Archive of Our Own

Being deemed the most average driver on the F1 grid certainly comes with its perks.

Oscar didn’t have to do much to gain that title once he joined McLaren. That’s what happens when you’re teammates with someone like Daniel Ricciardo, the ultimate playboy of Formula 1.

He’s always been the kind that falls into the background, prefers to sit back in his corner and observe from a distance.

Shy, stoic, unbothered; those are all words that have been used to describe him since he’s risen to fame. For the most part, people’s assessments of Oscar’s character are pretty accurate. What happens behind closed doors is none of their business anyway.

Consistently being outshined by Daniel in the tabloids helps Oscar preserve some kind of safety barrier between his public and private life. Where Daniel is known to be an international public figure, Oscar is simply a racing driver that happens to be a household name.

He doesn’t have to worry about paparazzi most places that he goes to, never really gets stopped by strangers for photos or autographs when he’s walking around in his everyday clothes. Even on social media, the conversation never really strays outside of his driving. No one questions why he hasn’t had a girlfriend since high school or wonders what he does with his free time when he’s not at the track.

All of these factors contribute to Oscar’s overconfidence that he can get away with pretty much anything. It’s not like he’s going out of his way to mess about, it’s just that if he did want to partake in something unusually reckless for him, he could.

The conclusion of the 2024 season, that was the beginning of the end.

—

Crossing the finish line P10 in Abu Dhabi is a tough pill to swallow after qualifying P2.

The season has been grueling, the car getting better and better as the months fly by, Oscar clawing his way up through the points until he finds himself in a championship battle with Max Verstappen.

The pressure has been insurmountable, making Oscar question if he was ever as composed as he always thought he was.

There’s no time to mope around and lick his wounds in the comfort of his hotel room like he wants to. Daniel won the race, and secured the Constructors’ championship for them.

Oscar struggles his way through all of the post-race and post-season interviews, and by the time he’s dismissed from the track, he’s somehow wired. Lingering adrenaline crashes around in his chest, wanting nothing more than to go home, take a shower, have a lonely drink, and possibly wank himself to sleep.

He can’t though, because championship celebrations are just getting started, and Oscar made a promise to Daniel that if either of them won the race and secured the Constructors’, he would make an appearance at whatever club Daniel’s been planning on going to for weeks.

On the car ride back to the hotel, Daniel claps him on the shoulder.

“Ready for tonight?” he winks. “Wear something nice. I’m gonna get you laid, mate.”

Oscar cracks a smile at that, it’s hard to stay unhappy around someone like Daniel; the embodiment of positivity.

“Sure am,” he says flatly. “Good luck with that.”

It’s not that Oscar’s completely celibate. There’s a few girls in his contacts between London and Melbourne that he’s known for ages. If he has the time, he’ll reach out and they’ll go out for drinks, both parties knowing it will only end in somewhat mediocre sex.

He’s never been one for one night stands. Besides, it’s easier falling into bed with people who have known him since before all this. He can trust them a little better.

Even though he’s not actually trying to get laid, Oscar takes extra time doing his hair and picking out a semi-nice outfit for the night. If anything, it’s just to get Daniel off his back.

The party is in full swing by the time Oscar makes it to the club, clad in a slightly wrinkled white button down and a pair of too tight dress pants that he tries to avoid wearing as much as possible. They hug the swell of his thighs and ass, and for whatever reason, it makes Oscar self-conscious.

He regrets not having a drink before coming out. The spacious room is filled with people dressed to impress and vying for attention. Flashing neon lights and the smell of vape smoke curls around the space. Right in the middle of all the commotion is Daniel, head thrown back in delight as he flutters around the dancefloor.

Distantly, Oscar wonders what life would be like in Daniel’s shoes. The man is innately confident, reveling in all the eyes on him at all times. Maybe that’s something Oscar can learn from him. He shouldn’t be so afraid of the spotlight.

Beelining to the bar, Oscar gets stopped multiple times by members of his team, clapping him on the back as a form of drunken greeting.

It takes a couple minutes for Oscar to flag down the bartender, ordering himself a shot of tequila and a double gin and tonic. If he’s going to be out tonight, he might as well make the most of it and get properly drunk.

Daniel sidles up to him as he’s knocking the shot back, almost choking on it as Daniel shouts “you’re here!” right into his ear. He gets pulled into a quick hug, Daniel pulling back to give him a full body scan, assessing his outfit. “You cleaned yourself up!” he exclaims excitedly. His hands reach up to undo the top buttons of his shirt, pulling it open so Oscar’s chest is on display. “That’s better.”

Oscar lets him do it, knowing that he’s gonna do them back up as soon as Daniel walks away.

Daniel turns his back to the bar, leaning against it and sipping his drink. Oscar copies his position, looking out over the crowd, trying to enjoy the deep bass of the house music blaring through the speakers. “See anyone that catches your fancy?” Daniel asks, smirking at him.

There’s loads of girls here that are nice to look at, but that’s about it. Oscar knows that if he tries to chat one of them up, they’ll either get distracted by the more enticing drivers in the room or talk to him about shit Oscar can’t pretend to care about.

“Sure,” he says, not feeling the need to elaborate on his internal conflict of the trivialities of random hookups.

“Great! Go get yourself out there.” Daniel ruffles his hair, and then he’s walking away to do god knows what with god knows who.

Left on his own, Oscar slurps down half of his drink before he pushes himself away from the bar. He’s barely taken two steps into the madness before a pretty girl with bleach blonde hair and deep cleavage approaches him.

“You’re Oscar Piastri,” she says, eyes wide in astonishment.

It takes Oscar by surprise, especially in a context like this, most people don’t appear to be starstruck when they meet him.

“That’s me,” Oscar replies, sticking his hand out for her to shake. She giggles at him, seemingly amused by his formal greeting.

She takes his hand, shaking it, and her soft skin feels nice against his. “You’re my favorite driver,” she explains. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

You and me both, he thinks. “Yeah, not usually my scene. I thought I deserved some fun after such a grueling season.”

Her eyes, adorned with sparkly eyeshadow and dark eyeliner, narrow at him, like he’s just made an innuendo of some sort. “You totally do.” Her hand doesn’t let go of his, instead pulling him a step closer. “Do you want to go somewhere a little quieter?”

Oscar nods at her before he can think it through. As a non-frequent clubgoer, he isn’t really sure what people get up to in places like this. Having a nice girl to talk to is just as good as anything to help pass the time, until it’s an appropriate hour to slip out without saying goodbye to anyone.

She tugs on his hand, leading him deeper into the club, seeming to know where she’s going. Oscar doesn’t put it together until she’s pushing the door open to the women’s restroom, leading him into one of the stalls and pushing her glossy lips against his chapped ones.

Oh.

He feels naive to have believed she was taking him somewhere less crowded where they could have a chat.

Oscar kisses back, because what else is he supposed to do? She’s pretty, and Oscar hasn’t felt the touch of a woman since summer break. He’s a little desperate, to say the least.

She slides a hand between their bodies, grabbing at his dick through his pants. When she pulls back, she’s biting down on her lip and staring back at him with lust swimming in her eyes.

“Did Daniel put you up to this?” he questions. He doesn’t know why he asks, would honestly prefer it if he didn’t know about it if that were the case.

“What?” she asks, genuinely confused. Oscar releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, pushing his hips into her palm. It brings her back to the situation at hand, squeezing at him once, telling him “you’re so handsome,” and sinking to her knees.

She’s quick to unfasten his pants, pulling them down to mid-thigh and wrapping a hand around his length, bringing it up to her lips and sucking him down at once.

He has to steady himself against the door of the stall they’re in, knees threatening to buckle.

She clearly has some experience with giving blowjobs, tracing her tongue and moving her hand just right. He’s brought to the edge way faster than he would care to admit, eyes locked with her teary ones as she looks up to watch him fall apart.

Her hair is soft between his fingertips as he grabs at the back of her head, pushing her down further and noting how she barely gags. She moans around him, and that’s all it takes for Oscar to come across her tongue, watching in awe as she immediately swallows it all down like it’s nothing.

Falling back against the wall to catch his breath, he’s just about to ask if he can return the favor, turning it over in his head how he can make her come as fast as she did him. Her phone chimes a few times from within her purse. She pulls it out to read her texts, standing up and running her free hand through her hair to tame it back into something presentable.

“I have to go,” she announces, “gimme your phone.”

He passes it over and she puts her contact in, texting herself so she has Oscar’s number too. She gives it back and heads for the door. “Text me anytime,” she smiles. And then she’s gone.

Oscar walks out a minute later, once he triple checks that the coast is clear. He feels lighter on his feet, and he goes straight to the bar to get a couple more shots. Maybe tonight isn’t a total bust.

Another girl approaches him as he waits for his drinks. She’s completely different from the girl he just had in the bathroom. Dyed black hair, elaborate tattoos etched into her arms, makeup heavy and dark.

He passes her a shot once they get placed in front of him, making flirty chitchat and finding that the meaningless conversation is a lot more gratifying now that he’s drunk.

Oscar takes her home, fucks her hard and quick, and sends her off in a taxi before she can get too comfortable.

He gets her number too, with the promise he’ll reach out. Never gonna happen.

