Archive of Our Own

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It was the heat, this awful, unbearable heat, that left Lando idle and bored. Their countryside house was not built for the warmth of recent summers, designed to keep the heat trapped inside as if they lived under a magnifying glass. Sprawled across the living room sofa, Lando was pretending to read a book as he listened to his sister play the piano in the study a few rooms away, door open so that anyone could listen. She was talented, trained in music and ballet from a young age, which developed a kind of grace in her that made her appear soft, almost fragile. Even the music she played became soft just from being touched by her.

He put the book down. Folded in a corner to remember where he left off and tossed it onto the coffee table. Almost to the rhythm of the piano, he could hear the thu-thump thu-thump thu-thump of hooves on grass outside; the sounds of his other sister preparing for the first contest of the summer. He admired her ability to bear the heat just to ride her horse.

Lando could use going outside, too. But he should find a way to sneak past his parents so they don't grab him and force him to help around the house. He didn't feel like gardening, but a dip in the lake sounded nice. He pulled his shirt up a little bit to let his heated skin breathe.

In the entryway, the front door opened with a high creak. "Listen to her," came the muffled voice of their dad. "She wrote this one on her own. It doesn't even sound like anything you've ever heard before."

He expected the words of their mother next, something equally as loaded with praise, but what came next was a low timbre and a soft Australian accent that Lando had never heard before. "She's brilliant."

The voice alone made him sit up on the sofa, adjusting his shirt to lie flat again and running his fingers through his curls a couple of times. He even adjusted the pillows he'd been lying on to appear as if he wasn't there at all.

Footsteps walked along the foyer towards the living room, and a casual conversation continued between his father and the stranger. He didn't even dare move, didn't dare run, because where would he go? They were walking past the stairwell, leaving Lando no way to go up to his room, and wherever he would hide on the ground floor could be shown off as a house tour, if this was that kind of meeting.

So he sat. Silent and still and well-behaved. He waited to be faced with this stranger his father had brought into their home.

As they rounded the corner into the living room, Lando's eyes locked on the man next to his dad. Tall and handsome, younger than his father but clearly older than him, with crow's feet at the corners of his gentle brown eyes and greys at his temple. Broad in the shoulders but trim in the waist, talking with his hands as he conversed with Lando's father. His voice sounded so good; his lips shaped each word perfectly. His jaw was sharp-cut; it had Lando wishing he could run his fingers along it and feel his stubble.

They paused when they saw Lando.

"I didn't know you had a son, too."

"Two, actually, but Oliver was too busy with his own thing to come up here this summer. He runs his own company now, and you know how that is. This is my younger son, Lando."

Lando scrambled off the sofa and walked up to the two men, hand extended awkwardly to shake with the handsome stranger.

"Oscar Piastri just moved to the street. He also works in business! I wanted to introduce him to the family."

Oscar Piastri's hand was warm, slightly calloused, and it fit perfectly into Lando's palm.

"Nice to meet you, Lando," he said with a smile that pulled his lips to the right, and Lando…

Lando was frozen in place like a dumb rock, mouth slightly ajar and blinking quickly.

His dad cleared his throat, looking at him pointedly, which made him wet his lips and swallow whatever inappropriate words were trying to climb to the surface. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Piastri."

His dad went on about his new friend, how he was also a car guy, how he ran his father's tech company, how he bought a house here only a week ago. The whole time, Lando was only half listening, too focused on how good-looking Oscar was. Even his name was so special.

"Let me show you the rest of the house," his dad said finally, this time to Oscar, pulling him forward with an arm around his shoulder.

"I'll see you around, Lando." The man gave him another smile that had butterflies fluttering in his tummy before moving on.

That's how summer started for Lando. With a meeting that left his head reeling and his fantasies running wild. That night, he lay awake in his bed, thinking about broad shoulders and strong arms dwarfing him in an embrace. Soft, pink lips against his own, that deep Australian voice whispering in his ear. Oscar seemed so sweet; Lando wondered if he would call him a good boy. And how old was he, really? Just from looking at him, Lando assumed somewhere in his 30's. Would he mind the age gap?

God, Lando wanted him. He wanted this guy badly. And… really, what was stopping him from getting him?

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To cure his unbearable boredom, Lando decided one day that he would take a stroll around town. He put on shorts, a colourful, floral shirt and sunglasses, a camera strap hanging from his neck to complete the outfit. He didn't tell anyone where he was going, because no one asked; he just walked out of the house, off the damned property where time wasn't even a concept.

The sun was beating down on his back, and the smell of freshly cut grass mixed with pure heat hit him as he made his way down the street, recognising the handful of stone houses that had stood there for longer than he—or his parents—had been alive. He was familiar with all of them by now. One of them always had an old, sky-blue Bel Air parked in the driveway, which his father had always been jealous of. One had a tall oak tree that stood directly in front of the street-facing windows, and Lando loved stealing chestnuts from there when he was little. One huge mansion, which smelled overwhelmingly like chlorine from their pool in the backyard—Lando had only seen it once when the owners hosted a grill party years ago; it was a bust, so he never went again. One belonged to a sweet older couple, who he'd had a handful of conversations with before. They were always nice to Lando, and their grandchildren would sometimes come over to the Norris ranch to pet the horses.

Then there was this one house, closer in size to the old couple's, and it had stood empty for the past two summers they'd come up here after the original owner passed away. But now there was a car parked in front, a black Mustang with its hood popped open, and in front of it, a man bent over, sweat sticking his shirt to his back.

Lando didn't even think before picking up his camera and lining it up for a shot. The man hard at work in the dead centre, the beautiful car almost an afterthought compared to the irresistible line of strong shoulders and narrow waist. The shutter clicked, loud enough to be heard in the silence that always blanketed this neighbourhood.

The man turned around, and—

Well. Wasn't that a familiar face?

"G'day," he greeted with his brows quirked, a question more than a greeting.

Lando smiled. "Hello, Mr. Piastri! Sorry, didn't realise that was you."

Oscar wiped his dirty hands on a stained rag and leaned against the car's chassis. His jaw kept twitching, as if he were mulling over Lando's fate. "Do you usually take pictures of strangers, then?"

"I take pictures of everything pretty," Lando explained. "And, well, you make quite a sight with that car."

"Gate's open. Come here so I don't have to yell."

Lando didn't need to be told twice; he lunged into action and walked up to the heavy iron gate that opened with a high-pitched whine. Walking up to Oscar, the smell of motor oil hit him. He pretended to be more interested in the car rather than the tense muscles of Oscar's biceps and forearms crossed in front of his chest.

"Who's this beauty?" he asked as he slowly made his way around the vehicle. The outside was immaculate, raven black; the interior a dark red. The body crouched low to the ground like it was ready to pounce; like a predator, sleek but aggressive. The roofline tapered down towards the back in an elegant, unbroken curve. Lando allowed himself to swipe a single finger down its line.

"Ford Mustang Fastback from 1966," Oscar replied. "With a slight upgrade around the engine block."

Lando rounded the car and eventually ended up on Oscar's other side. The older man kept his eyes fixated on him, unimpressed but still curious. "Very pretty," Lando concluded. "You're a car guy as well, huh? My dad, too."

"I know, that's how we got to talking."

"Have you let him drive it yet?"

Oscar huffed with laughter. "It'll take him a while to wear me down."

"Trust me, he will. He's very persistent." Lando let his eyes rake over Oscar's entire form. He looked so leisurely, standing there in a stained white T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and the exposed skin had Lando's mouth watering. "That's something we have in common, my dad and I. We're both determined to get what we want."

Oscar humoured him. "And what do you want? A ride in my car, as well? Or more pictures?"

"To ask if I can take you for a tour around town. Dad mentioned you haven't been here for long; I could show you around."

Lando rocked on the balls of his feet with a coy smile, head purposefully angled so he had to look up at Oscar through his lashes. One of the oldest tricks in the book that always got him everything, and sure enough, it wasn't failing him now. Oscar's lips pulled into a smile, and his arms fell by his sides, almost like walls crumbling visibly.

"I'll change," the man said finally, before pushing away from the car and closing the hood.

Lando waited outside, because of course Oscar didn't invite him in. Weird guy, he was, touring all of the Norris ranch, apart from his and his siblings' bedrooms, but of course, Lando couldn't see where he lived.

He was used to secrecy from older men. They liked staying mysterious; some because they thought it gave them an edge, some because they were scared to open up, and some because they actually had something to hide. A history, a crime, a family.

Not that Lando minded any of them. He usually didn't nurse any deeper feelings for the guys he slept with. They searched for surface-level relationships, and so did Lando. He just wanted someone to make him feel pretty, feel seen, feel adored. Older guys, they could do that well. They had practice in it. Some of them could make Lando feel like he was the only person in the world who mattered, even if they had a wife and kids at home. He didn't care; that wasn't his responsibility. He just wanted someone to fill that void.

Oscar could do that, he reckoned.

Finally, this ghost town, where nothing ever happened, became interesting. Finally, Lando could do something to pass the endless summer.

When Oscar emerged from the house and descended the steps that led up to the front door, he wore a maroon T-shirt tucked into a pair of loose beige trousers. Lando wanted to question where the shorts had gone—they looked so good riding up Oscar's muscular thighs—but maybe that would be too far for now. He just smiled and appreciated the dark maroon contrasting against pale skin.

"Lead the way," Oscar insisted, and Lando did.

Walking back out to the street, Lando continued his trek into the town, shoulder to shoulder with the older man. "So, I don't know much about the history, because I never bothered to learn, but I have walked up and down this place at least fifty times since I was five, so I know my way around."

"I hope you weren't walking alone at the ripe age of five," Oscar joked, but it fell flat.

"No, I did. Well, sometimes my brother would come with, but not always. Don't ask the locals how many times they had to return me to the ranch."

They arrived at a crossroad in front of the tall weeping willow. The same tree Lando once got stuck on when he was younger. "Which way do you want to go, into the town, or down towards the lake?"

Oscar pursed his lips. "Towards the town, probably. Save the lake for another time."

Lando smirked. "Good idea."

It became apparent to Lando quickly that Oscar wasn't one for chit-chat. The man walked along with him quietly, not saying a word, just looking at the green treetops with his hands tucked into his pockets. Lando, however, couldn't stand the silence.

"What made you move here?"

Oscar glanced at him briefly before turning his attention back to the scenery. "I needed a change of pace. The big city is nice and all, until you feel like your head never fully quiets because it's filled with to-do lists and the sounds of phone calls and traffic jams. I needed a summer of relaxation."

"It can get too much sometimes, yeah. But over here, it's the exact opposite."

"Yeah, I love that." Oscar breathed in, slow and deep, then let the air out in a rush. "It smells fresh, the town's clean, the noises are quieter—in fact, it's almost nonexistent."

"That's not what I mean." Lando fiddled with his camera, just to give something for his hands to do. "It's good, the quiet, sure, but it gets so boring. There's, like, nothing to do."

Oscar let loose an amused smile. "I'm sure that's not true."

"I'll show you just how much you can do here, yeah?"

As they strolled into town, sunshine nipping at their nape, the sweet scent of bluebells and hydrangeas welcomed them. It was busier here, if you can even call it that—people riding bikes passed by them, the sound of kids playing in backyards travelled over hedgefences, and sometimes they even saw an occasional car drive by. They turned a corner and followed the brook running through towards the centre of town.

"There's the grocery shop, but I assume you've found that by now." Lando pointed towards an orange building with vines growing up the awning. "There's a small rec centre around the corner, right next to the school. They host board game nights every second Friday; it's a big hit."

"Sounds wild."

"Oh, it is! Mrs. Ackerley and I had a big fight over backgammon one time."

He couldn't help the big, satisfied grin spreading over his face at the sound of Oscar's genuine, wheezy laughter.

Deeper into the town, they found more people littered around the place. Kids chasing each other around the park, teenagers crowded around the railing of the bridge over the brook, all smoking rolled cigarettes. Lando lined up a shot and took a picture of the moment of a cigarette passing between two girls.

"Do you smoke?" he asked after passing the group, pointing towards a street to their left. "There's a shop down that way."

"I'm trying to quit."

Lando hummed. "Noble."

"Do you smoke?"

"Occasionally. I'll hold myself back, though. Wouldn't want to tempt you." At that, he shot a wide-eyed, coy look at Oscar, but the man quickly looked away from him.

Oscar cleared his throat and nodded with his head towards a small crowd gathered in front of a tall, brick building. "What's that?"

"That is the heart of this town, sir." With his camera, he zoomed in on the crowd gathered at the door, the broad branches of an oak tree obstructing half of the shot. The old sign on the building was just barely visible behind it. "Blackbear, our lovely little pub. The beer is always good, but the food is terrible."

"I hate cooking for myself, so I'll definitely be getting myself used to their food."

Lando's attention piqued. "Oh? So, um… you're alone? No girlfriend, wife?"

"Nope." Oscar's lips pressed together into a tight line. "All by my lonesome."

They continued walking down the tree-lined main road towards the church. Lando told Oscar about a time a couple of his friends came down here, and they hosted a party at the pub; how they ended up throwing up out back and how Lando hadn't been able to look at a lemon cake since then. Oscar didn't laugh like he did, but he smiled the entire way and followed Lando's every movement with a look in his eyes that made him feel… well, seen, he supposed.

"And, finally, the church." He came to a stop to take a picture of the tall bell tower, but Oscar continued walking forward. "You've officially seen everything this town has to offer."

Oscar peered over the fence covered in vines. "Is that a cemetery?"

"Oh, yeah. Wanna go in?"

"Please."

They rounded the church until they found the rickety gate. It needed a firm push, but it opened, and the eerie calmness of the cemetery settled over them. This time, it was Lando following Oscar as he walked in deeper, looking at every headstone and reading the names.

"Did you have family here, or something?" Lando pried.

"No. I just like cemeteries."

"That's… not creepy at all."

Oscar laughed again, a soft little thing that shook his broad shoulders. "It's because of the serenity. Just listen."

They paused, and Oscar closed his eyes, turning his face up towards the bright sky. Lando did the same, eyes slipping shut and listening.

"I can't hear shit," came the answer soon after.

"That's just it." Oscar found a bench. An old, wooden thing that barely stood on its legs anymore, yet he was brave enough to collapse into it. The seat moved with his weight. "What's more peaceful than a place where no one speaks anymore? No noise, no bother. Just silence and the fresh air."

Lando followed him, though tentatively, and sat down next to him.

"I still don't know what you don't like about this place," Oscar said.

"I just proved to you how boring it is." Lando gesticulated around them. "The most exciting thing we can do this afternoon is sit in a fricking cemetery and look at dead people."

It filled him with so much pride whenever he heard Oscar giggle at him now. Lando wanted to drown in the sound of it.

"Plus it's small," he continued. "Everyone knows everyone, and since there's nothing else to do, all people can busy themselves with is getting all up in one another's business. Like living under a magnifying glass." He fiddled with his camera, scrolled through the pictures he'd taken before turning it off. "It's difficult, being queer in this environment."

"Being queer is difficult in most places," Oscar sighed, and Lando instantly perked up.

"Are you…?"

"Yeah, I'm uh… bi. It's sort of an open secret. I don't like talking about it, but I don't deny it or anything. I just like privacy." His gaze turned to Lando then. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm as gay as they come. If you opened a dictionary, my picture would be next to the word."

Oscar giggled again. Lando thought he'd never heard someone laugh this much at a cemetery. "We've got to stick together, then, right? Queers help the queers?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Piastri."

"Just Oscar is fine."

Lando bit his lip to fight a too-wide smile threatening to betray him. "Alright. Oscar."

They stayed in the cemetery for another hour, talking about religion and philosophy. It was probably the deepest conversation Lando had had with anyone in a long time. Eventually, Oscar cut the party short, claiming he still had things to do at home, so they walked back home together, chatting and joking until they had to say goodbye.

Lando couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face for the rest of the day.

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When Lando subtly hinted to his mum about Oscar wanting to eat at the pub, he didn't expect it to go so well so quickly. He thought it would take a week before the man would be invited over to eat at the Norris house, but no. Only a couple of days later, it was announced that Oscar Piastri was expected for dinner.

The fairy lights on the balcony were turned on, and his mother and sisters set the patio table for a meal. Lando was never really expected to help, more just asked to cause as few problems as he could manage. So he was being a good boy, actually, getting ready to give the man a heart attack.

He put on a sleeveless white top with some pretty necklaces. Shorts that only reached mid-thigh but he knew would ride up even higher throughout the night. He washed his hair in advance so he could put all kinds of creams and gels in it to make it especially curly and shiny. Put on the slightest hint of makeup, too, just a little bit of mascara and tinted lip gloss. The perfume was the hardest choice, though in the end he chose the subtle, powdery-sweetness of a Diptyque scent.

By dinnertime, he looked and smelled like seduction addressed specifically to one Oscar Piastri.

Walking downstairs, he ran into his father, leading Oscar through the house towards the back patio. He immediately caught Oscar's eye, though he tried not to be too smug about it.

"Good evening, Oscar," he chirped.

His father immediately pinned him with a stare, his eyes narrowing with disapproval. "Lando, you address him as Mr. Piastri. Are you… is this what you're wearing for dinner?!"

Lando feigned ignorance. "Yeah. Why? Is there something wrong?" He gave a slow spin, showing off the whole outfit while pretending like he was dusting himself off and straightening his clothes.

Oscar forced himself to talk, finally. "It's okay, Adam, I told him to call me Oscar. I'm not so much older than him, anyway. And I, uh… I think you look good, Lando."

He smiled, cheeks burning red. "Thank you."

They allowed themselves three more seconds of scorching eye contact before Lando's dad nudged Oscar along, and they made their way to the decorated terrace, where the food was ready to be served, and the girls waited with big smiles. They looked way more put together than he did; clean pastel blue and yellow dresses, hair done in braids, whereas Lando was dressed to seduce.

One of his sisters sat next to him, the other next to Oscar, who took a seat in front of Lando. Their parents at each end of the table.

Casual conversation carried on as they ate. Lando's father was always a very charismatic person, which drew words out of even Oscar. They talked a lot about their companies, and Lando tried to listen, to learn what Oscar did, but all he managed to remember was that he worked in tech—some kind of car tuning company that his dad founded and eventually left to him. He was a bigshot, apparently, because Lando's dad went into what can only be described as enthusiastic fan mode.

"So you're actually a CEO?" Lando asked eventually, interrupting the conversation. "Don't they need you at your company, then?"

"Whatever work I need to do, I do remotely. I told my employees I wouldn't be available much during the summer and they were pretty supportive. They know I've been very stressed lately; I feel like my head is exploding from all the phone calls."

Lando nodded. "Explains why you're so obsessed with quiet, then."

"Lando!" his mum scolded, but Oscar just laughed. A quiet, wheezy thing that Lando craved to hear now.

"Yeah, no, that's exactly why."

The conversation derailed and turned back to the Norris family. His dad boasted about Oliver, how he'd been doing in the world of business and whatnot. Oscar praised the boy, even though he wasn't even present, and Lando stabbed his lamb chop harder than it was necessary, utensils skidding on the plate with a painful sound. Then the girls were on the table: Flo and her talents with the horse, how she could go international in a couple of years. Cisca and her piano, the songs she'd been composing, and the ballet finally paying off. Oh, she was in the Nutcracker last winter! Gag.

It wasn't that Lando didn't love his siblings and admire their talents; it was simply their parents that left a bad taste in his mouth.

Out of nowhere, Oscar turned to him. "And what do you do?"

Lando's eyebrows flew to the middle of his forehead, caught off guard with a piece of potato in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed in a hurry as he looked around the table to find his parents' faces equally as confused as he was. Then his eyes met Oscar's again, and his lips curled up in a smile. "I'm uh… I study... I study graphic design at the University of London."

"Great school, one of my sisters studied there."

"You have sisters?"

"Three, actually. All younger."

His mother cut them off, demanding Oscar's attention with a question, "What are their names?"

Though Oscar continued talking with Lando's parents, he kept glancing back at Lando. And Lando could no longer eat anything else; his stomach was full of fluttering butterflies that raged whenever Oscar's eyes found his again. He pushed his plate away and grabbed a bottle of water. Poured some into his glass, then grabbed one of the plastic straws his mother had put out along with the drinks. Lips pursed around the straw, he drank with his cheeks hollowed like he was doing something else.

When Oscar looked at him next, he choked on his food, coughed with his eyes blown wide like he'd seen a ghost. Lando smiled smugly, throat bobbing with each sip as he continued until the glass was empty.

"Are you okay?" Flo asked in concern.

"Yeah, just—" Oscar coughed some more, then cleared his throat. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Careful, Oscar," Lando's mum advised with a playful lilt. "We haven't served dessert; you still have to eat some of that!"

"Thank you, Cisca, really. I don't think I've thanked you enough for the invite. Everything— I mean, everything is, uh…" Oscar took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, not looking up from his plate as he whispered, "Delicious."

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Humidity settled over them as the sun dipped below the horizon, the fairy lights twinkling overhead. His two sisters and his mother had left the table, carrying in the dirty dishes to wash. It left Lando alone with his father and Oscar, who somehow looked even better in the dark, the scarce lighting sharpening the features of his face and giving his hair a golden glow.

His lips moved as he spoke to Lando's father, but Lando couldn't care what was coming out of there. All he could think about was the way that man ate the fruit platter his mother had served for dessert, juices dripping down his pink lips. It would haunt Lando's sweetest dreams.

"You know, I wasn't expecting you to be this good with the hands-on stuff," his dad laughed. "You really know your way around a car."

"Of course. I grew up with the manual part of it; the tech side came later." Oscar nodded along with a soft smile.

"Could you do anything with my car? I'd pay you for it, of course."

"Maybe. Were you thinking of anything in particular?"

His dad droned on about torques and transmissions and whosits and whatsits as Oscar listened intently, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Lando noticed the twitch of his jaw, the muscles moving in his forearm as he tapped his fingers on the table, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Laser focused on this man like a predator on its prey. He needed to get closer, on top of him, under him, fucking wherever. He needed to feel the heat of Oscar's skin under his hands.

Emboldened by the sweaty heat and the secrecy of the darkness, Lando toed off his loafers and inched his feet closed and closer to Oscar under the table. Moving slowly and patiently to the heavy thudding of his own heart until he felt leather with the tip of his toe.

With the inside of his sole, Lando caressed Oscar's shin from his ankle to his knee. Above the table, Oscar's eyes flicked to him immediately, and his brows arched in something Lando recognised as a warning.

"What do you think, Oscar?" Lando's dad prompted.

As if nothing had happened, Oscar went back to the conversation fluidly. "I think it's very much doable. I have some tools around, but I don't have any parts, so that would have to be a trip to the city."

"I can call in to the nearest autobody tomorrow! Would you like to take a look at the car now?"

Lando toed at Oscar's ankle again, and this time, when he dragged his foot up, he pulled the leg of his trousers with it, exposing the soft hairs that he rubbed his sole against.

"Right now? I mean, it's pretty late…"

"You're right, you're right. I'm keeping you, aren't I?"

"It's just that I get a bit drowsy after such a big meal, you know."

Lando's dad laughed. "I know what you mean. Cisca cooks for a whole army sometimes."

"Everything was delicious, though." Oscar scooted his chair back and pulled his leg away from Lando. His foot dropped to the floor with an unexpected thud, and he hurried to put his loafers back on as well. "Please tell your wife how grateful I am for the dinner."

"You don't wanna come in for a cup of coffee, maybe?"

"Oh no, I wouldn't sleep a wink if I did that." Standing up, Oscar straightened his clothes, and he looked every bit as put together as he was when he'd arrived.

Frustrated, Lando scrunched up the tablecloth in a fist, and with that, his glass of water, which was already balancing on the table's edge, slipped off, and even though Lando caught the glass itself, its remaining contents spilt onto Lando's lap.

"Shit!" He jumped up, letting the ice-cold water drip down his thighs. His linen shorts clung to his skin, further exposing his twitching interest.

"God's sake, Lando!" his dad cursed. "What are you doing?!"

"I wasn't— I didn't mean to—"

He dismissed Lando with a single wave of his hand. "Go make yourself decent!"

"Actually…" Both of them looked to Oscar. "I was hoping he could walk me out? I had something I wanted to talk to him about."

