured a generous amount onto his fingers and then directly onto Oscar’s opening. The cool liquid sent a jolt through Oscar’s spine, his hips jerking instinctively.
“So wet,” Lando murmured, his voice thick, possessive awe. He began to work the lube in, his fingers slick and methodical. “You’re already so soft for me. It’s like your body knows it’s meant for this. Meant to be a cunt for me to fuck.”
He pushed one finger in, slow and agonizing. Oscar’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the duvet, his knuckles white. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness, the stretch, the sheer wrongness of it that felt so incredibly right.
“Fuck,” Oscar gasped, his head tossing from side to side. “Lando... it’s so much. You- your hands- so big.”
“I’m barely inside you, baby,” Lando teased, his voice a low, wicked hum. He began to move his finger in a slow, hooking motion, finding the spot that made Oscar’s toes curl and his voice hit a frequency he didn’t know he possessed. “Just one finger and you’re already falling apart. How are you going to take all of me? How is my gorgeous little girl going to handle being split open, hmm..?”
Lando added a second finger, the stretch intensifying. Oscar’s eyes flew open, his pupils blown so wide any colour was almost gone. He looked down, seeing Lando’s tanned, calloused hand disappearing into him, the contrast of the dark lace of his panties pushed to the side and the pale, flushed skin of his thighs making the scene look like some fancy erotic painting.
“Look at it,” Lando commanded, his voice firm. “Look at how well you’re taking me, Osc. Look at your little cunt swallowing my fingers.”
Oscar looked. He watched as Lando worked his fingers in and out, the wet, slapping sound of it filling the room. Oscar felt disgusted, partially, and he also felt the shame burning in his chest, a heavy, molten weight, but it was being drowned out by the sheer, electric pleasure of it all. He reached down, his own hand finding his twitching dick through the silk of his panties, needing to touch himself, needing to ground himself in the sensation.
“Don’t,” Lando snapped, grabbing Oscar’s wrist and pinning it above his head. “I told you. You don’t touch that. That’s my clit to play with, not yours. You just stay still and take me. You understand princess?” Lando was very demanding and direct when it come to the whole act of this all. But Oscar did enjoy it. He even liked being properly manhandled sometimes.
Oscar whimpered, his heart hammering. “Yes, Lando. Sorry. Please, keep going- don’t stop!”
Lando didn't stop. He pushed a third finger in, the fullness reaching a point where Oscar felt like he was being unmade. He felt heavy, his lower body pulsing with a dull, insistent ache that only Lando could soothe. Lando’s other hand moved up, his fingers hooking under the wire of the bra, pulling the lace down to expose Oscar’s nipples. They were dark and hard, standing out against the pale skin. Lando leaned down, taking one into his mouth and sucking hard.
Oscar let out a shattered scream-ish sound, his back arching off the bed. The combination of the stretch below and the sharp, pulling sensation on his "tits" was too much. He felt himself peaking, the pressure behind his eyes becoming unbearable.
“You’re so good,” Lando whispered against his skin, his breath hot. “So fucking perfect. I bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven't you? Sitting in the briefings, looking at the data, while you were wearing this underneath your kit. Knowing I was going to do this to you tonight.”
“Yes,” Oscar sobbed, the truth spilling out of him. “I was. I couldn't focus. I just wanted... I just wanted to be like this. Under you.”
Lando pulled his fingers out with a wet pop that made Oscar whimper at the sudden loss. Lando stood up, his eyes never leaving Oscar’s as he began to strip. He moved with a slow, deliberate grace, discarding his shirt and then his trousers.
Oscar couldn't look away. Lando was beautiful, the lean, corded muscle of a driver, his skin tanned from the sun of a dozen different tracks, his body a testament to power and control. He read so many articles online, calling Lando a "small guy", but in this moment he simply couldn't disagree more.
But it was at the sight of Lando’s cock that made Oscar’s throat go dry. He was huge, thick and pulsing, a dark, heavy weight that looked like it would break Oscar in two.
“See that?” Lando asked, noticing Oscar’s wide-eyed stare. He moved back onto the bed, kneeling between Oscar’s legs. He grabbed Oscar’s hips and hauled him down the mattress until Oscar was right at the edge, his legs draped over Lando’s shoulders. “That’s for you, baby. All of it. I’m going to fill you up so deep you’ll feel me in your chest.”