—

The winter break before the 2025 season is one of self-discovery.

After getting with two girls in one night, Oscar walks around with a newfound confidence. Realizing that he’s something to be desired, someone who can have sex with no strings attached, it makes him feel more like a man. Someone masculine, someone commandeering.

Oscar doesn’t normally reach out to his Australian friends when he’s back home, not wanting to disrupt their regular lives with the complications of his sudden fame.

And yet, he finds that he wants to go out, again and again. Meet a girl at the bar, fool around with her in the bathroom, discard her and find someone even better to take home.

He gets a bit addicted to the feeling, the power of knowing he can ask for whatever he wants, and most people will be inclined to say yes, simply because they know who he is already.

A week before he’s due to be back in England for pre-season preparations, Oscar experiences something new.

In the time he’s been home, his body count has more than doubled. He’s had more sex in the last few weeks than he has in his entire life. His old friends that he’s been going out with seem impressed by him, like this is something he always does and not just some blip in the matrix.

He’s at the club like usual, actually dancing for once, apprehension lessened by the multitude of shots he’s taken.

There’s hands at his waist, pulling him back into a hard chest. He turns his chin, and finds that there’s an incredibly attractive man behind him. Dark brown hair, chiseled jawline, tall and muscular. He’s too drunk to push him away, and the man’s hands feel way too good trailing along his abdomen.

“What’s your name?” the man eventually asks. So he doesn’t know who he is, Oscar figures.

Oscar tells him his name, doesn’t listen when the man tells him his. They dance together for so long, Oscar can feel the man’s erection digging into his ass.

Eventually, he turns around in the man’s hold, about to ask him if he wants to get out of here. The man beats him to it. Oscar eagerly nods when he asks if he can take him home, leading him to the taxi stand outside.

They keep their hands to themselves in the car, through the fancy lobby of the man’s apartment building, in the elevator up to the penthouse.

Once the door closes behind them, the man pulls Oscar into a rough kiss, stealing the breath straight out of his lungs. He’s undressed and pushed onto the mattress before he can wrap his mind around what’s about to happen.

“Do you bottom?” the man asks, and Oscar nods his head despite never having been with a man before. This man is as good as any to lose his ass virginity to. Handsome and rich, Oscar lucked out.

Oscar’s experienced a lot of firsts in the last few weeks, exploring his sexuality in a way he’s never allowed himself to in the past. This is just a part of that.

The man sinks into him, and Oscar’s enlightened. He has a come to Jesus moment, ultimately deciding that sex is way more than a connection between two people that like each other. It’s for himself, to experience things he’s never felt before.

—

When the season starts in Australia, and Oscar completely fucks it by spinning out into the gravel, the only way he can cope is by taking everything one step further.

That night, he has his first foursome. He doesn’t even know how he got himself into this mess. One of his friends from grade school, that he’s recently gotten to know better from all the nights going out, says he knows two girls who want to meet them out. That they’re just Oscar’s type.

He should’ve known that his friend was implying that they’re easy. They meet them out at the club, suck liquor down like it’s water, then ask to come home with them.

The girls kiss each other to start off the session, looking back at Oscar and his friend to do the same. He can sense hesitancy in his friend’s gaze, leaning in to kiss him to appease the two pretty girls in front of them.

They each pick a girl, eating them out and fucking them side by side. His eyes try to remain on the girl in front of him, subconsciously flicking towards the way his friend is fucking into the girl next to him. He’s always thought the guy was cute, even back when they were young. He’s got curly hair, green eyes, athletic build.

The girls get distracted by each other, and Oscar pulls out to get closer to his friend. He pushes him down, leans down to suck him off, and his friend just lets him. He’s never felt so in control, the girls by his side moaning just as loud as his friend when they catch sight of what he’s doing.

He makes him come, then turns to the girl and makes them both come too. One of them rides him and the other sits on his face, and his friend just lays there and watches.

Oscar’s found heaven.

—

He fucks his way through his championship deciding season.

That’s probably why he does it. Driving on track, you can only rely on skill for so long. He only has so much control each time he goes out there. When he’s drunk out of his mind in the dark corners of a nightclub, he can practically point at someone and motion for them to come over and the outcome of the night is in his hands.

Fighting for points against Daniel, not to mention Max who comes barrelling through the standings halfway into the season, it takes a toll on his relationships when he’s at work.

He’s more straightforward about what he wants from the team during meetings, snappier to the media when they push him for a reaction.

When he gets frustrated by the constant favoritism accusations thrown around about Daniel and the team, he suppresses it until he’s far from the track, finding other ways to blow off steam.

Throughout all the countries they travel to, he’s accumulated quite the roster. He’s got all the apps now, and he’s become active in his Instagram DMs. He never thought that he would be this person, but if he doesn’t have someone to fuck or get fucked by, he’ll spend all night thinking about it, jerking himself off until he’s rubbed his dick raw.

It doesn’t matter who it is, he just needs someone to pay him the proper attention he’s looking for. With so many eyes on him already, it almost feels selfish.

Somewhere along the way, Oscar briefly acknowledges that the habit he’s adopted isn’t exactly healthy. It’s not going to last. Eventually, it’s going to come to light that Oscar’s out there playing people for his own egotistical gain.

—

It all comes to a head the night that he wins the championship in Abu Dhabi, a full year after his life took a turn for the worse. Or maybe better. He’s not sure now that he’s champion of the world.

He goes out that night, with everyone he’s ever met packed into the club with him. Surrounded by so many people he knows from the paddock, he tries his best to behave. He can’t revert into his usual self when he’s drunk at the club, eyes constantly scouring for his next kill.

Too many people pass him drinks, and a combination of champagne and straight vodka is not the best mix for Oscar.

He walks off into the mass of people on the dancefloor before anyone even tries to pull him in. A crowd forms around him as soon as he starts dancing, everyone wanting a piece of the man of the moment.

Oscar never allowed himself to bask in it, the adoration that comes with the job, especially when you’re winning. With so many bodies around him, sweat beads at his temples and a warm flush grows on his cheeks.

He catches the eye of a couple dancing by him. For some reason, he can’t take his eyes off of them. They’re both really attractive, expensive looking. He watches as they give each other a look, before moving towards Oscar.

The man comes up behind him, pressing him into the woman who stands at his front. The song changes, something more sensual with a deep bass. Oscar’s hands go up to her waist, pulling her into his chest.

They all half-dance, half-grind against each other, and Oscar can feel the way the man’s starting to get hard behind him. He can also feel the way there’s a lot of eyes on them, not bringing himself to care when being the subject of their attention feels so good.

The man pushes Oscar’s face down into her neck, then starts kissing her over his shoulder. He’s pinned between them as they make out with each other, tonguing at the girl’s throat and reaching behind himself to push at the back of the man’s head so he presses into both of them harder.

With his eyes closed, he thinks he sees flashing light in the darkness, not aware that it’s actually loads of shocked people around them taking pictures and videos. He’s so lost in pleasure that he forgets where he is. That is until Daniel comes barging his way into the crowd, grabbing Oscar by his arm and ripping him out from in between them.

He drags them off into a dark corridor in the back, looking at Oscar like he has five heads. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Oscar’s a little hazy at the edges, not realizing the gravity of what he’s done. “What do you mean?”

“You were practically fucking those people in front of everyone. Bro, Zak was watching."

He almost collapses on the spot, mind catching up at hearing that. His eyes start to tear up, and he wants to die on the spot doing this in front of Daniel.

“I think I have a problem.”

—

That’s how Oscar made it here, in the waiting room of a fancy therapist’s office in London.

This man, Lando Norris, specializes in sex addiction for high profile clients. He never thought it would come to this point, that he would have to pay someone to talk about his deepest, most shameful secrets.

It’s Daniel who pushed him into signing up for this, telling him that he knows a guy that can help him work out his emotions. Apparently this guy works with loads of athletes that don’t know how to cope with their newfound glory, resorting to other avenues outside of their sport to hold on to that feeling.

He’s led into the back by a pretty receptionist, someone Oscar would definitely fuck. As soon as he thinks it, he decides maybe it’s a good idea that he’s here.

The door shuts behind him, and the room looks exactly like he thought it would. There’s a sprawling leather couch for him to lay on, green plants amongst way too many books all over the room, the therapist himself sitting in a large chair adjacent from the couch.

Lando stands up to greet him. “Oscar! It’s very nice to meet you, mate. I’m Lando.” He smiles warmly at him as he shakes Oscar’s hand and the first thing Oscar thinks is that he’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Just Oscar’s luck, his sex therapist is outrageously attractive.

He’s clad in a big wool cardigan, white tee underneath with a chain around his tanned neck. On the bottom, Lando’s wearing incredibly baggy jeans. They look expensive. If Lando’s consistently raking in the amount of cash Oscar’s paying for this consult, he must be pretty wealthy. Nothing about him screams therapist.

Lando motions for him to sit down after he musters a shy hello.

“Tell me what you’re here for,” Lando starts once he sits down, crossing his legs and leaning forward, paying full attention to Oscar.

“My friend thinks I have a sex addiction. And that it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism for the stress of racing.”

“Congrats by the way, on the win,” Lando says quickly, before getting back to the point. “How do you feel? Do you think you’re using sex to cope?”

