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Oscar was sprawled on the sofa, and Lando was straddling his lap, knees bracketing Oscar's hips, the weight of him settled warm and familiar against Oscar's thighs. Their mouths were fused together in something that was less a kiss and more a conversation—slow and unhurried, tongues tracing lazy patterns, lips catching and releasing like they were learning each other all over again. Lando's fingers were buried in Oscar's hair, curling at the nape of his neck. Oscar's fingers had already slipped inside the hoodie Lando was wearing—Oscar's hoodie, soft and smelling faintly of his cologne—splaying across the bare warmth of Lando's lower back, nails dragging just slightly against his spine in a way that made Lando shiver and press closer.
It had started quietly. The summer break was finally here, but Oscar had been simmering ever since his DNF in Hungary. Lando had watched the carefully constructed composure crack just once before snapping back into place, had seen the darkness brewing behind those eyes. And Lando had a brilliant idea to cheer him up. Or maybe not brilliant. Maybe reckless. But he couldn't stop himself.
So, the moment Lando had the chance to visit Oscar's place again—he had climbed into Oscar's lap, in the Australian's living room, kissed the younger man sweetly, and offered himself up like a gift wrapped in Oscar's own hoodie.
Now Oscar's mouth was on Lando's neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below his jaw before sinking in—just hard enough to make Lando gasp, his fingers fisting in Oscar's hair. Oscar's other hand was working its way up his stomach beneath the hoodie, knuckles brushing against his ribs, his sternum, the tender dip of his waist, while his thumb traced lazy circles into the jut of Lando's hip bone.
"So eager," Oscar murmured against his throat, his voice low and wrecked, sending vibrations straight through Lando's skin. The younger man's lips dragged upward, hot and wet, until his breath was ghosting over Lando's ear. "What should I do with you, baby?"
Lando's laugh came out breathless, a little unhinged, his head falling back to expose more of his neck. "Just want to cheer you up."
Oscar pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, and Lando's breath caught at the intensity in that gaze—dark, hungry. His thumb stilled on Lando's hip, pressing down just hard enough to bruise. "You don't need to please me like that, Lan. I know what you're trying to do, our race just finished two days ago. It's fine, it wasn't your fault."
"I know," Lando said, reaching up to cup Oscar's jaw, his thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, feeling the tension coiled beneath the skin. "I just wanted to make you feel good. Take your mind off everything. We have the whole summer break—we could just let go. No limits, no rules. Just us."
Oscar's eyes narrowed, calculating, searching Lando's face for something. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
Lando bit his lip, his heart slamming against his ribs. He had been thinking about this for a while—the endless hours of losing himself in Oscar's touch, in Oscar's warmth. He wanted to be fucked senseless, wanted to forget everything except the feeling of Oscar inside him, wanted to give Oscar an escape, a release, a way to burn off the frustration that had been festering since Hungary.
"I want you to use me," Lando said, the words spilling out in a rush, hot and desperate. "I want a marathon sex. I want you to fuck me until I can't think, can't walk, can't even remember my own name. I want to be wrecked, Oscar. Completely and utterly destroyed. I want to feel you for days."
Oscar's grip on his hip tightened, fingers digging into the flesh. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Yes, I do." Lando's voice was firm. "I want all of it. Every dark thing you've ever thought about doing to me. I want to be your escape, your release, your—"
Oscar's mouth crashed against his, swallowing the rest of the words. The kiss was brutal, demanding—all teeth and tongue and desperate hunger. Lando moaned into it, his fingers tangling in Oscar's dark hair, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them, until he could feel every line of Oscar's body pressed flush against his.
Oscar's hand slid down from his hip, fingers hooking into the waistband of Lando's sweatpants, and Lando gasped against his mouth at the sudden pressure.
"Careful what you wish for, princess," Oscar growled against his lips, his voice dropping to something deep and dangerous, a promise wrapped in a threat. His fingers slipped lower, brushing against the heat of Lando's skin. "I might just give you exactly what you want."
Lando's breath stuttered, his hips twitching forward involuntarily. "Good," he whispered, his voice trembling but certain. "I'm counting on it."
The scream that tore from Lando's throat was raw and guttural, swallowed instantly by the pillow he had buried his face in. But there was no hiding the way his entire body convulsed as Oscar's thick, unrelenting cock split him open from behind, driving deep with a single, brutal thrust that left no room for adjustment. There had been so little prep, just frantic, desperate fingers and the slick evidence of Lando's own traitorous arousal from his pussy, and absolutely no condom—just the searing, forbidden heat of skin against skin, the obscene drag of Oscar's length against his sensitive clit.