His dad, though raised an eyebrow, didn't protest. Politely, he shook Oscar's hand as a goodbye and walked back into the house with one last suspicious look at Lando through the glass door.

Lando led Oscar without hesitation, down the stairs from the porch onto the grass, and up the driveway towards the gates. "Fucking hell, I can't believe he finally left us alone," Lando huffed out a laugh. "I gotta say, I was getting a bit impatient there."

"Yeah, I could see and feel," Oscar noted pointedly, making Lando giggle again. "You're soaked, aren't you?"

"That wasn't part of the plan, but I do look good wet, don't I?"

As they reached the gates, Lando pushed open the heavy thing, ready to walk Oscar all the way back to his place, and maybe stay for the night if the man asked nicely enough. He threw a glance back towards Oscar over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes made the wide grin on Lando's face die down instantly. His brows furrowed, puzzled as to why Oscar seemed so serious all of a sudden.

"What? Something wrong?"

"Lando." Oscar sighed. He took one tentative step closer to Lando, trapping him between the fence and a hard gaze. "You're a sweet kid, really. You're bright and funny and charming. Undeniably good-looking, of course, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed that."

That smile from earlier etched its way back onto his face, and Lando reached out to touch Oscar. Fingertips brushing over bare forearms, and oh, Oscar's skin was so warm. "I'd be lying if I said I don't like hearing that," he replied cheekily, tilting his head back against the fence to look up at Oscar.

"But."

"No buts." Desperately, Lando's hands reached further up, clawing into Oscar's shirt and pulling him closer. "We don't need buts. You fancy me, I fancy you, this is perfect!"

Oscar resisted the pull. Grabbed Lando's wrists in two gentle but firm holds and pulled the hands away from his shoulders. "Unfortunately, there are buts whether you need them or not, Lando. You're very sweet, and I really appreciate this, but I'm 38 years old, kid. And how old are you again?"

"22, but what does that matter?"

Oscar chuckled. "Lando, I could be your father."

Lando rolled his eyes. "Could you? Didn't peg you as a teen parent."

The hold on Lando's wrists tightened, and Oscar looked at him with an even firmer gaze. "Don't get cheeky with me. I'm being serious, Lando. A sixteen-year age difference is a lot. You're young, you have your life ahead of you—"

"Yeah, and you're one foot in the grave already, of course."

"Lando—"

"Oscar, be serious!" he exclaimed in frustration. "Are you really freaking out over such a— a small fucking detail?!"

"I am serious, Lando. The only person who doesn't seem to be is you."

"For Christ's sake, I'm not asking you to marry me!"

"What are you asking me, Lando?" he posed the question and gave Lando a beat to think about it before continuing. "Do you want a one-night stand? Do you want me to take you home and then what? Look into your father's eyes tomorrow like everything is fine and normal? I can't do that, I'm sorry. I've grown out of one-night stands ten years ago."

Defeated, Lando pulled his arms away from Oscar and crossed them over his chest.

"I like being your friend, Lando. I do honestly think you're lovely. But what you want from me is wrong. I can't do it."

With one last defiant sigh, he nodded. "Alright. Goodnight, Mr. Piastri." With that, he pushed himself away from the fence and closed the gate behind him.

He speed-walked back into the house. The wet clothes were getting uncomfortable now, and he needed to wash the burnt taste of rejection out of his mouth.

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The thing about Lando was that he sucked at giving up. Even as a kid, he could never take being told no. When the coach directly advised him not to join the rugby team because he was too small, he made it his mission to succeed in the team. After way too many concussions, his parents pulled him out, but he could still remember that flicker of pride in his father's eyes when he saw how valiantly he fought. Lando knew he got this stubborn vein from him.

This carried on throughout his life. Whenever someone told Lando no, it felt like they were daring him to do it. His friends loved taking advantage of that; Lando was the easiest person to bait into a stupid idea just by saying, 'I bet you can't do this'.

Turns out, he liked playing this game with Oscar, too. The 'I bet you can't seduce me' game.

And it's not even that Lando can't take a hint. He can very well see it when someone isn't interested in him, in which case he wraps it up quickly, not wishing for his ego to bruise. But that wasn't the case here, was it? Oscar himself said Lando was lovely and good-looking. Basically implied that he wanted to, but had some weird morals that, for some reason, said he can't have Lando, or whatever.

So it's not like he'd been told an outright 'not interested'; he'd just been set a challenge. He needed to make Oscar's resolve crumble. Slowly and patiently.

Hanging out in the garden without his shirt while his dad and Oscar were working on his dad's car was step one of that process.

Lando didn't really say anything; he was watering the flowers around the property in a pair of shorts and flip-flops, occasionally sparing a glance at the two men, only to find Oscar already looking. He didn't linger, he didn't smile, he went on about his task completely unbothered. When his mother brought out a platter of coffee and fruits for the 'hard-working men', he skipped on over to steal half an apricot off the plate and eat it as messily as possible. Juice ran down his wrist and the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his bare chest already glistening with sweat.

"You're eating like a child," his dad chastised and waved him off. "Go wash yourself."

He walked off to the side and washed himself off with the same hose he watered the flowers with. The cold spray aimed directly at his chest, making the water run all the way down his torso and seeping into his shorts.

"Oscar?" he heard his dad say. "Are you listening?"

"Sorry, what was that?"

Lando didn't even look at them anymore. He turned his back to them and smiled, moving on to water the rest of the flowerbeds.

It went on like so. Nothing obvious, nothing overly flirty, just enough to catch attention. Lando would smile politely, say "Good morning, sir" whenever they saw each other, and ignore all of Oscar's pleas to stop calling him Mr. Piastri. He used his body to flirt, but not in the same obvious way he did at the dinner table that one time. He just showed off. Tempted.

It wasn't his fault that the route back from the lake led down the road where Oscar lived, and he always got a good view of Lando drenched and dripping, smile wide as he waved at the man through the gate.

It wasn't his fault that the days were hot and humid and he often ended up craving a cherry popsicle that would turn his lips red as he diligently sucked on it. It wasn't his fault that he liked to sunbathe in his own home when Oscar was around, tuning his dad's car.

Coincidence after coincidence after coincidence.

"You're taking it too far again," Max told him as they sat on a phone call late one night.

Lando sat by the lake again, legs hanging off the pier, his bare feet tickled by the gentle shifts of the water. In one hand, his phone; in the other, a half-smoked cigarette, blue-grey smoke curling around his fingers.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lando told his best friend, a coy smile playing on his lips.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Remember Professor Button? He got a divorce because of you."

"That marriage had enough problems before I even entered the scene. He told me himself."

"Right," Max sighed, and even though Lando couldn't see him, he knew his best friend enough to picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. He always did that when Lando danced on his nerves. "Because everyone should always take the word of a horny, drunk man. They're the most honest, I hear."

"I don't need your sarcasm."

"Lando, be real with me here for a second. What do you want from this guy? Because he's already told you he's not gonna fuck you, hasn't he?"

The question felt like a gentle hand wrapping around his ankle and pulling him back down from the clouds until he touched the earth again. Lando suddenly became awfully aware of how cold the water was, and he pulled his legs up, knees to his chest. Another drag of his cigarette burned his lungs, while the echoes of the rejection burned his heart.

What did he want? The same as always. He wanted to feel someone's undivided attention, someone's affection, someone's desire. He wanted to feel whole again. He wanted calloused hands gripping his waist, warm lips stealing his breath, brown eyes that burned his soul. He wanted to look his father in the eyes and smile as if to say, 'See? He cares.'

He scoffed, annoyance furrowing his brows. "Oscar doesn't know what he's saying. You don't grow out of fucking, you know. Even a fifty-year-old man has needs."

"You'd know," Max teased.

"Hey!"

"I don't want to see you get hurt, you know. It took you months to get over Jenson, and it killed me to watch you beat yourself up over it." After a short pause, Max cleared his throat. "I mean. Like, you know… It's just shit, watching your mate be so depressed. It bummed me out, too. Or whatever."

Lando grinned. "What a wordsmith you are, mate. Pietra is a lucky girl."

"Okay, you can piss off. Go catch yourself another geezer and fuck yourself stupid on his wrinkled dick."

Lando threw his head back in carefree laughter. On the other side, Max laughed, too.

Christ, he missed his friend.

He lay back on the wooden planks of the pier and tracked the stars in the clear sky. "You should come here."

"And meet your new boyfriend?"

"Nah, just… to see each other. You could bring the others, we'll have another party at the pub."

"I'm not cleaning your vomit off the floor again, mate, can't lie."

"I'll clean yours this time, call it even."

He inhaled another drag of his cig, letting it sit in his lungs for longer this time before he exhaled in little puffs, forming perfect circles with the smoke that drifted off into the night.

"We'll see," Max replied eventually, and Lando just grinned.

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Flo's showjumping contest was at one of the usual places they visited each summer. It was a huge sprawl of flat land, grass mowed exactly three centimetres from the ground. Acres reserved for horses alone, with barely any shade in sight, trees only a few and far in between. Whoever wanted to shield themselves from the sun beating down hid underneath the umbrellas pulled up around the white plastic chairs where pretentious people sat and watched the competition.

Not Lando, though. He parted from his family as soon as they arrived, and he circled the white fences that surrounded the competition area, looking for anything good enough to photograph. He knew he wasn't interested in anyone but his sister, so why should he sit and watch?

He took a few pictures of the horses, only the pretty ones. A handful of the ridiculously large stretch of land ahead, with only a blurred line of a forest at the horizon line. Some of the pasty, wrinkled old people in the crowd, framed in an artsy shot. Some spectators brought along pets; they made lovely subjects—especially that adorable golden retriever that demanded pets once it noticed Lando was looking at him.

Eventually, Lando's lens found the most delicious thing to take pictures of.

Oscar Piastri stood by the fences, hands in his pockets, as he watched the contest through a pair of sunglasses that looked comical on him. Lenses too big, the frame too thick, sitting too high up on his nose.

Lando took two pictures before approaching him.

"Sunglasses are not your best look," he said as he meandered up to the older man.

Oscar's eyes flicked to him immediately, and he picked the sunnies off his face almost as quickly. "Lando! Hi."

"Hello, Mr. Piastri."

"Not that again!" he groaned. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

Lando didn't even grace him with an answer. He turned towards the arena, where contestant number 11 was moving through the obstacles fluidly, the horse's muscles tensing and twisting with each movement. "How come you're here?"

"Well, uh… your mother invited me."

"Regretting it now, are you?" Lando asked, only half-joking.

"It's definitely not my vibe…"

"I always hated horses."

"You hate horses?! How can you hate horses?"

"They used to buck me off their backs all the time! No matter which one, no matter what I was doing, they did not like me. Horses have a personal vendetta against me, so I don't like them either."

Next to him, Oscar wheezed loudly, folding in half with laughter. Man, he had missed that sound. Sure, he'd heard Oscar laugh with his dad when they were working around the car in the backyard, but it wasn't like this. Never like this.

It sounded different, felt sweeter, when it was he who made Oscar laugh.

"I'm sorry you got dragged along, sir. But I promise my sister's really good. She always has been… All of my siblings are talented."

"Are they?"

Lando nodded, hands gripping the fence as he watched number 11 finish the routine and strut back to the stables elegantly. "You heard Cisca play; she's wonderful. Her music gives me goosebumps sometimes. Flo is so strong; imagine getting on top of one of these beasts and trusting it fully." Oscar giggled again. "Don't laugh, horses are actually a fear of mine!"

"You live on a farm. With a bunch of them!"

Lando held up a finger, eyebrows raised high. "I spend the summers on a farm. I actually live somewhere else. Glad we cleared that up."

"Oh my God, you're awful."

Despite his words, Lando noticed the tiny shift in Oscar's stance. The way he moved closer, how he reached out to grab onto the fence with the arm closer to Lando. Their hands were only a couple of centimetres apart.

"And then there's my brother," he continued. "I know you've heard all about him. My dad's super proud of him and his company. Rightfully so, he's so smart. He's only 25 and already an entrepreneur… Meanwhile, I don't even know what I wanna do with my life." He laughed it off, turning his head to the side to look Oscar in the eye to find he was closer than Lando had expected.

"You're going to university, no? Do you not like your major?"

"No, I like my major, it's just… I'm not exactly on their level, am I."

"Well, that's stupid." Oscar shook his head, his golden brown fringe falling into his eyes. From this close, Lando could see the greys growing out at his temples and following down into his stubble. "Who cares what your siblings are doing; you're walking a completely different path."

Lando's face burned. He wanted to blame it on the beaming sun.

Willing his tongue to work, he asked Oscar, "How did you end up doing what you do, sir?"

Oscar's eyes flicked down to his lips for only a fragment of a second, then he turned back to the arena with a heavy sigh. "I was surrounded by cars from a young age because of my dad. He got me into them, taught me how they worked, let me drive around our backyard from the moment my feet could reach the pedal. When I was a teen, I got my first car. He and I worked on it a lot; that's when I fell in love with the mechanical side of cars. It's so cool how you can adjust every single attribute to fit your exact needs."

"That sounds really complicated." Lando smiled.

"It's not really. Or at least I never thought it was."

"And your dad, he owned this company, right?"

"Yeah, he used to say it was his second son." Oscar smiled, too, like it was a fond memory. "He grew out of leadership, though, and he left it to me. His whole empire, his legacy…"

Lando was silent for a couple of seconds, then bitterly commented, "My dad wouldn't even trust me with a rock."

Their eyes met again, but this time there was a different look in Oscar's eyes. Something inscrutable. "I'm sure that's not true," he said.

"Have you met him?"

"He says nice things about you."

Lando scoffed. "I think you have me confused with someone else."

Oscar opened his mouth to say something else, then guiltily closed it again, letting his head hang.

"It's okay, you don't have to lie to me. I know he doesn't like me. I'm a bit of a disappointment."

"You're not, though," Oscar argued. Lando watched those eyes rake over his entire body, then meet his again, full of reassurance. "There's nothing unlovable about you, Lando. You're a lovely young man."

The commentator's voice sounded through the speakers, announcing the next contestant: Flo Norris, number 12, strutted in on her majestic thoroughbred. As the horse took off under her, they flew like no one else before them, fast and precise, in perfect sync.

"Thank you, Mr. Piastri," Lando said over the sounds of hooves thudding on the ground.

Oscar sighed again, more annoyed this time. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

With a smile, Lando pushed himself away from the fence, his feet already carrying him away. "You wanted me to keep the distance, sir," he replied before turning around to walk away. He wanted to meet his sister as soon as she was off the horse.

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His sister's next contest was the following week on a rainy Thursday afternoon. The location was a three-hour drive away, though, and no matter how much Lando loved his sister, watching her get another first-place trophy wasn't worth six hours trapped in a car with his family. So he stayed home.

Their house always felt so tiny with everyone in it. But in these rare moments of solitude, Lando got to experience the sheer vastness of it. Having the whole place for him to enjoy, with no one looking over his shoulder and judging him.

He hopped up on the kitchen island and breathed in the air, enjoying the full expansion of his lungs, because that was rare with his parents around. The last time he felt it was before finals week at school, before all the stress of the exams, before he had to leave the dorm. When he went out for drinks with Max and the rest of the boys, got shitfaced and accidentally broke a pint glass while playing pool.

This was different, though. Lando often had to perform for some of his friends. It's not that they wouldn't accept him if he was being himself, but… it was nicer to fit in. Nicer to be just one of the guys.

When he was completely alone, that's when Lando could be truly himself.

He put on music, his phone's speaker on full blast, the famous Kiss track echoing down the living room and the foyer. And he danced; bare feet on the kitchen counter as he swayed his hips, shimmied his shoulders and threw his head this way and that to the beat. Sang his little heart out, too, because in an empty house, no one cared about how awful he sounded.

Everything stopped existing. The outside world, the rain, his family, school, leaving only him in his own little bubble.

Until it was burst by someone clearing their throat loudly.

Lando's heart skipped a beat. He jumped off the counter so quickly he nearly broke an ankle, and fumbled for his phone to turn off the music without even looking at who entered.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, Dad! I'll clean it up! It'll never happen again! I'm sorry!" He scrambled to unlock his phone and pause the fucking song, while the words kept coming out.

"It's okay," came the voice, which definitely did not belong to his dad. It was too sweet. Too soft.

Lando finally turned to see who had interrupted his private concert and came face-to-face with Oscar. Not just any Oscar, though.

The man stood in front of him in an old zip-up hoodie open to reveal a white tank top underneath. The fabrics of his clothes were damp from the rain, his hair messy, and his eyes had a quiet tiredness to them. Still, he smiled in that close-lipped, lopsided way of his.

"Oscar." Lando let out a heavy sigh. "Fucking hell, you scared me."

"I tried knocking, but no one answered." The other man laughed, all too amused. "Where is your dad, though?"

Scratching the back of his head, Lando replied unsurely, "Uh… Ipswich? Or Norwich? Far, I'm not exactly sure."

"What's he doing in Ipswich-Norwich?"

"Another showjumping competition."

Oscar nodded, then pursed his lips. "When is he coming back?"

"Not for another couple of hours. That's why you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry!" Oscar laughed again, not at all remorseful. "I thought it was cute, if it's any consolation. Whatever you were doing up there. I Was Made For Loving You, right?"

The word cute echoed in Lando's mind for several seconds, and he felt himself grow redder at the compliment. What the fuck was that about? Cute? Little puppies are cute. Lando is hot, thank you very much. Sure, he wasn't exactly trying to be seductive or anything, but…

He forced his brain into action and replied dumbly, "Y—yeah. It's uh… You know the song?"

"Of course. I'm just surprised your generation still listens to something from the 70's. This is your parents' era, no?"

Lando shrugged, sheepish. "I like all kinds of music. Older ones, newer ones. Pop, rock, rap…"

"Diverse," Oscar hummed. "I came to give your dad something…" He pulled some weird metal thingy from under his hoodie and placed it carefully on the kitchen island, the metal thudding against the marble.

"Car part?"

"Yeah. I had to go back to London two days ago for a work emergency and picked this up from the shop."

"Oh, so that's where you've been."

Lando clicked the music back on, quieter this time. Just background noise. Scrolled through his playlist until he found something better: My Moon My Man played menacingly through the speaker. He placed it down on the island as well and circled it to get a glass from one of the overhead cabinets. Dropped an ice cube in it before filling it with sparkling water. He slid the glass over to Oscar, standing on the other side of the island.

"You noticed I wasn't here?" Oscar took the glass and sipped it slowly, his throat bobbing with each gulp.

"You weren't coming around. And you weren't at home."

The man raised an eyebrow. "What, you broke in to check?"

"No need. Usually, when you're home, you're either hunched over your Mustang, reading a book on your terrace, or I can see a light on inside. Nothing for the past three days, though."

"You keep tabs on me, Lando?"

"No, sir. I'm just observant."

"Stop calling me that."

"Sorry, sir."

Oscar grunted, hand tightening around the glass as he took another swig.

The rain pattered relentlessly against the windows outside, and the music coming from Lando's phone filled the silence between them. The house shrank down again. Not the way it did when his parents were around, no; this time, Lando wished for the walls to come closer and trap them in. They became the focal point, the tension between them thickening like the heavy, humid summer heat, and all Lando wanted to do was crawl across the kitchen island and smash his lips against Oscar's. Those perfect, pink lips, still wet from drinking. Lando needed to lick those last drops off; he felt he might dehydrate otherwise.

My Moon My Man changed into Every Breath You Take, and Lando's lips pulled into a wide grin.

"The Police? Really?" Oscar scoffed.

"You said it yourself. I'm diverse."

Lando rounded the island again, walking closer to Oscar with a jig in his step. He started shimmying his shoulders again, mouthing the lyrics and reaching his arms out towards Oscar.

And Oscar watched him, confusion etching a groove between his brows. "What?"

"Dance with me!"

"What?! No! I'm not— I can't."

"Bullshit, everyone can dance!"

Oscar put his hands up in defense, mouth moving as he explained something about how he doesn't know how, never tried and never wanted to—bullshit. Lando wasn't even listening. He grabbed the man by his wrist and pulled him closer, forcing him into an easy two-step.

But Oscar wasn't lying. He wouldn't look anywhere but their feet as he followed Lando's lead, legs moving stiffly from one place to the other.

"You're so tense," Lando chastised, placing both hands on Oscar's hips and trying to catch the other's gaze. Oscar looked at him in shock, eyes wide and face burning red. "Loosen it up a little."

Lando's hips moved to the languid beat of the song, and he tried pushing and pulling Oscar along to follow the motion. It was like moving a statue, Oscar somehow so stiff that Lando had to drag him even closer to force him into movement. Their hips pressed together, and Lando tried guiding him like that, but he was quickly pushed away.

"No, this really isn't… I'm not good at this, Lando."

Lando jumped with excitement. "Oh! I know what you need!" Skipping over to his phone, he searched for a specific song in the playlist.

When the iconic starting beat of Down Under started playing, Lando whipped his head around and shot a shit-eating grin at Oscar. The other man rolled his eyes.

"Are you serious?"

"Oh, come on! If you can't dance to this, that's, like, treason or whatever. Betraying your homeland!"

Lando started bouncing as the chorus played, arms thrown up in the air as he sang off-key. His feet moved, shuffling to the rhythm, and he moved his hips fluidly. He wasn't trying to be seductive with it, not performing for Oscar; he was just having fun. And Oscar, despite the ridiculousness of the situation—or maybe because of it—grinned from ear to ear and joined him.

He wasn't as energetic as Lando; he wasn't jumping or singing, but he moved his body more freely this time. As if all of his inhibitions had left him, and he just wanted to have fun. Lando loved it; this was probably his new favourite version of Oscar.

Their hands reached out for each other, and they danced together, fingers intertwined and following each other's motions. Oscar even twirled Lando at some point, leaving him dizzy and cackling.

He fell into Oscar's arms eventually as the song came to a slow fade-out end, all exhausted from jumping and singing. They both giggled, breathless and swaying on their feet.

The next song in the shuffled queue was Wicked Game. Lando realised then that he needed to sort his playlists better; he needed to find a fixed mood and stick to it, because this… this quick switch knocked the wind out of him.

The hauntingly romantic guitar intro echoed off the walls of the room, and Lando moved before he had time to think about it. He dragged his hands up Oscar's torso to his shoulders, letting his fingers grab onto the material of his hoodie.

The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you

Oscar's hands steadied him at the waist as Lando began to sway. Not from dizziness this time, but to the slow rhythm of the crooning song.

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

"Lando?" Oscar called his name softly. He looked up, lashes fluttering, his expression silently begging. "What are you doing?"

"Slow dancing," came the simple reply.

"No." Gently, Oscar peeled their hands off each other and held Lando's for a second longer as he coaxed him away. "We're not doing that. I told you already..." He trailed off, not wanting to repeat the rejection that Lando didn't want to hear again.

"Sorry, sir," Lando breathed.

"I should get going." Oscar fidgeted in place. "Thanks for the, um… I'll see you soon."

"See you soon, Mr. Piastri."

This time, no pretentious, frustrated comment came about how he can call him Oscar; the man just turned around and walked back where he came from. His shoes thumped down the parquet of the living room towards the foyer; Lando listened to it slow down, come to a stop… then walk back towards the kitchen.

Oscar appeared in the room again, his hands holding pictures. "Did you take these?" he asked, flipping through them.

Lando immediately recognised them as the stack he'd left on the living room coffee table a while ago, forgotten in the midst of the fifteen other things he wanted to do at the same time. "Oh, yeah, I was sorting through them earlier."

"They're really pretty, Lando."

"I have some more. Wanna see?"

Oscar smiled at him. "Can I?"

Lando led Oscar back to the living room and sat him down on the sectional sofa before skipping up the stairs to his bedroom to grab the drawer in his desk that was full of other printed pictures. He carried it back down to the living room and dumped everything out onto the table.

He took a seat next to Oscar and watched him flip through the images slowly. Inspecting everything with a concentration that no one had ever graced Lando's photography with. Lando took that time to really admire Oscar. The strong lines of his side profile, the gentle arch of his nose and the toned jawline. The short stubbles on his face that made him wonder what it would feel like to touch. His hands were slightly calloused as they danced, but would his skin feel soft elsewhere? Would the rough texture of facial hair feel good? What about his hair? It looked so silky smooth, not like Lando's own gel-casted curls; maybe it would feel like water running between his fingers if he ran his hands through it.