“I think I just like sex,” Oscar answers honestly.

“Why?” Lando asks.

Oscar thinks he has an answer, but he’s just met Lando, still too caught up on how pretty he is to feel comfortable indulging him in his most vulnerable thoughts. There are many reasons. It feels good, it makes him feel in control, sometimes out of control. He knows it must stem from something, not equipped with the words to articulate it.

He decides to share the first one. “Because it feels good.”

Lando chuckles, nodding. “Yes, it does.”

And, great. Now Oscar’s thinking about Lando having sex, and enjoying it. Such a simple thought shouldn't make him go all hot under the collar like it does.

Lando switches gears. “Let’s start somewhere else. What type of people do you like to have sex with?”

Oscar laughs awkwardly. He knows it’s the whole point, but the question seems really invasive. “Anyone that looks good. Women, men. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

Lando nods along, and Oscar convinces himself that he’s agreeing, really saying that he also fucks women and men. “Do you have a preference?” he asks.

If Oscar didn’t know any better, he would think that Lando’s looking at him with extra intent because he’s truly curious about him. Oscar can’t be the only one that feels this weird, immediate tension between them.

“Depends on the day. Some days I want to fuck a girl, other days I want to fuck a guy. Sometimes I want a guy to fuck me. Maybe one day I’ll get a girl to fuck me, too.”

Lando’s eyes widen the slightest bit, trying to conceal his shock at Oscar’s sudden candor. “Good to know,” he says, then scribbles something down in the notepad on his lap. “How often?”

“Each week is different, on average I’d say six times a week. Usually with different people, occasionally a repeat if they’re good.”

Lando bites down on his lip, doesn’t make a comment, just writes something else down. “What kind of lover do you think you are?” To Oscar, it sounds like Lando’s voice gets deeper, huskier. It might just be in his head.

Oscar’s trying his best to be open, the question making him pause. He doesn’t know how to answer that. He would like to think that his partners enjoyed themselves, this being the first time he actually took a second to consider it. What if they didn’t? Would that make Oscar feel any different? Why hasn’t he thought about it before?

He wants to call up every single person that he’s slept with and ask them if he did a good job. If they walked away from the experience feeling like they gained something, like Oscar has. He knows the odds that he comes back with raving reviews are pretty low.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it before. I would like to think that I’m not too bad,” he nervously chuckles, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans.

Lando tries to reword the question. “What would you hope your partners say about you after the fact?”

That, Oscar has an answer for. He envisions some nameless girl, going back to her friends after sleeping with him, telling them he fucked her so well that they should go ahead and take a crack at him themselves.

“I would hope that they say I’m confident in bed. And that they tell their friends about it so they want to sleep with me too.” He tries to be cheeky about it, but that’s the god honest truth. Something about being talked about, as an object of desire rather than exclusively a racing driver, gives Oscar another purpose in life.

“OK, good, I think we’re getting somewhere,” Lando nods at his answer. “It seems to me that you equate sexual attraction to self-worth. Does that sound accurate to you?”

Oscar can feel an embarrassed blush creep across his cheeks at being called out so blatantly. He never thought of it like that.

Defiant, he says “I don’t think I need sex to feel worthy.” He is a top-level athlete, after all. He makes millions, has loads of adoring fans, and has been blessed with a natural ability to race.

“But you need it to feel good,” Lando states, no room for argument.

Oscar fiddles with his fingers, getting frustrated with himself for not being able to do the whole therapy thing the way he thinks he’s supposed to.

Lando continues on, going into an entire spiel about why people use sex to avoid dealing with other areas of their lives that feel incomplete. Oscar tries his best to take in the information, mind a mess trying to work out why he feels so weird right now.

“Do you masturbate, Oscar?”

“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?” Oscar awkwardly giggles. He may have grown comfortable enough with his sexuality, but he’s not a degenerate. His parents taught him better than to talk about private subjects so blatantly.

“Yes, most people do,” Lando agrees. “However, some people who display signs of sex addiction typically masturbate more frequently than the average person. How often do you masturbate?”

“Multiple times a day,” he replies. There’s nothing wrong with that, Oscar thinks. Doesn’t mean he has a problem. His dick stubbornly twitches in his pants with interest at the prospect of jerking off, particularly jerking off in front of this gorgeous man.

“Most people don’t have the time or the energy to masturbate multiple times a day,” Lando says gently.

“I’m not like most people,” Oscar counters, hearing how ludicrous it sounds coming out of his mouth.

“That’s for sure,” Lando says under his breath, looking away. He checks his watch for the time, clapping his hands once. “Right, the hour’s almost up. I have some homework for you.” Oscar wasn’t aware that there was work for him to do outside of these four walls. “I’m not going to ask you to stop or cut down on sleeping with people, unless you feel like you’re ready for that.” Oscar shakes his head no, he’s not ready. “What I want you to do is think about the way you feel before having sex, and the way you feel after.”

“I can do that,” Oscar says.

“When we next meet,” he checks his calendar, “next week, I am going to ask you more about your past, so you might want to mentally prepare for that. As it stands, we are set to meet every free week you have between races.”

Oscar nods, and Lando gets up to lead him to the door. He sticks out a hand for Oscar to shake, and the sight of those long, thick fingers has heat pooling in his belly.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not too concerned about you,” Lando says while clasping Oscar’s hand. “We’ll work you out in no time.”

Oscar doesn’t trust himself to speak without his voice cracking, so he gives him a weak smile and practically runs out the door. He heads straight to the front desk, met with the pretty girl from before.

“Are there any other therapists I can meet with?” Oscar asks frantically, cock coming to life within his briefs. Meeting with Lando every week, he doesn’t think he will make it out alive, let alone kick his addiction. He’s much too conscious of his answers to Lando’s questions, too worried about Lando thinking he’d be a good partner to be fully authentic.

“Unfortunately, no. Lando specializes in working with professional athletes. Any of our other therapists here will be less qualified and have a waitlist of about six months,” she says, eyeing him suspiciously. “Would you like to cancel your next scheduled appointment?”

“No, I’ll keep it. Thanks.”

Oscar books it out of there, desperately fisting his hard cock in the driver’s seat of his car, no regard for the stream of people walking in and out of the office.

His mind plays a loop of Lando’s suggestive words.

“Do you masturbate, Oscar?”

Fuck yes, he does.

—

That evening, Oscar scours Grindr for a man that looks like Lando.

It takes longer than usual for Oscar to find an adequate partner for the night, usually only looking out for a pretty face or a nice body. Eventually, he lands on a guy that’s similar enough, only a few miles away. He’s got curly hair and tanned skin, he’ll do just fine.

He tries to do his homework like he was told, taking a moment to assess how he feels as he messages the man his address. There’s not much to report. He feels horny, filled with anticipation. The unknown is enticing. The guy he invited over surely seems like a bottom, but you can never be sure. He could be bossy in bed, commanding Oscar to do exactly what he wants. Or he could be a pillow princess, taking what Oscar gives him.

It’s hard to get an accurate reading on how he feels, mind screaming Lando, Lando, Lando as he waits for the man to come over.

The knock at his door pulls him out of it, he’s gotta turn on the charm for the next hour.

He greets the random man, offers him a drink in which he declines. They go straight to the bedroom, and the man ends up being a submissive bottom. Oscar’s favorite.

The actual sex is average at best. The man lets him bend him over the bed, pushing his face into the mattress so he can imagine it’s Lando’s pretty face instead. He fucks him hard until he reaches orgasm, reluctantly flipping him onto his back so he can quickly jerk him off until he finishes as well.

The man has barely caught his breath before Oscar’s pulling up the Uber app, asking for his address and telling him his car will be here in three minutes. He walks him to the door, and the man tries to lean in for a kiss goodbye. He dodges it, turning his head so his lips press against his cheek, and then he’s on his way.

Alone again, Oscar sits on the couch and tries to dissect what he’s feeling inside. It’s not the first time Oscar’s left feeling unsatisfied after a hookup. There’s usually not much he can chalk it up to. On a regular night, he would be right back on the apps to find another person to invite over and satiate that need.

Tonight, Oscar doesn’t waste his time trying to find someone else. He jerks himself off right there on the couch, picturing Lando’s large palm wrapping around him instead.

—

“Welcome back!” Lando greets, gesturing at the couch for Oscar to sit down. He’s wasting no time, then. “How was your week?”

Oscar’s week, somehow, was more sex-filled than usual. He’s chasing something he doesn’t have a name for. The more people he sleeps with, the emptier he feels.

“It was alright,” Oscar reports. “Lots of work, lots of extracurricular activities, if you know what I mean.”

Lando smiles that blinding smile at him, nodding in understanding. “Tell me about it.”

Oscar goes into a long-winded retelling of his work week, trying to avoid the topic of sex for as long as possible. Eventually, there’s nothing more he can say about strategy meetings and simulator runs. “I did my homework,” he tells Lando.

“Oh yeah? How did that go?” Lando asks.

“Nothing much to report.” He can’t just say to his shrink that he’s seeking out partners that remind Oscar of him to fuel some wicked goal he’s set for himself to seduce his therapist. “Felt horny before having sex, felt unfulfilled after.”

