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The car ride back to the hotel was eerily quiet after leaving the circuit. Oscar was staring out the window, his shoulders just as tense as the set of his jaw whenever Lando dared to glance over at him.
At least he’d finished the damn race.
Honestly, Lando was shocked that he’d been able to keep his cool as well as he did through media given his mental state and internal monologue. He’d been pissed off since before the lights even went out that afternoon - the call to start on inters made absolutely no fucking sense the more time went on, and any hopes he had of finishing somewhere even halfway decent were crushed as soon as he had to pit.
And all of that was before his car even shit the bed.
The more races passed that season, the more Lando felt like catching up to Mercedes was an impossible task. And Canada had been nothing but a slap in the face - kicking him while he was already down. It all felt like a cruel joke.
As the car pulled into the lot and they both got out, it took all of Lando’s self-restraint to not make some unnecessarily shitty comments to the fans waiting outside the building. Given that he really wasn’t in the mood for a stern talking to by the PR team though, he kept his mouth shut, dejectedly signing a couple hats that were being held out to him as he walked by towards the entrance.
Oscar didn’t seem to have as much patience, keeping his eyes trained ahead of him while he kept walking into the building.
Asshole.
He knew it was unfair to be thinking that negatively about him right then; he hadn’t done anything wrong - well, besides the crash with Alex, but that was beside the point - but Lando needed somewhere to put his frustration. The rest of the team wasn’t around, so it made it easy to project any negative thoughts onto him, even if he didn’t fully deserve it.
Lando caught up to Oscar once he entered the building, falling in step with him out of habit more than anything else while they made their way over to the elevator.
“...That was fucked,” Oscar murmured once the door had closed in front of them, jamming the button for their floor forcefully with his thumb.
“No shit. At least you finished,” Lando snapped back immediately, not holding back the glare he shot in his direction.
“Oh, fuck off. We both did a shit job, not everything has to be a goddamn competition.”
Lando’s eyes widened, shoving Oscar’s shoulder just hard enough to move him slightly. “I didn’t do a shit job, though! Fuckin’ hell, I did fine, I took the goddamn lead at the start! You made a stupid call in T10, my gearbox fucked itself. Big frickin’ difference there, mate.”
Oscar didn’t reply right away, instead immediately grabbing Lando’s shoulders and pushing him hard against the wall of the elevator. The breath punched out of Lando’s lungs immediately at the impact, but he didn’t try to move away, just staring back at him incredulously while he grabbed onto the fabric at the front of Oscar’s hoodie.
The sudden proximity felt near suffocating in the confinement of the elevator, both of them breathing a bit too heavily and their faces a bit too close for Lando’s liking. But before either of them could say anything, the lift slowed to a stop, a loud ding indicating that they’d arrived to their floor. Oscar quickly let go and shoved himself away right before the doors began opening, turning right around and exiting while Lando watched him leave - still frozen in place for a moment.
He didn’t miss the way Oscar’s fingers flexed by his side as he started walking down the hallway.
Once he’d finally gotten to his own room, Lando spent several minutes pacing the length of it just to try to burn off some of the lingering energy and adrenaline still coursing through his body. It didn’t work nearly as well as he was banking on, given that while he paced the only thing on his mind was how goddamn annoying it was that Oscar had just walked off in the middle of an argument with no closure.
Which is exactly how he found himself storming over to Oscar’s door not even fifteen minutes after he’d gotten there.
He hadn’t thought it through at all, honestly. He didn’t have a plan, no vague script of rationalities or insults, definitely not an apology - but he knew damn well their conversation wasn’t finished yet. When he knocked sharply on the door it only took a few seconds before Oscar quickly pulled it open, looking very clearly still pissed off.
“What do you want?” He asked dryly, his jaw set tight.
“We’re not done talking. You can’t fuckin’ storm off like that and expect me to drop it.”
Oscar crossed his arms over his chest, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally replying with a quiet, clipped, “fine,” before turning on his heel and walking back into the room. He didn’t bother holding the door open for Lando, leaving him to quickly push it back open to enter before it had time to shut in front of him.
Lando immediately walked over to where Oscar was standing with his arms still crossed defensively. “Y’know what pisses me off more than anything? The fact that you’re standing here like you don’t even give a shit. All fuckin’ smug and detached like none of this even means anything to you,” he snapped, earning an immediate eye roll from Oscar. “At least when you fuck up, people still make excuses for you.”