"These are all so great, Lando," he spoke, breaking Lando out of his trance. He was holding one of Lando's black and white portraits in his hand, staring at it in awe.

"That's one of my classmates from my illustration class. She's really sweet. She doesn't like being photographed that much, but she agreed to try with me. I wanted it to be black and white so you can really focus on her expression—she's so beautiful, after all—and I added this grainy effect for… texture. Sorry, I'm rambling." Lando tried laughing it off. He picked the photo out of Oscar's hands and placed it back down on the table.

"No, not at all. I love it." Oscar picked a new one, the complete opposite of the previous picture. Natural subjects, oversaturated colours, no composition. The whole photo was tilted off-centre. "This is so unique. I love the colours."

"I adjusted this one a little bit, I thought it would look better with a colder hue…"

"It does."

Lando smiled. "You didn't even see the original image."

"Show me, then."

Grabbing his camera, he turned it on and started flicking through the images to find the one Oscar was holding in his hands. "This might take a while; it's an older one," he warned as he scrolled through all the pictures he'd taken in the last three weeks.

"Wait, hold on." Oscar interrupted him with a hand grabbing onto Lando's. "Scroll back. What was that?"

Shit…

Nervously, Lando clicked the forward button a few times until a picture of Oscar was displayed on the screen. Standing there, in the pale sun, in his preppy little outfit and those ridiculous sunglasses.

Lando tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "I don't like showing my subjects the pictures before editing, so count yourself privileged."

Oscar was having none of it. He leaned in even closer, until their heads were almost touching, and Lando could smell his spicy aftershave. "When did you take this?"

"At the competition last week…"

"Why didn't you show me?"

"I just told you."

"Do you have other pictures of me?" came the next question, paired with devastating eye contact that dried all the saliva from Lando's mouth. They were so fucking close, holy shit. If he leaned in, just a little bit, their noses would touch. From there, it was only a head tilt before he could— "Lando. Do you have more pictures of me?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but only his lip quivered dumbly. Instead, he redirected his attention to the camera and flicked through the rest of the images of the last three weeks.

Oscar, bent over his dad's car, working on something. Oscar, engrossed in a book, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he sat in the white wicker chair on his porch. Oscar, with his lips wrapped around a cigarette he probably thought no one saw him smoke. Oscar, from behind, his dirty shirt sticking to his back with sweat and emphasising his back muscles.

"That's the last," Lando mumbled. "Or, like, the first, I guess. Remember, you were working on your car that day, and I—"

"I heard the shutter and turned around to find you spying on me… You invited me on a tour of the town." Oscar met his gaze again. "Why didn't I hear your shutter all those other times?"

"I don't know. I thought you would, but I guess all those other times you were too focused."

"I don't even know how you managed to sneak that picture of me smoking."

"I was on my balcony."

Oscar smiled and shook his head. "You've got some nerve, you know."

Lando gulped, the back of his neck feeling damp with nervous sweat. "I can delete them if you don't like them…"

A hand patted him on the knee, warm and heavy. "Show me them after you finish editing."

With that, Oscar stood up from the sofa and said another line of polite goodbyes before leaving, this time for real. The front door opened and closed, and suddenly, Lando was all alone. He could still hear music filtering in from the kitchen, but he was more aware of the fast pitter-patter of raindrops on the windows. His heart followed a similar pattern.

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Sure, the world continued spinning, and one could say nothing changed. The days were still long and hot, Lando's parents returned to the farm and got back to their routine of tending to the animals, tuning the car with Oscar and ignoring Lando.

To Lando, however, things were different. He'd been blessed with attention; he'd been given a task. And, like any individual with a crush and a raging praise kink, he worked diligently on editing those images of Oscar.

Being invisible in their house came in handy sometimes. No one looked for him when he spent the day holed up in his room, hunched over his laptop and trying to work magic on Photoshop. Well, no one except for Oscar, who now knew to glance up towards the balconies every once in a while and catch a glimpse of Lando. It felt like warm rays of sunshine whenever their eyes met—and not just because Oscar was hot enough to burn in the stupid fucking tank tops that he liked to work in.

Lando needed to impress him. He needed the edits to come out perfectly, not a hair out of place, no colour off-balance. Max called it obsessive, especially when Lando, off-handedly, mentioned on a call that he forgot to eat because he was so busy redoing one of the pictures over and over. He sent five different edits to Max, who picked one, then sent him off to eat something. That night, Lando ate his cheese and crackers all alone, sat on the kitchen island in the dark, because everyone else had already gone to bed.

The morning he started editing the last one of the pictures, there was a knock on his door. Startled, Lando shut his laptop, swept everything off his desk and into the top drawer, then jumped on his bed with a book opened at a random page.

"Come in!"

His father pushed the door open to peek his head in. "We're going to your sister's concert."

Lando shut the book and pushed himself to sit up. "Now?"

"No, tomorrow. I want you in appropriate clothes, washed and ready to leave by 1:30."

As his dad closed the door, Lando yelled after him. "Wait, where are we going?"

"Birmingham."

The door shut, and his father left.

Why they liked talking to him as if he were a disobedient dog, he never knew, but Lando already forgot about the tone of voice by the time the door closed. He jumped up excitedly, leaping across the room to get back to his laptop. Opening Discord, he clicked on Max's chat box.

Bob: guess who's coming to the big city

Sir Maximilian: ??

Sir Maximilian: Tf you're on about mate?

Bob: i'm coming to birmingham

Bob: with the entire fam sadly

Bob: but means we can meet!!! if you wanna

Sir Maximilian: Hell yeah!!! When??

Bob: tmrw. leaving around 1:30 so i'll be there by 3. see you?

Sir Maximilian: Bet

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Lando finished editing the last picture in record time. Only a couple of hours were spent messing with it, then he transferred everything onto his phone in hopes that tomorrow, before the concert, he'll have time to print it. He even interrogated his sister to know exactly where they were going and how much time he would have to run to the nearest printer.

He agreed to meet Max in front of the theatre where Cisca was meant to perform, but perhaps that was not such a good idea.

After an hour and a half of driving in a fully cramped car, his dad pulled up to the parking lot and immediately spotted Max talking to Oliver. Lando's first thought was about how sweet it was of Oliver to spare time to come see their sister give her concert.

But his dad's first thought was, "What's this boy doing here, Lando?"

His family had met Max a handful of times since they became friends in the first year of uni. Birthday parties, the party at Blackbear pub, and one sleepover. It became apparent very quickly that they didn't like Max, though Lando couldn't imagine why.

"He lives here, Dad," Lando explained, already unbuckling the seatbelt. "I asked him for a meetup before the concert."

As he got out of the car, Max instantly spotted him, and they beamed at each other before colliding in a tight hug.

"Nice to see you, mate," Max sighed.

"Yeah? Nicer than seeing my brother?"

"He owns a company now, I gotta make connections."

Lando jabbed him in the ribs, then turned to give Ollie a hug as well.

"Glad you're here."

Oliver squeezed him tighter at that. "Yeah? Mum and Dad any better this year?"

"Considering killing myself every day."

A hand in his hair shoved him away. "Don't you dare, dipshit."

The rest of the family also greeted Oliver happily, then their dad turned to Lando and Max with a stern look. "Be back ten minutes before the show starts. I don't want the people in our line to have to stand up because of us."

"Yes, Dad," Lando agreed, and his feet were already carrying him away, Max in tow.

He pulled up the map on his phone and followed the track towards the nearest Boots. His dad's voice and all his worries faded into the background noise of the city crowd.

"Right, what's the game plan?" Max asked. "You didn't tell me where you're dragging me."

"Right, remember those pictures I've been working on?" Lando explained with a huge grin. "I brought them along so that I can print them out and give them to Oscar. You know, as a gift."

"Ah… so this is still about that old man. I thought… Nevermind."

Lando's smile dropped at Max's dejected tone. "What?"

His friend looked troubled, his expression flat and his shoulders tight. Still, he tried to play it off. "Nothing, nothing." He waved his hand around before tucking them both in the pockets of his shorts.

"No, seriously, tell me what's wrong," Lando insisted.

"Well, I just thought… Maybe you came because you wanted to see me."

Max shrugged again as if it was something to sweep under the carpet, but Lando wasn't having it. He tugged his friend off the pavement and into the doorway of a random store so they could stand face-to-face.

"I did want to see you, Max. Mate, look at me." He shoved Max in the chest so his friend would meet his eyes. "I miss you out there, mate. That's why I call you, that's why I told you to come down for a drink. That's why I asked you here, even though I know you've never been near a theatre in your life."

Both their lips pulled into a smile at that. Max defended, "I've actually been to the theatre for a date, so take that back."

"My point is, I wanted to see you. But I also wanna do this for Oscar…" He bit his lip, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. "No one's ever shown this kind of interest in my photography, Max. I feel like I can maybe… I don't know. Bond with him over this?"

"Hey, I'm interested in your stuff, too!"

Lando giggled and wrapped an arm around Max's neck, leading him down the road again. "Of course you are, and I'm grateful. Really, Max, you're amazing. But Oscar is just…"

"I know, you fancy him, so there's a difference."

"It's not just that! I feel like he… It's like he really sees something in me, you know? He makes me want to be someone. He makes me want to be me."

After a beat of silence, Max sighed. "Damn. You know, I thought this was just another Professor Button phase, but… You've really got something for this dude, don't you?"

Lando scoffed. "I don't know what you mean, mate."

He checked the map on his phone again to see which turn to make for the store. The clock read 3:11, which was… okay. Maybe he wouldn't get there ten minutes early, but that was fine! It was only a stupid rule his father made up.

But as he found his way to the store he was heading for, the sign on the door read—

"Closed?!" Lando nearly shrieked. "What do you mean closed?!"

"Dude, this building is under renovation! Everything here has been closed for four months. If you told me this is where we were going, I would've warned you!"

He panicked. Frantically, he tapped around on his phone, looking for any other Boots nearby, but found the closest one three blocks away. Even if they ran, they wouldn't make it. He looked for the nearest print store then and found one five minutes away. If they ran, they could still make it.

Grabbing Max by the wrist, Lando booked it, his fancy trousers and shoes chafing as he forced them to adapt to something they weren't meant for. He didn't care, though. He didn't even listen for Max's protests; all he could think about was finding his place on the map and fighting against time.

The printing store clerk was a bit daft. They got there in three minutes instead of five, but he definitely wasted more of their time than they had to spare. Once they managed to acquire those few fucking pictures and pay for the "services", they were already late for his dad's ten-minute request. And the way back was fifteen minutes, too.

They continued to run. The pictures tucked safely in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, and Max panting beside him, Lando raced down the streets of Birmingham. He'd only been to this place a handful of times before, but he'd already decided every rumour was true. Birmingham was a fucking shithole.

By some miracle, they got there only one minute late. Lando and Max exchanged a hurried goodbye at the entrance and a quick promise to call soon.

Inside the theatre, it went less smoothly, though.

"Sir!" A lady called after him as Lando tried running down the hall. "Sir, do you have a ticket?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm here to see the— the piano— my sister's playing," he explained, fighting for air. There was sharp, stabbing pain on his right side, and it wouldn't lessen even if he pressed his palm to his ribs.

"I need to see a ticket, sir," she said gently.

Lando nodded and padded around his pockets for a ticket. He dug into his trousers, the front pocket of his shirt, and even the pockets of his jacket, but only found the pictures.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no, no!"

He remembered then. He remembered giving the ticket to Flo sitting beside him in the car, because he thought he might lose it on the walk. He never got it back.

"Excuse me for a second," he told the lady before grabbing his phone again.

He called Flo first.

The number you have reached is currently unavailable.

Then Oliver.

The number you have reached is currently—

Then his mum.

The number you have reached is—

Then, in a last desperate attempt, his dad.

The number you have—

Lando felt tears gather, and he tried to blink them away, but it was impossible. His face was hot, he was in pain, and he could already feel the anxiety growing in his belly. He was in big trouble; he knew it.

He turned back to the lady with the kind smile, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry I… my family has my ticket, and they're not picking up."

She nodded. "I apologise, sir, but that means I can't let you in."

Frustrated and dejected, Lando rubbed a hand over his face. He took a shuddering breath before walking out.

He didn't cry while he waited for the concert to end. He sat on the curb next to their car and waited silently.

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He could already see the rage in his father's eyes when they walked out, but he didn't say anything at first. Everybody politely said their goodbyes to Oliver, who would be heading back to Bristol; he even shot Lando a compassionate glance and whispered something about their dad forcing everyone to turn their phones off.

Turning to Cisca next, he apologised for missing the concert. That part almost made him shed a tear, but she hugged him better and told him he already listens to her play plenty.

It was all good and well until they got in the car, buckled up and pulled onto the motorway.

"I told you one thing," his dad growled. "It wasn't a big request, was it? I told you to get there on time. Is that so hard to understand?"

"I tried, Dad," he said meekly. "I ran all the way back, and I was there just in time, but I left my ticket with Flo—"

"No, you weren't there on time. I counted to the exact second before I told everyone to turn their phone off. Had you been there on time, you would've actually been there."

"What your dad is trying to say, dear, is that you're acting irresponsibly. You missed an important day of your sister's life! Have you realised that?"

Lando clenched his jaw tightly at his mother's words. "I apologised to her, and she forgave me."

Their parents laughed bitterly and humourlessly, as if they were making fun of him. "Well, of course, she forgave you! What do you think, that she'll hold a grudge against you forever? Cisca is much more mature than that. But it doesn't change the fact that you missed something that was important to her."

Lando said nothing. He focused on taking deep breaths and forcing the tears away.

"Where were you, anyway?" his dad demanded. When Lando didn't reply immediately, he raised his voice. "Answer me, you little brat!"

"I was printing pictures," came the answer, maybe a tad louder than he intended. "I've been working very hard on editing a few pictures, and I wanted to print them out and gift them to a friend—"

"Pictures!" He laughed sharply. "You missed your sister's concert because you were printing stupid pictures?!"

"They're not stupid! They're special! I made them for a friend of mine—"

"That shaggy boy?! Lando, are you hearing yourself? You couldn't wait to print these stupid fucking pictures and instead chose to miss your sister's—"

"I didn't choose to miss it! I was running all the way back!"

"Oh please, at least don't lie to us," his mum chimed in next, now sounding a lot more frustrated, too. "We know you're jealous of your sisters, but the least you could do is be there for them! You're their brother, for crying out loud!"

It went on like that. Forty minutes of Lando going back and forth with their parents. No one was listening to him; they kept dismissing whatever he said and coming up with their own versions. His mother went on a whole tangent about how he needed to hide his jealousy better, then started victimising herself for being an awful mother who raised such a selfish boy. How she gave him everything, and this is how he pays them back.

His dad called him ungrateful and spoiled more times than he could count. Claimed that everything always had to be about Lando, almost called him an attention whore, but caught himself just in time, biting his tongue. Instead, he said he wished Lando were more like Ollie. Ollie, the perfect child. Ollie, the son everybody wanted. Ollie, the son who made them proud.

For the second half of the ride, nobody said anything. Flo held Lando's hand silently as he chewed his lips raw and continuously blinked away tears that threatened to spill.

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When his dad parked the claustrophobic car in the driveway, Lando was the first to get out. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he powerwalked away from the scene. Away from his family. Away from the house.

Halfway down the street, he started running, and didn't stop until he reached the metal fence. The gate creaked as he pushed it open, and made an awful, high-pitched sound as it slammed back shut. Lando didn't care. He was already climbing the steps to the entrance and knocking loudly, impatiently.

When the door opened, Oscar stood on the other side in comfy joggers and a white t-shirt, surprise and confusion evident on his face. "Lando?"

He barely had the time to get the word out before Lando was talking. "I can't stand them, I can't! I don't wanna be there, I can't listen to another word. It feels like they're suffocating me and nothing I say or do is good enough, nothing!"

"Hey, hey, slow down, kid. What's going on?"

With tears in his eyes now, Lando looked up to Oscar and begged. "Let me in, please, let me in."

Oscar didn't hesitate. He ushered Lando into the house and closed the door behind. As Lando toed off his shoes and shucked off his suit jacket, the smell of old furniture and dust hit him. The wallpaper on the walls was peeling in places, but the hardwood floor was immaculate.

The archway off the entry led into the living room. Oscar led him through with a hand on the small of his back, and Lando committed everything to memory. The tiny desk tucked into the corner, overflowing with clutter. In the other corner, an old, boxy TV sat on a console table, facing the heavily worn sofa. Underneath, the fraying rug had clearly seen better days, but the throw pillows and blankets atop the sofa were brand new.

Another archway off the living room led into the kitchen, and that space was even smaller. L-shaped cabinets and a small dining table with two chairs sat in the corner. The furniture looked old in there, too, but the dirty dishes in the sink were brand new. Oscar grabbed one of the few clean glasses and filled it with cold water before handing it to Lando.

"Your place is weird," Lando noted as he hopped up on the counter, heels thudding on the scuffed drawers.

"What do you mean?"

"Why not just refurbish it? You have the money, no?"

Oscar shrugged. "I like it like this. Reminds me of my grandparents' place back in Australia."

"Smells like old lady."

The man giggled, and Lando distracted himself by taking slow gulps of the water he'd been given. The silence between them didn't last long, though. Oscar pried.

"Why are you here, Lando?"

And, well… Lando took pride in the fact that he didn't cry at all during the car ride home. But right here, in the devastating quiet of Oscar's home, with Oscar looking at him like this... He couldn't stop himself.

Tears welled in his eyes, and before he could even try to fight them, a sob wrecked his entire body. Just like that, the dam broke.

"Oh," Oscar breathed quietly. "Oh, sweetheart." He took the glass from Lando's hands and—

Oscar stood between his legs, one warm, heavy hand on Lando's back, the other on the back of his head, pulling Lando's face into his chest. Lando didn't waste any time; he threw his arms around the man's waist and dragged him even closer.

The hand on his head petted him as he complained through hiccup-y sobs. "I don't understand why they're like this. I don't understand what I did. I tried— I really tried to get there on time! But it's not even just this; it's always!" Lando sniffled, rubbing his face in Oscar's chest. "Always, always…"

"Lando, can you slow down for me? Tell me what's this about." Lando shook his head, trying to bury himself even deeper into Oscar's embrace.

When Oscar fisted his hair and pulled him away forcibly, he realised he did something wrong. Eyes squeezed shut so he wouldn't have to look at the man's disappointed, maybe angry face, he chanted apologies.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Oscar told him in a soft tone, his hand cupping Lando's jaw. "Open your eyes, love, look at me."

How could Lando not obey him?

"There you go. Take a deep breath with me, okay?" When Oscar inhaled, Lando followed, once, twice, three times. "Good boy. Tell me what happened."

He was still a wet, sputtering mess, his thoughts running a mile a minute, but he tried to be as clear as he could be in his current state. "We went to see my sister play a piano concert in Birmingham. It's an hour-and-thirty-minute drive—awful; I hate being stuck with my parents when I know I can't go anywhere to escape. But anyway…"

Lando recounted everything with more or less success. About how he needed to print pictures, but the first place was closed. How he ran, and almost made it. About calling his sister and his brother and everyone, but the phones were already turned off. The car ride home, where insult after complaint was thrown at his head. And the worst of it…

"I know I'm not a perfect son." He was bawling by this point, tears and snot covering his face, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. "And I tried to be, for years I did, but I'm just not as good as my siblings. I'll never be as good! And— and they'll never see me as someone worthy of love!"

Finally, Lando's forehead hit Oscar's collarbone, and the man's arms wrapped around him again, in an even tighter embrace.

"Oh, love…" Oscar's chest vibrated with each word, and Lando wanted to crawl inside him. He was so soft, so gentle. He petted Lando through his breakdown, whispered words of affection in his ear, and it felt like a hit of a drug.

"You are good," he assured directly in Lando's ear. "You're more than enough, Lando. You're perfect just the way you are. And you're worthy of love. Even if someone doesn't see it in you, that doesn't negate the fact that you are."

In that moment, surrounded by strong arms, the gentle words and the heady, spicy scent, Lando believed it. If only for a few minutes, Lando felt loved.

Oscar let him cry. Didn't push him away, didn't try to shush him; he just held him securely and allowed him to let everything out. He wasn't sure how long it took, but he definitely felt exhausted by the time the tears dried up.

He shifted so that his face was tucked into the crook of Oscar's neck. "I don't wanna go back home," he croaked, his voice hoarse now.

"It's okay, love, don't think about that right now. You're here with me." Oscar rubbed his calloused palms up and down Lando's arms in an effort to ground him.

"Fuck, the pictures. They're in my jacket."

"What pictures?"

"The pictures I printed. They're for you, they're here."

Pulling away, Lando pushed himself off the counter, and his socked feet shuffled out of the kitchen, towards the entry. He grabbed the pictures from the jacket pocket and took them back to Oscar.

"Here… I was originally planning on giving them to you, but… listen, if you also think they're stupid, I can keep them."

Eagerly, Oscar looked through the pictures, taking in every little detail that Lando spent hours working on. "These are beautiful," he mumbled. "Wow, you actually made me look presentable for once… Thank you so much, Lando."

When their eyes met, and Oscar's cheesy expression only found apprehension on Lando's face, his brain quickly caught up to what Lando had said before.

"Wait, what? What do you mean if I also think they're stupid?! Who— did they tell you it was stupid?"

Lando shrugged, averting his gaze.

"Lando, your photography is stunning. Please don't listen to them when they insult you like that, okay?"

He wouldn't even look at Oscar as he nodded. He was pulled into another embrace then, and he just went, moulding perfectly against Oscar's body.

The height difference between them wasn't that big, but it was just enough to make Lando feel small when tucked into Oscar like this. He was safe. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt this protected.

"I wanna stay," he said. "Please, sir, let me stay. I can sleep on the sofa, I don't take up much space—"

He was grabbed by the shoulders and gently peeled away. "Lando," Oscar warned, exasperated.

"No, please, sir, don't make me go back. I hate it there!" Tears welled in his eyes again as he gazed up at Oscar with the best puppy eyes he could manage.

Oscar visibly crumbled. His expression changed from stern to… almost pained. Lips parted in heavy breathing, he brought a hand up to Lando's face to wipe his tears. "You're a pretty crier, it's unfair…" His voice was strained, like he was fighting something that Lando could only guess at.

"Life's unfair. Let me stay here. Please, sir."

"Stop calling me that, Lando, I swear to god."

"Why?" He sniffled. "Is it turning you on? Me crying and begging here, calling you sir?"

Time slowed down for a minute.

Lando knew he had a habit of pushing too far, testing the limits until it became too much. And the thing about these limits was that you never really notice you're past them until you look back and realise what you've done.

Lando watched so many emotions cross Oscar's face in those long few seconds, at the same time as he thought, panicked, 'oh shit, wrong move'.

"You should leave," Oscar said, and fuck, okay, yeah. Too far.

"No, please," Lando whined, "I take it back! I take it back, just don't make me! Please, sir—Oscar, please!"

"So far, I've done nothing I could regret," Oscar explained as he took several, slow steps back. "I've been good. I've kept my distance. I can't do that when I wake up in the middle of the night, and I know you're sleeping three metres away."

"Then don't—"

"Lando, no. I've already told you my thoughts on this matter, and my opinion won't change." He paused, gave Lando a once-over, then nodded his head towards the door. "Go. Please."

With his jaw tight and his tears still falling, Lando left.

Quietly, he put his shoes back on, grabbed his jacket, and walked out. Down the street and towards the lake.

Once he got to the pier, he shucked his shoes again, stuffing his socks in them. He tossed his jacket on the ground, his tie, shirt and trousers following shortly.

He leapt and crashed, headfirst into the cold water that gave a much-needed shock to his system. Not the right shock, but a shock nonetheless.

The sun had set before Lando climbed out of the water.

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Oscar didn't come by the next day, or the day after. Lando made a daily trek down to the lake, sometimes into town—really, anywhere to escape the house—and he always saw Oscar. They said their hello's but never talked. Was that why? Was Oscar scared to be near him now?

