Work Text:
‘Fuck. You have been so good. So needy. Now, come for me.’
He gasped and spilled over his hands and shorts. He tugged himself in short movements, the sensitivity short circuiting his brain.
His neck gave up and Oscar let his head fall back onto the sofa.
Fantasy Carlos was quickly dissipating away, the post-nut clarity hitting him like an ice bath.
Oscar wasn't sure how he had progressed from fantasizing about bending Carlos over his bed to Carlos pressing him into the mattress.
He also was not thinking about how he was only able to get himself off recently by thinking about tanned hands and brown eyes.
Imagining himself bent over his sofa, kneeling on his bed, against the shower wall, on his knees— he had to be careful, he could get worked up. And he didn't fancy working himself stupid again imagining a low Spanish drawl in his ear.
He cleaned himself up and went to bed. His mind decided to be cruel and broadcasted the replay of Carlos walking back to his garage after his crash in Q3. Drop of sweat falling from his brow.
The flush on his cheeks. Mouth parted open.
Oscar thought whether the sweat would drip onto his back, bent over the table in his driver's room.
This was Singapore. It was likely to happen.
He shut his eyes tightly, fisting the blanket.
He really was losing his mind.
-
It was most likely over. Everyone spoke about the race as his last.
Daniel spoke about it like it was his last race.
They hadn't announced it, Racing Bulls VisaCashapp-whatever.
Oscar didn't know what to think of it.
He was in Liam's place last year, replacing the same driver.
He felt for Daniel; he was an F1 driver. From Australia, just like Daniel. He knew what it was like moving across continents, away from everyone you knew, chasing after a dream that seemed impossible.
But he really couldn't fully sympathize.
He wouldn't have been fighting for wins— and if he was a tad bit optimistic, championships— if he didn't replace Daniel Ricciardo.
In other words, it kept his mind off a certain Ferrari driver.
Oscar took anything for a desperately needed, welcome distraction.
But annoyingly, Carlos was everywhere.
On social media (he did win there last year in a season of overbearing Red Bull dominance).
On the track. Running shirtless.
Oscar could feel himself losing track of the conversations whenever Carlos passed by. He shaved. Which meant every inch of his tanned, broad chest was on display.
He grew hot imagining shoving Carlos against the shower stall in the bathroom.
Swallowing his cock, looking up at him, eyes trailing over his chest from a front row seat. Carlos’ hands in his hair.
He saw Lando's Story the other day.
Carlos standing in position, lining his golf club to take a shot.
He had a blue polo on with short sleeves showing his thick arms corded with veins. Large hands.
Oscar thought of Carlos wrapping those hands around his cock, thrusting desperately into his fist, moaning out his release, while Oscar watched. Made Oscar clean the mess.
He saw Carlos with Lando outside the hotel, reaching around Lando for a hug. His t-shirt was flimsy enough to outline his back, muscles rippling under the material.
Oscar could see those muscles moving as he held Oscar down by his waist, Carlos lapping at his hole until Oscar cried and begged. Crawling over Oscar, back flexed, pressing down on him.
And then there was the vlog.
Don't Blink.
That was a frequent rewatch for Oscar. That one clip. Carlos getting down on his front on the mat and stretching, not fully on the ground, like a version of a plank.
It was–
Like he was fucking into someone. It was indecent. Filthy. Oscar got off multiple times, imagining he was on the mat on his back. On his stomach. Forced to take Carlos. Carlos pressing Oscar's thighs apart, working him open before he pushed himself inside. Fucking him until the only words Oscar knew were ‘Carlos' and ‘please’.
He could play off the persistent blush he had these days as Singaporean humidity and not the dirty pervert he was becoming.
He needed to get checked out.
-
The race was fine.
As fine as finishing forty seconds behind your teammate could be.
He focused on the positives. Like the podium. Lando was ecstatic, out of his mind, high and drunk on the win. It tamped down when he went to Daniel.
There was a farewell dinner. Lando explicitly told that it was just a dinner. A winner's treat or something.
It was a farewell dinner.
Oscar was sure he was presentable in a blue button down and dress pants. He wasn't going to pack formal attire for a double header.
It didn't help that the only clothes he chose to pack were variations of a t-shirt and shorts.
And Carlos was there. Carlos was everywhere.