“That’s good!” Lando affirms. Oscar raises an eyebrow, because what he just said doesn’t feel all that good to him. “At this stage, all we’re really looking for is the acknowledgement of a routine. I think you’ve done well in doing that.”

The way that Lando says we, like they’re in Oscar’s sex life together, fans the flames even worse. It feels like Lando’s flirting with him, whether he knows it or not.

“Today I want to talk about this problem you seem to think you have, where it all started. From what I’ve heard, you seem like a young man in the prime of your life. Nothing too concerning for who you are.”

Oscar takes that for way more than what Lando probably means it to be. That’s what he’s operating on, people know him as Oscar Piastri: the nice guy racing driver who’s been blessed by a championship winning car as soon as he joined the team. People rarely question the person he is when you peel back the layers.

He wants to tell him how it all started, something standing in his way. “I know you’re probably not supposed to, but I feel like I can’t open up until we know each other more,” Oscar tries to put it into words. “Sorry, that might sound silly. I just don't have a lot of experience with talking about all the sex stuff out loud.” It’s kinda been a one man battle since it’s started.

Lando’s eyes soften. “That’s alright. I should’ve realized.” He shakes his head, seemingly weighing his options about something. “I am a recovering sex addict, too. That’s how I got into all this.” He flutters his hand around the room. “I was just a regular therapist before.”

“How did you get into professional athletes?” he finds himself asking.

“They were my vice,” Lando smirks. “Always looking out for the next best thing to prove to myself that I could.”

And that just makes it a million times worse, because he is the next best thing. He just proved that. Oscar Piastri’s the fastest in the world.

“How did you give it up?” He’s really looking for an answer on this one.

“It takes discipline to suppress those urges. Now I just look for connection. I won’t get into bed with someone unless we’re dating.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Oscar asks sarcastically. Dating seems so hard these days, at least for a man like Oscar.

Lando laughs in surprise. “Not that well on the dating front! In terms of professional athletes, I’ve found that working with them allows me to keep a degree of separation. I’m not going to risk my license by messing about with one of my patients.”

The glimmer of hope that was sparkling in his chest immediately gets tampered out. Of course Lando wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his career.

It should be enough for Oscar to let the infatuation go, Lando setting a clear boundary right off the bat. The only thing Lando’s words do is embolden him. How long can Oscar subtly push his buttons before Lando starts to show some cracks? Based on what he said, he’s single and looking for connection.

“What was your athlete of choice?” Oscar boldly asks, crossing his fingers beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, hoping Lando says racecar drivers.

Lando answers an altogether different question. “Well, my favorite sport is Formula 1, believe it or not,” he starts. “Although I’ve never slept with one,” he mutters under his breath, forgetting for a moment that he’s talking directly to one. “I used to do a bit of karting as a kid.”

Oscar perks up at that. “Really?”

Nodding, Lando goes into his background in karting, explaining how his dad got him into it at a young age, the circuits and engines he’s familiar with, how he eventually had to quit because the sport was too costly.

By the end of it, Oscar feels much more like himself. The conversation reminds him of the person he was before his start in F1, sitting around with his friends discussing racing because it’s simply what they loved to do.

“So that’s a bit about me,” Lando concludes, sitting up in his chair and sliding on that professional mask once again. “I want to know more about you, find out where everything all started. Take me back to when you think the habit began forming. Was it when you lost your virginity?”

The answer is straightforward, Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment this obsessive urge took root in his brain.

“No, not at all. I lost my virginity to my girlfriend in high school, stayed with her until the end of my rookie season in 2023. After that, I slept with a couple girls I knew from home here and there.”

Up until that point, Oscar had always been a relationship man. Even sleeping with girls who he knew from his past felt a bit dirty. It always felt like he was trying to get away with something when he reached out to them to “catch up.”

“Abu Dhabi 2024 is when it started.” Knowing Lando is an F1 fan makes Oscar pretty certain Lando can put the pieces together on what was happening during that time. “I went out to celebrate after the race and Daniel, my teammate, thought that I needed to get laid.”

Lando follows along. “Nothing wrong with that,” he comments.

“I wasn’t even really trying to make that happen,” Oscar feels the need to defend, even though he agrees with Lando that there’s nothing wrong with looking for a hookup on a night out. “Some girl, a fan of mine, approached me and, um,” he falters, “blew me in the bathroom.”

Lando nods at him to continue, completely unfazed by Oscar’s story.

“Then she just got up and left. When I went back out to the bar, another girl came up and I took her home.” Oscar pauses, watching for a reaction that he picked up two girls in one night, and doesn’t get one.

“I’ve never felt like that before, not having to put any work in for what I want. It doesn’t matter if I don’t say or do the right thing at the right moment. They just wanted me, simple as that.”

“Do you think they wanted you for the right reasons?” Lando interjects.

“Probably not,” Oscar chuckles. “They probably wanted me for similar reasons that I wanted them. They want to sleep with a racing driver, I want to sleep with an anonymous person that I don’t have to remember the name of the next day.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, his face hardening, more serious. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

It dawns on him then, the hypothetical people he’s talking about, that’s who Lando was in the equation when he was deep into sex addiction himself. He was the anonymous person, the pawn in the athlete’s selfish game.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Oscar tries to retract. He looks for the right words. “I just meant that, I spent all of 2024 meeting new people, trying to get myself back out there after the breakup. No one ever just wanted me for me. They wanted the racing driver. If that’s what people want, that’s what people can get. No strings attached.”

When he looks back up at Lando, his therapist stares back at him with something that looks too much like pity in his eyes. It makes Oscar want to curl into a ball and die. Maybe he’s a lot more screwed in the head than he previously thought.

“What do you want?” Lando asks gently.

The worst thing that could possibly happen in this moment happens. His eyes start to sting, the same type of reaction he gets when someone asks him if he’s OK, and he’s clearly not OK.

“I don’t know,” comes his watery reply, looking up at the ceiling to try to suck the tears back into his eye sockets. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to continue talking, ignoring the shake in his voice. “I thought I wanted a girlfriend, then I thought I wanted casual sex and to explore my sexuality. Now–” I just want you, his brain unhelpfully supplies. “Now, I’m not so sure. I think what you said before is right. I want connection.”

“Everyone does,” Lando leans forward to pat Oscar’s knee in a quick, professional gesture of comfort. He pulls his hand away when Oscar’s leg instinctively jumps beneath the touch. “You seem like a nice guy, Oscar. More sensitive than you probably let on.”

If anyone else said that about him, he would be quick to reject it. He’s still sniffling tears back, so he stays quiet and lets Lando continue on.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think what’s happened is you’ve just gotten a bit lost trying to work out what will make you truly happy. Perhaps you’ve been influenced by what you see around you, how other drivers operate.”

Lando hit the nail right on the head. This all started because Daniel made him feel inadequate for not being laser focused on finding someone to hook up with when he goes out. He thought it would make him feel better after a year of being single and lonely, he convinced himself that was the case for quite a while. It seems Oscar needed a third party, someone smart and kind like Lando, to convince him otherwise.

Oscar tries to put those thoughts into words, relaying his internal monologue to Lando, omitting the last part about needing Lando specifically to be the one to set him straight.

Lando stands up, walking behind his desk and pulling out a notebook. He passes it to Oscar as he sits back down. “This is a blank journal. Your homework for this week is to write down how you’re feeling each day. It doesn’t just have to be about sex.”

He’s tried journaling before, his sports psychologist encouraging him to get into it. It never felt like something he could keep up with long term. He nods regardless.

“However, I also want you to write down the sex stuff. Do what you did before, track your mood before and after an encounter with someone. On top of that, I want you to write about each person you sleep with. Their name, what they look like, what you guys did together. I’m going to ask you to read these parts aloud to me next week”

The idea of writing it all out makes Oscar nervous. The whole point is that he doesn’t want to remember the dirty details, discarding people as they go. “Why?” he asks, not saying no.

“The people you sleep with are human, just like you. Looking for connection. Documenting the experience for you to look back on, it will help you remember that. They have thoughts, feelings, expectations, same as you and I.”

“I guess I can give it a try.”

—

Writing in the journal turns into an obsession in itself for Oscar.

If he lets himself really think about it, which he doesn’t, he can recognize that his motive behind journaling isn’t completely about himself. There’s something erotic about Oscar having these experiences, jotting it down, and reading it back to Lando once they’re together again.

His quest to find partners that remind him of Lando has only ramped up, Oscar broadening his distance on the apps to find someone that fits the bill.

Usually, he’ll interchange the type of person he sleeps with. One night will be a woman, the next night a man. Sometimes a top, sometimes a bottom.

In the week leading up to his next appointment, Oscar finds himself exclusively hooking up with men. Men that are shorter than him, men that have kind green eyes, men that have a strikingly pretty face.

He throws one woman in there to throw Lando off the scent, which only ends badly. The woman he picks is the complete opposite of Lando. Blonde, curvy, artificial tan. He loses his erection halfway through sex with her, unenthusiastically eating her out before she pushes him away and says she’s calling for a car.

It’s all written out in his journal with painstaking detail. He’s stupidly giddy walking into Lando’s office.

“Hello, Oscar,” Lando smiles at him, this time not getting up from his chair. Oscar shouldn’t be disappointed about that.

