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They're bored. As young entrepreneurs, they decide to do something about it.
Max doesn't need the money but lately he's been entertained by the idea of making loads of it. It's like beating a new high score.
Lando likes having something to do. Juggling the public opinion of himself isn't his favourite hobby but his Leica got water damage and it's going to take two weeks to repair.
Lu's been waiting on something, patiently, to appear. A challenge that will at least squirm under the sole of her Air Forces as she tries to pin it to the ground.
Loose ends means endless possibility, a deleted break-up Instagram story does just that.
They never broke up. Lu's almost always just out of frame, wearing a lazy, drawling tick of a smile. He isn't under any illusion, she chose him. Not the other way around. She continues to choose him, over and over in a way where sometimes he's blindsided by the thought, "Oh right, so this is love." It’s clear but short-lived, the flash of a shooting star, even if he were able to wrangle it, he wouldn’t want to indulge in it.
It doesn't sell hoodies. The latest drop, when they were still publicly together had performed worse. Not by a significant margin, but it had been noticeable.
"It's because I'm in the photos." She'd said, in a measured tone.
Lando doesn't deny it, he respects her more than to try and coddle her with justifications. He's not an exception, he loves his fans. Which means he loves them as much as one can, when ultimately, their status betrays them. Footnotes to a contract. Just like him, but not exactly the same. He does sincerely want to be relatable, but that doesn’t mean they’ll ever be related.
Quadrant's their baby, but he's about to leave it cold on the curb.
"So we feature you more." It's not like they're losing money. He'd post a story of them right now making out if full on video PDA didn't give him the ick.
"No." Lu says, firm. She taps her acrylics against the table, a steady metronome severely at odds with his ADD-addled shaking of his leg. "We break up."
Lando knows he's not being broken up with but he can't see her eyes past the oversized Gucci sunglasses. Her head's tilted toward Max and they're sharing a look, one he's come to know is in the repertoire of a shorthand that he's not privy too.
"Okay..." Lando says, after a pregnant pause. A watery laugh echoes behind it.
Lu pushes up her sunglasses, sits them on her head. The way her hair falls frames her face and exposes the sharp line of her jaw. Her head dips, chin tucked to her chest as she puts him under examination. A scarlet flare dapples his cheeks. He must not have passed the pop quiz, because concern scores the space between her brows.
She slides a hand atop of where his is resting. It's soft from lotion, warmed by the sun.
"Okay." She repeats, pleased.
Lando's wobbly smile is still in tact. Max, who's sat next to him leans his weight against him. "This hotel's got mini golf. You wanna check it out?"
It's sweet, but instinct has him shooting him a look. "I'm fine. I trust whatever you two muppets are hatching because I'm a fantastic boyfriend." He pushes out. The chair screeches against the cement when he stands up. "Let's play. Might as well take advantage of us still being public."
It's clear that in the brief time they've been sitting together at brunch, Max and Lu have been mentally panning out flowcharts of what this decision would look like. What he says isn't surprising to either of them. It's the sink-in, an uninspired term coined from something Max had said offhandedly one day. "You make things sink in."
It makes him feel important. The illusion that he's the last nod of approval even if a plan is already in action, hurtling towards the finish line.
Max and Lando are playing PGA Tour while Luisa, bored, takes selfies, sprawled across the sofa in one of Max's shirt and nothing else.
They've got a bot allowing song requests, but the shocking taste some of his fans have doesn't really matter when he's blocking most of it out to concentrate.
Luisa lulls her head towards them, silent as she has to be since they went incognito, but wearing a pout. Max lifts a hand up, out of the camera's view. Five more minutes.
Which turns into ten, then twenty and he'll just finish this round. He feels a teensy bit bad, just not bad enough to actually stop. She relents anyways and shifts her attention back to her phone.
When he peeks over the top of his monitor five minutes later, he nearly stops the stream then and there.
Luisa, in Max's tee hitched up her thigh, with one leg slung over the back of the sofa. Her hand’s between her thighs and her teeth flush against the pillow of her lip.
Lando forces his gaze back onto the screen, clicking back to the main menu of the game. He was doing shit this round anyways. The stream floods with question marks. "Uh yeah, we're gonna call it. I'm starving." When he looks up again, Luisa's smiling through her bitten lips, a moment of lucidity to indicate she’s pleased, before her hips lift again and her mouth falls open, soundless. Lando wishes she didn't have to be.
He scans the chat looking for an opportune moment to making his parting goodbyes, that doesn’t make it seem more abrupt than it already is. The chat’s distracted, going hard for the song that's playing right now.