The last line he added seemed to bother Oscar more than the rest of it, his expression shifting while he let out a sharp breath.
“You always do this. Acting like everyone and everything is against you when something goes wrong. You’re not a fuckin’ child, Lando, stop acting like-”
“I’m the child? Jesus, please. Least I didn’t bottle the fuckin’ title with a 34 point lead.”
Oscar seemed to freeze at that, and Lando felt a bit guilty as soon as the words had left his mouth. But before he could even catch up to what was happening, he felt Oscar’s hand land hard across his face. The force of the slap had Lando clutching his cheek immediately, instinctively taking a step back while he stared at him with wide eyes.
It only took another second before Lando was stepping back in again, shoving hard at Oscar’s chest. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Oscar stumbled back just slightly before catching himself, immediately grabbing Lando’s shirt and pulling him forward quickly enough to nearly throw them both off balance.
“You don’t get to- You can’t say shit like that and act surprised,” he snapped, breathing hard.
“Right, ‘cause you’re so mature-”
Lando’s words caught when Oscar suddenly grabbed his jaw like he was going to shove him back away again, but neither of them moved. His other hand was still twisted tightly in the fabric of Lando’s shirt, holding his body close enough to his own that he could practically hear Oscar breathing. They stayed like that for a torturously long few moments, the silence feeling much more deafening than it had in the car earlier on.
Lando didn’t know exactly what he had been expecting to happen - but it definitely wasn’t for Oscar to lunge forward and close the remaining small amount of distance between them, kissing him hard.
He gasped into his mouth instinctively at the whiplash of it, Oscar’s hand still firmly holding his head in place by his jaw. Not that Lando had even thought about moving away, though. Sure, he'd thought about kissing him before (probably more times than could be considered normal or casual), but definitely not like this. When his mind finally caught up enough to reciprocate however, it was solely in an attempt to regain dominance over the situation. He moved his hands back to Oscar’s chest to try to push him back against the wall while he kissed him back - more teeth and tongue than anything else - but Oscar seemed to have already been bracing for the impact, not moving from where he stood.
Finally, Oscar pulled back away, both of them panting slightly to catch their breath. His hand let go of Lando’s jaw, moving down to his hip instead, while his eyes darted around his face.
“I’m not the fuckin’ enemy here. Stop treating me like I am,” he breathed, his grip near bruising where he held onto him.
Lando swallowed hard while he glanced down to where Oscar’s lips were red and slightly swollen, feeling completely clueless as to what the hell either of them were doing right then. It all felt like some bizarre, stress induced post-race fever dream.
All he knew was that he wanted to do it again.
Lando didn’t reply to him, opting to just lean back in and close the distance between them again with just as much force as the first time. This time, however, it was just slightly slower - more intentional, less fight for dominance while staying just as hungry and frustrated.
Too caught up in the moment to be anticipating it, Lando didn’t have time to react before Oscar quickly maneuvered him back to push him down onto the bed. He gasped from the sudden impact, immediately propping himself up onto his elbows, but Oscar was moving on top of him just seconds later to straddle his lap. Lando tried to hook a leg around him to flip their positions with a frustrated grunt of effort, but his efforts got him nowhere when his shoulders were suddenly being pinned down to the bed. It really wasn’t fair that Oscar had always been just a bit stronger than he was.
When Lando finally gave up on his attempts to get the physical upper hand, he took a moment to look up at Oscar while he caught his breath. He looked undeniably wrecked; a sharp contrast from the composed picture of steadiness he normally was day to day. It brought Lando a twisted sort of satisfaction to finally see him come undone like this, and it felt even better that he was the cause for it.
The silence stretched on long enough to make Lando’s skin crawl slightly, and he was starting to feel desperate to fill it.
“What the fuck are we doing? What is this?” He murmured breathlessly, though he didn’t really care to know the answer.
His eyes dropped down to Oscar’s throat briefly, watching the movement of it as he swallowed.
“I’m fuckin’ shutting you up for once in your life. ‘Cause clearly you don’t know how to,” Oscar replied, his tone still edged with an undeniable sharpness. As vitriolic as he sounded though, he let go of Lando’s shoulders to begin trailing up his sides under his shirt gently enough to make Lando’s stomach twist, the feeling of it sending a shiver down his spine while he inhaled sharply.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if you weren’t being so goddamn- Fuck-” The words immediately caught in Lando’s throat when he felt Oscar drag his thumb over his nipple, intentionally applying pressure as he did so.