On a Friday morning, Lando decided to test his theory. He had a small bowl of cereal for breakfast, then stashed a bag of cherries in his bag before leaving the house earlier than normal. He grabbed his old bike, stuffed the backpack in the basket at the front, and took off without telling anyone where he was going. It's not like they'd be looking for him, anyway.

Given the early hour, the sun hadn't gained its full power yet; not burning, just warming Lando's skin as he pedalled down the street.

He made a quick pit stop at the familiar cottage, where Oscar once again sat out front, sprawled over the wicker chair with a cup of coffee and a book.

"Hey!" Lando yelled over the fence, and Oscar's head snapped up. "I won't be back all day, so you can go."

"What?" came the confused reply.

"I won't be at the house," he reiterated. "You can go see my dad."

Faintly, he heard Oscar call his name, but Lando was already pushing himself away. The bike took off under him, and Lando pedalled down the path, into town, through the winding streets.

Eventually, he reached the edge of town, and kept going, leaving behind the still life in favour of the silent forests and crop fields. Under the shade of the trees, the weather was even gentler, the air was fresher, and Lando threw his arms out wide, enjoying the winds.

He was free.

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Lando had settled in the grass, backpack and bike laid out next to him, chest heaving from the long bike ride. He had one arm propped under his head, enjoying the warm rays with his shorts and baggy button-up hiked as far up as he could pretend was still appropriate.

His other hand held his phone firmly to his ear as Max told him all about the OP chests he'd opened on CS:GO. Lando was humming along, though he had trouble following along to his friend with all the noise in his own mind, muffling Max's voice. It seemed like no matter how far he ran, no matter how quiet everything around him got, his brain would always find ten different things to dissect and repeat until he was bordering on madness.

"—and then she floated in on her talking umbrella."

"Mhmm, ye—wait what?"

Max giggled in his ear. "I was wondering when you'd notice if I just started telling you the story of Mary Poppins. Not too bad, though I'm surprised you didn't question the 'she sits on a cloud and does her makeup' bit."

Lando huffed, both amused and embarrassed. "Sorry, I just… got a lot on my mind, y'know?"

"Something wrong?"

"It's…" He sighed. "I think you might've been right. About the whole pushing too far bit."

"Yeah?"

"When we got back from Birmingham… I told you my parents gave me shit, but I didn't tell you that I, um. Kind of ran to Oscar's place and cried my heart out to him."

"Jesus, Bob…"

"That's not the worst bit of it." On the other side, Max groaned. "After I begged him to let me stay, I asked if it turns him on when I call him sir… He basically told me he wouldn't be able to sleep if I stayed over and kicked me out. Since then, he hasn't even come over to work on my dad's car. He's been there at least three times every week before this, tuning that shitbox from hell, but now? Nothing."

"He did say he wouldn't be able to look your dad in the eye if you guys did something, didn't he?"

Lando bit his lip. "You think I ruined their relationship?"

"Possibly."

"Fuck…"

"It's okay, Bob, don't stress about it. I'm sure it'll all work itself out eventually if you just… maybe lay off that guy."

Lay off him? Lando frowned. He didn't wanna lay off Oscar, didn't want to let him go. Oscar was special. He wasn't like some old man Lando met on Grindr, hiding their ring and getting off on how soft and slim Lando's body was. Oscar… saw him. Not just a fit body, not just a pretty face—him. He sat down and looked through Lando's photos, laughed at his jokes, called him smart. He looked at him as if he was precious.

And when they hugged, when Oscar's thick arms wrapped around him, he could melt into it. Safely tucked away from the world's troubles, Lando could relax and just be himself.

"It'd be better for everyone, Bob. I mean, I get that the bloke looks good or whatever, but you're just fixated on him. If you let it go, it'll go away eventually. I promise."

Max sounded so serious. Lando wanted to believe him, really, but he felt like whatever he had with Oscar wouldn't just go away easily.

He reached over to his backpack and grabbed a handful of those cherries he'd taken from the fruit bowl. "It's not like that, Max. Or at least I don't think it is."

"What do you mean? You don't just wanna fuck him?"

"I don't know, mate, I'm not sure what I want. I just… don't think it can be dismissed as quickly as the whole Button thing."

"Still… I think you have to make a decision now. Let it go now, or push even further until… well, who knows what will happen."

Lando hated it when Max was right.

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The pub was relatively empty when he walked in at lunchtime. The place smelled of beer and cigarette smoke, and the sour odour of the few people loitering about inside. They served him grey mashed potatoes and grey stew, and he could only stomach half of it before he decided even starvation was better than this.

He paid for the meal, then headed over to the corner shop to buy an ice lolly and a cold can of Coke. With his new loot, he took off on the bike and took the longer route to the lake.

It was early in the afternoon, so a couple of people were already swimming about. Lando didn't feel like talking to anyone, so he scouted out a nice, lonely spot under a tree, and ate his sticky, melted ice lolly while scrolling on his phone. He looked through Facebook and Instagram, searching for an Oscar Piastri. He found nothing on Instagram, but his Facebook profile didn't give Lando much, either.

Born 1987 april 11th. Born in Melbourne but living in London. HP Tuners CEO. Single. His profile picture was him smiling, awkward and close-lipped, wearing a tailored suit, the skyline of some beautiful city behind him. Lando couldn't believe that a man who wore tailored suits lived the way Oscar did in that old lady-smelling cottage.

He ventured into the water eventually, but only to the knee-deep sections to cool off a little. Wash off the sticky residue of the sugary treat and the memories of Oscar's arms around him.

Around 6, he headed back up into town and to the rec centre, where he did a jigsaw puzzle with two sweet old ladies, who kept calling him handsome and telling him wild stories about their own young adulthood. It took his mind off Oscar, if only for two hours, but by the time he left the rec centre and headed back towards the Norris farm, he was in a better mood than he had been after his phone call with Max. Hungry, too, so he snacked on the remaining cherries as he walked the bike along the street.

After passing the willow tree, he started hearing things.

No, not just anything, his name.

At first, he thought he was making things up, but no. Looking around, he spotted Oscar waving to him over the fence.

"Come here!" he called, and Lando went without thinking twice about it.

The man looked tense; his eyes twinkled with something strange when he looked at Lando, and deep lines formed between his brows that Lando wasn't sure what he did to put there.

"Do you really think I'm not going over to your place because of you?" he asked.

Now Lando was even more confused. He answered honestly. "Well, I thought… after the other day, I kind of fucked this up and you…"

"Lando, no." Oscar reached over the fence and stroked his cheek, only once, but it was enough to burn and tingle. "I just can't look at your parents right now. Not after everything you've told me."

A cheeky smile turned up the corners of Lando's mouth. "Really?"

"I thought your father was a nice man, but I can't look him in the eye after knowing how he treats his own son."

Maybe you should show him how to treat me, came the unwelcome thought, which Lando shook off before he could open his big mouth and accidentally blabber. "You should still come over, y'know. I mean, my parents can be a bit weird, but… they're not horrible. You should still help my dad if you can…"

The lopsided smile that he'd missed so much made an appearance again, and oh, Lando wanted to melt. "They really don't deserve you."

"Come by, okay? I… kinda miss you around the place."

Oscar nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Lando pushed his bike back up to the farm, slipped inside and listened to his mum tell him off about scaring her to death with how he'd disappeared for the entire day. No matter what, the grin couldn't be wiped away from his face. He took a shower, changed into his pyjamas and settled into his bed, still thinking about Oscar and his charming smile and his warm touch and his soft-spoken voice.

Maybe Max wasn't right, after all.

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The next week, things went back to normal. On Monday morning, Lando stepped out onto his balcony, still in his silk pyjama shorts, and saw Oscar bent over his dad's car with his arms deep inside the thing. Beaming with joy, he leaned over the railing to get a better look and caught pieces of the conversation between Oscar and his dad. His dad droning on about something he saw on TV the other day, about a new car model, about how much nicer it was to drive his own since Oscar made some adjustments. And Oscar giving him clipped replies, polite smiles, or sometimes just a hum to show he was listening.

When he looked up from the car and saw Lando, though, he smiled. That true, eye-crinkling, lopsided kind, that Lando recognised as a real one. Not whatever his dad got.

Lando went back to his routine of lingering. Walking around shirtless and watching from far away. Making a point of touching Oscar one way or another when they ran into each other in the kitchen. Staring blatantly from his balcony and daring Oscar to look up.

He could tell that since their encounter in Oscar's kitchen, the man didn't need much to finally break, and he was determined to find that point where he did. To poke and prod until Oscar's resolve crumbled into dust and finally gave him what he wanted. Whatever that was…

It was all going well. Until his sisters mentioned the party.

"We would have a barbecue right here," Cisca told him in hushed tones as they pulled him into the study, away from everyone else.

"Yeah, Dad and Mr. Piastri already agreed to make a run to the store and buy everything we'd need," Flo continued. "We just need you to help with decorating."

Lando's brain barely caught up to what was happening, only catching words. Birthday party. Barbecue. Mr. Piastri. Decorating. Shaking his head in confusion, he repeated the last part. "Decorating?"

The two girls exchanged a look. "Well, yeah, since we'd be baking the cake, you'd be the one decorating."

Lando bit his lip, head turning away as if he was already looking for an escape.

"Come on, Lando, it's Mum's 50th birthday… I know she can be a bit…" Cisca trailed off. "But this is family tradition! We always celebrate birthdays!"

After giving it a moment of thought, he sighed in defeat. "It's not even been two weeks since I've been cussed out, you know," he argued, but to no avail. His sisters could already tell he was agreeing, albeit grudgingly and under duress, but they hugged him nonetheless and thanked him for helping out.

Whatever… Lando could handle another birthday for his parents. It happened every year; this one wouldn't be any different.

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Sure, a small family gathering, celebrating another birthday with a cake and a present or two was very normal. But this was… something else.

Cisca and Flo sent their mother away on a wellness retreat for half a day to give them time to prepare, because yes, they needed all that time. Lando was stringing streamers and blowing up balloons for hours, decorating and furnishing their entire backyard from the fence to the animal pens. Oliver arrived at some point and helped their dad with preparing for the barbecue. In the meantime, the two girls baked a two-tiered birthday cake from scratch in the kitchen, which Lando had no idea how they managed, but he loved the chocolate smell permeating the entire house.

As he was carrying patio furniture up from the basement and tying balloons to tree branches, guests started arriving.

Aunts and uncles, old family friends; people Lando only really saw once or twice a year. And of course, they were always a treat to chat with.

"How's school going?" "How's that girl you were talking to last year?" "Are you working yet?" "Do you have any idea of what you wanna do with that degree?" "How are the girls at school?" "You should really consider changing career paths while you're young." "Did you bring a girlfriend along?"

By 5 pm, Lando wanted to kill himself. It was only out of courtesy for his mother that he didn't.

Once everything was in place, and they were warned of his mother arriving in three minutes, Lando scoured the crowd to find Oscar with the intention of bothering him all evening. He spotted him near his dad again, a bottle of beer already in hand but looking lost amongst everyone else.

As he wanted to go over to him, he was stopped by his sisters getting all up in his face.

"What?"

They smiled. "We have a surprise for you."

"Am I free to go?" he asked hopefully, making both of them roll their eyes.

"No, but we think you might not want to."

As they stepped to the side, Lando's eyes immediately caught on the familiar faces standing behind them, and he lit up immediately. "You invited the guys?!" he squealed.

"We didn't want you to be alone; we invited all our friends, too."

Lando wasn't even listening anymore; he rushed over to his friends, throwing himself into their arms.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he said through giggles as he buried his face in Alex's neck. "You!" He pointed to Carlos. "I thought you were going back to Spain for the summer!"

"Change of plans, amigo!"

"Yeah, and it's not like we could say no to your sisters," Franco noted. "Where are they, by the way?"

"Touch them, and I'll cut your dick off."

"Damn, pissy…"

"You better have some alcohol here. I didn't take the bus for no reason," Charles grumbled.

Carlos threw his arm around their complaining friend. "He's never been to a farm before, can you believe that?"

"I grew up in Nice! Why would I ever—"

"Alright, alright, save it." Max cut them off. "Let's sit for now, yeah?"

Lando's mother arrived soon after. The big crowd sang her happy birthday, and she blew out the candles on her massive cake, but not before giving a weird look to the blokes standing around Lando. It was only a split second, but all of them noticed.

"Mate, your mum's not happy about us," Max whispered in his ear while everyone clapped for her.

"I don't care," Lando declared.

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They sat around one of the tables, away from everyone else, just chatting over some beers. Then a bottle of wine. Then a glass of champagne each. Then a big bottle of Coke that Lando spiked with some really strong rum. He got up every who knows how long to bring them more drinks, sometimes a little snack from the barbecue or a slice of cake.

The more they drank, the louder they got, and it was earning them weird looks that still, Lando couldn't give two shits about. Being around his friends made him feel fun, like the life of the party, and he wasn't about to ruin that.

Instead, he let the drinks flow, the words get more slurred, and the laughs grow more boisterous. They talked about uni, reminiscing about parties, trashed dorm rooms and energy drink-fuelled late-night cramming sessions. Shared new stories of their summer. Charles and Carlos talked about how they'd been travelling from vacation to vacation, Alex about a new girl he met, Franco about some model he had set his eyes on.

The conversation derailed from there. Now quite drunk, the guys wouldn't stop chatting about their hookups, dragging Lando down with them.

It was a very obvious fact that Lando liked older men. He always had an attraction towards the older generation, had crushes on his teachers and his dad's fitter mates for as long as he could remember. And that fact often became something the guys could tease him about. Nicknamed him Lana after Lana Del Rey and relentlessly picked on him for how down bad he was for salt-and-pepper hair and crow's feet.

He never really took it upon himself; he knew it was just guys being guys, but being around his family, he grew more and more embarrassed as the evening wore on. Kept shushing his friends as they asked about his new 'victims', who would laugh at him and bring up his past Grindr hookups.

When he left the table again for another bottle of something to drink and a little break away from all the others, Oscar approached him with a serious face that Lando didn't enjoy the look of.

"Mr. Piastriii! Hi!" he squealed. "Having fun?"

"Not as much as you are, clearly." Oscar crowded in close to whisper. "You remember two weeks ago, how you ran to my house because your parents yelled at you?"

"Mmm yeah." Lando smiled, his hand trailing up Oscar's forearm.

"You're not headed in a much better direction right now. Your dad's pissed; I think it's time you knock this off with your friends."

"What, we're just having fun!"

Stumbling back, Lando caught himself on the liquor table and snatched another bottle of wine to take back to his friend's table.

"Lando, come on," Oscar growled, following him until he could snatch the bottle from Lando's hands and hold it up in the air. "You've had enough, quit it before you do something stupid in front of your parents."

He heard a whistle from behind, and both their heads turned to see Carlos and Franco walking up to them with cheeky grins. "And who's this, Lana?"

Embarrassed, Lando giggled and covered his face with his hands. "Guys, this is Oscar. He moved to the neighbourhood recently. Friend of my dad's. Oscar, these are my friends, Franco and Carlos."

"Friend of your dad's, eh?" Carlos nudged him with an elbow to the ribs.

"You guys are awful," Lando replied, still giggling uncontrollably from how embarrassed he felt. This was really not how he wanted to introduce Oscar to his mates—in fact, Oscar wasn't even supposed to meet these guys! "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Going to find a bathroom," Franco said. "Unless you guys wanna use it…"

"Piss off, right now, both of you! Oh my god…"

In a fit of drunken giggles, Carlos and Franco left, wobbling up the handful of stairs leading into the house. Lando turned back to face Oscar, trying to conceal how mortified he felt by that entire interaction.

"Sorry, they're really weird," he said, trying to undermine whatever just happened.

Still looking serious as ever, Oscar asked him, "So who was that?"

"I told you, my mates. Carlos and Franco."

"No, not them. The person you just became."

Lando's face fell from the gravity of the question. He had no funny quip, no clever answer, nothing to hide behind. He simply stood dumbly, staring up at Oscar like a kid looking at a disappointed father. Except Lando knew very well what that felt like, and this… this was probably even worse. Because it wasn't someone disappointed in seeing who Lando was; it was Oscar's disappointment in Lando hiding himself behind a persona.

After he didn't get any answer for a while, Oscar just shook his head. "Lay off the booze, will you? I don't want these boys careening headfirst into the birthday cake or the chicken coop." Then he left, and Lando's head echoed with a tinny, pitchy noise.

He walked back to the table and collapsed wordlessly into the chair.

"You okay, mate?" he heard Max ask, but he didn't have the capacity to answer.

"No more booze," he said instead. "Someone said we're… disruptive."

"No wonder." Charles scoffed. "Everybody here looks like they belong in a nursing home."

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Nearing the end of the party, Lando walked his friends out to the bus stop to catch the last bus on the schedule. It was getting chilly now that the alcohol was leaving his system, and the weight of what they had done during the evening was starting to dawn on him. He tried to keep up the appearances while he put his friends on the bus, but as soon as they said their mournful, drunken goodbyes, Lando felt… incredibly stupid. The pit in his stomach grew immeasurably as he watched the bus drive further and further.

He knew he had to go back; his feet already started carrying him, but fuck, he didn't want to face his parents. The whole way back, he kept making up scenarios of how the argument would go. What they would say, what he would reply. How he would try to get away, run to his room and lock himself in there for a day, but his father would probably catch his arm quicker and keep him there while they screamed in his face about how he ruined his mother's 50th birthday.

And he did. Lando didn't even want to sugarcoat it. They'd been really loud and disruptive; they drank half the alcohol on sight, and he embarrassed his parents even more than he had already managed. Not only was their son useless and gay, he was also a dumb alcoholic, whose friends made jokes about how much he put out. Honestly, he was a disgrace.

As he reached their street, Lando's eyes fell upon an angelic sight. A saving grace, his last hope. Oscar Piastri, unlocking his gate while struggling with a tray of leftovers.

Lando immediately ran over to him and took the tray from his hands.

"Running to me for comfort again, are we?" Oscar mused as he finally managed to get the key into the keyhole.

"Come with me," Lando demanded.

"What?"

"I don't wanna go back there, I want… just… come with me."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "What do you want from me, Lando? To be your shield as you try to argue with your parents?"

Maybe it was the leftover alcohol in his system, or maybe the word vomit was coming before Lando had even known about it. Either way, when he next opened his mouth, the truth poured out of him uncontrollably.

"I don't know why I behave the way I do around my friends," he confessed. "They're really loud and fun, and they make me feel fun, too. At home I was always silenced; no one ever asked me a question or listened when I wanted to talk—maybe that's why I grew up to be like this. But I don't feel that when I'm with you. I feel like I'm just… me. Without the filters, without the jokes. Without trying to be more or less than what I am. It feels like I can just exist and you'll accept me. And that's exactly what I need right now."

He took a deep, shuddering breath, as if the monologue had knocked all the wind out of him. Then whispered, "Please… let's go somewhere. Just the two of us."

The way Oscar looked at him was… scary. Lando felt like the man could see the depths of his soul, especially now that he'd laid bare these embarrassing thoughts. Yet still, Oscar didn't look ashamed of him or disappointed in him. The look in his eyes was gentle as ever, and it made Lando want to melt on the spot. Jump into his arms and never let go. Maybe sex with Oscar wasn't the only thing he wanted anymore; maybe he just wanted the safety…

Weird, that.

"Let me put that away," Oscar said, taking the tray from Lando's hands. "I'll be right back. And you decide where you wanna go."

Eagerly, Lando nodded.

Oscar walked up the steps to his house, unlocked the door and spent a long, fingernail-gnawingly anxious three minutes inside. Lando's mind was running a mile a minute while he was alone, imagining even more scenarios with varying endings of the night. He wasn't sure which one of them he wanted anymore.

When Oscar emerged from the house again, he wore a soft smile on his face, and he ushered Lando out so he could lock the place up again. "So, where to?"

"Um… I never showed you to the lake, did I?"

"No, that part of our tour was never scheduled."

"Grave mistake, honestly. The place is beautiful."

Lando took off, and Oscar walked beside him, shoulders brushing on every second step they took. Quietly, they made their way down the street again and took a left, towards the lake. Where the sound of crickets and other critters became louder, and the world otherwise fell quiet.

The peaceful, still water reflected the light of the full moon, illuminating their figures as they approached the edge. Above them, the leaves rustled with the gentle breeze. It caught in Oscar's hair, blowing his fringe out of his face. He looked beautiful in the moonlight, too; it gave his skin a silver colour that made Lando feel like he was looking at something precious.

"Wow," Oscar breathed. "It really is gorgeous…"

"Yeah," Lando replied, not taking his eyes off the man in front of him for even a second. "Wanna take a dip?"

Laughing, Oscar met his gaze. "Hah. Yeah, sure."

"I'm serious, you can swim here."

He didn't say anything else, just started undressing. His shirt first, undoing button after button in slow succession. He tossed it onto the ground, not even checking where it landed. His shoes and socks next, then his belt slipping out of his jeans.

"Lando, come on," Oscar gasped.

"What?" He smiled as he pushed his trousers down, kicking them off so that it was just him in his underwear.

It was only a millisecond that Oscar's eyes left his face, but it was enough for Lando. Enough confirmation that despite everything, he still wasn't the only willing participant here. That Oscar did want him in the same way that he wanted Oscar.

It was the final thing that pushed him over, that made him shuck his underwear off and walk into the water completely naked while shooting looks at Oscar over his shoulder.

"You coming?" he called as he sank into the cool water to his chest.

At the shore, Oscar stood helplessly. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for several minutes, just watching Lando. Even with the distance between them, Lando could still see the way his chest rose and fell so quickly.

After a long while of hesitation, Oscar took his own shirt off, too. Kicked off his shoes, his trousers… Lando waited with bated breath.

Finally, the boxers came off. And Oscar descended into the water as well.

"It's fucking cold," he grumbled.

"Wakes you up a little."

"Exactly what I need right now," he said, referring to the late hour.

They both giggled, their eye contact heavy and charged.

When Lando took a step forward, Oscar pushed himself back. When he moved right, Oscar moved left. Yet when he tried swimming away, Oscar followed. It was like a choreography, some sort of mind-numbing dance that wanted to drive Lando mad.

"Why won't you let me in?" Lando asked eventually, splashing water at the man.

"What do you mean?" Oscar mimicked him, splashing him back.

"You won't let me get closer!"

"Because you're already dangerous enough from this distance."

"What do you even mean?" Lando groaned, throwing himself back in the water like a petulant kid.

"I mean." Oscar grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him back to look into his eyes. "You're a fucking minx. You tease me day in, day out. You talk to me like no one else does, you look at me like no one else does, then you go ahead and put on performances that haunt me in my fucking dreams. Like getting naked and inviting me into a lake like you're some kind of siren."

Cheekily, Lando grinned and moved closer until he could finally touch Oscar's arm. By the time the man tried taking a step back, Lando was already too close, attached to him. "Why is that a bad thing?" he asked.

"Because I…" Oscar looked pained, his brows drawing in, his eyes darting around Lando's figure as he searched for some bullshit reason that was probably knocking about in his brain somewhere. "I've been trying so hard to be good. To be the responsible adult and keep my distance like I'm supposed to. But you make it so fucking difficult, and…" He made a sound at the back of his throat that was downright delicious. "All I can think about is that you're fucking naked right now, you little brat."

Lando laughed from his chest as his arm slung around Oscar's neck. "What'cha gonna do about it?"

"Lando…"

"No, come on. I'm giving you full permission."

"Lando." It was a warning now. One that Lando couldn't give a fuck about. He liked pushing; he liked seeing how far it would go. And he needed to know now.

He wrapped his legs around Oscar's waist, making sure to press his whole body against the older man. "No one's here, Mr. Piastri; we can be a little bad if we wanna…"

"Stop fucking calling me that," he growled.

"Oh, it is turning you on, huh?" Lando crooned, head tilting. "And at the house, when you said I'm a pretty crier… was that turning you on as well?"

"Lando, I swear to god…"

"Wanna turn me into a sloppy mess until all I can do is cry and say 'please, sir'?"

Oscar pushed him against the wooden beam of the pier with enough force to make Lando wince, then just like that, they were kissing.