"What's the —-" He's trails off, putting it together himself. "Oh, Taylor Swift? I haven't heard this one before."
They're typing the lyrics in the chat in all caps and Lando's about to dip when Max cackles.
"She's better known for the things that she does on the mattress." Max reads, pointing to the screen.
It sets Lando off because most things do. He's grinning hard when he says, "Yeah she is."
It would've probably been alright if he hadn't said anything else. But he'd thieved a glance at Lu in the crack between his two monitors. And she’d been waiting, anticipating the chance to pull at the hem of her shirt. He thinks she's flashing them, which, hot, but she leaves the pooled shirt at the swell of her breasts and he feels it immediately.
"What a s-l-u-t." He says, emphasizing the L and U, because there's nuance in his comedic genius. Lu for Lu and Lu for love you. A smile creeps onto her face.
Lando turns to Max, delighted - but he’s met with a stone-cold expression. He thinks Max must not get the joke, it does after all, have layers. Then he remembers he's on stream in front of 70,566 people.
It looks worse played back. It might have not have gone over well even if him and Lu were still publicly together, but with the break-up story still fresh, it's not great.
His PR officer texts him an hour later. McLaren believe it's a matter of time before it blows over. No comment, obviously. The video will be clipped and shared, and Lando will be picked apart and put back together again with with a notch on a relatively clean reputation. It won't scar, that's the important thing.
McLaren are right and his personal PR team is steadfast. But Lu's got that look in her eye.
It doesn’t take much convincing, being dunked on really fucks with his head, mental illness and that. He hates letting anything blow over, because it always feels random, which way the wind blows. He can't find the pattern in any of it. Like me! He feels, at the pit of it all.
So it's nice, that this one time, they're having a go at it.
Instagram story. Black background. Non-offensive typeface. It reads: I apologize for the comment I made on Twitch. Slut-shaming in any capacity is not okay. The amount of sex someone has does not determine their worth. Everyone should be treated with respect.
Sincere and unassuming, it’s received positively. Even his PR officer sends a quick text that reads: Well put. Unfortunately, she has no idea of what's coming.
He's on Twitch the next day, with Max when he casually says: New insta post by the way, go like it.
In the picture, Lando’s sitting at his gaming chair, in a white shirt and joggers, his legs propped up on his desk and the dirty soles of his socks cropped out of view. His cheeks are rosy and there's a curl out of place because he's just been fucked, but his expression is neutral. He's holding up a framed certificate like a mugshot, which has his name in cursive and a gold seal below it. Upon closer inspection, a two-pinched zoom in, there's another word after his name. Virginity. Lando Norris' Virginity.
The caption reads: Open to drivers on the grid, any bid will be matched by me. One hundred percent of the proceeds will go to the charity of the driver's choosing. Bidding is open for a week. Let's put some money where my mouth is. DM me with your bid.
Verstappen, fellow virgin in arms bids for jokes but knows better than to promote it. If asked for a statement after this inevitably picks up traction going into the Grand Prix weekend, he'll say something along the lines that he supports what Lando is doing and that he donated.
Alex is the first driver to share it to his own story, captioned with a succinct: 😂👏🏽 Love it
The overwhelming response from his team is to take it down. Max takes on the onslaught of criticism. Argues that the majority of his demographic knows what the concept of virginity is, that he's not forcing any uncomfortable conversations with parents. As for sponsors, they get a cut. As a last resort. Max instructs to make clear that boycotting them for any amount of time would be detrimental, as what Lando is doing, ultimately, is donating his money to charity. The cause is impenetrable.
Lu got the idea from Big Little Lies.
Ted Kravitz asks if he can bid and Lando doesn't know how to tell him that, if all goes well, it won't be within his price range.
"How do we get them to donate a decent amount?" Despite the entire grid being millionaires, he can't count on a respectable figure — even if it’s going to charity. Nothing would be more humiliating than having his virginity sold for a measly five hundred dollars.
"That's easy. You make them think it's real." Max says, sat on the edge of their pool, his legs submerged. Lando continues to tread water, his forearms resting against Max's thighs. He'd push up and give him a kiss but Max squirms when anyone presses down on his thighs and gets stroppy when he’s tickled sometimes.
"And is it real?" Lando asks, but he's looking past Max's shoulder to Lu, whose painting her toenails on the sun lounger. Her skin gleams under the sun.
"One thing at a time." Lu says.