At the table when he reached for the bread. In a white linen shirt translucent enough to give a glimpse of the sinuous muscles underneath (like a whore, Oscar surmised). In the corner of a room when Oscar turned to laugh at something Alex said. Taking photos. Laughing with Lando. Ruffling his curls. Putting an arm around his shoulders. Pouring him wine. Hunching over from laughing at whatever bullshit Lando babbled. Oscar hated that he wasn't Lando at that moment.
When he drank from the bottle, lips wrapped around the tip, when he licked the sauce, tongue darting out over soft, pink lips, when he ran a hand through the soft mass of his hair. Sometimes he ran his gaze over Oscar. Oscar felt his skin warm up like he was pressed by an iron.
Lando noticed it but thankfully didn't say anything.
Oscar's unbashful staring didn't go unnoticed. Carlos looked at him alright. Oscar could feel the weight of his eyes hot on him like steaming coffee.
He stood behind Oscar in a photo Lando took. They were still at the table, Carlos stood behind Oscar's chair. Carlos placed a warm hand on Oscar's shoulder, the heat from him slithering down to his stomach. His thumb softly caressed the exposed skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder.
Oscar swallowed, throat dry. He was fucked.
-
He did his goodbyes. Gave Lando a half hug. Some of them had to fly back but Oscar didn't have his flight until tomorrow.
He drove back to the hotel. Pressed the button on the elevator. Chewed a little on the inside of his cheek. Thought about what he could do the next day.
He turned around the corridor and stilled.
Carlos stood against his door, leaning.
He was pocketing his phone.
Oscar soundlessly opened the door, thankfully his hands didn't shake. Carlos followed him into the room. The door wasn't fully closed when he herded Oscar against it.
‘It's rude to stare.’ Carlos whispered against Oscar's neck. He pressed small kisses to the skin. He was so close Oscar felt dizzy.
‘It's rude to stalk.’
‘I'm not stalking you.’ Carlos kissed behind his ear. Oscar shivered from the faint smell of his shampoo.
‘How are you here then? You followed me.’ The last words were a whisper. Carlos moved on to branding his neck with hot and wet kisses. His half-hard cock now reared up with full interest, Carlos’ weight a delicious press against it.
Oscar whined when Carlos hitched a thigh between his. He harshly threw his head against the door, resisting the urge to grind down. He was vaguely aware he was panting and tried to control his breathing. It was hard; Carlos was sliding a hand under his shirt.
His neck ached a little, the kisses would be bruises tomorrow and Oscar couldn't find it in him to care.
Carlos kissed his way across Oscar's face and stopped in front of his mouth. He carefully held his face in a hot palm, the heat traveling over his skull.
Carlos held Oscar like that for a few moments, softly pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth here, lightly brushing against his lips until Oscar felt like he was losing his mind.
They looked like lovers locked in an embrace, one of them dangling what the other wanted so bad. Oscar's arms were holding onto the broad width of Carlos’ shoulders (he wasn't aware of how it happened), fingers trying to map the warm skin beneath through the shirt.
Carlos was waiting.
Oscar didn't yield. Two can play the game.
Carlos slipped another hand under Oscar's shirt and scratched his back. Pain bloomed on his skin, tendrils of it wrapping tightly around the molten ball of lava in his stomach. Carlos doubled down by pressing his thigh against Oscar, the pressure so relieving after hours of anticipation.
Oscar yielded. He bucked up into Carlos' mouth, fusing their lips, mouth open. He thrashed around when Carlos dug his nails into his back, rutting into his muscled thigh unabashedly, restraints long gone since Oscar saw that hint of exposed skin in that fucking linen shirt.
‘Easy there. We just got started.’ He smiled into Oscar's mouth. Oscar muffled a moan. The kiss was hot, wet, sloppy; they couldn't do much except for licking into each other's mouth.
Carlos broke off, lips indecently red and shiny with spit.
‘Should I fuck you here?’ Oscar moaned, ducking his head low. ‘Everyone would hear you. You would be so loud.’ Oscar imagined Carlos covering his mouth with a hand, muffling every desperate sound falling from his lips.
Oscar tried catching oxygen.
It was pointless. He would rather drown in Carlos.
He wanted it. Against the-
Against the door. Carlos rocking into him without reprieve. Trapped between him and the hard surface of the door, nothing to do but just take him.