It was hungry, needy. They kissed like they wanted to devour each other. Lips bruising, teeth knocking, tongues licking deep inside the other's mouth as their hands explored. The water around them was cold, but everywhere Oscar's hands brushed his skin, it burned. Strong arms hooked under his thighs, calloused palms squeezing his ass cheeks before travelling up and grabbing his waist, stroking his back. One hand ended up at the base of Lando's neck, heavy like a brand as he positioned Lando's head for kissing.

He was burning up, heart beating so hard in his chest, he was convinced Oscar could feel it where their chests pressed together. Need consumed him, dick growing hard rapidly despite the cold water surrounding them. He humped Oscar's torso, rubbing his cock against his stomach like a dog.

Oscar pulled away, but only barely. Their noses still pressed together, lips brushing as Oscar spoke, "No, no. Shhh, stop. Calm down, Lando."

"Don't wanna. Don't wanna calm down, please," Lando gasped, breathing him in.

"We can't do this here."

"There's no one here—"

"Lando." He called his name with a finality that made Lando whimper, muscles going lax. "Listen to me when I speak. You're going to be good. We're going to get out of here before your lips turn blue, and I'm going to take you home."

Hopefully, Lando asked, "Home, as in, to your place, right?"

"No, love. I'm taking you back to yours, and we'll talk about this later. With clear heads."

He pushed at Oscar's shoulders. "I don't like you with a clear head; you're too much of a good guy. I like you like this."

"Too bad," Oscar chuckled, then pressed his lips to Lando's again. This time, the kiss was softer. Still deep and full of emotion, but no longer driven by primal hunger. "Let's go, yeah?"

Lando tucked his face into Oscar's neck, not even sparing him an answer. Oscar carried him out of the water and placed him back down on the ground gently. The mud felt slippery under his feet, and he suddenly became acutely aware of how wet and cold he was.

They didn't towel off, just pulled their clothes back on and let the material soak up the water. Lando didn't bother putting his shoes on, just let them dangle from his fingers as he carried them along the dirt path leading back to the street, then up the small incline towards the Norris farm.

Oscar walked beside him, silent but close, a warm presence grounding Lando in the moment. He didn't want to think about what might await him at home, so he focused on Oscar himself. The sounds of his feet on concrete, the steady breathing. Reaching out, Lando laced their fingers together, and Oscar let him, closing his hand around Lando's.

"You're so serious all the time," he mused. "I like when I can get you like this."

"I'm glad at least you're enjoying it." Oscar scoffed.

Grimacing, Lando asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Oscar wouldn't even look at him as he shook his head and replied, "Nothing, nevermind."

Lando sniffled, wiped off the water dripping down the back of his neck, and stayed silent for the rest of the walk back to their house.

The windows of the Norris mansion were all dark, no light seeping out from the house whatsoever. Everyone must've been tired after the party and gone to bed as soon as the guests left. Who knows when that was, maybe by the time Oscar left as well.

Without hesitation, Lando dropped Oscar's hand and scaled the two steps up to the front door, but when he jiggled the handle, he found it locked.

"Fuck," he moaned.

"Locked out?"

"Yep. I'm guessing they hope I sleep out on the street somewhere…"

Lando waited for only a beat, hoping for an invite. Though he'd already asked multiple times if he could stay with Oscar and had been rejected all those times, so it wasn't a surprise when that invite never came. He changed angle then, approaching the house from the fence gate instead.

Rising on his tiptoes and reaching over the top, his fingers could just barely graze the string on the other side, attaching the key to the fence post. Some people wouldn't call it theft-proof, but it worked in small towns, and it came in handy in situations such as this. Lando pulled the key forward and opened the lock.

"What's the plan, then? Sleeping with the horses?"

"Fuck no." Lando snorted. "Back door's always open. The latch broke five years ago." He gave one last tight-lipped smile to Oscar and a choked little "Goodnight, Mr. Piastri," before closing the gate behind himself.

"Goodnight, Lando."

The backyard was an utter mess, no time or energy to clean everything up. It would probably be something he'd get tasked with tomorrow, with a sour 'since you ruined everything anyway' comment tacked on. He really wasn't looking forward to facing his parents tomorrow. For about ten minutes, he actually cleaned up most of the mess in the pale light of the full moon, then gave up when he realised it wouldn't make that much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, anyway. So he headed up to his room instead.

At least that part of the house was still unchanged. No one ever went into his room; it was like his own little fortress of solitude. One part of this goddamn house where he couldn't be perceived by anyone.

Shucking his wet clothes, he took a quick shower while he deliberately tried not to overanalyse Oscar's little comment, but ultimately failed. The intonation had Lando's mind reeling. Everything always led him back to the thought that maybe he did push too far and now he was alone in this. Maybe revealing all that about his feelings to Oscar in that sudden burst of… whatever, was too much. Maybe Oscar didn't feel the same way.

And what was it that Lando felt, anyway? Two weeks ago, he would've said he just wanted to fuck that man, and that's it. Move on like he did from all the other random guys he'd found on Grindr or in whatever dingy club in London. But then Oscar welcomed him into his house and held him while Lando cried. Listened to him complain, petted his hair, wiped his tears. And earlier, when he looked deep into Lando's eyes and implied that he knew Lando better than Lando's friends of two years knew him—than Lando knew himself—, and somehow, he was right...

It was a terrifying realisation to have, but Oscar really was right.

Freshly showered and warmed up, Lando put his sleep shorts on and tucked himself into bed, his stomach churning from anxiety.

He was too much. He wanted more than Oscar was willing to give, and now he was alone. Why would Oscar want him for more than sex, anyway?

He needed to get this fairytale story of his knight in shining armour who would understand and protect him out of his head and focus on one thing only. Oscar was an attractive man. He kissed Lando; therefore, he must want him back. If Oscar only wanted sex, Lando could give him sex. That's what he was in it for in the beginning, anyway. It looked like they were finally on the same page about that.

Lando just needed to stop fucking romanticising everything and treat it as it was.

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The next day, after a couple of hours of fitful sleep, Lando tossed the covers off himself at five in the morning, got dressed and went outside to clean up, this time for real.

By half past five, his parents were awake, too, and they walked out to an almost completely tidy backyard. The trash had been picked up, the decorations removed and neatly packed away for the next party, if they ever wanted to hold one like this again. Chairs stacked up in piles of four, the tables already moved closer to the basement door so they could be carried down easily. They didn't even make a comment as Lando moved everything down the dingy staircase all by himself.

In fact, barely anyone said a word to Lando for more than half the day. His siblings woke up late and asked him how he was, what time he got home. Cisca apologised for inviting his friends, saying she didn't intend for it to end like this, but Lando quickly dismissed the apology, saying it was his own fault. He was very much the enabler in the situation.

Oliver left in the early afternoon with a promise to call as soon as possible. The whole family waved him off as he drove away in his brand new Porche their parents got him as a celebratory gift for launching his business.

"I don't know where we went wrong with you," his dad said, still looking after the car that was long gone, but clearly addressing his words to Lando. "All of your siblings turned out well; you're the only odd one out. I don't suppose we treated them any differently. Do you?"

Tears welled in Lando's eyes, but he bit his tongue hard to keep them at bay.

"Maybe it wasn't us, after all. Maybe you were a lost case to begin with," he declared with a heavy sigh, then walked back into the house, following the girls.

Lando stayed outside for several minutes after that. Frozen in time, like he was still watching his brother drive by. Or maybe expecting him to come back. Maybe expecting something else.

He needed solitude to breathe through the ache burning in his chest. The heavy stone that sat at the pit of his stomach that always reminded him of what a fucking failure he was. His breathing didn't speed up; he didn't start sobbing. He breathed calmly as the tears rolled down his cheeks in calm, scalding-hot trails, then eventually came to a stop. He rubbed at them, wiping away any evidence of crying.

Then his feet just carried him.

Maybe he didn't need solitude after all. Maybe he needed calloused hands gripping his waist, warm lips stealing his breath, brown eyes burning his soul. Something to make him feel seen, make him feel special.

He walked straight through Oscar's gate as if he owned the place, and knocked on the door loudly, confidently. It opened for him within just a few seconds, and there Oscar was, once again dressed in something soft and casual.

"Lando?"

He barely got the word out before Lando was throwing himself at him, lips meeting in an urgent kiss. Even in his confused state, Oscar still kissed him back and wrapped his arm around Lando's waist, pulling him in to close the door behind them.

He was pressed up against the door then, back arching in search of Oscar's body as they kissed. His hands roamed greedily, from the man's waist to the longer strands of hair at the back of his neck. Down his biceps and up under his shirt, finding skin to touch and dig into and mark.

"What are you doing here?" Oscar gasped between kisses.

"Came to finish what we started last night." His lips found Oscar's stubbled jawline, kissing his way up to his ears, then down the column of his neck.

"I told you, we should talk—"

"Don't wanna talk," Lando whined. He truly didn't need to have a uselessly lengthy conversation about how Oscar didn't want this to be more serious, how it would just be a one-time thing, no feelings, no attachment, blah blah, blah. Always the same bullshit that Lando was sick of hearing. "Want you to fuck me instead."

Pulling away from Oscar's neck, he gave him that puppy look through his lashes that Lando knew worked on every single man ever. "Please? Please, sir, I need you to fuck me."

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't disappointed this time either. With one last groan of defeat, Oscar kissed him back feverently.

Soon enough, he was picked up and carried through the entry and the living room without ever parting from each other, kissing like they needed it to live. And Lando definitely did. In that moment, Oscar felt like a lifeline; like the delicate thread holding Lando together so he didn't fall apart embarrassingly and prove both Oscar and his father right: that he was just a useless little kid.

Oscar's bedroom was just as tiny as the rest of his home. Some tragic wallpaper on the walls, a rug that was once cream coloured, a small double bed pushed up against the wall, and a dresser crammed up in the corner. The sheets looked fresh, at least, but the floor was a mess of clothes.

"You're worse than some of the boys at my dorm," Lando chuckled as Oscar kissed his way down his neck, hands moving up to push the tank top off Lando's torso.

"Like. In what sense?" the man asked absently.

"In a cleanliness sense."

"Didn't think this would bother you."

"Doesn't. Just funny, innit."

Lando kissed him back and wrestled with the drawstrings of Oscar's shorts, undoing them with shaky hands and shoving the waistband down impatiently. Meanwhile, Oscar shucked his own T-shirt, then ducked his head to kiss his way down Lando's chest.

He was pushed down onto the bed, landing with a surprised little yelp. Oscar sank to his knees in front of him, licking over Lando's tummy and pushing his knees up to press kisses to his inner thighs.

When Oscar looked up at him from that position—the whites of his eyes showing at the bottom while the brown of his irises appeared almost black, the smallest hint of a cocky smile tugging at the corner of his lips—Lando felt his face burning. He wanted to cover himself up, hide away, because this… this was too much. Too intimate, too sweet, too much like exactly what he'd hoped.

He deflected the moment by laughing again and pushing his own shorts down. "Hurry up, old man, I don't have all day."

Oscar moved out of the way to help Lando get his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked while the older remained in his underwear. "Do kids not know about foreplay anymore?"

"We don't really care for it," Lando said cheekily while fisting Oscar's hair and pulling him up the bed. "We much prefer the action itself."

"Because you're all so impatient nowadays," Oscar complained, resisting Lando's pull just slightly, but still climbing up after him anyway. Stalking towards him on the mattress as Lando settled down comfortably, head thrown back against the pillows and legs on either side of Oscar's body. "I'll teach you patience, though."

"Shaking in my boots, sir," Lando teased.

Grabbing Lando's wrists, Oscar pinned them both above his head. "Cheeky." He attacked Lando's neck then, teasing him with wet kisses and leaving a trail of saliva from his jaw to his chest. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked at Lando's nipples, making him whine and tremble underneath. Trying to squirm away but always unsuccessful; held still by Oscar's strong grip and the grounding weight of his body.

It's not that Lando didn't like foreplay. He did, usually. But this was a very specific situation. Firstly, his nipples had always been so sensitive, and he hated the fact that Oscar just latched on like he knew that without Lando ever having to say it. The way the man was teasing him like that felt more like torture than foreplay, because Lando could feel every flick of that clever fucking tongue on his dick. Secondly, the past nearly two months, to him, had felt like extremely long foreplay anyway; he did not need Oscar to be doing all this. Especially after what he just had to listen to at home. He came here to have the brains fucked out of him so he could no longer think.

Slowly, Oscar made his way down. His hands finally let go of Lando's hands, so he could bury his fingers in Oscar's soft locks again as he lowered his mouth onto his cock.

He only took in Lando's tip and went no further. It wasn't even a blowjob; Oscar just suckled at the head like it was a lollipop, tongue swirling around the slit as if he was purposefully trying to unravel Lando by working his most sensitive spots until it hurt.

Lando tried pushing at his head, but Oscar's neck was surprisingly strong. He tried fucking up into the velvety heat, but to no avail; Oscar just pinned his hips to the mattress effortlessly.

He was once again left thrashing and whimpering pathetically. "Oscar, come the fuck on! Just stop being so…" He trailed off into a splintered, drawn-out whine as his feet kicked dramatically on either side of Oscar's shoulders.

The man pulled off his dick, giving Lando some reprieve, if only for a second. "Pass me the lube. Top drawer," he said before going back to what he was doing.

Lando threw his arm out blindly and flapped around for the skinny little bedside table the door bumped up against when they walked in. His fingers found the knob for the drawer and threw it open. It creaked, but Lando didn't even care if he broke it anymore. The thing was probably a bloody hundred years old, anyway. Feeling around inside, he located a bottle of lube and threw it in Oscar's general direction, not really looking to see where it landed. His vision was swimming, anyway.

"Get to work, just fucking—" He gestured vaguely.

He felt vibrations travelling through his shaft and to his fucking balls as Oscar chuckled around him.

"Oscar! Fuck off, fuck off, fucking get to— ahhh, stop, just—hnngh!"

The sheer panic in his voice probably knocked some sense into Oscar finally, and he pulled off, only to smirk up at Lando all smugly. "What? Sensitive?"

"You're such a fucking prick! Can you get to it before I leave?"

"Oh, you'll leave, will you?" He asked with faux concern. The condescension in his tone made Lando's spine tingle. "Go on, then. If you wanna leave so badly."

Oscar really waited. He uncapped the bottle and squirted a good amount of lube on his fingers to slick them up. Lando watched the motions of his hands, the way his fist moved up and down around two of his fingers, how he thrusted the digits into the clutch of his palm. He was captivated, breath coming short as he imagined it being him. Just the vision had his hole twitching.

"Just… just do it already," he said at last.

His knees were pushed up, bending towards his chest, and Lando held onto them, wordlessly, obediently. His gaze drifted out the window next to the bed as wet fingers circled his hole, eyes fixated on the tall cherry tree shielding the cottage from the neighbours. The air was so still outside, it didn't even flutter the leaves or sway the spindly branches. Instead, it was Lando who felt like he was swept up by the wind, dragging him this way and that, jostling him until he was left feeling woozy. His head was swimming.

The pressure in his body built as one finger penetrated him, moving carefully as if he was fragile. Pushing further and further on each thrust, the rough pad of the finger moving in tight circles as it poked and prodded until it found its target. Lando's body seized, his legs trembling where they pointed towards the sky. "Fuck—fuck, oh my God," he gasped.

"Good?" Oscar asked, his second finger already prodding at Lando's entrance.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck, good. Good."

As Oscar continued his onslaught, the world around Lando faded away. The cherry tree, the bedspread, the ache in his hamstrings. Nothing mattered anymore; every nerve in his body focused on what Oscar was going between his legs.

One finger, then two. Just the slightest hint of pain as he pushed to the second knuckle. Then he pulled out, and pushed one back in. His other hand wrapped around Lando's dick, his pointer finger circling his tip as if he wanted to kill Lando. Then, when he pushed the second finger in once more, a tongue joined, licking between the two digits as he opened Lando up with infinite patience.

A kind of patience that Lando lacked. Severely.

"Stop fucking about," he growled, frustration growing in him now. "Get on with it!"

"I am getting on with it, love," Oscar said with an amused lilt to his voice. He smiled up at Lando from between his legs as if he was completely innocent, and it made Lando want to kick him and kiss him, one after the other. "I'm getting you ready for me, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but I'm ready now, come on!" Lando whined, letting go of one leg to gently push Oscar's shoulder with his heel. "I'm not gonna break, just fuck me already."

"You really are impatient." Oscar twisted his fingers inside, making Lando keen and squeeze his eyes shut, pleasure spiking again. "No manners, either."

"My manners are perfectly fine," he argued, just for argument's sake this time.

"Is that right?" Oscar mused and pulled his fingers out from Lando entirely. Lando didn't even have time to protest, to call him a bitch for doing that without any warning, to complain about how empty he felt—Oscar was already moving up the bed, bringing their faces closer together slowly, inch by inch. "Because this whole time you've been nothing but a brat. A needy, commanding, mouthy little brat." His voice lowered, and fuck, Lando was in trouble now, huh… He never thought he'd miss the stupid faux-innocent smile, but this…

"I— I haven't," he tried denying meekly, but snapped his mouth shut as soon as one of Oscar's hands landed by his head on the mattress as he lowered himself all the way down to be in Lando's face.

"Oh yeah? Then what was all this circus about being too slow, taking too long?"

Lando didn't dare to say anything.

"Where's my good boy who asked me to fuck him so sweetly, huh? The one who said please, sir?" He gave Lando a pointed look. "Do I really have to teach you a lesson about manners?"

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide. He wondered what it would feel like to let Oscar have the power like that, how it might feel to let go like that. Lando wasn't used to it. Sure, he liked being fucked, but more often than not, he was still in control. Mouthing off freely, because no one could say no to him when he smiled up at them bashfully; or setting the pace from up top, because something he quickly had to learn about men in their forties was that they got tired pretty quickly.

Yet despite not being used to it, Lando craved it. His mouth didn't even give time for his brain to properly catch up before he was blurting out, "You should spank me."

There was a too-long pause after that, and Lando felt himself tense up in preparation to be… what? Rejected? Ridiculed? Something along those lines. Maybe Oscar would kick him out, say he was being weird and didn't want it like that.

But after a while— "Let me hear you ask for it, then."

"Please," he said instantly, "spank me. Please, sir."

Oscar pulled back, sitting back on his haunches. Grabbing both of Lando's ankles, he brought his legs together and pushed them up towards his chest again, until his hips lifted off the mattress and he could prop Lando up with a pillow.

"Keep your legs there. I'll give you fifteen, how does that sound?"

Lando squirmed in place, even as he wrapped an arm around the crook of his knees to keep them tucked close to his chest. "Yeah, good, but… Aren't you gonna… like, flip me over?"

"Nah." Oscar smirked. "Wanna look at your pretty face." With that came the first hit; the sound of skin colliding with skin in a sharp crack echoed in the small, barren room. Lando threw his head back, teeth gritting and body tensing up for a second as pain radiated from his asscheek.

The second hit came quickly after, on the other cheek, then Oscar soothed over the pinkish skin with a rough palm. "How's that?" he asked.

"Fine, yeah, good," Lando panted. "I'm good, just keep fucking—" He squirmed in place again, pushing his ass into Oscar's palm, but it only earned him a painful squeeze to the already sensitive skin. It left him whining and unsuccessfully trying to pull away.

"I'm not hitting hard enough if you're still this mouthy, huh?"

"No, no, it's not—"

But there was no time for excuses; Oscar's palm landed on his ass again and again, striking the same side twice this time. Lando cried out, jaw dropping and face scrunching up in pain as it washed through him. Blood rushed to the places where Oscar's hand kept striking, to his sad, neglected cock that still lay hard and leaking against his tummy despite being hit.

By the eighth spank, Lando was trying so hard to hold on. He gnawed at his bottom lip, squirmed in place to somehow try and lessen the soreness, but it didn't help at all. Eventually, the pain-pleasure overwhelmed him, and tears began flowing.

The heat that he previously only felt in his ass now enveloped his face, too, the salty drops rolling down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into Oscar's pillow. He turned his head as much as he could to hide his face in the cushion as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Don't hide from me," Oscar warned, hitting him again. When Lando didn't listen, two fingers gripped Lando's chin and turned his face to look at him. Lando tried to blink away the tears and pretend everything was fine, but it was no help. His eyes were already glassed over, lashes stuck together and glistening with the tears that left wet tracks on his cheeks. "Oh, baby, does it hurt?" Oscar asked, a hint of that same overwhelming condescension lacing his voice.

"It's—it's good," Lando hiccuped.

Oscar hit him again, completely unexpected. Caught off guard, Lando cried out, red lips parting in a howl as more tears sprang from his eyes.

"God, you're so pretty when you cry. It's unfair, you know. I'm a weak man, and you come here crying, looking at me all pretty and begging… What wet dream did you crawl out of?"

Lando sniffled, then opened his mouth to say something clever, but when the next hit landed, he completely forgot what he was going to reply. Words no longer came to him, tongue numb in his mouth. All he could do was feel and look at Oscar. Feel the hand striking his ass over and over again, only giving him the reprieve of soothing the sting with a gentle pet once every couple of hits. Feel the pleasure knotting tighter and tighter in his belly with each spank. Feel the grip on his chin that never let go, forcing him to look Oscar in the eyes as he whimpered and cried. Oscar's eyes were almost completely black, darkened by lust and fixated on Lando's face. His face was red, too, his blush reaching up to the tips of his ears, contrasting with the rest of his pale skin. Lando's eyes hungrily trailed lower, wanting to see if the rest of him was just as red and eager.

After the fifteenth hit landed, Oscar let Lando's legs fall back down, and he mumbled praise against Lando's salty skin as he kissed all over his face. "There you go, my good boy. God, you're so beautiful. Did so well, baby, you were so good."

Lando wrapped his legs around his waist to pull their bodies flush against each other and caught his lips in a wet, needy kiss. His hips moved by themselves, pushing against Oscar, grinding their cocks together through the thin material of his boxers as he moaned into their kiss.

"Please. Fuck, please."

"Good boy, asking so nicely. What do you want?"

"Fuck me, I need— I'll die if you don't get inside me."

Oscar giggled, but obliged anyway. He pushed his boxers off in one fluid motion, then settled back between Lando's spread legs. Reaching over, he fiddled inside the still open drawer of the bedside table until he came back with a condom.

Lando was quick to pluck it out of his hands. "Can we… I mean… I really want you to cum inside me," he said quietly.

That simple admission had Oscar moaning as if Lando had touched him exactly where he needed it most. "Of course, baby. Anything." He was panting heavily, hands trembling as he lubed himself up without tearing his eyes away from Lando's face. "Anything," he promised.

When Oscar slid inside, Lando stopped breathing. His fingers dug into the muscles of Oscar's shoulders, mouth wide open as he felt the length of him stretch him wide and fill him up. Oscar was slow with it, took his time to ease in. Nothing like most of Lando's past hookups, who were all so eager to get in him that they mostly just shoved inside. This way, Lando got to feel everything, and it drove him even more insane—if that was possible at all anymore.

Oscar barely bottomed out; he already set a slow pace, rocking inside Lando in a way that had him rubbing up against a spot deep inside Lando that had his eyes rolling.

"You're so beautiful when you feel good," Oscar praised, pressing kisses to the corners of Lando's open mouth. "Could do this all day if I got to look at you like this."

"Promise?" Lando asked, already halfway out of it.

Oscar just giggled. "You'd like that? Having my attention on you all day, making you feel good over and over again?"

Lando nodded eagerly, hips gyrating against Oscar's movements. Oscar didn't need to be told to go quicker; he got it just from Lando's neediness. He set the perfect pace, pulling out halfway and thrusting back up with enough momentum to jostle Lando with each movement. Deep enough to feel him all the way in his stomach.

It was exactly what Lando needed. Oscar's hands on him, eyes on him, lips on him. Fucking him within an inch of his mind, until Lando was whole again. Until he was no longer just an empty, useless shell. Until he had a purpose. And his purpose was to make Oscar feel good. To make Oscar proud.

Somewhere along, Lando started crying again. He didn't know when, but he had a vague idea why. It was all too perfect, the pleasure overwhelming, leaving no place for the guilt he felt. It flowed out of him in the form of tears, and he hugged Oscar closer to make him feel warm again.