"So what are the bidders actually bidding for?" Will Buxton asks, as though he's trying to get an Oscar out of it.
"They get the bragging rights of having my virginity. The bantz, the endless jokes." Lando laughs, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, and of course knowing they have contributed to a very good cause." He finishes.
Journalists always want their subject to keep going and while he has his gripes with media training, he can't help noticing how they silently scream scream more, more, more. He has to subdue the innate urge to keep talking into the mic that doesn’t move away until he's talked himself in circles, as if he's trying to go for a passing mark. Though if anyone asks he'll tell them that he only listens to the people that matter, his friends, family, engineers, because the rest don't know. They just don't.
So when Fernando comes up to him to ask if he's actually still a virgin, Lando does his best at purposefully vague. "Why does it matter?" Lando counters.
"Because I'd want to know if I'm getting a real virgin or not." Fernando says, amused that they're even having this conversation at all.
"You're missing the whole point. It doesn't matter if I am or not." Lando says, a line he didn't think he's be repeating as much as he has. Ziggo had the gall to ask and the shock had made his cheeks red. "If you want to find out, bid high. It's for a good cause."
"I'm taken." Fernando says, but Lando does enough to plant the seed of doubt that the winner would receive more than a certificate claiming his virginity.
If there's one thing he can count on Fernando for, it's spreading other people's business just to see if it'll catch flame. Lando thinks watching the fallout is something of a sunset for him.
"You're not a virgin." Carlos says, with his movie villain grin as he thwacks his ass.
Lando turns, attempts to do a shitty 1-2 to his stomach, which Carlos expertly deflects. Carlos says it like he knows, which he does, but what he's referring to is something they both don't really bring up.
"You don't know that." Lando says, purposefully coy. Of course Carlos knows that Lando’s in a relationship, but again, not what he's referring to.
"You're not a virgin." Carlos repeats, like Lando's not getting it.
He is getting it, but he doesn't know why Carlos wants to reminisce with such nonchalance when they didn't talk for two months after.
"I never stuck it in her." Lando says, half under his breath, not self-conscious, but paranoid: Of lurking cameras and microphones. He expects that face from Carlos, but he's not gonna let him have this, he's not going to let them have this, this sort of teasing. They didn't talk for two months after. Lando won't let him just joke about it now. "I never stuck it in you." He says, sharper than he'd ever want to be around Carlos.
"I stuck it in you." Carlos flings back at him, as though Lando didn’t know that.
"Should we have a debrief on it?" Lando snarks, but his voice falters on the tail end, a pitch higher. Like he's really asking.
It's just that, if they had maybe talked about it after they would have not not talked for two months. Lando wouldn't have spent those months miserable, wasting away the last of his summer break. He'd come back pinched with anxiety that had made him feel stupid when Carlos had rushed him and pulled him into a firm, long hug. "Sorry, I know it was weird." He'd whispered in his ear. In Ibiza, he'd bit the lobe of it, ran his tongue up the shell of his ear.
Lando had wanted to say something to that, but he'd felt flustered and a bit dizzy as all his pent-up worry disappeared, so he didn’t say anything at all.
Lando assumes Carlos would have said "Threesomes between best friends aren't a good idea," while Lando would have said "Threesomes before twosomes aren't a good idea."
It would have forced Carlos to realize something and Lando would have been left alone for longer than two months.
He might be catastrophizing, but no, Carlos doesn't get to tease.
"No." Carlos concedes.
Part of him thinks Carlos might bid just to resolve whatever this is. Lando would have to back out if that were the case, even though he's not his ex, he's not sure how he'd compartmentalize that one.
Luckily, Carlos only does the bare minimum. A thousand dollars. An expensive post-it note that explains he can participate, that he'd might even like to win as long he didn't have to own up to it.
Lando doesn't think about the auction taking place in his DM's. Max and Lu reply for him, and only update him if there’s a particularly funny message.
The bidding closes the following week, going into the second part of the double header.
The fact that it's Daniel makes the announcement logistically easy because they'll both be in the McLaren paddock. It's three pictures and a short video which he gets Max to take over breakfast.
It's posted that afternoon. McLaren's still not one hundred percent on it so Max tosses them a couple of Quadrant hoodies to shrug over the orange collared shirts. They have a new design. Lando's face photoshopped onto Mother Mary, the one everyone knows, where she's draped in blue garb, pointing to her immaculate heart. Quadrant sits on top of the border in matching blue font.
They'll drop the link in a couple days.
The first picture in the post is Daniel and Lando shaking hands, the Certificate of Virginity between them.