The stretch was agonizing and exquisite all at once, a white-hot burn that radiated from his core to the tips of his trembling fingers. Lando's nails raked uselessly across the sheets, leaving crescent-shaped marks in the fabric as he tried to ground himself. His pussy stretched impossibly wide around Oscar's girth, the thick head having forced past his entrance with a wet, lewd pop that echoed in the quiet room.
Oscar let out a low, dark chuckle from somewhere above Lando, the sound vibrating through his chest and into Lando's quivering form. The noise was rough, gravelly, dripping with cruel amusement—the same tone he used in post-race interviews when he'd just beaten Lando to the podium, that infuriatingly calm superiority that made Lando's blood boil.
"This world champion's pussy is really amazing," Oscar murmured, his Australian accent thickened by arousal, each word drawn out like a caress or an insult—not that Lando cared when it felt this good. His hands were pressing against Lando's waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh with bruising force, leaving imprints that would bloom into purple and red by morning. He held Lando in place like he was nothing more than a toy, a thing to be used, and the sheer degradation of it made Lando's head spin.
"So fucking tight, princess," Oscar continued, the nickname dripping with mockery. "You'd think a whore like you would be looser by now."
His hips began to move, pulling out with agonizing slowness until only the thick, flared head remained, stretching Lando's entrance obscenely. Lando could feel every inch of that withdrawal—the way Oscar's cock dragged against his sensitive inner walls, the ridge of the head catching at his folds, the obscene slickness of his own arousal coating Oscar's shaft. Then Oscar slammed back in with devastating force, the impact sending shockwaves through Lando's entire body, punching a broken sob from his lips. The sound was pathetic, desperate.
Oscar set a punishing rhythm, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. His cock plunged into Lando's pussy with relentless precision, the thick length spreading him wide with every brutal entry. The wet, filthy sound of their bodies meeting echoed obscenely in the quiet room—the slap of skin against skin, the squelch of Lando's sopping wet folds taking Oscar's cock again and again. Lando could feel his own arousal coating Oscar's shaft with each brutal slide, could feel the way his pussy clenched and fluttered around Oscar's cock, trying to accommodate the relentless invasion. Every thick vein, every ridge, every inch of the man inside his walls was mapped onto Lando's consciousness.
The angle was devastating, Oscar's cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside with every single thrust—that spongy, sensitive patch of nerves that made stars explode across Lando's vision. Each impact sent jolts of electricity through his body, Lando's toes curling, his back arching involuntarily. A string of incomprehensible nonsense fell from his lips—half pleas, half curses, all swallowed by the pillow. His pussy was so full, so completely stuffed with Oscar's thick cock that he could feel himself being reshaped around it, his inner walls stretching to accommodate the relentless invasion.
But then it became too much.
From the beginning Lando wasn't given the time to adjust to Oscar's thick cock—Now, he felt sensitive all over. Be careful of what you wish for. Lando needed to remind himself. Lando's body, traitorous as it was, began to instinctively fight against the invasion, his hips twitching and shifting as he tried to wiggle away, to create even a sliver of space between himself and the relentless pound. His pussy clenched desperately around Oscar's cock, trying to push it out even as his mind craved it deeper.
Oscar felt the movement immediately.
"Where do you think you're going, princess?" His voice was dark, dangerous, the amusement could be heard from his tone of voice.
Before Lando could even form a response, Oscar's grip tightened, bruising on his waist, and he dragged Lando back with brutal efficiency, yanking him onto his cock with a force that knocked the breath from the Brit's lungs. Lando's pussy swallowed Oscar's length in one devastating motion, the thick head punching past his cervix, the sensation so deep and overwhelming that Lando saw white. Then Oscar slammed home again, harder than before, driving so deep Lando swore he could feel him in his throat.
The scream that tore from Lando's lips was nothing short of primal—a raw, ragged cry that was half pleasure, half agony, half crazy. It echoed off the room walls, muffled only slightly by the pillow that was now soaked with Lando's tears and saliva. His entire body went rigid, then limp, completely overwhelmed by the sensation of being so thoroughly claimed. His pussy was stretched to its absolute limit, Oscar's thick cock carving out a space inside him that felt permanent, the walls of his cunt gripping and fluttering around the intrusion even as he trembled from the intensity.
