Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was Daniel Ricciardo who said it first, one blazing summer day in Monaco, because of course he was.

The champagne still dripped from their fire suits. The ocean glittered beyond the yachts like a smug promise, and the adrenaline of a perfect race still clung to their skin. Daniel had won. Max had come in second. Lewis, third.

They were loud, half-drunk on victory, half-high on glory. And Daniel, with that lazy grin of his and that dangerous glint in his eye, tossed the idea out like it meant nothing — like he wasn’t rewriting the paddock rules with just a few sentences.

“Podium finishers should get to ask for anything they want,” he said, dragging the words with a smirk, sitting in the winners lounge before the press conference. “A real reward. Something… personal.”

Lewis scoffed. “What, like a bigger trophy?”

“No. Like getting to choose someone. For the night.”

The silence that followed wasn’t rejection.  It was a consideration. Max, barely twenty then, raised an eyebrow. Lewis bit the inside of his cheek.  No one said no.

And Daniel? Daniel just nodded, like he knew it would stick.

That’s how Winner’s Choice was born.

A tradition without paper. A rule no one dared to write but everyone understood and everyone agreed: After every race, the three drivers on the podium had the chance to choose someone — anyone — from the paddock. A mechanic. An engineer. Another driver. A team principal, if they were feeling bold enough. It could be all three together or give the choice to one of them. Of course, it was all consensual, and there were rules to be followed.

It could be sex.

Or a confession. Or a promise. Or even simply a dinner and a talk. 

But mostly… It was sex. Desired. Consensual. Private.

No cameras. No gossip. No regrets.

And with time, it became a ritual. One the entire paddock acknowledged with silence and smirks. No one was required to accept.  No one was forced to choose.

But if you were on the podium? The night was yours.

And in Bahrain, the first race of the season, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, and George Russell stood on those steps.

Three young gods, golden and gleaming with sweat. And only one of them already knew exactly who he wanted.

***

The McLaren hospitality was buzzing, everyone were celebrating and congratulating each other for a job well done. Lando stepped in still wearing his fireproof undershirt, hair dripping from the post-race champagne, eyes electric. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he crossed the finish line. A perfect race. A perfect strategy. And now, he just needed to conquer one more thing.

Oscar sat toward the back, sipping from a bottle of Gatorade, trying to drown a nervous energy that had no name. The team moved around him, loud with celebration, but Oscar… Oscar felt the weight of something else.

He knew. He’d known from the podium: from the way Lando looked at him through the spray of champagne, eyes sharp, unblinking. From the glance when they walked down the steps, soaked and breathless.

And when Max passed by — towel slung over his shoulder, half-amused — he clapped Oscar on the back without stopping “Your teammate wants you,” he said. “George and I gave him the night. Have fun.”

Oscar blinked. The water burned its way down his throat. 

Lando had chosen him. He knew from the beginning, yet he still felt nervous.  Suddenly, every whisper around the hospitality wasn’t just noise. It was confirmation.

Oscar's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Lando approach, the crowd around them a blur of celebration and noise. Lando's eyes were locked on him, intense and unyielding. When he finally reached Oscar, he leaned in close, his voice low and husky. "Did Max told you?"

Oscar nodded, unable to find his voice. Lando's presence was overwhelming, his scent a mix of sweat, champagne, and something uniquely him. “You know what this means, right?”

 "I-I know," Oscar stammered. He still felt like a rookie in his first year in F1 under the intense scrutiny of Lando’s green eyes. There was confidence in the way he smiled, like he knew what he wanted and went for it without hesitation. 

Lando smirked, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Oscar's ear. "Good. Because I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

Before Oscar could react, Lando's lips were on his, fierce and demanding. The world fell away, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of heat and desire. Lando's hands roamed over Oscar's body, tracing the lines of his muscles, sending shivers down his spine.

When they finally pulled apart, Lando's eyes were dark with lust. "Come with me," he said, his voice a low growl. "I have plans for you."

Oscar followed, his body already aching with anticipation. They made their way through the crowded hospitality suite that acted like nothing had happened, already used to the winner’s choice tradition, with Lando's hand on the small of Oscar's back, guiding him. The touch was possessive, claiming.

Once they were alone in Lando's private room, he wasted no time. He pushed Oscar against the wall, his body pressing against him, his lips finding Oscar's neck, biting and sucking like he needed to claim what was his. Oscar gasped, his hands gripping Lando's shoulders, holding on for dear life while a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins.

Lando's big hands were everywhere, tearing at Oscar's clothes, exposing his pale and firm skin. He trailed kisses down Oscar's chest, his tongue circling his nipples, making Oscar arch against him. When Lando dropped to his knees, Oscar's breath hitched, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Lando looked up at him, a wicked grin on his face. "I've been imagining this for so long," he said, his hands gripping Oscar's hips. "Tell me you want it."

Oscar nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes. Please."

Lando's head dipped, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip of Oscar's cock. Oscar moaned, his head falling back against the wall. Lando took him deeper, his mouth hot and wet, his hands gripping Oscar's ass, pulling him closer.

The sensation was overwhelming, Lando's tongue and lips driving Oscar to the brink of madness. He could feel the pleasure building, his body tensing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Just as he was about to come, Lando pulled back, a cruel smile on his face.

"No," Lando said, his voice firm. "Not yet. I want you to come with me."

Oscar's eyes widened, his heart racing. Lando stood up, his body pressing against Oscar's, his lips finding his in a searing kiss. He reached down, his hand wrapping around both of their cocks, stroking them in sync. 

Oscar moaned into Lando's mouth, his hips moving in time with Lando's hand. The friction was exquisite, the pleasure building again, faster this time. Lando's other hand gripped Oscar's ass, his fingers pressing against his hole, teasing.

"Lando," Oscar gasped, his body trembling. "Please."

Lando smirked, one finger pushing inside, stretching him. Oscar cried out, his body clenching around the intrusion. Lando's fingers were relentless, curling and twisting, hitting spots that made Oscar see stars.

When Lando finally pulled his fingers out, Oscar was a mess of need and desperation. Lando spun him around, pressing him against the wall, his cock pressing against Oscar's entrance. "Tell me you want it," Lando growled.

Oscar nodded, his voice hoarse. "Yes. Please. I want it."

Lando pushed inside, slow and steady, giving Oscar time to adjust. The sensation was incredible, Lando's cock filling him, stretching him. When he was fully sheathed, Lando paused, his breath ragged.

"Fuck, Oscar," Lando groaned, his hips starting to move. "You feel so good."

Oscar moaned, his hands gripping the wall, his body meeting Lando's thrusts. The angle was perfect, Lando's cock hitting all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure through Oscar's body.

Lando's hands were on his hips, holding him in place, his thrusts growing faster, harder. Oscar could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Lando," Oscar cried out, his body convulsing as he came, his release pulsing around Lando's cock. Lando groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed, his own orgasm tearing through him.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling. When Lando finally pulled out, he turned Oscar around, his lips finding his in a soft, gentle kiss.

"That was just the beginning," Lando murmured against his lips. "I have so much more planned for you."

Oscar smiled, his body already aching with anticipation. "I can't wait," he said, his voice a promise.