The second picture is Daniel, beaming, holding a cheque made out to the Australian Wildlife Conservancy.
The third picture is Lando's matched donation to Mind.
The video's easy. Conversation-style and the camera's already rolling when Daniel says "These are great," referring to their hoodies which lends well to the only talking point Lando was given.
"It's jokes right. Honestly I didn't think it'd like, gain so much traction, but it's cool that it did," Of course he knew, "But yeah this is like, people do this with loads of people's faces. I reckon there's probably one of you. But I thought this was fitting." Max smiles from behind the camera so he knows he's done well.
If nothing else, Daniel doesn't need pointers when the camera's on him. He leads, mentions that he picked the number for the joke but didn't actually think he'd be the highest bid. Lando commends him for committing to the bit and Daniel happily agrees because at the end of the day, it's all for a good cause. It's easy and lighthearted and they keep talking even after the cameras stopped recording.
"Nando said you're seriously doing it. Like, giving it away."
"If it made people bid more," Lando shrugs, but his gaze is searching. "Turns out the joke's worth more." $69,000.
Lando's well aware that Daniel could have bid $69, $690 or $6900. Daniel looks back at him.
"After the race though, if..." That's what you want, but they're both being pulled away to sign caps before he can say it. Daniel nods quickly then picks up his stride to walk with one of the engineers going in the same direction.
Lando looks back to where Max is packing up the camera equipment. "Lunch?" Lando calls out and Max gives him a thumbs up without looking up.
"It's my parting gift to you." Daniel says. Lando had texted him his room number after the race, left the ball in his court.
He feels a twang of something uncomfortable. He can admit that he'll miss the ease of beating him. When he'd first met Daniel he'd wanted to see what he was all about, but truthfully he'd been half husked by the time he'd arrived.
Daniel reminds him of a shucked out pumpkin left to rot way after Halloween. The cheshire cat smile, lit up one day per year. Monza, maybe.
Anyways, he's going to miss him a lot. He'd said so, nestled against Max's chest. "You know how much I hate second-hand embarrassment. It's like. If everyone sees you studying so hard for a test then you still getting a shit mark." Lando winces, buries his face into Max's white shirt that still smells faintly of detergent. In a way he was rooting for Daniel, so he wouldn't be so embarrassed.
"The money's going to charity." Lando says, obviously, as though that was what Daniel was talking about.
"I wasn't talking about the money." Daniel replies. He looks less weary, a result of being released from the clutches of Zak Brown.
To be honest, Lando can't be arsed with the guy either but they've got this pseudo-son thing going on which works in his favour.
He'd also invested in Quadrant, which, kinda weird but whatever. It means he sort of has to play golf with him when invited, but he doesn’t mind because he’s good competition.
Zak thought the whole thing was unconventional, but Lando had promised him it would be good for Quadrant. "Well hey, I'm not one to know what the kids are doing. If it's good for Quadrant it's good for me."
Lando had felt himself look at Zak meanly, but then he'd smiled because his cheeks, all huff, puffed and rosy, reminded him of Santa Claus.
Lando refocuses his attention. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, leaned back against the heels of his palms. If he tips his legs open a little wider, he could look like he wants it. Instead one leg is over the other. He looks how girls do when they wear dresses that are too short to sit in. Maybe Daniel's into that.
"You're my gift? Shouldn't it be the other way around? You paid a fuck ton for me. Or my virginity to be more precise." He prattles off.
He just sometimes gets this overwhelming feeling is that he doesn't care. He knows that he does, feels the knot of want coursing through him, but mostly he wants to know. He always wants to know what Daniel’s about.
He only really cares about Max and Lu. And pain. How much his throat hurt when he got tonsillitis and when he cut his foot on a coral reef, when Zak crushed his ribs with his bear-hug.
"Fair enough." Daniel pauses, his smile elastic, always on the cusp of snapping. "Is this -— is this weird?"
Lando shrugs. His heart hammers like a nuisance. "Only if you make it weird."
Daniel nods, acquiescing slightly. "Like, but do you even want to fuck me?"
Lando perks a brow. He knows Daniel doesn't mean it like that but maybe, it would be easier if he…Led. He's no Will Buxton, he can't turn it on, perform like a character preened and polished but — Lando pushes himself up from the bed and closes the space between them.
"I wanted it to be you." Lando says, sincerely, blinking up at him. He'd come around to this idea, slowly but surely, wanting it to be him. He'd hoped it would have been Lewis, but he was reaching for the moon. Landing upon a low hanging star was fine.