Oscar didn't let up. If anything, Lando's attempt to escape had only spurred him on, his rhythm becoming more frantic, more punishing. Each thrust was accompanied by a low, guttural growl, his hips slapping against Lando's ass with increasing force, the sound obscenely wet and loud in the room. Lando could feel every inch of Oscar's cock dragging against his sensitive inner walls—the way the thick head would push past his entrance, the way the shaft would stretch him wide, the way the base would press flush against his soaked folds with each deep impact.
"You don't get to run," Oscar gritted out, his breath hot against Lando's ear as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against Lando's sweat-slicked back. "You don't get to start something and then try to leave. That's not how this works, princess. You wanted this."
One of his hands released Lando's waist, sliding up his spine to tangle in his damp curls, yanking his head back harshly. The sting on his scalp was sharp, grounding, and it forced a broken moan from Lando's lips. Oscar's other hand snaked around his body, fingers finding Lando's clit with practiced, ruthless precision—circling, pressing, tormenting in time with his brutal thrusts. The bundle of nerves was swollen and aching, and Oscar's touch sent jolts of electricity through Lando's entire body, making his pussy clench desperately around Oscar's cock.
"S-Slow down, Oscar." Lando whined, the words barely coherent, swallowed by the damp fabric of the pillow. But those words fell on deaf ears. Oscar kept fucking Lando with a brutal pace, his hips slamming forward with relentless precision, each thrust driving deeper than the last. Lando practically could feel Oscar's length on his throat with the way Oscar was pounding inside him—the sensation so overwhelming, so all-consuming that it blurred the lines between pleasure and pain until they were indistinguishable.
When it became really too much, Lando tried to shift away again, his body instinctively attempting to create distance from the overwhelming invasion. His knees slid forward on the rumpled sheets, his hips tilting in a desperate bid for reprieve. But Oscar immediately put him back to his place, strong hands gripping Lando's hips with bruising force and yanking him backward onto his cock with a sharp, punishing thrust that made Lando scream. The wet squelch of his pussy taking Oscar's length was obscenely loud, his arousal dripping down his thighs, coating his skin with evidence of his desperate need.
"Did I say you could move?" Oscar's voice was a low snarl, his accent thickening as arousal and irritation warred in his tone. His fingers dug deeper into Lando's flesh. "You take what I give you. That's the deal."
Lando let out a whine against the pillow, tears streaming down his cheeks, soaking into the pillowcase. His body was trembling uncontrollably, caught in the grip of something far bigger than himself. His pussy was so full, so completely stuffed with Oscar's thick cock that he could feel every twitch and pulse of the man inside him. "Please," He gasped, the word torn from somewhere deep in his chest. "Oscar, please—"
"Please what?" Oscar's pace didn't falter, his hips continuing their punishing rhythm. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against Lando's sweat-slicked back, his lips brushing against the shell of Lando's ear. "Please fuck you harder? Please make you come? Please remind you exactly who you belong to?"
The words were like gasoline on a fire, igniting something dark and desperate in Lando's chest. Lando couldn't help thinking that was the hottest thing ever, despite how sensitive his body was—how rough Oscar was with him. Oscar was just so fucking hot. His pussy clenched around Oscar's cock, rippling and fluttering in a way that made Oscar groan, his rhythm stuttering for just a moment.
"Fuck," Oscar breathed, the word reverent despite its crudeness. "You're so responsive, princess. So fucking perfect for me." He thrust deep, holding himself there, letting Lando feel every inch of him. The thick head was pressed against Lando's deepest point, the shaft stretching his walls to their absolute limit, and Lando could feel every twitch of Oscar's cock inside him.
Lando sobbed, the sound broken and raw. The angle was devastating, Oscar's length hitting that spot deep inside with unerring accuracy, building pressure in Lando's gut that was impossible to ignore. His pussy was so wet, so slick with his own need that each thrust was accompanied by an obscene squelch, the sound of his body accepting Oscar's cock over and over again.
"I can't," Lando gasped, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at the sheets. "I can't, Oscar, it's too much—"
"Yes, you can." Oscar's voice was firm, didn’t accept any argument. His hand snaked around Lando's waist, finding his clit with practiced ease, circling it in time with his thrusts. "You're going to come for me, princess. You're going to come on my cock like the good little whore you are."