They go through the familiar motions of idle chitchat, Lando eventually pointing out “I see you’ve brought your journal.” He asks Oscar to read through it, cataloging his bodies for the week.

“On Monday, the night after our last meeting, I slept with a man from Grindr named David. It was good, he was handsome. Shorter than me, tanned skin, nice face. A bottom. I ate him out, he rode me, then he left.”

“No one on Tuesday, I had a sponsor dinner and was too tired to invite someone over after.”

“Wednesday was a guy called Christian. He was fine. Met him at the dinner the night before, had him sign an NDA. He fucked me and finished really quick. Kicked him out after and invited David back over to finish the job. Fucked him again in missionary.”

“I slept with another man on Thursday, this one from Hinge. Sean. He was pretty good. Nice face, good body. We blew each other, didn’t even get to fuck him. His mouth was pretty skilled, though.”

“Friday was a disaster. Karen was blonde, big tits and ass. I went soft mid-fuck and she left before either of us finished. I was too embarrassed to get with someone else after. Jerked myself to sleep.”

“Saturday and Sunday was David again. I was on top, but I would’ve had him fuck me if he seemed into it. This morning, too. I let him sleep over and we had a quick round before I sent him on his way.”

Oscar doesn’t look up once while he’s recounting his week, afraid of Lando’s expression. He seems like such a fucking asshole reading out the bulletpointed list he made for each day. It sounded a lot sexier in his head.

Lando’s looking back at him with an unreadable expression, biting his lip. “Sounds like a busy week,” he comments. “Do you like David?”

“Sure. He lets me do whatever I want with him. Comes as soon as I call.”

“Do you have feelings for him?”

“No!” Oscar’s quick to deny. “He’s nice, good looking, but like I said, he lets me do whatever I want. If I’m looking for someone to pursue, they need to have a bit about them. I want someone headstrong.”

The sharp look on Lando’s face fades away, his therapist scribbling something down on his notepad. “Are you actively looking for a partner at this stage in your life?”

If it’s you, then yes.

“Not actively. If I met someone I wanted to pursue, I would treat them differently.” He’s fully aware that the way he treats his hookups is not the way you treat someone you care about. That’s the beauty of it, he doesn’t need to care about these people.

“Would you continue having sex with other people?”

Oscar scoffs at that question. He may not be navigating casual sex with the kindest intentions, but he’s not a cheater. If he was dating someone that he truly cared about, he would drop everyone else at once.

“No, of course not.”

“What if they didn’t satisfy you sexually?”

Oscar thinks back on his relationship with his ex-girlfriend, the sex that they had together. It was good enough for what it was, but that was way back when. Oscar didn’t know that there was a whole other world out there. Sex doesn’t always have to be loving, even if it’s with the person you love.

“It’s not about that for me. I don’t need to be having sex every day of the week. The person I end up with will satisfy me. If they don’t, then they’re not for me.”

Lando’s face turns calculating, eyes scanning his notes before looking up at him. Oscar holds his breath.

“Based on everything we’ve talked about so far, I don’t think the issue here is sex. It’s about validation. This is something I see in a lot of my patients. You want a meaningful relationship, but don’t know how to get it. The sex is a replacement for that.” Lando pauses, waiting to see if Oscar has any objections, before continuing on. “Where I think the issue lies is in your treatment of your lovers. You’ve lost sight of the inherent intimacy that comes with sex. You need to work on how you approach these situations. Treat everyone how you want to be treated, even if you don’t think you’re going to see that person again.”

There's a firmness to Lando’s words, like he’s fully worked Oscar out, and is waiting for Oscar to catch up. If Oscar didn’t know any better, he would think that Lando’s projecting. If it wasn’t clear before, it is now. Lando and Oscar are different sides of the same coin, having allowed an addiction to form in much different ways.

Oscar does see the truth in Lando’s words, asking “how do I do that?”

“Take David, for example.” There’s an edge of maybe bitterness to Lando’s voice, at the mention of David. “You’ve slept with him multiple times in one week, said that you’re attracted to him and like what you guys do together. But then said you’re not interested in pursuing him when what you want is a relationship. Have you taken the time to get to know him while you’re together?”

Instead of answering Lando’s question, he counters it. “You think I should date David?”

Lando laughs, borderline rolling his eyes. Oscar can sense his frustration, just can’t work out where it comes from.

“I didn’t say that. What I’m trying to say is that there’s a discrepancy between how you treat someone you want to sleep with and someone you want to pursue. Those two things shouldn’t be so separated in your mind.”

Oscar doesn’t want to be difficult, but the mere thought of asking David about himself fills him with dread. He may be good at concealing his emotions, but he’s never been very good at doing things he doesn’t want to do.

“So I have to spend more time trying to get to know the people I hook up with, and it will help me humanize them. And then I’ll eventually get better at forming connections, whether that’s with a person I want to pursue or not.”

Lando beams at him. “That’s exactly right, Oscar!”

Oscar doesn’t feel all that confident that it’s going to help, but if Lando’s smiling like him at that, then it’s worth a shot.

At the end of the session, Lando gives him his personal phone number. “I usually don’t give this out to patients before we’ve been meeting for a couple months. I know you have a race this weekend, so if you need anything, call or text. As long as I’m not with a patient, I’ll reply right away.”

Before Oscar leaves, he’s given his homework for the week. “Now that it’s been a couple sessions, I am gonna ask you to try to cut down on the amount of people you sleep with. Don’t feel discouraged if you’re not able.”

—

Australia 2026 is an absolute disaster.

In hindsight, he went into the weekend way too confident. Off the back of last season’s win and meeting Lando, he’s felt more encouraged than ever, even with knowing the car isn’t where it needs to be compared to Mercedes.

After he left Lando’s office on Monday, David texted him asking what time he should come over. Oscar ignored it, and ignored every subsequent text that came after.

He even goes as far as pausing his profiles on his dating apps. He couldn’t get himself to delete them altogether, but preventing any notifications of new matches coming through definitely helped with resisting temptation.

From Monday to Sunday, Oscar doesn’t sleep with anyone. It’s a lot harder than he thought it would be. He spends his evenings with his hand wrapped around his dick, thinking of how proud Lando would be of him.

When Oscar crashes into the barrier before he can even line up for the formation lap, he can do nothing but attribute it to the lack of sex in his life. Bitterly, he thinks that if he didn’t take Lando’s advice, he wouldn’t have bottled it. It’s one of the most painful mistakes of his career, knowing how many people came out to the track to watch their favorite driver at his home race.

Oscar wants nothing less than to go to the club with his Melbourne friends. He’s totally not in the mood, doesn’t want to put on a happy face after the day he’s had. He knows that if he spends his night at the club with his usual crew, he will eventually give in and revert back to his old ways.

He wishes he could text Lando, ask him for his advice. Lando said he could reach out if he needed anything, but he can’t get himself to pull up the contact. It seems juvenile to ask his therapist for permission to go out after a bad result.

On the other hand, he doesn’t want anyone to notice just how affected he is by his mistake. It’s embarrassing enough having to blink back tears in the media pen. He’s stronger than this. So, he sucks it up, and goes to the club.

He stays far away from the dancefloor, now knowing that only bad things can happen when you let you guard down out there. Instead, he lingers by the bar, a long line of strangers coming and going to voice their apologies to him.

If sex isn’t on the table, Oscar uses humor to cope, brushing off each apologetic comment thrown his way with a dismissive “gotta keep people on their toes.”

Standing by the bar and talking to random people results in Oscar getting way drunker than he intended to, needing multiple drinks to prevent himself from bursting into tears. A man named Adam comes up to him to introduce himself and offer to buy Oscar another drink. He doesn’t say anything about Oscar’s race, so he accepts the welcome distraction.

Adam is tall, handsome and rugged, and blatantly looking at Oscar like he wants to eat him alive. The way he flirts with Oscar is so confident, it makes him realize that when he’s the one in Adam’s position, the aggressor so to speak, there’s no chance he comes off the same way.

Oscar’s in such a shit mood, using all of his energy to conceal it, that when Adam asks if he can take him home, he says yes without thinking of the repercussions.

They walk out of the club together with a healthy distance between them, Adam telling him his apartment is a short walk away.

As they head towards the building, they make the obligatory small talk that comes before a hookup. He learns that Adam is a businessman for one of McLaren’s sponsors, and he’s actually been in the paddock for quite a few races. Oscar thinks he would remember a face like that if he passed by him at the track.

In the moments where there’s a lull in the conversation, Oscar lets his mind wander. He tries to envision what it would be like if Adam wasn’t some random guy he picked up at the club, and rather someone he was dating. He pictures a world where they’re walking home to their shared apartment together after a romantic date.

He can’t help but think that if Adam was his boyfriend, he would constantly feel insecure by comparison. Sure, he’s the famous one, but Adam seems so sure of himself. The man walks down the street with his shoulders back and chin up, looking over at Oscar every once and a while to smirk at him, like he can read Oscar’s racing thoughts.

Oscar feels small and weak standing next to him, and not in a good way. Men like Adam get what they want, men like Oscar have to work for it.