"So pretty when you cry for me," Oscar moaned, and Lando felt his wet tongue trailing the tear tracks on his face, licking up every last drop. Lando chased after his tongue, nuzzling into it. "So good, Lando. You feel fucking amazing."

Their eyes met, and oh. Oscar looked just as gone as Lando felt. His fringe stuck to his forehead with the sweat he worked up at the pace, eyes hooded over, lips parted in heavy breathing that fanned over Lando's wet face. He looked… beautiful. The most beautiful sight Lando had ever fucking seen.

"Hah, yeah?" Oscar laughed. "You should see yourself, then," he said. That's when Lando realised he was so out of it that he actually spoke out loud. He didn't have time to feel embarrassed about it, though, because Oscar wouldn't stop talking.

"You're perfect, Lando. Perfect for me. All for me. Fucking perfect."

The words echoed in Lando's mind, bouncing off the walls of his head and leaving him dizzy. More tears fell as everything inside him swelled until it all came to a peak.

Oscar held him and fucked him and accepted him. That was probably the best thing he'd felt for as long as he could remember. The orgasm that washed over him was a close second.

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By the time Oscar came back to the room, Lando had shuffled up the bed to prop himself up against the headboard. He draped the blanket over his lap to make up for the fact that he was still naked underneath, and probably leaking cum all over Oscar's sheets.

"Brought you some water," Oscar declared with a smile as he sat down next to Lando and handed him the glass.

The cold water felt so refreshing after moaning so much, almost like soothing balm for Lando's raw throat.

"I thought you might need something to eat as well. Don't know what snacks you like, though, so I just brought you these." Oscar presented him a bowl of shiny, dark red cherries. "I know you like fruit, at least."

Lando picked a few from the bowl and popped one in his mouth. As he bit into it, the sweet, tart juice exploded over his tongue, and he drank it like it was nectar. He spat the pit back into the bowl before tossing another one into his mouth.

"Do you like it?" Oscar prompted. Lando just nodded. "I also wanted to ask… about everything. Was it okay? What I did." Lando nodded again. Oscar took the cherries and the glass from his hand to put them down on the bedside table. "Alright. Listen, in general I don't mind the whole nonverbal thing, but right now I need better answers than head movements."

As they sat in silence, with Oscar's expectant gaze on him, Lando felt everything bubble to the surface. For the past hour, Oscar was perfect. He treated Lando exactly how he always wanted to be, took care of him, made him feel good, made him feel enough.

Now that the moment passed, Lando felt terrified.

Everything he felt… it couldn't be real. It couldn't be what Oscar felt, because last night Oscar said it was only Lando who enjoyed this whole thing going on between them.

It wasn't actually real, just Lando making things up in his head. Running away from the emptiness into another man's arms. But that's where it would end. Where it always ended.

He forced on a bitter smile as he climbed out of the bed awkwardly, limbs maneuvering over Oscar to get to his clothes.

"It was fun, yeah," he said, scrambling off. "I really liked it. Didn't think you had all that in you, but wow." He tugged his boxers on, then his shorts next. "That whole spanking bit was really hot, thanks for going along with that."

"Lando," Oscar called carefully, but Lando talked over him.

"We could do this again! Or not, if you don't wanna, but like. I mean, it's not like there's anyone else around for either of us to, well…" He pulled on his tank top and smoothed down the crumbled fabric as best as he could. "So anyway, you know where to find me if you need that again. I gotta go now, though, my parents are probably…" He laughed. "I mean they're not looking for me, but they're probably expecting me to get back to work, so I better… Well, yeah."

Oscar pushed himself up off the bed as well, approaching him with his hands up as if Lando was an injured deer in the forest. "Lando, calm down. We should talk about this."

"No, it's okay! I'm fine and everything. You weren't too much with the spanking if that's what you're worried about."

"Yes, but—"

"Thanks for everything, see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Lando didn't run, exactly, but he escaped the house as quickly as he could, almost tripping over the few steps down at the front door. On the walk back to the Norris farm, the lines of the street and the trees blurred together into an incoherent watercolour painting, and the hot stream of tears down Lando's cheeks burned like acid.

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Two days passed in gloomy idleness, which Lando spent holed up in his room, crying every so often, playing video games, editing pictures and staring out his window. At night, he would go out on his balcony and lie on the cold linoleum, watching the stars and talking to Max on the phone.

He didn't tell Max what happened. His friend could tell something had gone down, asked about it a few times, too, before it became apparent that Lando wouldn't be saying a word. After that, he just talked.

Max was really good at filling silences. He was also really good at making Lando laugh despite everything.

Two days came and went, but Lando could still feel every touch on his skin, every kiss and every whispered praise. 'You're perfect,' Oscar would whisper, and the words would still bounce around Lando's skull like an awful lie.

Oscar still came by to work on his dad's car the day after they had sex. Lando wasn't sure what on earth was there still to be worked on that car; they had been at it for over a month, but his dad still wanted more upgrades. Just a little more tuning, just this new part, just a little bit of this and that. Like a little kid at a toy shop.

Lando didn't say anything to Oscar, didn't even get out of his room to meet him, but he did spy from his window. He could just barely hear the man's voice if he cracked it open, and he leaned his head against the glass, eyes closed as he imagined their first time over and over again.

It was most definitely a mistake. Lando should've listened to Oscar when he told him so. The man was probably just trying to protect him from heartbreak, anyway, knowing he himself wouldn't want anything more than just a quick fuck.

After crying for two days, Lando sort of accepted it. Not enough to face Oscar, but enough to finally not cry when he woke up the third morning. Enough to go downstairs and have breakfast in silence with his family. Enough to go through half the day without letting it get to his head.

That's when the notification came.

Facebook: Oscar Piastri wants to send you a message.

Lando thought about it for ten long minutes, walking circles around in his room before he finally clicked it and read the contents.

Oscar Piastri: We need to talk. Are you free for a ride tonight?

Reading it, Lando scoffed loudly. What a fucking joke that was. Did nobody ever teach Oscar how to be subtle? He understood booty calls, had partaken in many before, even initiated some. But this…

This would be a bad idea, he knew it. He could barely pretend he was fine to himself, let alone trying to pretend for Oscar, and for long enough to have sex? That would be…

Still, Lando wanted it. There was a part of him that really longed for Oscar's touch, for all those sweet lies whispered into his ear, for the feeling of being whole. And honestly, Lando had disgraced himself to get less than what Oscar was willing to offer, so why say no now?

He typed back a simple 'sure' and fired off the message. Oscar texted him the time later on.

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It was dark outside by the time Lando slid out of the house through the back door and hurried down the street to the Mustang idling by the tall willow tree at the crossroad. He'd asked Oscar not to park in front of their house because the headlights would alert his parents. The short walk down the street was nothing he couldn't deal with, even if it was a little chilly in the evening and he decided to wear his sluttiest pair of shorts.

"Hi," he greeted as he slid into the red leather seat and shut the door behind him. "Where to?"

Oscar gave him one of his lopsided smiles that had Lando's stupid heart skipping a beat. "I didn't have a destination in mind, just thought we could drive for a bit." His hand gripped the gearshift as he put it into first, and the car started rolling smoothly.

They drove down the main road, following the brook splitting the town in half. Across the bridge, where they spooked a flock of birds. They flitted up in the sky, flying away over the green tops of the trees. Oscar followed them, driving the car further down the street until they passed the last house in town.

After that, it was just the trees lining the road and the crop fields colouring the land like patchwork. No streetlamps, no traffic, no onlookers. Just the open stretch of the road lit by the headlights, and the two of them sat side by side.

"So, um," Oscar finally broke the silence, "I've been trying to talk to you lately, but I haven't seen you around since…"

Lando winced, but laughed through it as if everything was okay. "Yeah, sorry, I got a little too into this video game Max showed me." Undoing his seatbelt, he angled his body towards Oscar. "You were hoping to see me?"

"Put your seatbelt back on," Oscar warned.

"Oh, relax, there's no one here. Besides…" Sneakily, Lando reached over the centre console to put his hand on Oscar's thigh. "How would I reach you if I was buckled in?"

Oscar grabbed Lando's wrist in one hand and pushed it back onto his lap, patting his hand there and giving him a meaningful look to drive home his point. "Just like that. See? I could reach you, too, and I'm buckled in."

Lando giggled. "Yeah, but can you do this?"

In a bold move, he bent over to tuck his head under Oscar's arm on the steering wheel, his face now close to the man's lap as Lando's hands tried working the button and zipper on his trousers.

"Jesus Christ!" Oscar yelped and swerved the car in a way that knocked Lando's head into the wheel.

"Ow," he hissed, "careful up there!"

All of a sudden, the car stopped, the engine turned off, and the interior light was clicked on, bathing the two of them in a dim, yellow glow.

"Lando, sit up, for Christ's sake!"

When Lando obeyed, he saw that they had pulled off the main road, onto some dirt path that led deep into the forest. Oscar's face was red, and he held his hands up as if trying not to touch Lando. As if merely putting his hands on Lando would plague him or something.

The realisation that he'd once again read the situation wrong and done royally fucked up hit Lando so hard, he felt nauseous with it. He had barely eaten anything that day, but he was about ready to open the car door and spew all of his stomach's contents onto the dewy grass below them. Then run back home on foot like a frightened animal.

"I'm sorry, I— I didn't… I thought— I really thought—" he stuttered, but Oscar cut him off, his voice ever so calm despite everything.

"It's okay, love. Listen to me." The nickname stung and soothed at the same time. Lando could feel tears gathering on his lash line. "I wanted to come here so we could talk, but you wouldn't let me finish. Will you let me finish now?"

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know. I'll try."

Oscar nodded. "That's good, thank you, love. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you about what happened between us—what happened to you after. You took off immediately; I didn't even have time to make sure you were all okay." Lando bit his lip, eyes drifting to his hands fidgeting in his lap. "Look, is sex all you want from me, Lando?" came the blunt question that knocked the wind out of him.

"Wh—" he huffed. "What?"

"Well, three days ago you just showed up at my house, demanding I fuck you. Now you're coming onto me again when I just asked if we could talk… Is that all you want?"

"You're the one who called me out here in the middle of the night!" Lando gestured flippantly. "I thought this was a booty call!"

"Is that what you want it to be?"

"Isn't that what you want?!"

"No, Lando! I like you too much for this to be just some casual thing between us."

Lando's mind was reeling; he felt nauseous with it. His brain was struggling to connect everything that had happened between them to everything Oscar was saying now. He kept going, demanding more explanation. "What was that then, after my mum's birthday? You kissed me, then forced me to stop. Then— then I say I like when I can see you all… unguarded and shit, and you say, 'I'm glad at least you're enjoying it' as if you're feeling miserable just at the prospect of being near me!"

It was unstoppable. The tears came before Lando could even react, and he hiccuped hard before burying his face in the crook of his elbow. Trying to hang onto at least a fraction of his self-respect, however small it was.

"Oh, love…" Oscar's soft voice broke through the mess swirling around in his brain. His hand gripped Lando's elbow and pulled until Lando was forced to let go and let him see his face. Lando looked at him through the blur of his tears and watched him unbuckle his seatbelt and push his seat back as far as possible. "Come here," he crooned and pulled.

He tugged at Lando's sleeve until he moved in, throwing a leg over to settle in Oscar's lap. He buried his face in the man's neck, letting his tears flow and his hands grip tight fistfuls of his shirt.

"I said that because I'm fucking crazy about you, Lando," he admitted solemnly. "And everytime you pull something like that—when you play me like an instrument, when you tease me, when you get close to me—it makes me feel insane. While you just look like you're having fun."

Lando sniffled, then croaked, "What?"

Underneath him, Oscar giggled. "Yes, love. That's all I meant by it, nothing mean. I don't feel miserable around you—in fact, it's quite the opposite. You make me feel things I haven't before. You're so smart and nice to talk to, you're incredibly funny and talented… And you're so insufferably charming, I feel insane whenever you so much as bat your eyes at me."

Sitting up, Lando wiped his eyes and forced himself to look Oscar in the eyes. "So you… like me?"

Two warm hands came up to rest on either side of Lando's face, and Oscar's lips pulled up into another heartwrenching smile. "I'm crazy about you."

He laughed wetly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "That's… I mean, I kinda like you, too. So… that's nice."

"Yes, Lando, that's very nice."

It was unclear who initiated the kiss, but ultimately it didn't matter, because they both melted into it. Lando let go of all the tension he'd been holding onto, his chest flooding with warmth once again as Oscar stole all his worries with the softest kisses. Languid and gentle in ways Lando had never felt before, but desperately wanted more.

He wished to get closer, kiss deeper, get to know Oscar in every intimate way. Feel him all over, learn every corner of his body and make him feel as good as Oscar could make him feel with the simplest of gestures. The flick of a tongue, a suck on his bottom lip, the slightest tightening of the arms wrapped around his waist, and Lando was putty. He wanted that; he wanted to know Oscar like that, too. Make him melt, make him feel good…

"Please," Lando whispered against his lips as they continued kissing. The taste of salty tears turned into something sweet like fruit juice, and he craved more.

Oscar hummed in question without parting their lips, angling his head to kiss deeper, get closer.

"Want… lemme do it," Lando gasped between the smacking of their lips.

"Do what?"

"What I wanted. Before."

He was pushed back by a firm hand that held him still even as he attempted to chase after the taste of Oscar's lips with a pathetic whine. The man under him was flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down to his neck, the pinkish hue disappearing under his shirt collar. His lips bitten red by Lando himself, and his eyes twinkled with a sort of glow that warned Lando of trouble incoming.

"I need to hear you ask for it nicely, love. You know, like we practiced."

Frustrated, Lando groaned, "You're such a fucking… mmmph…"

"I'm what?"

"Just… fucking difficult."

"Nawww, are we angry someone's making us work for something?" There it was again, that condescending tone of voice as he ran his hands up and down Lando's thighs, his fingers dipping underneath the fabric of the indecently short shorts Lando wore. "Come on, Lando, I've heard you beg for me to fuck you. I know you can use your words."

Gritting his teeth, Lando grumbled something unintelligible before giving in. "Wanna suck you off."

Oscar grinned triumphantly. "Hmmm, I'm not sure I wanna let you do that."

"What?!" Lando cried. "But I asked!"

"I'll give you something, baby, don't worry your pretty head." He patted Lando on his butt like a pet. "Up you go. Get in the backseat."

Like an obedient dog, Lando moved, though not without complaining. As he kneed Oscar in the ribs while attempting to climb over onto the backseat, he moaned, "You know, you should acknowledge the irony of this whole situation after having said this isn't a booty call."

"Oh, so you'd rather I take you back home like a gentleman?" Oscar threw open the door to the backseat, looming over Lando who was already sprawled over the sofa-style seats, legs spread and puffy, red eyes hooded in something pseudo-flirty.

"I'm just saying we should acknowledge the irony." Lando giggled as Oscar grabbed him by the ankles and yanked so that he slid down, his ass at the edge of the seat.

Before him, Oscar sank down to his knees in the wet grass, all the while holding their intense eye contact.

"Wait, wh—what are you doing?" he stuttered sheepishly.

"Don't play dumb, Lando, it doesn't suit you."

The shorts were tugged off him in a simple motion, and just like that, Lando was left exposed from the waist down. With a gasp, his hands flew down to cover himself, but he was quickly batted away.

"Is this really the point where you put on the shy virgin act?" Oscar asked sarcastically as he threw Lando's legs over his shoulders.

"This isn't— I wanted to do it for you!" Lando rebutted.

"Yeah, but I said no, I'm doing it for you." His pale hand wrapped around the base of Lando's half-hard dick, stroking him from base to tip before guiding it towards his mouth. "Maybe this way you'll understand my intentions."

The warmth of his wet mouth enveloped Lando, who grew to full hardness within seconds under the skilful ministrations of Oscar's tongue. His mouth open, breathing heavy, and eyes locked in on the man below as he moved his head torturously slowly, tongue circling and licking every sensitive inch of Lando's cock.

Lando was… well, there's no nice way to put it, he was extremely sensitive. His muscles spasmed, tummy twitching with every flick of Oscar's tongue, and an uncontrollable slew of noises spewed from his mouth.

Getting head was not something he was particularly used to. The guys he usually hooked up with preferred being the one getting their dicks sucked, especially when they saw the size Lando was sporting. Most of them felt intimidated by it, so the most amount of oral Lando usually received was a rimjob or, once in a while, a very short, subpar blowjob. And whatever Oscar was doing was nothing like Lando knew.

He sucked Lando like his life depended on it, taking Lando deeper than anyone ever could and moaning around him as if he himself was getting pleasure from it. It left Lando trembling and babbling, hand fisting in Oscar's hair, not trying to move him, just holding on.

"Osc—fuck, oh my God! No, that's—ahhh, so deep! Too much! Osc, please!" He whined and whimpered like an injured puppy, overstimulated to hell and back. "No, fuck, that's sensitive, don't!" He twisted his hand in Oscar's hair, trying to push again but only getting a moan out of the older man that vibrated through Lando's entire being.

Oscar pulled off just barely, his hand spreading the wetness of his saliva and Lando's precum with languid strokes. "Look at you, already falling apart so prettily for me."

Lando breathed in like he broke water, legs spasming on Oscar's shoulders. "You needa' stop."

"Why?" Condescension snuck back into his tone, making Lando keen. "Can't handle it? Too sensitive, are you, baby?" He stroked upwards, thumb and middle finger creating a perfect, tight circle just under the head of Lando's cock as the rough pad of his pointer finger dug into the slit at the top. "This, right here. This is where you like it the best, yeah?"

"Oscar, please," Lando cried, "I'm gonna—"

"Gonna cum?" Oscar finished for him, and Lando nodded feverently, head knocking about dumbly. He squeezed his eyes shut as if he could hide away from the shame like that. "Awww, are you really that needy? That you could cum in just five minutes?"

He didn't wait for an answer; he dove right back in and sucked Lando into his mouth again, somehow even more enthusiastic this time. He sank down as deep as he could, until Lando's tip was bumping against his soft palate, and stroked what he couldn't fit. His other hand rested at the crease of Lando's thigh, squeezing every once in a while, his fingers digging into soft, ticklish skin until even that became too much.

Lando couldn't handle it anymore. The pleasure eventually grew too much, and all he could do was flail around and moan pathetic warnings.

"Oscar, no, hold on, I'm really gonna— get off, I'm about to—!" He tried pushing at Oscar's head to no avail.

Eventually his moans became nothing but incoherent shapes of Oscar's name as he shook through his orgasm, spurting cum onto Oscar's undulating tongue. The world around him blurred, and for what felt like several minutes, he just floated in space, filled completely with warmth and pleasure.

He only came to when his body's natural instinct to breathe kicked in, and he filled his lungs full again. Blinking away the tears from his eyes, he came face-to-face with Oscar's flushed expression once more.

Then his eyes unfocused again as Oscar brought their lips together in a sloppy kiss. Some of Lando's cum was still on his tongue as he licked into his mouth, and obediently, Lando sucked it off and swallowed. He kissed back just as eagerly, pouring his gratefulness, his infatuation and every warm, fuzzy feeling in his heart into it.

Once they parted, Oscar moved on to kissing the tear tracks on Lando's cheeks and temples.

"Thank you," Lando murmured.

"Thank you, love."

"For what?"

"For letting me have you." Oscar pressed one more tender kiss to his lips before pulling back. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

Lando pushed himself up onto his elbows with a painful groan. His sweaty back managed to stick and fuse to the red leather seat. "I hope you mean your place this time."

"I'd be stupid to let you go back to yours after this." Oscar shook the dust off Lando's shorts, which he had tossed onto the ground in the heat of the moment, before putting it back on him. "If I did, you would have the nerve to overthink everything once again, and I'm not letting you get away like that."

Lando lifted his hips to help Oscar put his clothes back on him, then sat up to give the man another kiss. Then another, and another, and another.

"Right, if you keep that up we'll end up sleeping here." Oscar chuckled against his lips.

"Sleeping under the stars is romantic, no?"

"Not in my fucking car."

"Your car is fucking sexy. Your house, not so much."

"I'll let you redecorate it if you stop moaning about it."

Lando giggled excitedly.

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The next week was spent in pure bliss.

Lando could have sworn the sun shone brighter and colours became more vibrant whenever he was around Oscar. Going to sleep next to him at night and waking up next to him in the morning felt natural, like he was always meant to do it. He was never one for commitment, but with Oscar, he could imagine spending his life like this.

Around the fourth night he'd spent at Oscar's place, he realised he also grew fond of the old furniture. The worn-out sofa they could properly sink into whenever they watched movies, Lando's leg thrown over Oscar's lap as the man traced figures onto his shin. The old clawfoot bathtub that could somehow cram both of them in there after a sweaty day of biking through the forest, swimming in the lake, picking cherries off Oscar's tree or… other fun activities. The scuffed kitchen counters where Lando sat as he watched Oscar ignore the mountains of dirty dishes as he made them breakfast and brewed them tea. It was… cozy. Homey.

He felt like he could grow old like this. And the thought scared the shit out of him.

Because yes, the sun was still beaming down hotly and the days were still long, but the calendar showed the beginning of August now, and Lando didn't know what would happen to them once school started for him in September.

He tried not to think about it too much because it always made his stomach hurt in an all too familiar way.

But Oscar would still find a way to ask, "What are you thinking about?" as he was deep in anxiety, gnawing at his bottom lip.

They had only just opened their eyes to soft sunlight pouring in through the lace curtains in Oscar's bedroom. All cuddled up, Lando's head lay atop Oscar's chest, and he tried focusing on the steady in and out of Oscar's breathing to calm himself.

"Nothing," he lied.

"I can tell there's something going on in your head, baby." Oscar brought his hand up from Lando's back to his head, running his fingers through the mess of curls and massaging his scalp. "Is it your parents again?"

"I don't worry about them so much since I'm here."

It was true. Lando received several messages from his sisters in the past week asking him where he was and when he would be coming home. Lando usually brushed them off, saying he was at a friend's and he didn't know when he would be back. Every night, he would sneak in when everyone was asleep to take some more clothes over to Oscar's, but otherwise he didn't go home. He didn't miss it either. Call him a shit brother or whatever, but he didn't feel like facing his parents. In turn, Oscar also blew his father off, telling him he was too busy to work on his car anymore.

"Then what is it?" Oscar pressed, and Lando shrugged.

"We should go somewhere today. It's supposed to be cooler than yesterday, might even rain a bit in the afternoon. That would be nice. The lake is always beautiful in the rain."

"Lando…"

"Or we could just go for a drive. I promise I won't try to interfere this time." He laughed cheekily.

"You're trying to derail the conversation. Just tell me what's wrong."

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Lando leaned in to peck Oscar's lips. "You have me naked in your bed right now, and for some reason all you care about is what I'm thinking about. You're such an odd guy."

"My parents always said I was unique." Oscar grinned and kissed back deeper, longer. "Besides, I've already had you in every position I could think of in the past few days. Now I'd like to hear what's got you so worried that you chewed up your lips again."

"You're gonna think I'm stupid."

"I'd never think you were stupid, love."

"Oscar, please. Just drop it." He gave his best pleading look, and he could see Oscar make the decision in real time.

"Fine, but only for today. I'm asking you again tomorrow."

The conversation derailed into sharing lazy kisses, lips smacking and tongues dancing in a way that became all too familiar in the past week. Just like the smell of Oscar's aftershave and bodywash, the feeling of his bedsheets on Lando's bare skin, the nickname 'love' crooned into his mouth.

Lando wanted this forever…

"There's a fair in town today," Oscar mused aloud, "we could go there."

"What kind of fair?"

"Some sort of travelling carnival; they're staying for two days in the main square. Apparently the mayor was so excited she even offered to have the whole playground moved." Oscar smiled in amusement.

"Where do you hear these kinds of things? I've been occupying 90% of your time as of late!"

"I've been eating at the pub, and the owner likes talking if you're sober."

"Bet he doesn't get that often."

"I'm basically his new best friend." Oscar giggled, then turned Lando's head to the side to attack his neck with open-mouthed kisses. "So what do you think about the fair?"

"Deep fried food and cotton candy? Bring it on."

"That happy about not having to cook?"

"I don't mind cooking for you, I'm just not good at it."

"I like the things you make!"

"Yeah, but you also eat the slop they make down at the pub, so you're not much of a reference to go off."