‘Maybe another time. You will behave. Now I want to hear you.’ Carlos murmured softly into his lips, large fingers quickly unbuttoning Oscar's shirt. Oscar yanked off Carlos’ clothes, finesse nowhere seen. He latched his mouth onto Carlos’ shoulder, hands greedily running over Carlos, feeling those disgustingly broad shoulders tapering down to a frustratingly narrow waist.
‘I saw you. Every time you look at me.’ Oscar paused. ‘So pretty. You get so pink. So I wondered. Is it the same? When you're alone in your room trying to make yourself come? Is that pretty pink,’ He paused to trail burning hot fingertips down Oscar's chest, ‘just on your face?’ Oscar shivered.
‘Or is it everywhere?’ Carlos softly spoke into his ear. Oscar couldn't stop the sound escaping him. Carlos grinned against his ear when Oscar rolled his hips on his thigh. He needed Carlos. In him. Above him. Under him.
Carlos pulled away now, holding Oscar by his arm. He navigated them to the bed and pushed Oscar down.
He pulled Carlos along with him. This kiss is savage, all teeth, tongue and spit. Oscar pulled on Carlos’ hair, taking the opportunity to run his nails along the scalp, just feeling the hair. It garnered a low moan out of Carlos.
Carlos pawed at Oscar's waist and he got the message. He lifted his hips to allow Carlos to rid him of his remaining clothes, nothing but pale white against tanned skin. The warm press of Carlos against him drove Oscar out of his mind.
‘You want me. You want me so much.’ Carlos declared, smirking down at him. Sleaziness dripped off him. It cleared the hazy pleasure of fog in Oscar's brain a little.
‘Oh, fuck you, mate. You were the one who came here.’ Oscar retorted, but he was breathless. The effect was slightly ruined.
Carlos snaked a hand down and gripped him. Oscar forgot what he was going to say next.
It was humiliating. Carlos just loosely held him and Oscar restrained himself from thrusting into his fist.
‘Carlos.’ He ground out, clenching the sheets.
Carlos chuckled lowly, letting go. Oscar wanted to scream but Carlos trailed his fingertips down. Lower.
Oscar retrieved the bottle of lube from the nightstand before Carlos even asked for it and thrusted it in his hands impatiently.
Carlos raised his eyebrows in surprise and chuckled. Oscar felt himself flush hotly. He had waited for this so long he was beyond the point of shame.
When Oscar heard the soft thud of the bottle falling on the bed instead of the cap opening, he felt like screaming.
Carlos settled between his legs. His palms found their place on Oscar's thighs. He hoped the imprints branded on his skin.
Carlos’ shoulders flexed, muscles rippling like water when he spread Oscar's thighs open, eyes raking over him like hot coal. They settled on his hole and Oscar clenched emptily, a loud moan ripped out from him.
Without any preamble, he felt the press of a warm tongue against his hole and his hips bucked off the mattress, the sensation electrifying, frying his nerve endings.
‘Cálmate, Oscar. Stay still.’ The words were whispered hotly against his feverishly hot skin and Oscar tried to control his fluttering heart rate.
It was gross, disgusting, but Oscar couldn't stop the needy whines leaking from him.
Carlos ran his hot, warm, slippery wet tongue from his hole to his balls. Oscar felt his brain melting. Carlos settled for small, kitten licks against his hole until Oscar finally relaxed. Then he pushed the tip of his tongue inside.
Oscar keened, thighs snapping shut around Carlos’ head. Flames of pleasure licked up at him. He wanted to keep Carlos there forever, he wanted the painful pleasure to stop. He didn't know what he wanted. He felt like he was out of his mind and his body.
Carlos groaned and held his thigh to the mattress with one hand. He held the other thigh down with a shoulder and planted a thick, warm arm around Oscar's midsection, planting him down to the bed.
There was no space for Oscar to move.
He laughed terribly. ‘You are not going anywhere, pastelito. I have you under me, moaning so sweetly like a slut. I'm not letting you go.’ It was punctuated with a rough twist of his cock. Oscar whined loudly; he couldn't help it. He had fantasized about this for days and now he was lying on the bed, helpless, forced to withstand the onslaught of pleasure that Carlos was indicting on him.
‘Please.’ Oscar couldn't resist letting it slip.