Oscar’s breath was coming in short, jagged hitches. He felt small. He felt tiny compared to the sheer physical presence of Lando looming over him. Lando reached for a condom, the plastic crinkling as he tore it open with his teeth, a raw, primal gesture that made Oscar’s "clit" twitch with renewed vigor.
“Lando, please,” Oscar whispered, his voice trembling. Suddently unsure of himself. “I’m- scared. I don’t... I don’t know if I can take it.”
Lando leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Oscar’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips. It was a gesture of such profound tenderness that it hurt more than the stretch. “You can, Osc. I’ve seen how strong you are. You’re my girl, remember? And my girl is going to be so good for me. She’s going to take every inch and she’s going to love it.”
Lando guided the head of his cock to Oscar’s opening, the friction of the latex against the lube-slick skin making Oscar gasp. Lando didn't rush. He just rested there for a moment, letting Oscar feel the sheer size of him, letting Oscar adjust slowly.
“Tell me,” Lando commanded, his voice a low, vibrating growl. “Tell me what you want me to do to your pretty little cunt.”
Oscar swallowed hard, the humiliation burning bright in his cheeks, but the need was stronger. He looked Lando in the eye, his gaze wavering but desperate.
“I want you to fuck it,” Oscar whispered. “I want you to fuck my cunt, Lando. Please. Split me open.”
Lando didn't need to be told twice. He pushed in, the slow, relentless slide of him cleaving Oscar apart. Oscar’s eyes rolled back in his head, a long, melodic moan escaping his throat as his body stretched to accommodate the impossible. He felt every ridge, every vein, the heat of Lando filling the emptiness until there was nothing left but the two of them.
“God, Osc,” Lando breathed, his own composure finally breaking as he felt the tight, hot grip of Oscar around him. “You’re so... you’re so fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”
Lando pushed deeper, his hips meeting Oscar’s with a heavy thud. He was all the way in, buried to the hilt, his weight pressing Oscar into the mattress. For a moment, they just stayed like that, two hearts beating as one, the rain outside still drumming, the world reduced to this single, obscene, beautiful point of contact.
Oscar felt like he was floating. He felt used, he felt owned, and he felt more seen than he had ever been in his entire life. He reached up, his fingers tracing the line of Lando’s jaw, his voice a broken, happy whimper.
“I’m yours,” Oscar whispered. “Lando... I’m yours.”
Lando’s eyes darkened, a flash of pure, unadulterated possessiveness crossing his face. “Yeah, baby. I know. You are. And I’m never letting you go.”
Lando didn’t move at first, just stayed there, buried to the absolute hilt, letting Oscar’s body scream as it adjusted to the impossible stretch. He watched Oscar’s face, the way his lips were parted in a silent, jagged gasp, the way his eyes were wet and rolling back, the way the flush of his skin had deepened from a pale pink to a dark, bruised crimson.
“You’re taking all of it,” Lando whispered, a raw, jagged edge of pride in his voice. “Look at my gorgeous girl, swallowing all of me. You feel so fucking good, Osc. So tight and hot.”
Lando began to move, but it wasn't a thrust yet. It was a slow, agonizing rotation of his hips, a deep grind that forced Oscar to feel every ridge and every vein of him. Oscar let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, his head thumping back against the pillows as his body shivered in a long, rolling wave of pleasure.
“Please- hng,” Oscar choked out, his fingers clawing at the sheets. “Lando, please... fuck me. Don’t be... Ahh- don’t be gentle.”
Lando’s eyes darkened. “You want it hard? You want me to treat you like the dirty little thing you are, dressed up in my bed?”
“Yes,” Oscar sobbed, his hips hitching up, trying to find a better angle, trying to draw Lando deeper. “Please- I’m your girl, just fuck me!” The needynes in Oscars voice clearly gaining in volume.
Lando didn't need another word. He pulled back, almost all the way out until only the head was teasing the entrance, and then he slammed back in. The thud of their hips meeting was loud in the quiet room, a wet, heavy sound that made Oscar’s entire world explode into sparks.
“Fuck!” Lando growled, his pace picking up. He was relentless, his thrusts deep and punishing, each one cleaving Oscar open.