It’s a sobering realization, coming to the conclusion that Adam is way out of his league as they approach the entrance to his building. He doesn’t know why he’s overthinking it so much, it’s not like he ever has to see him again.

And then his mind strays to Lando, his sweet therapist that is the complete opposite of the man standing next to him. He’s proven to Oscar that he cares more about his wellbeing in three sessions than anyone else in Oscar’s life has. He pushes away the thought that it’s literally Lando’s job to care about him.

If Adam’s out of his league, Lando’s an entirely different ballgame.

—

Up in Adam’s apartment, he wastes no time in leading Oscar to his bedroom. He doesn’t ask Oscar if he would like a drink or if he needs to use the bathroom, simply grabs him by the wrist and leads him further into the apartment.

As soon as the door closes behind them, there’s a shift in the man’s demeanor. The easy smile on his face drops into something hard and menacing, staring Oscar down.

“You’ve earned yourself quite the reputation, Oscar.”

The gruffness of his voice makes Oscar uneasy. There’s something lying beneath the surface, something dangerous.

Oscar doesn’t know what to make of it, so he settles on “huh?”

Adam takes a step closer, crowding Oscar back until his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he’s falling back. The man stands above him, grabbing him by the chin to get him to look up at him.

“Sluts like you don’t deserve any respect,” Adam spits. “If you wanna act like a whore, I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

Oscar’s blood runs cold. Between all of his hookups, he’s dabbled in quite a bit of sex that falls on the rougher side. The way that Adam is speaking to him, it seems personal. Not just a bit of dirty talk to get things going.

He doesn’t want to disappoint, so he silently nods. Besides, it’s true, isn’t it? He’s been acting like a slut, and why should he deserve any more respect than he’s granted others?

At the very least, Adam is quick to flip him over and get to work. He bends Oscar over the mattress with a hand to the back of his neck, Oscar’s socked feet slipping on the hard wood trying to keep himself bent at the right angle. Oscar’s grateful that his face is hidden, he doesn’t want the man to know that he’s fully checked out for this, mind drifting away thinking about Lando.

Adam pulls his pants down to below his ass and preps him for all of two minutes with two fingers. When Oscar looks back at him as he’s pulling his pants down, the length he’s met with calls for more than two fingers to stretch him out. He doesn’t say anything about it.

He grits his teeth as Adam slides in, hiding his face in the crook of his arm and biting down on the skin there.

The stretch burns, and Oscar tells himself that he likes it even though his cock is only half-hard beneath him. This is what he deserves.

Adam fucks into him with a brutal pace, bringing a hand down to slap his ass so hard that he can feel the heat radiating off his skin when he removes his touch.

It takes him by surprise when Adam’s hand wraps around his throat, pulling him up so his back is pressed against his strong chest.

A garbled moan rips from his constricted throat, caught between pain and pleasure. It’s the exact kind of sex he thought he would need to get himself out of his head, yet Adam treating him like he’s worth nothing has the opposite effect. All he can seem to think about is how much better it would feel with someone he actually cares about, someone he could trust. Someone like Lando.

“I’m surprised you’re still so tight, knowing what you’ve been up to,” Adam growls into his ear. He grabs at Oscar’s semi, twitching at the force of the thrusts, but not able to fully grow hard for some reason. “Ha! Can’t even get properly hard, you poor thing,” Adam chastises.

He fucks into him a few more times, and then he’s coming into the condom with a groan, digging his nails into Oscar’s side. He slips out of him, releasing his grasp, and Oscar falls back down onto the bed in a heap. His muscles weak and head foggy, he tries to catch his breath to calm down his rapidly beating heart.

“Better get going.” Adam pats him on the ass and walks out into the hallway. Oscar can hear a door close and the shower start to run from the other room.

Oscar tucks his half-hard cock back into his pants and books it out of there as fast as possible. He doesn’t know where he’s going, walking out into the night on legs that feel like jelly. He makes it about a block, finding himself in a vacant park, collapsing into the grass.

He can’t get his heart rate to slow down, each breath he takes doesn’t feel like it’s making its way into his lungs. Digging around for his phone in his jeans pocket, he didn’t realize his eyes have filled with tears and his hands are uncontrollably shaking until he’s tapping the screen trying to pull up Lando’s contact.

The line rings for a minute, and the tears in Oscar’s eyes start to drip down his cheeks when he realizes that the one person he wants to speak to isn’t going to pick up.

At the last second before it goes to voicemail, “hello, this is Lando speaking.”

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice cracks. “It’s Oscar.”

He can hear shifting on the other end of the line. “Is everything alright?”

Lando’s voice, laced with concern, breaks the dam. He hiccups out a sob, gasping for breath so he can explain to Lando why he’s calling.

“Hey, it’s OK Oscar, you’re OK,” Lando says softly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I’m sorry for calling. I don’t mean to be a bother. I just– fuck, Lando. It feels like I can’t breathe.”

“Take a deep breath for me, Osc. I think you might be having a panic attack.” Oscar’s thumping heart skips a beat at the nickname, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out with an audible whoosh. “That’s good. Just keep on breathing for me.”

Just the sound of Lando’s voice is enough for Oscar to start to calm down, hearing his easy breaths on the other end of the line as he patiently waits for Oscar to get it together. He breathes and breathes until it finally feels like he can form a coherent thought.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“There’s no need to be sorry, Osc. I gave you my number for a reason.” Oscar nods, even though Lando can’t see him. “Are you feeling a little better?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Where are you? Somewhere safe?”

Now that Oscar’s thinking a little more clearly, he can hear how worried Lando sounds. It makes his heart twist in his chest.

“I’m in a park,” he replies.

“In a park?” Lando repeats. “What are you doing there? Isn’t it almost like 2 AM in Melbourne?”

“Did you watch the race?” Oscar asks instead of answering.

“I watched the highlights this morning. I saw what happened. I’m sorry, Oscar. Is that what this is about?”

Oscar lays back in the grass, putting his phone on speaker and placing it by his head. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine that Lando’s laying right there next to him.

“Kinda. I did what you said and didn't sleep with anyone since our last session. Until tonight. My friends forced me to go out with them even though I really didn’t want to. I tried so hard to be good.” Lando hums in acknowledgment, urging Oscar to continue. “There was this guy, I thought he was nice. He didn’t ask me about the race, didn’t make me feel like I was under a magnifying glass.”

His voice starts to go watery again, so Lando cuts in. “That’s really good, Oscar. I’m proud of you for trying. Like I said before, you shouldn’t feel discouraged if you sleep with someone. I’m not asking you to be celibate, just to make healthier choices for yourself.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Oscar knows he sounds like a petulant child, but he just can’t contain his frustration over himself. “I got cocky, just like I always seem to do. Fucked up my race before it even started, went home with a man when I knew it was a bad idea.”

Lando takes a moment to reply, seemingly choosing his words with caution. “Did something happen with this man? Did he hurt you?”

Oscar shuts his eyes tighter, composing himself. “It was more like I was hurting myself. He was nice until we got to his place, then he completely changed. I think he had heard stories about how I’ve been sleeping around. He called me a– a whore, and said he was gonna fuck me like one.”

“Oh, Oscar,” Lando whispers sympathetically.

“He bent me over and fucked me with barely any prep. And it hurt, but I knew I deserved it. I thought it would help me forget about the race. I didn’t even get hard. He finished and then he just got up and left me.”

“You don’t deserve tha–” Lando starts, but Oscar cuts him off, words tumbling out of him now.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about how the way he was treating me is how I’ve treated the people I’ve slept with. No foreplay, no aftercare. All the people I must’ve hurt. I couldn’t get them out of my head, and I couldn’t get…” Oscar takes a deep breath, there’s no turning back now. “I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

“Me?” Lando asks, surprised. “Why?”

Because I’m the dumbass that fell for his therapist.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he backtracks.

Lando tuts on the other end, and Oscar can picture the way his eyebrows must be pinched in thought. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Oscar. You fly back to London tomorrow?” Oscar hums out a yes. “You’re going to go back to your hotel now. Text me when you get back. I’m going to ask my assistant to book you for the next day. Does that work for you?”

Oscar says yes, they say their goodbyes, and he walks all the way back to his hotel feeling like he fucked up the one good thing he has in his life right now.

—

Oscar looks and feels like shit when he walks into Lando’s office in the late afternoon. Lando had a full day booked, and he graciously decided to stay late to fit Oscar in.

Lando’s leaning against his desk waiting for him, looking as beautiful as ever in a form fitting polo and black pants.

He pushes himself up when Oscar closes the door, and it takes him by surprise when he comes over and pulls Oscar into a hug. It’s the first time they’ve properly touched each other, and Oscar grips onto the back of his shirt way tighter than he probably should.

Lando gestures for him to take a seat, pulling his chair closer to the couch so he’s sat right in front of him.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Oscar laughs self-deprecatingly. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

Lando raises an eyebrow at him. “Why do you think that?”

Oscar knows that this might be the breaking point between them, once he speaks his feelings out loud, Lando will have no choice but to stop seeing him.

“Because of what I said. I know that I crossed a boundary. I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore.” It breaks his heart having to say it, growing emotional and hiding his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as he cries.

Lando gets up from his chair and sits down on the cushion next to Oscar, softly rubbing at his back. When Oscar lifts his head and looks over at him, Lando’s face looks a little confused and a lot concerned.