Carlos fucked him with his tongue until Oscar lost sense of time, alternating between thrusting and circling his rim. Like it was Oscar's clit.
Oscar shivered at that thought.
Occasionally, Carlos twisted his nipple, inducing sharp cries from Oscar which he soothed by making out with the warm skin of Oscar's thighs. Oscar clenched his hands in the volume of Carlos’ soft black hair.
‘Carlos, more.’ No response.
‘Just fuck me already.’ That earned him a scrape of teeth against his hole.
He pulled his hair when Carlos suddenly stopped to press a kiss to his hip. He pulled Carlos’ hair when he bit the flesh of hip, scratched his scalp when Carlos laved at it with his tongue to soothe the sting.
Carlos whispered dirty filth into him while he sucked, nipped and bit Oscar, pulling sweet moans from his lips.
‘You moan like a whore, Oscar.’ Oscar clenched around emptiness and Carlos laughed admonishingly. Oscar let the sound wash over him like a languid, warm shower.
When he finally slipped a finger, Oscar could vaguely hear himself moan like he was underwater and was witnessing himself from below.
‘More, more, Please, I need more.’ Oscar begged, raking his nails over Carlos’ back. Carlos hissed and immediately plunged another finger and Oscar choked over his breath. The spit made the slide easier but it was still dry. He pushed his fingers an inch deeper and curled them.
Starbursts of pleasure blinded Oscar and he squirmed in Carlos’ ungiving grip.
‘Carlos, Carlos, please. You need to– you need to fuck me. Please.’ Oscar babbled, clawing at Carlos, trying to chase that wave of steadily rising pleasure.
‘Tranquilo, sweetheart. And they said you were the relaxed one.’ Carlos tutted in a low velvet voice, smoothing him out with small, reassuring licks. He fucked his fingers at a languid, sluggish pace, focused on eliciting mewls and groans from Oscar. He was driving Oscar to the brink of insanity and Oscar didn't want to stop.
His cock lay in a puddle of pre come and sweat on his stomach, weeping and begging for relief. Whenever Oscar tried to touch himself, Carlos paused, mouth withdrawn and fingers stuffed in him, unmoving until Oscar would start weeping and apologizing.
‘You take what I give you precioso, hands off.’ Oscar would never admit it but Carlos’ words were stoking the embers of the fire in his stomach. Oscar was burning up from the inside, he could only hope Carlos was the moth to his flame.
The third finger pushed him to the edge, but it still wasn't enough.
‘Carlos.’ Oscar choked out. His face was flushed, breath choppy, hair stuck to his forehead. Tears clung to his lashes, eyes honey brown and pleading,
‘Please.’
It ticked Carlos where Oscar wanted it to and he slowly slipped his fingers out of Oscar, tacky with lube. Oscar wasn't sure when that happened.
Carlos groaned, running his hands along Oscar's thighs when Oscar moaned, crawling over Oscar.
‘Do you want my cock?’ Carlos murmured gently,
‘Yeah, are you dense? I was like-’ Oscar gulped, trying to orient words, ‘clear about it since an hour.’
‘Half an hour, tesoro.’
That earned him a kick in the shin. Even in a dumbed down due to pleasure state, Oscar tried to maintain his wits.
Necessary stuff when one was around Carlos Sainz, he thought.
‘You look like you're thinking.’ Carlos scowled into Oscar's shoulder, scraping his skin with a flash of teeth.
‘Yeah. Wanna try it?’
That earned him a savage punishing kiss. He just-
It should gross Oscar out, Carlos had his tongue in him. Except it just stole his breath, forcing him to breath Carlos in.
Carlos licked his teeth, running a hand along Oscar's arm.
‘Feeling me up?’ Oscar quipped breathlessly.
Carlos ground into Oscar, all that delicious weight pressing onto Oscar's cock and Oscar kind of lost it. He squirmed enough to almost tip Carlos off him.
‘Shh, don't want to break the bed, do we? What will we tell them?’ Carlos chastised, pinching his nipples slightly.
The sound of the cap being popped open rang in the room and Oscar almost whined. He raised his head slightly to glimpse Carlos rubbing the lube between his fingers. Some of it dribbled onto his red, painfully hard looking cock and Carlos hissed at the temperature difference. Holding himself at the base, he lined up against Oscar and stayed there. Oscar waited for him to press in, anticipation making his fingers itch. Steam clogged his brain and he felt like his skin was fogging up.