Oscar was a mess beneath him. He was tossing his head from side to side, his hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. His "tits", his chest, pushed up and spilling out of the black lace cups, bounced with every pass of Lando’s hips, the friction against the fabric making his nipples throb with a sharp, electric heat. He felt gorgeous and disgusting all at once, his body acting like a vessel for Lando’s pleasure, and the thought was so hot it made him feel like he was going to come from the friction alone.
Lando’s hand came back down, sliding under the waistband of Oscar’s panties, his fingers finding Oscar’s "clit" again. He started rubbing in fast, frantic circles, perfectly in time with the rhythm of his hips.
“There it is,” Lando murmured, his voice sounding wrecked and breathless. “My pretty girl’s clit. Look how big and hard it is for me. You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?”
“Lando, please!” Oscar screamed, his back arching so high only his heels and his head were touching the bed. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna come! I can’t- !”
“Not yet,” Lando commanded, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying growl. He slowed his hips down to a torturous, heavy grind, and his fingers on Oscar’s dick stilled, just holding the head firmly. “I didn’t give you permission to come yet. You just take me. You just feel me splitting you apart.”
Oscar let out a devastated, whimpering noise, his hips fucking up against Lando’s hand in a desperate attempt to get the friction back. “Please, Lando... don’t stop. I need it. I’m so close, I’m right there-” Oscar felt helpless, he needed it so bad.
“You’re right where I want you,” Lando said, leaning down to nip at Oscar’s earlobe. “Vulnerable. Needy. Owned. You’re being such a good girl for me, Osc. So perfect.”
Lando reached up and grabbed Oscar’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. Lando’s expression was one of pure, unadulterated possessiveness. “Tell me who you belong to. While I’m deep inside your cunt, tell me who owns you.”
Oscar’s breath was coming in short, panicked gasps. The humiliation was a roar in his ears, but the love he felt for Lando, the absolute, bone-deep trust, was louder. He felt good.
“You,” Oscar whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek. “You own me, Landoo! Nff- I’m your girl. I’m yours!”
Lando’s pupils practically swallowed his irises. He let out a low, guttural sound and started fucking Oscar again, his pace faster than before, his thrusts so deep Oscar felt the vibration in his very soul. Lando’s fingers were a blur on Oscar’s dick now, the silk of the panties acting like a second skin, the friction building and building until Oscar felt like he was going to dissolve.
“That’s it,” Lando panted, his voice a raw rasp. “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you love being my girl. Come on my hands, Osc. Give it all to me.”
Oscar didn't even have time to cry out. He hit the edge and shattered, his body going rigid as he came with a long, melodic sob that echoed through the room. He spurted against Lando’s fingers, the silk of his panties becoming heavy and warm, his cunt clenching so tight around Lando’s cock that Lando let out a choked curse.
Lando didn't stop. He kept fucking him through the aftershocks, his movements heavy and desperate. He leaned down, his mouth finding Oscar’s in a deep, bruising kiss, drinking in Oscar’s whimpers of pleasure and pain.
“Fucking hell,” Lando breathed against his lips. “You’re so... you’re so fucking good.”
Lando’s own release was building, a tidal wave he could no longer hold back. He shoved Oscar’s legs further back, opening him up even wider, and buried himself one last time, his entire body shuddering as he came deep inside him. He groaned Oscar’s name into the crook of his neck, his fingers digging into Oscar’s hips, marking him, claiming him.
They stayed like that for a long time, the only sounds the rain and the frantic thrum of their hearts. Lando stayed heavy on top of him, his face buried in Oscar’s hair, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
Oscar felt hollowed out, empty and full at the same time. He felt the weight of Lando, the cooling slick of their shared release, and the damp fabric of the bra and panties against his skin. He should have felt ashamed. He should have wanted to hide.
But as Lando pulled back just enough to look at him, a soft, genuine smile on his face, Oscar realized he’d never felt more beautiful.
“You okay, baby?” Lando whispered, his thumb wiping a tear from Oscar’s cheek.
Oscar gave a small, shaky nod, his voice a mere thread of a sound. “Yeah. I’m... I’m perfect, thanks...”
Lando kissed the tip of his nose. “Yeah. You are. My perfect, gorgeous girl.”