And he'd figured it would be him.
A process of elimination was easy to determine. Without the ones in committed relationships and those too homophobic to even entertain the idea, half the grid was gone.
If any of his actual friends had gotten the highest bid, he'd be playing Apex right now, the framed Certificate of Virginity a gag gift tossed to the side.
For a second he thought Seb might snag the win and that's when he'd really warmed up to the idea of Daniel. The headband's his own personal nightmare and he couldn't bare a night fulfilling what he'd so clearly rather be doing with Mick if he could.
So yeah, he loves Daniel. He's going to really miss him.
"Yeah, I wanna fuck you. I mean, look at you." Lando asserts, easy because it's just the truth. Lean build with the big brown eyes, tattoos on tan skin. If he were younger, he'd have come up with a fantasy of Daniel making a playlist for him. He wouldn't know a single song, but he'd have them memorized by the end of the week with his favourites just in case he’d asked.
Daniel clearly doesn't need anymore convincing, because Lando's thrust forward, with an arm snaked around his waist. He stumbles against Daniel a bit awkwardly but he knows to tilt his chin up, knows that he's about to be kissed.
They'd put so much thought into everything apart from this moment. A kiss feels like a breach in a contract that doesn't exist. Like virginity hadn't meant sex or foreplay or kissing but something more clinical; insertion, thrust, ejaculation. Gross.
Still, his body betrays him, a helpless whine vibrating against Daniel's open mouth. He shivers against the cradle of Daniel's hand cupping the back of his neck, gooseflesh rising from the nape down his spine.
Daniel walks him back, until Lando's legs buckle against the edge of the bed. His hands are in his lap, and he's looking up at Daniel with a raw, red mouth. His breathing's noticeably shallowed.
"So is this like — is this revenge porn. For outdriving you?" He wonders aloud, unthinking. He unbuttons his jeans and boxers, shoving them down until they pool at his ankles. He kicks them off with his feet and shoves them to the side.
His cock is soft, limp against his thigh, but his hands have found the clutch of the hotel sheets. Previously creaseless, they crumple in balled fists, as if anticipating a blow of some sort. Daniel's eyes had instinctively dropped to where he was naked.
Lando steadies himself, focusing on the sweep of dark lashes, prettier than Daniel would ever give himself credit for.
He doesn't care if it is, revenge porn, he'd just like to know.
Daniel's expression shifts into something close to bewilderment, like the suggestion is completely outlandish.
Lando’s gaze narrows. Surely that's not sincerity. Then he remembers that Daniel's genuinely nice. Decent. Apart from when he gets a bit high and mighty because he touches grass more than he does. Even then, it comes off as self preservation in the face of a newer model.
"I don't have this like, sadistic fantasy." He even looks a bit hurt that Lando would think that of him, even though, in his opinion, it's a logical conclusion to draw regardless of personality.
"Masochistic then." Lando tries, again.
Lando still take a moment to come to terms that he actually fucks, so he does have a hard time fathoming that Daniel wants to fuck because he wants him, not what he wants to do to him, and he definitely can't even begin to think that it's worth $69,000 to him.
Daniel doesn't reply to that, he just drops to his knees. His big, soul-bearing brown eyes are looking right at him, sweet as a doe. Lando laughs, soft, slightly uneasy.
Daniel laughs too then, not one the big, braying laughs he puts on for the cameras, but something more gentle. It sets him at ease.
Lando doesn't know what to focus on. Despite being in significantly less clothing, it's a lot to see Daniel like this. He feels an uncharacteristic pang of protectiveness as though Daniel's not aware of his own, compete exposure right now.
Despite this, he can feel himself stiffening, and when he looks down, Daniel's hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, his thumb soothing the ridge of it in long strokes like trying rouse it from an afternoon nap. It's more tender, articulating a sort of seriousness he wouldn't expect from Daniel and for a moment he wonders if he actually thinks Lando’s a virgin.
He can't focus long enough to ponder it, his thoughts a hazy muddle made worse by his own, small, fraught moans.
Lando catches a glimpse of the hang of Daniel's jaw, and he has to close his eyes.
A punched out breath falls from him at the sensation, as Daniel takes him to the hilt of his own knuckles. The warmth of it, the clutch is dizzying.
"That feels good." Lando manages, and the tension unravels itself. His fingers unlock from the sheets. His neck hangs back, toes curling into the floor where Daniel kneels between.