"Then you should be grateful, love." Oscar jabbed his fingers between Lando's ribs, making him giggle and fall against Oscar's chest as his arms moved in to protect himself. He didn't hesitate wrapping both arms around the smaller body and squeezing tight as if he wanted to fuse them together. The light sheen of sweat sticking between them glued their bodies further together, and Lando found himself entirely delighted, an airy golden warmth filling his chest to the brim.

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The air was humid and smelled of sugary sweetness and sweat. Everything was so loud, music and shouting coming from every corner, kids running around screaming, high on a sugar rush. Their town wasn't big, but when everyone came together like this, the crowd could be overwhelming. Lando was happy he brought his camera along; the crowd offered him a lot of interesting pictures to take.

The two of them weaved through the sea of tired parents, energetic kids and unamused teenagers, inspecting every spectacle of the carnival. There were two different kinds of carousels, which Oscar insisted he was too old and too big for, no matter how much Lando insisted. A pony ride, which, upon seeing, sent Lando into a rant about how unethical it was to treat the poor animals like that.

There were a couple of shooting games, which triggered the competitive nature of both men, and they played each one. Oscar won two; Lando won one, but he got the biggest prize. He cradled his chosen cuddly koala bear proudly, grinning ear to ear as he turned to Oscar to show off his winnings.

"Look! Aren't I amazing?"

"Very amazing, love."

"It has the same grin that you do," Lando mused, poking at the bear's lopsided smile. "Should I name it Oscar?"

Grinning wide, Oscar asked, "You sure you want it to remind you of me?"

And… fuck. The question snuck up on Lando, punching him in the stomach in a way that almost brought a tear to the eye. Did he? Did he want a reminder of Oscar even after they part ways? Did he want to look at this sweet bear with bitter anguish for the rest of his life?

Lando smiled through the mental turmoil and replied, "Hmm. I'll think about it." He nodded to the two beaded keychains Oscar won, one in the shape of a frog, the other a heart, both made from the same green beads. "What will you name your frog?"

"That's up to its owner."

"What?" he asked, confused.

Oscar took his hand and placed the little beaded frog in Lando's palm. "We can match. You have the frog, I have the heart."

Lando's fist closed around the figurine, and he punched Oscar in the shoulder. "You melt, that's adorable!" It was instinct to pull Oscar down for a kiss by the collar of his cream linen shirt. He caught himself just in time, though, freezing in the motion of closing the space between them.

He didn't have to say anything; Oscar knew immediately from the flicker of panic in his eyes that it was the wrong move. He moved in for a hug instead, patting Lando on the back.

"Don't worry, nobody's looking at us," he assured in a hushed whisper.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just… everyone here knows who I am and they know my dad."

"I know, love. Believe me, I understand." He stroked and patted Lando's cheek before wrapping an arm loosely around his shoulder and moving him along. "Let's keep looking, yeah?"

They kept walking, and Lando kept overexplaining himself in that way he tends to do. Oscar let him talk like he always did, never cutting Lando off, even if he already knew what he wanted to say.

It didn't take long for them to find the last attraction, though, and Lando's mind found something else to focus on.

"Bumper cars!" he exclaimed and ran towards the line with a hand clasped firmly around Oscar's wrist.

Oscar insisted on paying for the ride, and Lando didn't need to be convinced for long. He was vibrating out of his skin, ready to get in one of those silly electric cars and run Oscar off the track.

"Want me to drive?" Oscar asked as he helped Lando up onto the platform where the cars sat empty, waiting for them.

"Yeah, you drive yours, and I drive mine! I'm about to destroy you."

Oscar giggled. "You sound confident. Do you even know how to drive?"

"Yes! I've got a license, I just don't use it 'cause traffic in London is crazy." Lando climbed into one of the cars, and once he carefully placed the koala next to him on the seat, his feet quickly found the child-sized pedals at the bottom. "But you don't need much of a knowledge of driving to get this thing moving. Kids do this shit, you know."

"I know," Oscar said as he also lowered himself into one of the little cars, "I'm just saying, don't be too ambitious. I've been driving since my feet could reach the pedal."

Once everyone found themselves a vehicle, the game was on, and Lando shot out like a bullet, aiming directly for Oscar's car.

The car under Oscar moved with a swiftness that Lando could barely follow. He ducked out of the way in an instant, leaving Lando to run into some poor kid, who he apologised to immediately. By the time he could turn his car around, Oscar was coming at him with a huge grin on his face.

He felt like a kid again, grinning widely as they chased each other down. Every crash was followed by the sound of laughter, and everytime Lando looked at Oscar, he felt complete. Right there, in their stupid bumper cars, running each other off the track as if it was a real competition. Giggling and having fun and feeling so seen and loved. No judgement or anger to face afterwards, only Oscar's calm presence to follow him home, to the house where they both basically lived now.

Lando never wanted the summer to end…

The ride they paid for did eventually come to an end, though. After ten minutes of fun, the power to their little cars was cut off, and they had to get out.

"Food?" Oscar asked once they stepped off the platform.

"Absolutely."

They found two kiosks, one selling hot dogs and onion rings, one selling cotton candy. Lando insisted he only wanted the cotton candy, but Oscar still bought him a hot dog anyway. Sitting down at one of the benches at the park, they both tucked in, and Oscar watched horrified as Lando ate the onion rings and the cotton candy together.

"You're fucking disgusting," he said.

"What? It's good! Like caramelised onions."

"I'm certain it does not taste like that."

"How do you know?" Lando tore off a piece from his cherry-flavoured cotton candy and grabbed a small onion ring with it before reaching it towards Oscar's face. "Come on, try it!"

"I'd sooner eat my own hand."

"Don't be so dramatic, old man. Just try it!"

"Just give me a normal piece of cotton candy. No onion."

"Oh, you want it?" Lando popped the onion and sugary goodness into his mouth, licking the sticky-oily residue off his fingers. "Because while the guy was making it, I remember hearing you say it was soooo bad for me."

"It is. Doesn't mean I don't want some."

"Hypocrite."

"Just give me a piece, you brat."

Smiling, Lando tore off a piece again and held it out for Oscar to take. But Oscar didn't just take it; he leaned down to lick the piece out of Lando's hold.

"What are you doing?" Lando giggled. "I just licked those fingers, you know."

"Reckon my mouth has been in worse places, no?" Oscar joked.

But their joy was short-lived.

"Lando."

The voice of his mum turned the blood in his veins to ice. Lando froze, unable to move for several seconds, stuck staring at Oscar, who whipped his head between him and…

His family. When Lando finally turned his head, he saw them all there, frozen in place in the ever-moving sea of the crowd. Mother and father staring horrified at the pair, while his two sisters looked as scared for him as Lando himself felt.

"So this is where you disappeared off to," his dad spoke as he stepped forward, closer to him and Oscar. "We haven't heard from you in over a week, and this is where we find you?"

Lando stood from the bench in an instant, food forgotten. Oscar stood with him, a wordless support. As his dad moved closer, Oscar moved forward ever so slightly, tucking Lando behind his shoulder.

"Not only are you disgracing our family, but you're doing it with my friend?!"

"Adam," Oscar spoke, ever the calm mediator. "No need to make a spectacle here, okay?"

"You two are already making a spectacle," he spat. "I thought you would be more mature than this, Oscar."

"Excuse me, who are you to tell me off? I'm also an adult, Lando as well, and we can decide what we want to do."

"Oh, he's always been deciding for himself, hasn't he?" His dad turned to face him, and Lando closed his eyes immediately, head down, waiting for the scolding. "Such a mature adult, always knew how to fuck with the rules ever since he was a kid."

"Adam," Oscar tried again, but to no avail.

"Ruining your brother's graduation, going to detention after detention in school, breaking your arm during Flo's contest just to ruin her chances—"

"That wasn't on purpose," Lando defended.

"Breaking Cisca's piano—"

"I apologised for that!"

"Crashing your brother's car! Making a spectacle at your mother's birthday! This is the third friend of mine that you made a pass at!"

The tears came without permission, flowing hot and salty down Lando's face. He didn't see what was going on, only heard the rest of the conversation.

"Let's not make a spectacle here, then," he heard Oscad say as he stepped fully in between him and his dad. "You don't want people to hear, do you, Adam?"

"I hope this little brat satisfies you well, Piastri. Don't ever come near my house ever again."

"I wouldn't want to be near you even if you begged me to. And for the record, Lando makes me very happy. If only you could see what an amazing person he is, maybe you could also love him like I do."

The stuffed koala bear was pressed to Lando's chest, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around it, seeking comfort. Then Oscar grabbed him by the shoulder, and he didn't even look up as he was pulled along. "Let's go, I'll take you home."

"Yeah, take him," Lando heard his dad call after. If he said anything else, it was swallowed by the noise of the carnival.

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At home, Lando fell into the bed, pulled the blanket up to cover his face, and he cried. He felt the mattress dip beside him after a while; he felt Oscar's soothing touch on his back, but the man never said anything. Never forced Lando to talk, nor did he try to fill the silence himself. So Lando didn't try either.

Once the tears ebbed, he turned to face Oscar, who brushed his curls out of his face and ran his thumb along his cheekbone, wiping away the remaining tears.

"Your dad's a dickhead."

With a single sentence, he managed to make Lando laugh. "Yeah, he's… a lot…"

"I don't understand what his issue is."

Lando didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to argue against himself, because selfishly, he didn't want Oscar to see the bad part of him. The part of him that Lando sometimes felt like his dad was justified for hating. He wanted Oscar to only see the good, or at least not so bad parts of him, so they could stay in this happy little bubble for longer.

"What happened at your brother's graduation?" Oscar asked after the silence stretched for too long.

Lando sniffled. "That was the day I came out… or more like the day people discovered I was gay." With his finger, he drew patterns on the bedsheets, just to give himself something to focus on that wasn't Oscar's soulful eyes, as he imagined brown hair, green eyes and freckles. "My brother had a classmate, Aaron. He was… beautiful. I was so in love with him, and for a long time, I thought he didn't even know my name. They sometimes played footie together, and I'd beg my brother to let me come along and watch just to see him. After one of those games, he caught my hand and pulled me behind a tree while everyone else cooled off or changed clothes. He was my first kiss…"

"If he was your brother's classmate, then the graduation…"

"Yes. They graduated at the same time, and I was devastated. After the ceremony, I didn't go with my family to find my brother. I ran after Aaron. We said goodbye to each other. I cried when he kissed me for the last time… That's when my family found us."

"Oh…"

"Yeah… My dad was appalled. He didn't hit me or cuss me out; he froze me out. For two months, he didn't talk to me."

"Jesus…"

"When we spoke again, he told me to keep that shit to myself. He doesn't want to know of or see anything or anyone I do. Told me to pretend like they don't know, and don't tell anyone else either."

"But you did, right?"

"Well, my friends know. But no one in my extended family…"

"I'm so sorry, Lando."

Silence blanketed them again, stretching far too long. Lando didn't know what to say, but he could tell Oscar still had something on his mind, so he waited.

Until eventually, "When he said I'm his third friend that you…"

Ah. So that was it…

Lando sighed. "I kind of have… a type. I like older guys, always have. Even when I was really young, I wanted my brother's friends. Then the age gap stretched as I got older… My dad had a few more attractive friends who I would sometimes entertain."

Oscar's forehead creased in what Lando thought was anger, and he already braced himself for what would come next. Maybe he would be thrown out of here, too; their happy little bubble bursting in a violent fight.

"How young were you?" Oscar asked instead.

"I don't know… like, sixteen? Maybe seventeen?"

"Jesus Christ, those sick bastards… I'm so sorry, Lando."

"What for? I wanted them."

"Yeah, but you were way too young. Look at us, even I considered letting you go because of the age gap, and you're 22, not a fucking minor."

"But I wanted you, too… I always want what I shouldn't have."

"Who says you shouldn't have me?"

Lando scoffed. "My dad?"

"Who cares about him?!" Scooting closer, Oscar cradled Lando's face in his palm. "Lando, I meant what I said back there. I do love you. And if you'd let me… I'd like to stay in your life."

In lieu of the perfect words to say, Lando simply kissed Oscar with as much of his heart as he could possibly pour into a single gesture. "I'd like that. A lot. I think I love you, too. I've never… felt this much about anyone before."

"I don't think I have either."

Lando tucked his face into the crook of Oscar's neck, scooching closer so that their bodies pressed together. "Is this weird? Are we going too fast?"

"I had to wait 38 years just to meet you. I don't fucking care what's fast anymore. I just want to be with you."

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It was days later, during another one of his midnight sneak-ins to his own home, when Lando ran into his sisters. Or more like they discovered him.

Lando was in the middle of ransacking his closet, throwing every piece of clothing he brought with himself for the summer into a suitcase, when the light was turned on in his room, and he whipped his head towards his doorway to see his sisters, in pyjamas, glaring at him.

"Hi," he said, attempting to sound casual, as if he wasn't robbing himself in their own home.

"What are you doing, Lan?" Cisca demanded.

"I'm uh… well, I kinda need my stuff, and I thought it's getting a bit tiring, coming up here every few days for something to wear, so why not just take everything, and—"

"Lando," Flo cut him off. "Are you not coming home anymore?"

Lando's heart sank at her saddened expression. "Listen, guys, I love you. I really do. But I can't fucking deal with Dad anymore… And Oscar wants me around. He never yells at me or ignores me."

His sisters shared a silent look between them, the kind that girls always seemed to understand. Then Cisca asked, "Is he serious about you?"

Lando couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. "I'm pretty sure, yeah."

"You're not exactly lucky with guys, y'know…"

"Thanks for reminding me."

"I just meant… if you need us to intimidate him, call us, okay?"

"I will," he assured. "Thank you."

"And for the record," Cisca said, "we're sorry about Dad, too. He's driving us crazy lately, too."

"I can't wait for summer to end," Flo countered.

"He's awful now that Ollie isn't around."

"Or me, who he can unload all his stress on," Lando added jokingly. "Thank you for understanding, guys."

"Of course. If we could get away from here, too, we would."

"Maybe next summer," he offered hopefully.

His sisters nodded. "Maybe."

"Now get back to packing before we wake them up."

"I will. And you get back to sleep. You saw nothing, alright?" He gave them a meaningful look, and the girls giggled as they crowded in for a group hug. It lasted longer than usual, but Lando assumed they all needed it.

After their goodbyes, the girls went back to their respective rooms, and Lando packed up the rest of his belongings. Clothes, books, trinkets, his pictures, his laptop. In the end, he walked out at 1 am with a full suitcase and a backpack, leaving nothing that mattered behind.

Nothing that he wouldn't see again soon, anyway…

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Weeks spent in lazy harmony didn't leave enough peace for him to miss his parents or regret his choice of moving out. His sisters texted him the day after he hauled all of his stuff out, saying his mum was a bit bummed, but they kept themselves busy. Lando imagined his dad didn't care.

And neither did he, to be frank. The only thing on his mind as of late was Oscar and how well he came to know Lando's body in the past few weeks.

It was another beautiful morning; Lando couldn't even care what day, because the sun was shining golden through the small window in their kitchen, the air smelled of coffee, and he was pushed up against the counter by Oscar, a tongue down his throat. Oscar held him so firmly, one hand cradling his jaw, the other wrapped around his neck as he angled Lando exactly how he wanted him. With their bodies pressed flush together, through the thin fabrics of their underwear, they could already feel each other hardening against one another. Lando's hips kicked, grinding his cock against Oscar's and whining into his mouth, begging for it. He held onto the man's forearms, nails digging in like he never wanted to let go.

But of course, he had to. Because on the small kitchen table, Oscar's phone started the incessant ringing that became more frequent in the past three days. Lando held on tighter, pressed his hips in closer and moaned, a wordless plea. 'Don't do this, don't you leave me hanging right now, I fucking need you!'

The hands pulled away first, then the lips. "I have to take this," Oscar whispered against his lips, then pecked him once more. Slid his hands down Lando's thighs until he could wrap under his ass and lift him onto the counter, pressed right between his wide-spread legs. Then he grabbed his phone.

"Piastri," he called as he picked up. Holding the phone away from his mouth, he continued kissing, this time attacking Lando's jawline and neck as his free hand ran up and down his thigh. "Mhm. Yeah… No, the papers need to be in by Friday."

Absentmindedly, Lando noted that today was probably not Friday, then.

"Yes, I spoke to Jameson, but he never mentioned an email." The kisses suddenly stopped, and Lando barely held himself back from whining audibly in disappointment. "No, I specifically told everyone—" Oscar cut himself off with a sigh. "Nevermind. When's the meeting?"

There was more talking on the other side of the line, which Lando couldn't be bothered to try to understand, because he was achingly hard in his boxers, just begging for a touch as Oscar moved further and further away. When he finally said goodbye and hung up the call, he didn't go back to kissing again. He looked at Lando with his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"How do you feel about a road trip?" he asked.

And that's how it happened that next day, Lando and Oscar packed their bags and drove two hours to London in Oscar's Mustang.

They packed in a hurry and didn't bring much, assuming they would go right back to their little hidden oasis that Lando came to love as well. The old furniture, the quiet atmosphere, it wasn't that awful when you had someone to spend every single day with and fill the silence with conversation and laughter.

But he didn't mind a road trip either. With an ice lolly in hand and his bare feet kicked up on the dashboard, he pushed his seat back and plugged his phone into the aux to play his Spotify playlist at max volume.

He sang along to Lana Del Rey, musing out loud about how funny it was that his friends gave him this nickname as a jab, but he actually loved her music. He played the most cliché white girl songs and screamed his heart out to them: Kesha, Sabrina Carpenter, Katy Perry, the whole lot.

And next to him, Oscar watched. With a hand on the wheel and his eyes occasionally finding Lando's, he listened to the whole performance and yelled over the music with Lando when he wanted a conversation, never asking him to turn it down or play something else for his sake

"We should go dancing," Lando suggested.

Oscar shook his head instantly. "I've told you before, I'm not a dancer."

"But you could be, if you learned," he continued poking.

"I have no sense of rhythm."

"I'd like to sincerely disagree; you're quite amazing at dictating a perfect rhythm."

At that, Oscar blushed. Lando always found it adorable how he could still make this grown man blush like that.

"That's completely different," Oscar argued bashfully, "I'm terrible otherwise. I'd step on your foot and embarrass you."

As Ready or Not by Bridgit Mendler queued, Lando gasped. "We will come back to this conversation."

"We will not!"

"You know we will."

Lando left no room for naysaying; he started singing along with Bridget. Next to him, Oscar slid a hand into his lap and brushed calloused fingertips over the soft skin of Lando's inner thigh. The car was hot, no AC besides the windows cracked open, letting in the hot winds, and their skin stuck together with sweat.

The two hours flashed by, and before Lando was even ready, they were surrounded by the London traffic, and he had to turn his music down.

"Where do you live?" he asked, watching the cityscape rush by them.

"Near Covent Garden."

"That's close to my uni!" Lando gushed. "I can't believe we've never met before; I've been going here for nearly three years."

"Who knows, we might've passed by each other on the street once or twice."

"No, I would remember. I suck at remembering names, but faces always stick in my memory. And yours especially would, being so handsome and all."

"Do you remember everyone's face who briefly passes by you on the street?"

"I don't remember like fully; I wouldn't have been like 'oh, I've seen you at the Co-op in 2024!' but I would've thought you look, like. Somewhat familiar. But I didn't, because you weren't."

"You're a freak. I barely remember the faces of my regular business partners. Most of them are just a name on a sheet of paper to me."

"Speaking of business." Lando finally pulled his feet off the dashboard and put his shoes back on. "You never specified what we're here for."

Oscar weaved through the London traffic with a flow that Lando hadn't seen before. One hand on the wheel, the other on the gearstick, shifting up then down, up again and down again as he moved through busy roads and less populated, narrow side streets. "There's this big German company, lots of old men with frighteningly experienced lawyers that we do not want to piss off. We've been fighting over a computer program's licensing rights with them throughout the summer, and they said no, they won't have any more of our emails; they're coming down to meet in person."

"That doesn't sound like a good thing."

"You're telling me? I feel like I'm about to go to war against the Germans, and I swear to god, if you make an old man joke right now, you're sleeping on the street tonight."

They finally pulled up in front of a tall building with white walls and large windows, and a private car park. Oscar parked and popped the trunk so they could grab their suitcases.

"Anyway, I'm meeting with a manager and a lawyer to have a, no doubt, pleasant chat about a licensing contract."

"I don't envy you."

"Ah, well, I get to come home to my pretty boy, so all is well." Oscar wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in close to press a kiss to his temple. "I'm very happy you're here, you know that, right?"

It was a sentence Lando didn't hear much, and it tasted even sweeter coming from Oscar. The feeling of being welcome, cherished, loved flowed through his entire body, reassuring him that this was exactly where he belonged. By Oscar's side, tucked into him, their hearts intertwined.

"I'm happy, too," he declared.

They made their way inside the building, through the posh lobby and to the elevator, which took them up to the 8th floor. The corridor, which welcomed them once the elevator doors slid open, was long and narrow, but there were only two doors on the entire floor.

Oscar opened the number 81 door into the huge flat that left Lando's jaw wide open.

The living area was bright and airy; nearly floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall opposite the entrance, and modern furniture decorated the space. The kitchen set was light wood with white marble countertops and gold accents; the appliances stainless steel. The dining table set was cut from the same wood, long enough to fit eight people; a centrepiece of flowers sat in the middle. The living room sofa and armchairs were a sleek, dark green, all arranged around the flat screen TV mounted above the wooden console table. The green was a perfect accent colour to the natural colours, which, as Lando noticed, carried throughout the space in the curtains, in the rug at the entrance, in the paintings on the wall.

This man didn't even own a desk chair back at the cottage; he pulled over a chair from the dining table to the tiny desk in the living room. And over here he had paintings on his wall?!

Oscar walked in as if it was all normal. Lando supposed, to him, it was. He kicked his shoes off and stacked them messily on the shoe rack. Tossed his keys and phone down onto the dining table before picking up his and Lando's suitcase, carrying them towards one of the doors, which Lando assumed to be the bedroom.

"Make yourself at home," he said over his shoulder.

Lando toed his shoes off as he walked further in, admiring the fucking chandelier above the living room coffee table. "You're insane, Piastri," he called after his boyfriend.

He looked through the place while he was alone. Flipped through the magazine that was left out on the coffee table. Unsurprisingly, it was full of cars. Then he moved on to the bookshelf next to the TV, full of weird little sculptures like a ceramic ox and an abstract coloured glass blob. But it also housed books, fiction and non-fiction alike, two plants that were very real and somehow still alive despite Oscar not having been here for at least three weeks, which, no doubt, spoke of a housekeeper. But there were also pictures.

Lando picked one up of Oscar, younger, probably in his 20's. Looking fresh-faced and handsome as ever as he stood in front of a building, hugging an older man. They looked alike in a way, the same kind eyes, the same face shape. That must've been his dad. Behind them was the sign, HP. Oscar's company. Or, well, his dad's company. The thought of Oscar honouring his dad in this way, taking over the thing he built up through hard work, and taking such good care of it, brought a smile to Lando's face.

He moved on to other pictures. One of baby Oscar and his family. He'd seen that one before; Oscar had shown it to him on his phone. It was taken at his youngest sister's second birthday, their big, happy family all cheesing together over a Little Mermaid themed birthday cake. He knew it shouldn't make him envious, but the way they huddled so close together and smiled like that… it spoke of something that Lando had never had the pleasure of experiencing himself.

There was one of Oscar at his graduation, with his silly little cap and the biggest grin on his face. He would be about Lando's age in that picture, and he came to the most devastating realisation: no matter how much of a nerd he must've been, had they met back then with both of them the same age, Lando would've still fallen for him.

The last one was of Oscar with his arm around two guys: a handsome, well-dressed Asian fellow and a more scruffy blond-haired man.

"They're my friends," he heard Oscar say, and the sound of his voice coming from behind him spooked Lando so much he nearly dropped the frame. "The one on my right is Zhou, and on the left, that's Logan." He stepped up to Lando until they were pressed together, chest to back, and Oscar's arms wrapped around Lando's middle. "You'd love them. Want me to introduce you?"

Lando laughed. "What, like, to your friends?"