His cock jerked when Carlos slightly pushed in by a millimeter then immediately drew back. He reached down but Carlos was quicker, holding his wrists hostage against his stomach.
‘No. You come like this.’ Carlos ground out, visibly tense with the effort of trying to stay still.
Oscar moaned in frustration and tried to rock down onto Carlos but he was efficient to keep him in place.
He rubbed against him, slowly and maddeningly, until Oscar broke down and stopped moving, a tear making its way down his face.
‘Please, please, please. Carlos, I– I will be good.’ Carlos could have asked him to slow down and let him by in COTA and Oscar would have brainlessly complied.
‘For me?’
‘Yes, yes. Fuck, yes! For you only.’ His befuddled brain kept adding words.
When Carlos did push in, Oscar was positive he died. He sobbed when Carlos pressed the tip of his cock as he bottomed out, hips meeting Oscar's.
He rocked slowly, dragging his hard, hot, perfect length over every sweet spot. Oscar mewled, the pressure and fullness perfect, but he needed it harder.
‘Carlos, more. More, please.’ He yanked him down, burying his face into Carlos, the world slowly fading away, just existing there on the bed between them.
‘Such a polite, reserved guy, they call you. Maybe they should see you now, begging for cock.’ Carlos murmured into his ear. He drew little circles on Oscar's hand and Oscar couldn't help but think it was cute.
Yours, Oscar thought. Your cock.
Maybe he did lose his mind. He thought Carlos was cute mid-fuck.
Carlos was now thrusting into him with abandon, arms braced on either side of Oscar's head. The bed may have shook, Oscar wasn't really paying attention. A litany of pleads and moans from him played around them like music, Carlos pounding him into the mattress harder with each ‘please’.
The supernova in him felt close to imploding.
Carlos slowed down, now slowly fucking in and out, sitting back on his feet. Oscar watched him through lazy, bright, wet eyes.
‘Want to come?’ Carlos’ voice was barely above a whisper. Oscar's cock twitched, leaking more pre come. It would've been embarrassing, but again, Oscar was way past that line. Carlos laughed measly, then paused, righting himself. When he laughed, he was jerking into Oscar and Oscar knew he was close too.
He fucked into him with deep stroke, head of his cock just hitting his prostate perfectly enough. Oscar's mouth fell open, pleasure roaring through his circulation. Carlos leaned forward, hovering over Oscar. His lips were parted too, the humidity of Singapore catching up to him even in the air-conditioned room. Oscar's eyes focused on that one drop of sweat on his brow. He helplessly watched it making its way down his face and it fell from his cheek.
On to Oscar's stomach.
The pleasure finally consumed him and Oscar was sure he saw sounds and tasted colors. Carlos fucked him through it in short thrusts, until the wave finally receded.
‘Carlos–’ He got cut off by a loud moan. Carlos was starting to pull out.
Oscar panicked and stilled him, locking his feet around Carlos’ hips.
‘No, no. Inside me.’ He stuttered out, the aftershocks of his orgasm still present, prolonged by Carlos still being inside him.
‘I would've worn a condom then, cabrõn.’ Carlos gritted out through his teeth, slightly shaking with the effort to not come.
‘No. I, um,’ Oscar stuttered again, feeling a stupid flush take over his body, ‘I want you to.’
‘Have you thought about this before? Me?’ Carlos asked, a stupid wondrous expression taking over his handsome face. Oscar felt himself flush harder as he buried his face into his arm. This was so embarrassing.
Carlos lazily rocked his hips and then he stuttered. He fell onto Oscar softly, capturing his lips in a perfect, slow kiss. Oscar felt him spilling inside, pulsing hot and wet, and Carlos gently licked the moan from him.
The kiss gentled the fire in him until it was a slow simmer of warmth washing all over him.
Oscar watched Carlos cleaning him up with a towel, pressing a soft kiss into his warm thigh. He brought water for both of them, closing the blinds and shutting the lights. He snuggled in behind Oscar, drawing up the comforter loosely around their waists.
‘Pastelito?’
‘Yeah?’ Oscar called, voice thick with sleep.
‘You do blush everywhere.’ Carlos chuckled softly into his back before wrapping an arm tight around his waist.