When Lando musters up enough courage to look, it feels like another blow. The slide of hollowed cheeks, the bump of his nose against his balls, the wet sounds that accompany it.
"God, Daniel." He whines, almost berating when, Daniel removes his hand to take him further.
When he pulls off, the tip of his cock is leaking. The corner's of Daniel's mouth is red, slightly raw. "Have you ever -—" Daniel starts and Lando's pulse goes haywire, reckoning with the slightly humiliating fact that Daniel actually does think he's a virgin, or if he doesn't wants him to pretend he does.
Daniel doesn't finish the question, but guides Lando's hands to the back of his head. Thank God, he just wants to be choked out.
Lando's cock throbs again, blood-rushed and aching for the familiar friction and pull.
"Okay. Yeah." Lando pushes Daniel onto him, to the base of his cock until his mouth can’t go any further.
His hips strain to stay in place, when Daniel bobs back up again. Lando pushes him back down, fingers carding through the curls, hair finer than it looks.
Daniel tries to move again, but he’s met with the resistance of Lando’s palms. There's a sharp inhale, Daniel breathing through his nose, trying to not to choke.
Lando feels himself start to get closer. "Fuck, Daniel." Daniel just gags in response and the vibrations flare from the depths of his belly. Daniel looks unreal, his skin wearing a faint sheen of sweat, from the exertion. The feeling comes quick. Forceful, unavoidable.
"I'm gonna," Lando yanks Daniel's head back, more hair than scalp in a rushed effort to not come in his mouth.
The first words he hears from him is a frantic objection, "No Lando you can," as though if he said it fast enough Lando might slip his cock back in his mouth just so he could choke on cum.
Instead, Daniel falls back onto his calves and looks up at him a bit dazed.
Lando looks down as he tugs at his cock, thinking how good he was, how nice he is. It makes his heart feel caught in an Indian burn.
Lando cums in a long spurt, followed by a few shorter ones that muddy his t-shirt. It takes a second to come back to himself, when Daniel's just there, strained in his dark wash skinny jeans, saliva still pooled in the corners of his mouth.
He shucks off the offending shirt, balls it, and throws it to where his jeans and boxers are.
The silence is punctuated by heavy exhales, his eyes still stuck on his thighs, still in his jeans, the straining fabric.
"Come on Danny Ric, let's see that hot bod of yours." Lando says, still breathy from it all.
Thankfully, Daniel leans into it. The braying laugh makes it's return and he welcomes it like an old friend. Lando grins, perking his brows and pretending to be impressed to hide the fact that he is actually impressed.
Daniel kisses his own biceps and runs a hand through his hair. When he takes his jeans off, and wrangles them from his thighs, his eyes rove over the bulge he's sporting, tented against the thin, black fabric.
Lando unwittingly clenches, which spurs him to shuffles across the length of the bed to reach over to the side drawer where he'd put the lube.
He forgets that he's in the presence of not just Daniel, the friend and teammate, but Daniel, the person who wants to fuck him. He should've made it look sexy. Pointedly gotten up to get it. Or crawled.
"What a mug." Lando taunts, when the performance is done, even though he loved it.
He pushes himself back against the headboard with the lube in his hand and when he looks back at Daniel, he’s gotten rid of his boxer briefs. His cock is big, and hard. And big. He's absently stroking himself, curbing a close lipped smile.
"Am I the biggest you've ever had?" Daniel asks, and Lando nods, heartbeat in his stomach. He doesn’t want to be nervous, doesn’t want to be coaxed through it with sweet nothings with Daniel braced over him.
"I want to ride you." Lando says. Succinct and to the point.
Daniel warms to the idea quicker than he thought he would. Lando thinks Daniel would let him fuck him, that it might even be what he wants.
Maybe the track’s bleeding into the bed, what Lando wants is more important, what he wants is to know if he can take him.
Lando shies from Daniel as he turns on his side, drawing one of his legs up slightly. From up-close it looks like he's pouting, withdrawn into a mood, but he's just steeling himself, glazed with a newfound resolve.
He pops the cap of the lube, one he'd picked at random from their drawer at home, the sickly sweet scent of strawberry wafting towards him. "Ugh." Lando murmurs, as he squeezes some onto his fingers. He’d accidentally left it in the hotel, if Lu asks.
The lube is cold, and the first press against his hole makes his eyes squeeze shut. It's tight, virginal as he coaxes himself through the stretch.
As though missing his mark, Daniel scrambles to his side, ushering Lando to give him the lube.
"Do you want me to?" Daniel offers, almost eager for it.