“Lando. Shut the fuck up.”
Something about Oscar saying that, along with the roughness of his voice, sent a wave of heat shooting through Lando’s body to his abdomen immediately. He opened his mouth to reply before promptly closing it once again, nodding just barely perceptably.
“Better,” Oscar muttered, bringing his hand back down a few inches to roll his nipple between his thumb and index finger this time.
Lando’s back arched off the bed, a choked back moan leaving his throat involuntarily while he squeezed his eyes shut. “Jesus- Osc, don’t-”
Oscar’s hand paused its movements at his words, but he kept his nipple pinched loosely between his fingers, drawing another breathy noise from Lando while he squirmed under him on the bed.
“If you want me to stop then say it.”
Lando’s expression contorted slightly, his fingers twisting into the duvet at his sides while he pried his eyes back open to look up at Oscar, but he didn’t say anything. He wanted desperately to argue back just to prove some kind of point, but god, he didn’t want Oscar to stop. He just wanted more - although admitting that felt like admitting defeat altogether.
At Lando’s lack of response and the undeniable pleading expression on his face, Oscar hummed softly, moving his hand to the other side of his chest and pinching his other nipple between his fingers.
“‘S what I thought,” he breathed, rolling his hips down against Lando’s just slightly. The noise that left him this time was nothing short of obscene, almost a sob, his body arching up off the bed once again to try to meet the contact.
Once Oscar noticed him trying to chase the friction he pulled back immediately, moving his hands back to Lando’s sides and tutting down at him. The lack of contact, the refusal of giving more, felt infuriating for Lando - who was now (to his own frustration) desperately hard under his jeans. As he glared up at Oscar he made a split second decision to grab his wrist, yanking him down hard to pull him into another heated kiss. Thankfully, Oscar granted him that much at least, although he was easily able to free his wrist with how boneless Lando went when he licked into his mouth.
After a few more moments - or, maybe minutes, Lando couldn’t really tell - Oscar started kissing down his neck while he slowly began to roll his hips back down onto him again. Lando’s brain went nearly fuzzy, completely lost in the sensation while he tilted his head back against the mattress, one hand moving up to grab tightly onto Oscar’s hair. Intentionally harder than what would’ve been kind, given that he was still pissed off that Oscar was managing to affect him so easily.
Maybe what bothered him more than anything right then was how he knew Oscar knew him so damn well, in and out, on and off track, that he knew exactly how to get to him right then somehow. Long before this, he’d often had a nagging suspicion that Oscar could somehow read his goddamn mind. Sometimes it felt like he knew him better than Lando even knew himself. It felt stupid, but in that moment, it had been even more glaringly obvious that Oscar knew exactly how to make him tick. The thought had Lando pausing for a moment, still damn near panting and his hand still tangled in Oscar’s hair while he pried his eyes open to blink up at the ceiling a couple times.
Like some cruel joke from the universe, Oscar somehow seemed to pick up on Lando’s slight change in energy even with his face tucked into his neck. He pulled his head back just enough to be able to see his face, not saying anything, just looking at him with a nearly blank, unreadable expression.
Lando looked down through his lashes to meet his gaze while he loosened his grip in his hair just slightly.
“‘M sorry I said that shit,” he muttered, barely audible, his voice already slightly wrecked. He hated apologizing; it felt shitty to have to admit that he’d actually done something wrong, but he did genuinely feel a bit guilty about letting himself shoot for something so petty earlier - as pissed as he’d been.
Oscar didn’t answer for a couple long moments, then tucked his face back into Lando’s neck to nip at his pulse point just hard enough to draw a quiet squeak out of him.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he murmured against his skin between kisses. “It’s- Fine. Just don’t fuckin’ do it again.”
Lando nodded quickly, letting his eyes close again while he tilted his head back. And, thank fucking god, Oscar started grinding his hips back down against him - harder now - but the friction was nearly torturous at this stage with how badly he needed his goddamn clothes off. Another breathy moan left his throat, moving his hands up to Oscar’s shoulderblades, his nails biting into him slightly even through the fabric of his shirt.
“Fuckin’- Jesus, stop teasing, I can’t- I need to-” He stuttered out after another minute, his words breathy and hoarse.