The pressure in Lando's gut was unbearable, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every brush of Oscar's fingers, every brutal slam of his hips. His whole body was trembling, oversensitive and raw, but Oscar showed no mercy—just kept pushing him higher and higher until Lando couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel. Oscar's cock was so deep inside him, so thick and unrelenting, and Lando's pussy was so full, so completely claimed, that he felt like he was being unmade.
"That's it," Oscar spoke, his voice rough with lust. "Let go for me. Come all over my cock. Show me how much you need it."
And Lando shattered.
His orgasm crashed over him like a wave, violent and inescapable, ripping a scream from his throat that was once again muffled only slightly by the pillow. His body convulsed, his inner walls clenching and spasming around Oscar's cock, milking him with desperate, rhythmic pulses. His pussy gripped Oscar's length so tightly that it was almost painful, the walls of his cunt fluttering and rippling as waves of pleasure crashed through him. Pleasure and pain blurred together, white-hot and all-consuming, and for a moment, Lando's mind went blissfully blank. He could feel his arousal gushing around Oscar's cock, soaking the sheets beneath him, evidence of his complete and utter surrender.
But Oscar wasn't done.
He fucked Lando through the orgasm, his pace relentless, chasing his own release with single-minded determination. His cock plunged into Lando's oversensitive pussy again and again, the thick head dragging against walls that were still spasming from climax. Lando whimpered, oversensitive and trembling, as Oscar's thrusts grew more erratic, more desperate. The wet sounds of their bodies meeting filled the room, obscene and wild, as Oscar drove into him again and again, his cock sliding through Lando's soaked folds with lewd, wet sounds.
"Fuck, Lando," Oscar groaned, his composure finally cracking. "So fucking tight. You feel so good around me—"
His rhythm faltered, his hips stuttering against Lando's ass, and with a low, guttural growl, Oscar came. Lando could feel him pulsing inside, could feel the heat of his release flooding him, the sensation too intimate, too raw. Thick ropes of come filled Lando's pussy, coating his inner walls, dripping out around Oscar's cock with each final, shallow thrust. Oscar's grip on his waist tightened almost painfully as he rode out his climax, his breath hot and ragged against Lando's neck, his cock still buried deep inside Lando's clenching, fluttering cunt.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The room was silent save for their harsh, uneven breathing, the faint hum of the air conditioning. Oscar was still buried deep inside him, heavy and warm, and Lando could feel Oscar's come leaking out, could feel the wetness pooling beneath him.
Then Oscar pulled out, slow and deliberate, and Lando winced at the sudden emptiness. He could feel the rush of Oscar's release spilling from his stretched, puffy folds, could feel the way his pussy gaped slightly before slowly beginning to close. He collapsed onto the bed, his body limp and trembling, his thighs slick with a mixture of his own arousal and Oscar's come.
Lando felt so ruined.
Lando looked at the walls beside him, position not moving. How many rounds was it now? He could hear Oscar opening up a bottle of water beside him, Lando heard several gulps. The sound made his own throat ache with thirst, but he couldn't muster the energy to ask for a sip. His body was a wreck—sweat cooling on his skin, his thighs sticky and raw, his pussy still pulsing with the phantom sensation of Oscar's cock buried inside him.
But even through the exhaustion, through the trembling in his limbs and the ache in his lower back, Lando felt a familiar heat stirring low in his belly. His pussy clenched around nothing, and he bit his lip to stifle a whimper. He wanted more. He always wanted more with Oscar.
He heard the bottle being set down, heard Oscar's soft exhale. Then the bed dipped, and Oscar's warm body pressed against his back. Oscar's arm slid around his waist, pulling him close, and Lando could feel the hard length of Oscar's cock pressed against the curve of his ass—still half-hard, still ready.
"Thirsty?" Oscar murmured against his ear, his voice low and soft.
Lando nodded weakly. Oscar reached over him, grabbing the bottle, and brought it to Lando's lips. Lando drank greedily, water spilling down his chin, and Oscar wiped it away with his thumb. When Lando had his fill, Oscar set the bottle aside and nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
"You're still trembling," Oscar observed, his lips brushing Lando's skin.
"Can't help it," Lando breathed. "You wrecked me."
"Good." Oscar's hand slid down his stomach, fingers dipping lower, ghosting over his slick, swollen folds. Lando gasped, his hips twitching forward into the touch. Oscar chuckled, low and dark. "But I'm not done with you yet."