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at. If you crossed a boundary, I would’ve told you. Why do you think we can’t see each other anymore?”

“The entire time I was having sex, I was thinking of you. What you said about treating people the way I want to be treated. How you must think I’m a monster after the things I’ve told you. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Lando’s hand continues to sweep across his back, making no moves to create distance between them.

“Sometimes patients get a little attached to their therapists after having so many deep conversations. It’s actually really common. It doesn’t mean we have to stop our sessions.”

“No,” Oscar denies. “You don’t get it.”

And because Oscar is somewhat of a self-sabotager, he does the one thing that he’s absolutely not supposed to do, just to set it in stone.

He leans over and kisses Lando square on the mouth, his therapist sitting frozen next to him in shock. He pulls back, bracing himself for the worst. If Lando slapped him across the face, he would deserve it.

What happens instead is unlike anything Oscar could’ve conjured up in his wildest dreams. Lando grabs him by the front of the shirt, pulling him closer as he leans back into the couch. Oscar has to catch himself with a hand on the other side of Lando’s lap.

Lando uses his grip on him to drag him back down to his mouth, licking at the seam of his lips to get him to open up. Lando kisses him back with just as much desperation as Oscar feels, humming low in his throat when their tongues make contact.

He brings a hand up to the back of Oscar’s head, running his fingers through his hair. A shiver runs through him and Lando giggles against his lips.

When they pull back for air, Oscar feels breathless all over again. Lando’s staring up at him with a tiny grin, lips red and slick from Oscar’s mouth.

“You’re right, Osc. I don’t think I can be your therapist anymore.” He doesn’t look torn up about it, yet it still makes Oscar’s heart sink in his chest.

“I understand,” he says, looking away and trying not to get upset.

Lando grabs him by the chin, turning his face back towards him. “That doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other.”

And just like that, he’s filled with hope once again. “Can I take you out on a date?” he asks before he loses the nerve.

“I would like that,” Lando smiles.

“Tonight?” Oscar asks eagerly.

Lando’s grinning so wide now that Oscar can’t help but lean in and steal another kiss.

“I need about an hour to finish up some paperwork, then I’m all yours. I can send you my address and you can come pick me up?”

Oscar’s out the door and racing towards his apartment a couple minutes later, absolutely floating on air.

—

In the hour it takes for Lando to finish up work, Oscar runs around like a madman.

He spends way too much time tidying up his apartment, just in case they come back here. He’s not going to be presumptuous, no expectations of sleeping with Lando after the first date. He just wants to be prepared for all scenarios.

Oscar’s not one to use his fame to his advantage, but for Lando, he’ll do anything. He calls up the fanciest restaurant he can find, namedropping himself to get a last-minute reservation in a private room.

He takes a scalding shower in an attempt to calm his nerves, breaks out his rarely touched hair products to tame his hair into something presentable. He tries on multiple outfits, eventually landing on a simple white button down and black trousers.

Lando texts him his address and he replies back saying he’s leaving in five and to wear something nice.

Oscar’s got quite a few cars parked in his garage, opting for the sleek black McLaren he only takes out on special occasions. On the drive over, he stops at the store to get a bouquet of red roses. He might be doing too much, but he doesn’t care.

He parks by the entrance of Lando’s building, texting him that he’s here. He gets out of the car and leans against it with the flowers in hand, taking deep breaths, trying to push out any thoughts about how this is his one chance to get things right.

Lando walks out of his building, eyes lighting up when he spots Oscar. He’s dressed in all black; tight t-shirt stretched across his chest tucked into loose dresspants, a fitted suede jacket on top.

As he makes his way over, he wolf whistles at him. “You clean up nice,” he comments. “And look at this car, it’s gorgeous.”

“So are you,” Oscar says and Lando beams at him. “These are for you.” He hands the bouquet over, and Lando brings them up to his nose to smell them.

“Thank you.” There’s a light blush on his cheeks, and Oscar decides it’s now his life’s mission to get Lando to look up at him like this at all times.

He opens the car door for him, and before Lando can duck inside, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss against his cheek.

—

The private room of the restaurant Oscar chose couldn’t be more perfect. He wants to pat himself on the back, knowing he made the right choice when Lando looks around the room appreciatively.

They’re sat across from each other, the lights in the room dimmed so low they might as well be turned off. There’s lit candles everywhere, the one on the table flickering across Lando’s delicate features.

“This is really nice, Osc.”

Oscar couldn’t conceal his happiness if he tried, a smile glued to his face. “I really like when you call me that.”

“Yeah?” Lando smirks. “What else do you like?”

It’s flirty, and butterflies erupt in Oscar’s stomach. “You,” he says simply.

“I like you too,” Lando whispers, reaching his hand out to link fingers with Oscar’s on the table.

They order the most expensive bottle of red wine on the menu and two of the fanciest cuts of steak the restaurant has to offer.

The evening is lovely, romantic and private. They chat about everything they never got to talk about during their sessions. Their childhoods, their families, the future.

By the end of it, they're both a little drunk and overly giddy. It couldn’t have gone better.

In the parking lot, Oscar pulls Lando in for a kiss with a hand on the side of his face. Lando holds onto his wrist, kissing him back. They lean their foreheads against each other, breathing each other’s air.

“I don’t want the night to be over,” Lando admits.

“Me neither. Would you want to come back to mine? We don’t have to do anything, of course. Unless you want to! I have another bottle of wine we could open, we could just sit and talk. Or I can take you home, whatever you want.”

Lando watches him ramble with a painfully fond look in his eyes, eventually placing a hand on his chest and saying “I would love to go home with you.”

—

They open another bottle of wine, sitting on the couch together with soft music playing in the background.

When Lando steps away for a second to go to the bathroom, Oscar has a bit of time to himself to realize this is everything he’s been searching for. That empty feeling in his chest that he desperately tried to fill with a parade of nameless hookups, it’s absolutely nothing like this.

He wants to wine and dine Lando every night of their lives. He wants to make him feel special, wanted, loved. He hopes he can make Lando feel just as complete as Lando makes him.

All of the heartache, frustration, shame that Oscar has experienced over the last couple years has been worth it. He would do it again ten times over if it meant that he would have Lando in his arms by the end of it.

Lando comes back and sits himself down right next to Oscar, no space between them anymore. Lando looks over at him expectantly. They both know what comes next.

“I just want to tell you, that this,” he gestures between him and Lando, “is completely different than everything we’ve spoken about. I’m gonna do right by you, Lando. I promise.”

“I know, Osc. I can tell.” Oscar wants to ask how, but Lando’s not done talking. “I can see it in the way you look at me.”

He places a hand on Oscar’s thigh. “This is real for me, too. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Then, he swings a leg over Oscar’s and settles down into his lap, cupping his face with both hands. “The day that we met, I was so worried that you would notice that I found you attractive. I normally don’t struggle with staying professional around my patients, but I just knew there was something different about you. You’re not like the others.”

Oscar has to pull Lando into a kiss to hide his delight. He spent so long convincing himself that he was a creep, that he was making it all up in his head. He kisses Lando softly, just a slide of lips, trying to say all the things he doesn’t have words for.

Lando wiggles around on his lap until he’s made himself comfortable, wrapping his arms around Oscar’s shoulders and pulling him closer. He licks into Oscar’s mouth, exploring every nook and cranny while Oscar just sits back and lets himself bask in this moment.

Maybe he should feel scared by how fast they’re moving, how much this means to him already. He feels nothing but excitement, the last thing he wants to do is slow down.

Lando grinds down onto Oscar’s rapidly growing erection, tightening his grip on Oscar.

He wants to make this good for Lando, prove that he’s a worthy lover. He wraps his arms around Lando’s waist and stands up, Lando yelping in surprise at being lifted into the air so easily.

Without breaking the kiss, Oscar carries him into the bedroom, carefully laying him down in the middle of his bed. Oscar has to look away for a second, composing himself by unbuttoning and taking off his shirt. Lando looks angelic spread out across his bed, leaning up on his elbows to watch as Oscar takes his pants off as well.

He crawls onto the bed with just his briefs left on, Lando holding his arms up to let him take his shirt off, kicking his pants and briefs away before Oscar can do it himself.

Lando’s cock is already fully hard, and Oscar chokes on a breath as he watches Lando skim his fingers along his length. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells him.

The compliment makes Lando press a smile into his shoulder. “Take your briefs off.”

At Lando’s command, Oscar’s off the bed again to pull his underwear down. Lando bites his lip as he watches Oscar reveal himself, grabbing the lube before he gets back onto the bed.

He leans over Lando to kiss him again, trailing kisses down his neck, across his chest, nipping at each nipple before moving further down. He takes his time dotting kisses down his stomach. He doesn’t use teeth or suck at the skin, although he would love to leave marks. He wants Lando to feel worshipped, they can get into the dirtier stuff later.

Lando’s skin is soft and supple beneath his hands, Oscar already addicted to the way they seem to fit together so seamlessly. Once he gets down to Lando’s cock, he presses a firm kiss to the head, making him buck up at the touch with a squeak. He wants nothing more than to suck him down and pull out more of those soft, sweet sounds. He restrains himself.