"No. I can do it myself." Lando snaps, a long exhale coming out as a sheet through gritted teeth. "I'm not a virgin, by the way, I'm just tight."
Maybe he could make it sound dirty if he really wanted it to, but he doesn't need to, Daniel's pupils are huge, unwavering from where his fingers retreat, in and out, over and over again married to the awful squelching of the lube.
"You can talk to me though. I thought you'd be a bit more vocal in bed." Lando says, not unkindly.
Daniel laughs the same kind of unimposing laugh he'd done when he'd dropped to his knees and realized that wasn't what Lando knew him as.
Lando pushes out to let two more fingers crowd in. He feels the burn of stretched skin but also the beginnings of something that feels good.
"You're taking it so well." Daniel murmurs, his Australian lilt low and heady. He clenches around his fingers at that but the pleasure feels like an intrusion. "You look fucking incredible." Daniel's hand is laced in his hair, pushing it back so he can see his face.
Lando squeezes his eyes shut. "Talk normal." Although fractured, it's clearly a demand. His hips hesitantly buck back against himself.
Daniel scoffs, though it doesn't gain traction, it's more of a breathy exhale. "Okay, what do you want me to talk about?" He's still stroking himself, and Lando thinks with how big his pupils are he must be putting in a shift with restraint.
He scissors his fingers inside of himself, approximates the size. It still hurts. "Did you always want to sleep with me? Why now?"
It occurs to him that he'd ask it to Carlos if he could. The thought’s unwarranted, unanted. Wonders if Will we not talk for two months after? is forming somewhere in his gut, prepared to barrell out his throat at a moment's notice.
"Lie down." Lando commands, without waiting for the answer. His breathing is thick and fast, a dog without water.
Daniel pushes himself onto the bed and lies down. Lando scrolls his gaze along the entire length of him. His chest is waxed, shiny with sweat. It makes him look delicate, silk to Lando's velvet: all the peach fuzz in place of where facial hair should be, that makes him soft, a delight for people who want to bruise. He’s handsome in the type of way that only thirty-somethings can be.
Daniel puts his hands behind his head, posturing as a sunbather. The sun loves him so it works well enough.
“I didn’t know for sure.” Daniel says, carefully. Then, “When else would I have gotten to?"
Snapping at chances, open spaces - it's a driver's nature. Though Lando's not entirely convinced that the opportunity wouldn't have arisen anyways, but upon second thought, he can't figure a situation that would end with them fucking.
There'd be no blackout holidays in Ibiza and he doesn't golf or game which leaves Lando coming up empty.
So he takes it. His lips are wet, tongue poking out from concentration as he manoeuvres himself on Daniel's cock.
He uses his chest for stability as he sinks lower, the tip a fuller stretch than his fingers, more whole.
Lando winces, more out of concentration than discomfort, inching himself further down. His body is hot, flaring hues of pinks and red, pulsing through him.
"Fuck, okay." Lando says, remembering to breathe. After a moment's pause, he starts to move experimentally. Short, slow bursts until he can lift himself all the way up and sink back down again. The way Daniel’s looking at him sends scarlet creeping up his neck, as if his whole body isn’t affected already.
"Are you always like this?" Lando gets out, bristled by the quiet.
“No, but you didn’t seem to like it, the talking.” The dirty talk, he hadn’t. It’s weird that he’d made a conscious effort not to do it. It’s not. It’s nice, and Lando can barely take it.
Daniel bucks his hips in a sharp jerk that elicits a pinched grunt from Lando. He splays his palms just below his shoulders and presses down evenly, to get even for something he’s making up in his head.
"No. Don't move. Or touch. Just, I'll make it good for both of us." Lando promises, straining for Daniel to believe him.
Daniel nods. “Yeah, alright.”
Lando goes slow even though all he wants to do is rabbit his hips until Daniel comes in him, then touch himself until he finishes on his chest.
He's already hard again, his cock sprung up, taut and red.
When he starts to move with a bit more intention, Daniel groans. His neck curves as elegantly as a swan, his head pressing down against is hands behind his head.
Daniel's back arches, his chest ballooning as he grapples for breath. Lando feels the jerk, the displacement in rhythm that shoots through him, and he whines, again, high pitched and girlish.
"Flat, Daniel." Lando reprimands. His palms returns to Daniel’s chest and he pushes down, to keep him pliant, to use as leverage as he starts to ride him in earnest. Daniel could overpower him with one move; turn him on his back and do whatever he wanted. It pleases him that he doesn't, and that trying wears him out on track but right now he glistens with the effort of staying down.