Lando's heart stuttered. "Oscar—"
"So good for me." Oscar's fingers found his clit, circling it with agonizing slowness. Lando whimpered, his hands fisting in the sheets. "You can take more. You want more, don't you?"
"Yes," Lando gasped, the word torn from him. "Fuck, yes."
Oscar kissed his shoulder, then his neck, then the shell of his ear. "Good girl. Roll over for me."
Lando obeyed, his body moving on autopilot, turning onto his back. He looked up at Oscar, who hovered above him, dark eyes blazing with hunger. Oscar's gaze traveled down Lando's body—the marks on his neck, his chest, his stomach—and settled between his legs, where his pussy was still wet and open, glistening with a mix of their combined release.
"Look at you," Oscar murmured, almost reverent. He reached down, running two fingers through Lando's folds, collecting the slickness. "So fucking beautiful. And all mine."
"Yours," Lando echoed, his voice breaking.
Oscar brought his fingers to his lips, tasting Lando's arousal and his own come. The sight made Lando's thighs tremble, his clit throbbing with need.
"Ready for more?" Oscar asked, positioning himself between Lando's legs.
Lando nodded frantically. "Please. I need you inside me again."
Oscar was looming over him, his dark hair disheveled, his chest still sheened with sweat, his cock already hardening again. He was watching Lando with that predatory gleam, hunger and possession warring in his gaze.
Lando winced, letting a groan escape when he felt Oscar's fingers rubbing his thigh—a gesture that was almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutality that was to come.
"Beg me," Oscar said, his voice a quiet command.
Lando's breath hitched. "Please, Oscar. Please fuck me. I need your cock—I need to feel you fill me up again." Lando whined, his eyes full of tears that spilled over and traced hot paths down his cheeks.
"You're so fucking pretty, baby." Oscar's voice dropped to a low murmur, the words dripping with mockery and desire in equal measure. He began to line himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing against Lando's slick, swollen folds, nudging at his entrance with an insistence that made Lando's breath catch.
Lando let out a gasp when Oscar pushed inside of him again, the familiar stretch blooming into something overwhelming. His cunt was still sensitive from before, the inner walls tender and aching, and the sensation of Oscar's thick length splitting him open all over again was almost too much. He could feel every ridge and vein as Oscar sank deeper, the blunt pressure of his cockhead dragging against his most sensitive spot, sending sparks of electricity up his spine. The wet, obscene sound of their bodies meeting filled the room as Oscar bottomed out, his hips flush against Lando's thighs, his cock buried to the hilt inside the tight, clutching heat of Lando's cunt.
"Fuck," Lando breathed, his back arching off the mattress. The fullness was devastating, a pressure that bordered on pain but quickly dissolved into a deep, aching pleasure that made his toes curl. His walls fluttered and clenched around Oscar's cock, trying to accommodate the relentless intrusion, and he could feel every inch of him, could feel the way Oscar's pulse throbbed inside him.
"Look at you," Oscar said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. He braced himself on one arm, his other hand coming up to cup Lando's jaw, forcing his tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. "Already crying again. And I've barely even started."
Lando's breath hitched, his chest heaving as he tried to form words, tried to beg, but nothing came out but a broken whimper. Oscar's thumb traced along his cheekbone, wiping away a tear with a tenderness that felt almost cruel given the circumstances.
"So pretty for me, so perfect." Oscar cooed, but there was no comfort in it—only mockery. "You wanted this. So you're going take it again." He rolled his hips, a slow, deliberate grind that had Lando's eyes fluttering shut. The movement pushed his cock impossibly deeper, the thick head dragging against that exquisite bundle of nerves buried deep inside Lando, and a sob tore from Lando's throat. "That's it. Feel that? Feel how fucking good you are for me?"
Lando nodded his head. His hips tilted up, angling to meet Oscar's next thrust, and the change in position made Oscar's cock hit that devastating spot with perfect precision. A cry escaped Lando's lips, half frustration, half desperate pleasure. "Feels so full," he choked out, the words barely audible.
Oscar laughed, low and breathless, and it sent a shiver down Lando's spine. "Yeah?" He said, his pace quickening. Slowly, each thrust became a punishing rhythm, the wet slap of their bodies mingling with Lando's gasps and Oscar's guttural groans. Lando could feel himself being taken apart, his mind splintering with every stroke. "You're made for this, Lando. So perfect like this. All pliant and sweet underneath me." He leaned down, his lips brushing against Lando's ear as he whispered. "What should I do, princess? Should I lock you here? Make you my little whore that I can use whenever I want?"