He sits up to push Lando’s legs apart, the skin between his cheeks just as hairless and naturally tanned as the rest of him. Oscar’s mouth salivates at the idea of eating him out.

Another time, he tells himself. They have all the time in the world to explore each other.

He loses himself for a bit, staring down at Lando while he absently strokes a thumb along the inside of his thigh.

Lando starts to wiggle impatiently. “I know you’re trying to be sweet about this, Osc. But I really need you to do something. Touch me, please.”

At once, Oscar’s brought back down to earth, and he lubes up a few fingers before rubbing at Lando’s entrance. Lando sighs in relief, melting into the mattress as Oscar pushes one finger inside.

“Finally,” Lando moans, even though it must not feel like much yet. “Keep going, I can take it.”

Oscar fits a second finger in and Lando’s noises only get louder as he scissors them apart.

“Yes! Just like that, Osc. Feels so good. Just crook your fingers up.” Oscar does what he’s told and curls his fingers, bumping against his prostate. “Fuck, right there.”

Oscar used to think that his favorite type of lover was a submissive bottom, someone who would just take whatever he gave them without a complaint. Lando telling what to do, how to make him feel good, it’s really doing something for him.

“Another, please.” Lando asking for it so sweetly really is the cherry on top.

A third finger joins his other two, and soon enough, Lando is pushing his hips down in time with Oscar’s fingers. Oscar could do this all day, finger Lando open while he squirms around in pleasure. If he could never touch his cock again, it wouldn’t even matter, as long as he can have Lando like this.

Lando reaches down to pull his hand out, sitting up to roll a condom down and lube him up. Oscar almost forgot about his own cock for a second, the first touch of Lando’s large palm around him ripping a high-pitched moan from his throat.

“Shit, Lando. You have to stop.” He might actually come from just a few light strokes when the hand wrapped around him is the one he’s pictured in place of his own way too many times. Lando barks out a laugh, releasing his grip and laying back down. “How do you want it?”

“Just like this,” Lando says as he brings his legs up to his chest to make room for Oscar. “Want to see your handsome face the whole time.”

Lando calling him handsome shouldn't make him as lightheaded as he is. Oscar busies himself by lining himself up, ignoring the shake in his hands. When he slides in, the pair of them choke out a moan.

Once he bottoms out, Lando wraps his hands around Oscar’s back and pulls him down into a kiss. He hasn’t even started thrusting yet, and it’s already the best sex of his life. Lando is unbelievably tight around him, but doesn’t seem to be in any pain.

“You can move,” Lando tells him. Oscar drops his forehead down onto Lando’s, huffing out a breath as he pulls back and drives back in.

He has to pull back an inch because Lando’s dropping his head back on a moan, baring his neck for Oscar to bury his head in. It helps to stave off his quickly approaching orgasm, not being able to see Lando’s gorgeous face for a second.

As his hips pick up speed, Lando starts to scratch down his back, unable to contain his mewls of pleasure. Once Oscar has gained back enough composure, he lifts his head to get a good look at him.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he tells him, voice shaky from the exertion of holding himself together. Lando blinks back at him and it looks like he doesn’t fully believe him. “I’m serious, Lan. You’re so perfect that it genuinely hurts to look at you sometimes.”

Lando’s eyes get teary then, and for one second, Oscar thinks that he’s done something wrong. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” comes Lando’s watery reply. “No one’s ever– nobody makes me feel like you do.”

Oscar is so elated by that, he almost feels like crying too. Instead, he ducks down to join their lips once again. Just like Lando said, even just kissing him feels better than anything Oscar’s ever experienced before. All of his firsts – losing his virginity to the girl he thought he was in love with, exploring his sexuality by trying new things – all of it pales in comparison to simply being here with Lando.

They moan into each other’s mouth, barely even kissing now, until Oscar can’t ignore the growing feeling in his tummy. He pulls away to straighten up, Lando chasing his lips as he goes.

“You gonna come for me?” Lando asks, sultry.

Oscar nods, wrapping a hand around Lando’s cock and pumping his fist in time with his thrusts. “You first,” he tells Lando.

Almost on command, Lando throws his head back, coming across his belly and Oscar’s hand.

Between the spasming of his hole, the sight of him reaching orgasm, the sounds of his pleasure, Oscar’s a goner. It only takes two more thrusts for him to come into the condom, having to shut his eyes tight because the intensity in Lando’s gaze is too much for him.

Once he rides out his high, he carefully pulls out, making sure he doesn’t hurt Lando. He ties the condom off, tossing it somewhere on the ground and immediately pulls Lando into his arms.

Lando goes easily, curling up on his chest and tilting his head up to meet Oscar’s eyes.

This is typically the moment where Oscar feels like he needs to run away and hide, get himself alone in fear of the intimacy that comes after sex.

With Lando in his arms, there’s no place he’d rather be. This part may even be better than the sex itself. He’s never felt more comfortable laid bare for someone else's eyes. An easy silence washes over them and Oscar finally feels at peace.

—

Lando sleeps over, borrowing some of Oscar’s clothes to sleep in for the night.

In the morning, before Oscar’s fully conscious, he manages to convince himself that yesterday’s events were just a really lovely dream. That is until Lando starts to shift around from behind him, his chest pressed to Oscar’s back. Oscar’s never been much of a cuddler in bed, even less a little spoon, yet the feeling of being wrapped up in Lando’s arms makes him feel safer than he’s ever felt.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder, and Lando’s already smiling back at him before he’s fully opened his eyes.

They have sleepy morning sex, morning breath be damned.

After, Lando lazes around in Oscar’s bed while he gets ready for a day at the factory. As he putters around the room to make himself presentable, his eyes keep on moving back to Lando in his bed. This is what it’s supposed to feel like, how sex is supposed to go. It’s just a small part of a larger blessing.

He drives Lando back to his apartment on his way to work. They say their goodbyes with the promise of seeing each other later tonight.

Oscar spends his morning counting down the minutes before he gets to see Lando again. He may have kicked his sex addiction, but in turn, has found a new addiction within Lando. He can’t bring himself to care.

His phone buzzes a few times in his pocket as he walks out of one of his many meetings. He has about fifteen minutes to spare before the next thing on his agenda.

He pulls out his phone as he walks down the hall, a couple messages and a photo attachment from Lando.

what are you up to?

The next message is a photo and Oscar almost crashes into the person in front of him when he sees what it is.

The photo is of Lando. Well, his lower half. Lando’s sat at his desk, the curve of his erection distinct beneath the fabric of his pants with the way Lando’s large hand is gripping it.

i miss you

Oscar practically sprints to one of the private bathrooms, already dialing Lando’s number.

As it rings, Oscar distantly thinks about the fact that Lando is also a recovering sex addict. He might have just awoken the beast. His tummy flutters with satisfaction at the proof that Lando needs him just as bad as Oscar does.

“Hello!” Lando picks up, voice light and airy, as if he has no idea what he’s doing to Oscar.

“Jesus Christ, Lan. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lando giggles. “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom with a massive erection. Thanks to you.”

Lando’s voice drops into something teasing. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet.”

“Good boy,” Lando praises. Oscar’s head knocks back into the wall, knees almost giving out.

“Can I?” Oscar asks.

The phone buzzes against Oscar’s cheek, pulling it back to see that Lando is now trying to video call him. He answers, met with Lando’s smirking face. “Show me.”

He flips the camera around, pointing it down at his crotch while using his other hand to pull his pants down. His hand lingers in the air by his dick, waiting for permission.

“Go on, Osc.” Lando’s own phone is propped up against something on his desk. Oscar can’t see his lap, but he can see the way his arm is slowly moving up and down.

When he wraps his hand around his cock, he has to bite down on his lip to suppress the moan threatening to bubble out.

Lando’s arm picks up speed as he watches. “Wanna hear you,” he mumbles.

“There’s people around,” Oscar whispers, jerking himself off faster.

“I don’t care. How bad do you want it?”

“So bad,” Oscar moans. “I wish you were here with me.”

“Just a few more hours, Osc. Wanna suck you off when I see you. See how fast I can make you come.”

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar groans. With how fast Oscar’s approaching orgasm, Lando could probably lap at his cock for thirty seconds and he'd be shooting off.

“Please, Lando. Wanna suck you off too. Wanna eat you out, fuck you after. Would you fuck me? Please tell me you would,” Oscar babbles, too far gone to care if someone hears him.

Lando can’t see anything but his dick, but based on the way he’s grinning, he must know that his desperation is written all over his face. “Yeah, baby. I can fuck you. Whatever you want. Be good and come for me, I’ll reward you later.”

Oscar comes in an instant, sliding down the wall and grimacing when his bare ass touches the cold tiles of the bathroom. He flips the camera back to his face while he catches his breath and watches Lando stroke himself to completion.

“Fuck, Oscar. You’re so fucking hot,” he chuckles as he frantically pumps himself. “Gonna make you feel so good later. Just you wait.”

Oscar watches with wide eyes as he watches Lando come. His dick twitches in an attempt to get hard again when he sees Lando bring his messy fingers up to his mouth, licking them off.

“I’m addicted to you,” Oscar says against his better judgement.

Lando laughs in delight. “That makes two of us.”