It's all talk, when they say that Daniel wants what Lando has. Right now, Daniel just wants what Lando wants. It feels precious and just as he gets into a rhythm, Lando slows to dip down.
They’re pressed together, flushed against one another and Lando kisses him, fervently, well-meaning in the way he wants to usurp the way Daniel is sometimes; proper kind and fair. It's not that Lando's not but it's learned.
Daniel kisses him back and arches his back, again, but Lando lets him as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the long line of his throat.
He picks up the pace, slams his hips over and over, the slap of skin wet and sticky. His own cock's a gnawing ache, pressed between them, shifting slightly, begging for something more.
"You feel so good." Lando exhales, working his way back up Daniel’s neck, knees firm against the mattress. He kisses all over, mapping him with touch; his Cupid's bow, the slant of his nose, the corners of his eyes, the taste of salt on his tongue. The taste of salt on his tongue.
Lando looks at him, any closer and their noses would touch. Daniel looks back at him, panting, on the cusp, tears rolling down the corners of his eyes.
It didn't work, the stealing his kindness or whatever. He doesn't know why he thinks it but he does, over and over: What the fuck.
Lando panics. Daniel is suddenly too close, so close that he's inside him. But he's on the brink of coming but he's here, for himself. He wants this to be good for Daniel, but he's here for himself.
Lando covers Daniel's face with his hand, puts him at arms length. If Daniel minds, he doesn't have a chance to say anything because he's grinding against him, hard and deep and fast, and telling him he can come.
"You like it." Lando says, a bit out of his mind, but he thinks he does.
Thinks he comes knowing that Lando's not looking at him, because he can't really bare to. Comes with his sweaty palm splayed over his face because he's too much.
Lando hopes it makes Daniel feel like he's enough. He means well.
His free hand finds his own cock, already mercilessly leaking slick. He strokes rough and fast. With a curled thumb over the head of his cock, he's coming, with heavy breaths and lines of white across Daniel's chest. It feels like proof of something he’s not completely sure of, he wants to wipe it from him.
After several moments, he pries his hand from Daniel's face. Lando is nervous, he can pinpoint it accurately, he's felt it before. He can feel Daniel's cock twitch through the aftershocks as he comes back to himself, still blissed-out. He still looks like Daniel, that’s a good sign.
"You can't, you're not allowed to ice me out. Not that you will but some people, they have sex and get weird." Lando says, straightforward but laced with childlike petulance.
Daniel looks at him, still sheathed in him, getting the last of his breath back. Then he smiles his huge smile, two rows of perfectly aligned white teeth. "Come on, I know I'm immature but I've been around the block. I'm not gonna ghost you kid."
Lando flushes but he's grinning. He sees it again, looking at him now. Flashes of teenage fantasy.
"It was nice. I think he wanted it quite a bit." Even now he has trouble believing it. "So it felt nice, I felt good that I could give it to him." Lando says, when they ask.
The three of them are in bed, all on their phones, scrolling. Lu keeps tilting her phone away from him. "It's a surprise." She says, pushing his face away with the palm of her hand without sparing him a glance.
So he's left refreshing the page on his own phone like a zombie. He can see them both looking at him in his periphery.
It's a mirror selfie, from the full length in the guest bedroom. She's wearing the hoodie, sized up, and judging from the crumples it's probably his own. The knee high boots aren't and her free hand tugs at the hem of the hoodie to expose the waist of her underwear. The caption reads: Sex sells 😇
It means they're public again. Lando attacks her with kisses as she tries to squirm away from the onslaught.
He reaches behind him, finds Max's hand.
"Hoodies sold out in 12 minutes by the way." Their best drop took 36. Lando can hear the pride in Max's voice and can feel the smile against the nape of his neck.
When he looks at Luisa, her lips are pursed, curbing her own smile. The plan, her brainchild, faultlessly executed. A merch drop with her at the helm, the centre of it all. Then, the reveal.
"I've missed you," Luisa admits, in her honeyed tone that make his heart swim.
It’s nothing to do with Daniel. She knows she’ll have him as long as she wants him. It’s the everything else. So they take it the only way they know how, like a game with moves and pieces and waiting it out and acting now.
"I'm right here." He says annoyingly. Then, after a moment, "I've missed you too. I love you."
As if pre-empting his groan, Lu leans over Lando to press a kiss to Max's cheek. It stains with the ruby red pucker of her lips. "Let's play."