"Yeah."

He paused briefly. "You want me to actually meet your friends?"

At that, Oscar pulled back slightly, the arms around Lando coming loose. "Do you not want to?"

"No, no, I do!" He put the picture back on the shelf where he found it and twisted around in Oscar's hold so they could face each other. "I'm just… not used to people wanting me to be a part of their life like that."

Oscar let loose a smile, but not one of actual happiness. This particular smile looked sad, perhaps pitiful. Lando felt small from it. Not in the way he did when his parents yelled at him, but more as if he was allowed to tuck himself away, shrink down and be safe. It was oddly freeing.

"I'm sorry, baby," Oscar whispered before kissing his forehead. "You'll have to get used to this now, because I don't play about with this sort of stuff." He kissed him once more, on the lips this time, before patting Lando on the hip and pulling away. As he moved towards the shoe rack again, Lando finally realised he had changed clothes. The casual summer attire he'd arrived in completely abandoned; in its place was now a tailored, charcoal grey suit.

"Would you like to come with? I'm sure my assistant wouldn't mind if you hung around my office while we had the meeting. We can go out to eat after." He crouched down at the shoe rack to pull out a pair of shiny black oxfords, and sat down on the bench to pull them on. "Or you can wait for me here, look through Deliveroo and order anything you're in the mood to eat. Snoop through the rest of my stuff as well, if you'd like."

"I wasn't snooping!"

"And I wasn't complaining." He tied the shoes before standing up to straighten everything out, and… fucking hell. He looked absolutely edible. "So. Which one?"

"I wanna go with you."

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The drive was quick, but by the time they got out of the Mustang, Oscar was sweating under his suit jacket. He caught a glance of the two black Mercedes cars parked further down the car park, and he closed his eyes to breathe for a second before launching into motion. With Lando following close behind, he walked up towards the entrance of his factory and through the large glass doors.

Inside, the cool wind of the air conditioning hit Lando's overheated skin, and he broke out into goosebumps. Everything looked like it was out of Star Wars or something: sleek furniture, modern technology, a beautiful car on display in front of the reception area. Looking at the people walking around, Lando realised he was severely underdressed in his tank top and shorts. He tried hiding behind Oscar's broad back.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Piastri," the receptionist greeted. "It's nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too, Janet. Have you seen Karen?"

"She asked me to tell you that Mr. Eisenmann and his company are in boardroom 3."

"Thank you."

Lando could barely keep up with Oscar's wide steps. He nearly jogged after him down a corridor, where doors left ajar let him see into the offices. People hunched over computers or talking on the phone.

Out of one room, a lady in a pantsuit stepped, keeping pace with Oscar despite her wearing stilettos. "Mr. Piastri, sir, I've talked to our supplier in California and they've told me the month's shipment will be delayed due to the… disagreement about the material quality."

Oscar fidgeted with his right hand, fingers rubbing together. "How long?"

"Three weeks."

"Check in with them again and mention our Japanese supply chain. I'm sure that'll motivate them to work a bit faster."

"Yes, sir."

Taking a right at the end of the corridor, Oscar scaled a staircase, taking two steps at a time. People moved around them, all greeting the boss and sometimes asking questions.

Failed inspections and transmission problems. Programming difficulties. A tuning calibration showing anomalies. Torque limits crashing to factory settings. They used so many words Lando had never heard before that he thought he might get dizzy with it.

But not Oscar. Although Lando didn't understand a word of the advice he was giving to his employees, they all left with a "thank you, sir," "you're right, sir," "we're on it, sir," or some variation of that, which only left Lando thinking, fuck. Oscar really understood all of that. Engineering, programming, business, all that bullshit—he fucking knew everything.

And to see all his employees treating him with so much respect, looking at him with so much awe. Lando really saw a whole different man in his boyfriend in those brief ten minutes.

Once they arrived at boardroom 3, Lando spotted a woman in a pencil skirt with folders in her arms, tapping her feet nervously against the tiled floor.

"Karen, my saviour," Oscar beamed. "You've got everything?"

"Yes, sir, right here." She handed him the folders along with commentary on each file.

"Lovely. I'll handle that, and you handle—" he reached behind his back to pull Lando out of his hiding place and push him towards Karen, "this. Karen, Lando. Lando, this is my assistant. Please, Karen, would you be so kind and show him to my office? He'll wait for me there until the meeting is finished."

"Right away, sir."

Oscar patted him on the cheek one last time. "I'll be back as fast as possible."

"I have no doubt, if I were you, I'd also wanna get out of there quickly."

He walked inside with a smile, and the door locked behind him to ensure no disturbance during the meeting. Kind, soft-spoken Karen led him down another corridor towards a door with a nameplate that read Oscar Piastri, Chief Executive Officer. In front of the room was a desk more full than the tiny desk back at Oscar's cottage, only much more organised, with everything sorted into a filing system with colourful tags.

"You can wait in there, and if you need anything, I'll be at this desk," she said as she unlocked Oscar's door for him, but let him be the one to open it up.

"Thank you." He shot her a smile before disapearing inside.

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The meeting was nearly an hour long, which seemed long for something Oscar barely even prepared for. In that time, Lando sat idly in his office, trying not to touch anything that seemed even remotely important, and listened to Karen pick up the phone nearly a dozen times with the same "Oscar Piastri's office, how can I help?"

As soon as Oscar stepped into the room, his tie loosened and his suit jacket unbuttoned, Lando started squirming in the leather chair he'd folded himself into. Oscar looked tired and flushed, his hair less neat than it was when they arrived, looking like he'd run his fingers through it several times during the meeting. And God, he smelled good. Did he smell this good when they had arrived? As Oscar leaned over Lando to drop the folders onto his desk, Lando found himself following him, sniffing him like a deranged dog.

"What's up, love?" Oscar asked with a smile. "I hope you weren't too bored."

"I'm fine," Lando stated and stood up from the chair to fall into Oscar's arms. Quite literally. Oscar had to catch him with his arms around Lando's waist, the impact pulling a small 'oomf' from his lips before they were occupied by Lando's.

"How was it?" he asked between heated kisses.

"Good," Oscar mumbled against his lips before slipping his tongue into Lando's mouth. "What's with the warm welcome?"

"Missed you." Lando made his way down Oscar's neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind. "You were so fucking sexy, you know. You're so smart. I never thought I'd fully understand the words 'natural-born leader', but you just showed me what it really means."

"What?" Oscar gasped and leaned his head back, arms still holding Lando tight. "What are you even talking about?"

"When we were coming in. All those people who mmm asked you questions." He sucked gently on the skin right above Oscar's shirt collar. "And you knew the answer to every one of them."

"This is my job, Lando, of course I'm good at it."

"No, all those things were their jobs. And you somehow know better than all of them."

"I don't really; sometimes you just need a fresh pair of eyes to see the solution to—"

Lando silenced him with a kiss, deep and dirty, making both of them moan.

"I'm not all that hungry right now; can we actually go home and maybe order in? Please, sir?"

The question wasn't even out of his mouth before Oscar was nodding and gabbling, "Yeah, yes, yeah, great idea."

They nearly ran down the building's halls this time, and when someone approached him with another question, Oscar told them to find Karen. Lando was all but thrown into the passenger seat of the black Mustang three minutes later, half-hard, flushed, and giggling.

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They tumbled into the flat blindly, lips locked in a kiss that seemed to last forever. Lando knew Oscar liked taking his time, but in that moment, he felt like he simply couldn't wait. His mouth demanded silently, biting and pulling, then opening to kiss deeper. Always more, faster. When Oscar dragged Lando's shirt over his head, Lando couldn't get his lips back on him faster.

"Easy," Oscar said, pushing him back.

He was walked backwards until his back hit the backrest of an armchair, and Oscar held him there.

"Come on," Lando whined. "I want it, sir, please."

He could already see the effect the name had on Oscar. The wild eyes, the ragged breathing. Lando hammered the last nail into the coffin he voluntarily climbed into.

"I want you to fuck me, Mr. Piastri."

He was dragged into another bruising kiss, teeth clashing and tongues twisting with an intensity that left Lando breathless. When he was pushed away, it was more like a shove, knocking him into the armchair again.

Oscar circled him like a vulture. Lando's eyes followed, head turning, and he watched as Oscar sat down into the armchair. He didn't even try to look at Lando as he said, "Come here."

And Lando went.

He circled the chair until he could stand face-to-face with Oscar, ready to climb into his lap with the biggest grin on his face.

"Kneel," came the cold instruction.

Lando's heart skipped a beat at the tone alone. Orders were something he was used to hearing from Oscar's lips, but they were usually wrapped in the soft, guiding tone of his boyfriend. Something gentle, something sweet. But this was nothing like that. Oscar's voice came out flat, a sort of stern darkness to it that Lando had never heard directed at him before; it was reserved for phone calls with his business partners. It left Lando speechless. On edge.

"You wanna play, Lando? Let's play." His tone was calculated and frigid as he propped his elbows on the armrests and clasped his hands together in his lap. "I can do this; the question is, can you handle it?"

"I can," said Lando, defiant as ever.

"Then kneel."

This time, Lando didn't even have time to hesitate. His knees buckled in an instant, and he found himself on the floor, looking up at Oscar like a puppy waiting for the next instruction.

"See, you do know how to listen." Amusement crept into his voice this time, but even so, he still didn't fully sound like Oscar. The praise didn't sound like him either, but Lando drank it up regardless. "Undress for me. Slowly."

Lando raised his hips to get his trousers off quickly, hands fumbling with the stiff fabric and the button, yanking at the zipper as if that would help—

"Look at me," Oscar ordered. Lando's eyes snapped up to his. "Keep looking at me. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he crooned. "Take your shoes off first."

Oscar watched him, a gentle tilt to his head and a dark hunger in his eyes, as Lando pulled his legs forward and loosened the shoelaces enough to slip out of them. Socks next, pulling them off and throwing them to the side—

"Tuck them into your shoes."

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry." He picked the socks up and stuffed them into his sneakers. Placed them side by side neatly before moving on to his shorts again.

His trembling hands slowed down, no longer rushing to get through the notions of it, instead focusing on the intensity of Oscar's gaze as he followed Lando's movements. The button came undone, and the zipper slid down easily after. Lando could finally push the stiff, suffocating fabric off himself. Inside his underwear, his dick was rock hard and begging to be freed.

"Fold them," Oscar instructed, and Lando had to bite his cheek so he wouldn't say anything. He was nearly coming apart at the seams, but he had to contain himself. Slow himself down.

Neatly folded, his shorts were placed next to his shoes. And finally, Lando moved on to his underwear.

Once the waistband dragged below his balls, he let out a sigh of relief. The cool air hitting his hot skin made him shiver, but he couldn't wait to finally crawl into Oscar's lap and get warm there. Ride him in his stupidly expensive suit until they were both cumming their brains out.

"You look so pretty for me down there," Oscar praised. It was all Lando needed for the cheeky smile to return to his face.

"I'd look prettier in your lap, sir."

The chuckle that followed made Lando's jaw snap shut, lips pressed together. "I doubt that, love," Oscar said. "See, you don't see yourself from up here, do you? You can't possibly know how desperate you look right now. Those big puppy eyes you keep making, looking up at me. The lovely shade of red on your face. Your lips, already open for me, your little tongue darting from side to side. And… look at your cock, baby. I'm not even touching you, and it's twitching."

Oscar was assessing him so thoroughly, it made Lando's body react automatically, hands coming up to cover his cock. Just as quickly, Oscar's foot kicked his hands away.

"Don't hide now, there's no need." He looked almost bored as he propped his head up with one hand. His tone didn't give away anything either, not even a trace of arousal, even as Lando was dying at his feet. "Bet you could cum hands free, no?"

"What?" Lando squaked.

Oscar shrugged minutely. "You certainly look needy enough."

"I'm not—! I— Oscar!"

"That's not my name. Say it properly now."

"Sir. I… can't."

"Can you not? Naww." The sound of mock sympathy didn't help Lando's state in the slightest. And then Oscar stretched one leg out. "Why don't you try anyway? Can't hurt to just give it a go."

Lando's eyes flickered between the outstretched leg, clad in the soft, charcoal material, with the Italian leather loafers still shining on him, and Oscar's face, expressionless, save for the all-consuming fire that still burned in his eyes.

"Sir," he breathed, "what are you asking of me, exactly?"

"Hump my leg," Oscar said without missing a beat. "Until you cum."

Lando's breath stuttered in his chest, heart fluttering like an injured bird. In his beyond-horny state, every thought in his brain fizzled into static, leaving no room for anything other than the stern command served wrapped in smooth baritone. He could feel the throbbing in his cock matching his heartbeat, aching for a fist, or maybe even a mouth, to wrap around it and relieve him of the buildup of the past two hours, but no. Oscar didn't give him an option like that, and Lando was afraid it might be his leg or nothing else.

As humiliating as it was, he straddled Oscar's leg, his cock lining up perfectly with his shoe.

Just then, Oscar leaned forward in his seat, and Lando had a hard time refocusing his eyes to look at him. "You wanna stop this at any time, say so."

"What? No!" Lando stammered, tongue suddenly useless in his mouth. "I want this, I like this, don't— don't make me stop. I wanna do this."

"Sweetheart." Lando stopped blabbering instantly. "I'm not making you stop. I'm giving you the option to stop whenever you want."

He didn't reply this time; didn't argue or complain, just jumped into action. His hips moved almost on their own, seeking friction and finding it in the form of leather and wool, both warm from the heat of Oscar's skin. He could almost pretend it was bare skin he was rubbing his cock against, and he wrapped his arms around Oscar's shin to help him set the perfect pace.

Fast and rough, exactly how Lando needed it right now, after being made to wait for so long. After working himself up to a frenzy in Oscar's office. His hips swayed back and forth, swivelled in a circle, grinding himself against Oscar in a way that felt downright filthy. But looking up directly into Oscar's darkened eyes, he found nothing but need and hunger. Lando had never felt more confident than when Oscar was looking at him.

And Oscar… Fuck, he looked so big from this point of view. Looking up at him, still dressed in his suit, looking put-together as ever while Lando was literally writhing on the floor for him. Jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically, his broad shoulders squared, his trousers tight around his groin and his thighs. Lando pressed his face against his thigh, mouth open, tongue out. Lapping at him like a mutt and soaking his trousers with saliva.

He really was a dog, wasn't he? Humping Oscar's leg, licking at him, making noises akin to a wounded puppy.

But nothing made Lando feel more like it than Oscar crooning, "Good boy," whilst his fingers scratched at Lando's scalp.

Lando came almost immediately. Hips kicking a handful of times before he went still, muscles all tense, mouth wide open on a silent scream. When the initial shocks passed, a shiver ran down his spine, and he felt warmth engulfing him all over. His dick was coated in it, too. And so was Oscar's leg.

"Messy boy," Oscar reprimanded, pushing Lando away with a hand fisted in his hair. "Look at that, you ruined my shoes. You should really lick it up, don't you think?"

Lando let out a pathetic, choked-off whine. "Sir…"

"Go on, Lando. Lick it up. I know you can do what you're told; you just proved that to me."

After a beat of hesitation, Lando moved. Got on all fours, bringing his head down low, until he was level with Oscar's shoe, shiny and wet. He looked up at Oscar one last time, only to be given a meaningful look as if to say 'go on', and he finally rolled his tongue out.

It was salty and bitter, and it stuck to the roof of Lando's mouth as he swallowed it. It wasn't nearly as good as swallowing Oscar's straight from the source, but there was a level of sweetness to the act itself, knowing he was doing what he was told. Doing what Oscar ordered him to do. Being a good boy.

He licked all of it up from Oscar's shoe and disregarded the ruined trousers, since it had seeped into the fabric already. Once he was done, he straightened up, hands on his thighs, and looked up to Oscar with his mouth open to show him it was all gone.

"There you go," Oscar delighted with a lilt to his voice that made Lando beam with happiness. "You really can do what you're told, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then here's your next task." Oscar leaned forward in his seat, bringing their faces close enough that Lando thought he might kiss him. But he didn't. Instead, Oscar loosened his tie all the way this time and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. "Down the hall, second door to the left. You're gonna go into my office and bend over the desk for me, okay?"

Lando found himself nodding before his brain could even process the words.

"Good boy," Oscar breathed, and Lando was already scrambling off the floor, nearly tripping over his own leg to get to said room.

He hadn't seen that part of the flat before. He didn't exactly have time to have a proper look around after they arrived; he only inspected the living area and had a quick look at the bedroom before they had to leave for the meeting. He was planning on making use of that king-sized mattress later; he had no idea the evening would end here. In Oscar's home study.

The room was darker than the living area or the bedroom; the wallpaper the colour of that forest green Lando had noticed ran throughout his home as an accent. Here, it was the whole room. Bookshelves lined a wall, spilling over with books and dossiers. On the other wall, there was more art. A framed degree in the midst of other pictures.

And in the middle of the room, facing the doorway, sat a large, wooden desk. One side of it was filled with stationery. Pens and pencils scattered about, a stapler and a hole punch next to a stack of printer paper. On the other side lay folders of different colours, and a desk lamp.

Lando walked up to it, pressed his palms against the cool wooden top. Then bent over and pressed his face against it, hissing when the cold surface touched his chest. He breathed in, slow and deep, dragging in the smell of leather and paper and wood. It was Oscar. Oscar all over. Lando could feel the man's heartbeat inside his own chest.

"God, look at you."

The voice initially made him jump, but Lando relaxed quickly. He twisted around the best he could to take a look at Oscar.

He finally looked a little more dishevelled, too. His suit jacket gone, hair falling into his eyes, his tie draped over his shoulders. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up, showing his sculpted chest and thick forearms. Lando felt his saliva pool in his mouth just at the sight of him.

As he stalked closer, Lando let himself relax fully against the desk, ready to take whatever Oscar wanted to give. Behind him, Oscar grabbed his hips tightly with both hands, and leaned over him, chest against Lando's back as he kissed Lando's jaw, his cheek, his neck. Lando could feel the hot, hard line of Oscar's cock against his ass.

"Please, Mr. Piastri," Lando whined. "I'm ready for you, just give it to me!"

"Are you? Ready for me?" Fuck, he sounded even better talking right up against Lando's ear. When he pulled away, Lando mourned the loss of his warmth. "I'll see about that, okay?"

Lando heard the click of a bottle cap opening, then a wet squelch that spoke of nothing but—

A lubed up finger pressed against his hole, cold and slick and insistent as it pushed inside without giving Lando a second to breathe. It was the perfect, welcome intrusion, moving inside Lando like it was his second home. Like he knew every nook and cranny.

It didn't take long before the second one joined, and Lando's hands flew to grab onto the edge of the table for support, back arching to push down harder against the digits.

"What do you know," Oscar mused aloud, "you are ready for me. Still nice and loose from last night."

"You always make sure I am," Lando agreed.

"My employees always tell me I'm a kind boss."

"You are," Lando gasped, the words punching him in the gut. "You are, sir!"

"Glad you think so, love. You are my favourite, after all."

The fingers pulled out, and Lando craned his neck to watch Oscar undo his trousers and pull his cock out from the confines. It was rock hard, red and leaking at the tip from being ignored for so long. Oscar gave it a few tugs, fist tight and eyes closed. It was beautiful, watching Oscar's breath hitch from the pleasure.

He slicked himself up with lube, taking his sweet time before he lined himself up with Lando's hole and slowly pushed in.

It was an overwhelming, neverending push. Always more, always deeper, until Lando felt him in his guts. He let out a long sigh, as if he finally felt relieved now that Oscar was buried to the hilt.

"God, you feel so good for me," Oscar grunted, hands splayed over Lando's back, roaming from the curve of his ass to his shoulder blades. Then further up, to pull Lando's arms down, behind his back, and wrap his tie around Lando's wrists. "Always perfect, always just what I need."

When Lando realised what happened, he arched his back and grabbed onto Oscar's hands as best as he could with his restrained hands. "Move, please!" he begged, high-pitched and downright pathetic as he drooled onto Oscar's desk.

It didn't take a lot of convincing for Oscar to do so. He moved with a singleminded goal: to completely ruin Lando. He was always so steady, always moving like a fucking metronome as he filled Lando to the brim and pushed even further.

Every thrust pushed Lando further, dragging sounds out of him even needier than the last.

"Tell me again," Oscar moaned. "Tell me what you saw back there."

It took an embarrassingly long time for Lando to actually understand what Oscar was asking of him; his brain a complete mush, too focused on the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked within an inch of his life. And even when he did, it took another minute for his mouth to start functioning again.

"You— you looked…" Jesus, Lando was gone. Couldn't catch his breath no matter how hard he tried, and he felt like he might cry. "So powerful and so smart. Straight to the point, like you always a—aaahh!" Oscar hammered directly into his prostate and stars burst behind Lando's eyelids, vision going white.

"You liked seeing me like that?" Oscar prompted.

Lando nearly screamed, "Yes! I didn't understand any of it, but, haahnng, loved seeing you in your element!"

"But it's not just that, is it?" Oscar tsksed, slowing his thrusts down until he was barely moving. "You heard them call me sir and Mr. Piastri and you just had to do it, too, didn't you?"

"I did that before, too. I know you like it."

"But it was different this time, wasn't it, Lando? After hearing my employees call me that. You needed to do that too, huh?"

Squeezing Oscar's hand where their fingers were still intertwined, Lando whined and squirmed as much as he could underneath Oscar.

"Want." He hiccupped. "Want you to boss me around like that, too. Tell me what to do and—"

The next thrust pushed him up the desk hard. Punched the breath out of him and jostled him as if he was a ragdoll. Oscar set a pace and knocked Lando's hips against the edge of the desk with each thrust, pain and pleasure layering together and driving him closer, closer, closer.

When he came, the shocks of pleasure wracked his entire body, lasting for several long minutes, until Lando felt like he was wrung completely dry. He didn't even notice Oscar following right behind him and fucking him through both of their orgasms as he filled Lando up even more than he already was.

Oscar wrapped himself around Lando, arms bracketing him in a soft, warm cocoon, where kisses were peppered all over his shoulder and the side of his face.

"You're so good for me," Oscar panted, breath fanning hot over Lando's sweaty skin. "Perfect, my perfect boy. I love you so much."

Lando could barely move a muscle, just enough to turn his head and kiss Oscar's temple. "I love you. Thank you so much. Thank you."

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After cleaning up the study and taking a shower, the two of them tucked into Oscar's huge bed with a box of margherita pizza that they had delivered. Lando draped himself across Oscar's lap as Oscar hand-fed him pizza slices, alternating between giving Lando a bite and taking one himself.

"Pain meds kicking in yet?" Oscar asked through a mouthful.

Lando squirmed around a bit to check. "Yeah, I think so."

"I'm sorry I bruised your hips. I got a bit too excited."

"It's okay, you know I enjoyed it." He turned just enough to kiss Oscar's bare tummy, nuzzling him with his nose until Oscar giggled. "You always take care of me. You're so amazing."

"It's the least I can do, Lando." He smiled down at him, honey brown eyes so full of adoration, Lando felt his chest tighten. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

They ate in silence for a bit as Lando's eyes flickered from corner to corner of the bedroom. The built-in closet with another flat screen TV in the middle, facing the bed, the artworks hung above the bedframe.

"You know, it's quite insane that you have all this here. And yet you chose to move into a cottage in the middle of nowhere, where the furniture smells like old lady, and the wallpaper is peeling from the walls."

"It's a change of pace," Oscar answered with a shrug. "All this, it uh… gets a bit too much at times. So big and so lonely. So cold… When I'm at the cottage, everything feels like it did when I was a little boy. Spending summers at my grandparents' and living freely."

Lando smiled as he pictured tiny Oscar with his mop of blond hair, running around in the backyard where his grandmother fed chickens or watered flowers. "Yeah. I get it."

"It'll feel a lot less lonely with you here." Fingers carded through Lando's hair, and he leaned into the touch.

"I wanna stay here. By your side. I don't wanna start uni again next month."

"Even when the semester begins, and you move into your dorm, you're always welcome here. I'll be here, Lando. I'm not going anywhere."

Lando caught his hand and pulled it down to kiss his palm. "Promise?"

"Promise. I love you, Lando. Always."

"I love you, too, Oscar. Always."

Always.

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