“Need’ta what?” Oscar breathed before sucking a small mark at the base of his neck, taking at least some consideration to make sure it was low enough that it would be covered by his suit during races and media.
“Fuck off, you know,” he choked out, his hips stuttering up again towards the contact. He could feel Oscar smirk against his skin, the bastard, but he didn’t stop his movements.
“What, scared you’re gonna come already ‘r something?”
Lando gasped when Oscar suddenly shifted back just enough to reach a hand down to palm at his erection through his jeans instead, his nails dragging down his back a bit.
Because honestly, yeah, at this stage he was a bit worried about that.
“I- Oscar, please, I’m not- Fuck, I’m not fucking around,” he pleaded, his hips continuing to involuntarily jut up towards the contact. The heat in his abdomen was building quickly against his own will, desperate for more, and mortified that he was falling apart so quickly just from this.
“If you wanna come, ‘s gonna happen like this. Should consider yourself lucky I’m even letting you at all,” Oscar retorted, pulling his head back and sitting up slightly so he could watch Lando properly.
Lando’s expression contorted immediately, letting out another near sob. Oscar’s hand had only continued to speed up, stroking his length over the denim at a steady pace while he stared down at him. It made Lando feel terrifyingly vulnerable being perceived so closely and intimately by him of all people, especially now that he was starting to fall apart even further, writhing slightly on the bed under his hand.
“Oscar, please, please, I’m- Please, c’mon.” He felt pathetic begging, especially with his voice coming out wrecked enough that he barely even recognized it, but he had nearly no control of his body at that stage. He felt outside himself completely, acting solely out of desperation.
“No. You’re gonna come like this. Stop complaining and take it,” Oscar goaded, using his free hand to undo his own jeans before putting two fingers up to Lando’s mouth which was already hanging open. He instinctively closed his lips around them, letting out a choked, muffled noise when Oscar pressed down on his tongue slightly.
Oscar cursed under his breath at the sight of him as well as the feeling of the hot, wet heat of his mouth. As tempting as it was to keep them there, he pulled his fingers back out to take his own cock out from his boxers, using the saliva as lubricant to ease the glide as he began stroking himself with a stifled groan.
Lando watched him with a contorted expression, not bothering to wipe off the spit that had fallen onto his chin when Oscar removed his fingers. It felt so completely unfair watching him like this was he was right on the goddamn edge with no similar relief, but it was also made the hottest thing Lando had ever seen. His heart was racing in his chest, the muscles in his abdomen beginning to constrict as the pressure grew.
“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll fuck you later, too,” Oscar murmured breathlessly, his pace picking up speed on both himself and Lando.
Hearing that, the possibility of it, was all it took to immediately send Lando over the edge. He let out a cry as his hips began stuttering unevenly up against his hand, spilling into his jeans while he choked on air for a second. It felt like the aftershocks lasted forever, panting while his fingers twisted in the fabric of the duvet, his legs trembling slightly. As he finally began coming down, the overstimulating pleasure melting into solely overstimulation, he forced his eyes back open just in time to see Oscar’s hips jutting forward into his own fist while he came onto Lando’s shirt with a muttered string of curses under his breath.
Lando’s eyes never broke away as he watched Oscar work through it, his heart racing even faster in his chest as reality began to hit him. That this had actually just happened, that it was still happening - and that Oscar had even been considering seriously fucking him later, even if he’d only just said it in the heat of the moment.
After Oscar tucked himself back into his boxers he climbed off of Lando, collapsing down beside him on the bed. It was Lando that decided to pull himself against his side, neither of them saying anything yet - but he felt no obligation to fill the silence right away like he had earlier.
Oscar wrapped an arm around him after a moment while he continued catching his breath, his thumb lightly stroking circles into Lando’s side under the hem of his shirt while he closed his eyes.
“...I should prolly go shower,” Lando finally said after a few minutes, his voice barely audible. He didn’t want to leave yet, not at all really, but he sort of wanted to crawl out of his skin from the feeling of the come now sticky and cold in his boxers.
It took Oscar a couple moments to respond, like he’d had to consider his words before saying them.
“Shower here. ‘M not done with you yet.”
Lando exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching where they were resting on the firm muscles of Oscar’s stomach. He didn’t have to think twice before nodding in agreement.
Maybe there actually had been some good that came from the team's shitty strategy calls that day.