Lando groaned, he was starting to get dizzy. His hands came up to push against Oscar's chest, a weak, futile gesture that Oscar easily ignored. Instead, he caught Lando's wrists, pinning them above his head with one hand, his grip like iron. The position opened Lando up even more, Oscar's cock dragged against his G-spot with every thrust. Lando sobbed, his vision going white at the edges, the pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable.
"There we go," Oscar growled, his hips slamming forward with renewed vigor. The slick sounds of Lando's wetness coated his cock, making each thrust obscenely smooth, and Lando could feel himself dripping, could feel the evidence of his own arousal pooling beneath him. Oscar was fucking him open, claiming every inch of him, and Lando's body responded with a shameless fervor, his hips meeting each brutal thrust, his cunt clenching and gripping Oscar's cock like it never wanted to let go. "That's my good girl. Take it. Take all of it."
Lando's mind was a blur of sensation. The stretch, the fullness, the relentless rhythm of Oscar's hips pounding into him—it was too much and not enough all at once. His thighs trembled around Oscar's waist, his heels digging into Oscar's back as if trying to pull him closer, deeper. The pressure in his cunt was exquisite, every nerve ending alight, and he found himself chasing the feeling, desperate for more.
Oscar's free hand slid down Lando's body, fingers tracing the curve of his hip before finding his clit. Lando jerked at the contact, a sob catching in his throat. The sensitive nub was swollen and aching, and Oscar's thumb circled it with merciless precision, the dual stimulation of his cock and his fingers pushing Lando closer to the edge.
"No, no, please, I can't—"
"You can," Oscar said, his thumb working in tight, fast circles. His cock drove into Lando's cunt with relentless force, hitting that deep, perfect spot over and over. "You will. One more time, princess. Give me one more."
Lando shook his head frantically, but the pressure was already building, the coil in his gut tightening impossibly fast. His walls began to flutter around Oscar's length, a telltale sign of his approaching climax. Every nerve in his body was on fire, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. He was a mess—tears streaming down his cheeks, broken moans spilling from his lips, his body trembling under the onslaught of sensation.
"Oscar, please—" The words were a broken plea, barely intelligible through his sobs.
"Please what?" Oscar's pace grew erratic, his composure slipping as he chased his own end. He slammed into Lando with a desperation that matched the frantic beating of Lando's heart.
And then Lando shattered. A shattered scream tore from his throat as his orgasm crashed over him, violent and blinding. His cunt clenched around Oscar's cock in a series of violent, pulsing contractions, milking him as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through Lando's body. He was beyond coherent thought, lost in the overwhelming ecstasy that consumed him. His vision whited out, his back bowing off the mattress as he came undone completely, his body trembling and convulsing beneath Oscar.
Oscar followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, spilling hot and thick inside Lando's spasming cunt with a guttural moan. Lando felt the warmth of Oscar's release filling him, the sensation sending a final tremor through his oversensitive body.
The room fell silent again, save for their ragged breathing. Oscar stayed inside him, his forehead dropping to rest against Lando's, their sweat-slicked skin pressed together. After a long moment, Oscar pulled out slowly, hissing at the sensation, and collapsed beside Lando on the rumpled sheets.
Lando stared at the ceiling, his chest heaving, tears still leaking from the corners of his eyes. He felt wrecked, consumed, every nerve in his body raw and exposed. But beneath the exhaustion, there was a satisfaction that made his stomach twist with shame. His cunt still throbbed, slick with Oscar's release, and he could feel the evidence of what they had done seeping onto his thighs.
Beside him, Oscar reached out, his fingers brushing against Lando's arm.
"Lando." His voice was softer now, the edge gone. "Look at me."
Lando turned his head, meeting Oscar's gaze. For a moment, there was something unreadable in those dark eyes—something that made Lando's heart stutter in his chest.
"Get some sleep," Oscar said finally, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern on Lando's skin. "I will fuck you again later."
Oscar leaned closer, pressing both of their lips together. Lando's breath hitched. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a whisper of affection after hours of screaming passion. Oscar's lips were warm and pliant, brushing against his with a gentleness that sent a shiver down Lando's spine
"I love you, baby." Oscar spoke after he pulled away, staring at Lando with a smile on his face.
Lando couldn't help but to giggle at that. "I love you too, Osc."