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Chapter Text

November, 2024

The middle-aged man who answers the door introduces himself as Mark. He is tall, thin, and his white hair is sticking out at odd angles, giving him a permanent appearance of being frazzled. Despite that, his energy is calm and steady, which Rich had picked up on when he spoke to him on the phone yesterday. It was a good sign that Mark had communicated the security measures his client needs, without sounding overly stressed by the heightened concern for his safety. Normally, Rich wouldn’t take on a job with short notice, but he recently found himself unemployed and is getting desperate, not for the money, but for something to do with his time. 

Mark lets him into the Monte Carlo flat. In this prime location, he doesn’t even want to think about how much this place costs. The price tag that must come with the expensive furnishings alone makes his eyes water. He has to admit it isn’t what he was expecting from the bachelor pad of a professional athlete. In his career, Rich has seen plenty of flats like this filled with dark pseudo-masculine decor. Instead, the sitting room Rich enters is bright and airy. The shelves covering the walls are littered with memorabilia that seem to have landed there haphazardly as they entered the flat. 

A variety of crash helmets in various designs draw his attention. Most of them are an eye watering florescent yellow. But on closer inspection, there are unique designs that vary widely from each other. He finds himself drawn to one that looks like painted porcelain, making the sturdy helmet look delicate and breakable. 

There is a man around his age reclined comfortably on one of the large leather sofas dressed in athletic clothing. He rises slowly and introduces himself with an easy smile. Rich immediately likes Jon, an athletic trainer and performance coach. Rich’s unease about this new job is fading. The interview today is mostly a formality. They won’t find someone else with his qualifications on such short notice. No, he is really here to make sure this is a good fit for him.

So far he likes Mark and Jon on instinct and seeing that they are the only ones here, the client clearly runs with a small entourage. Still reeling from the abrupt ending of his last contract, Rich would be happy to find himself in a small uncomplicated group, even if the client is as pompous and out of touch as he expects. 

He has several friends in the industry that have worked as bodyguards for Formula 1 drivers. They told the same story of difficult personalities but amazing travel opportunities and good pay. A difficult personality is exactly what Rich needs, considering his tendency to get too invested in his clients. Yes, working for someone unlikable would be a nice change of pace.

“Lando!” Jon calls out. 

That the client didn’t even come out to greet him is already proving his assumptions to be true. 

The controlled chaos of the flats decor makes sense the moment the man shuffles in, clearly distracted and looking around like he can’t find something. He stops abruptly and looks to Mark, “Have you seen my phone?” 

“Work or personal?” Mark asks in a way that makes it clear he answers this question multiple times a day. 

“Either?” he responds. 

Jon clears his throat, catching his attention. “We can find them later. Rich is here.” 

Rich watches a little amused as he startles and adjusts his relaxed posture to something more stiff and formal that contrasts his comfortable and disheveled clothing. “Sorry,” he says, turning to Rich. 

The man’s face shocks Rich, and he has to school his features not to show it. He looks exhausted, his eyes are puffy, and dark shadows make the skin underneath them look bruised. When his green eyes lock onto Rich, they look hollow. Clearly, there is something going on here that he doesn’t understand. Rich wishes he had done some research about the driver’s season before this meeting. He convinced himself not to, because he wasn’t supposed to get invested. But all his preconceived notions about the man who hasn’t even introduced himself yet shattered the moment their eyes met. Where he was expecting to see something cold and removed, he found openness instead. The man’s eyes bared his soul, and he probably doesn’t know it. Seeing the front of normalcy he is trying to put on when the fear and hurt Rich saw in eyes was almost suffocating, impresses him. 

“I’m in a …. I’m having… I didn’t mean to ignore you. I didn’t realize…” the client stumbles over his words before pausing. His uncertainty surprises Rich. He either changes his mind or can’t find his words becasse he introduces himself instead of trying to explain further. “I’m Lando,” he offers a hand. 

“Rich,” he responds with a nod, shaking the large hand that doesn’t seem to fit the body it is attached to. Lando isn’t short, Rich only has a few inches on him, but he is small. It confuses his brain to look at Lando. As a professional athlete, he is impressively fit, strong, and muscular, but inexplicably tiny without looking lanky. 

Mark sparks a silent shift in the atmosphere, taking a seat, signaling it is time to get on with the interview. Lando turns to go sit by Jon but immediately stumbles over the coffee table like he didn’t know it was there, even though this is his home. Rich reaches out on instinct and catches him by the arm, not letting go until Lando is steady on his feet again. “Thanks,” he mumbles, clearly a little embarrassed. 

Jon laughs cheerfully before announcing, “I like him,” gesturing to Rich. He turns to Lando and says in a gently teasing voice, “sit down before you hurt yourself.” 

Rich introduces himself more formally to the three men after they are all seated and gives a quick summary of his experience as a police officer and then in the private sector as a bodyguard. Jon and Mark defer to Lando to respond, although maybe they shouldn’t. Rich’s distaste for the man was so quickly replaced with concern that it gave him whiplash.

“Wow. It sounds like you know what you’re doing. Ummm…” Lando was at a loss for words. “Sorry, I’m so tired,” he says with a lopsided smile. “I’m usually more… put together?” 

“It’s okay,” Rich jumps to say as the grin falls from Lando’s face. 

Lando stares at him with his green eyes, that are now looking blue, and bites his bottom lip before saying, “yeah?” 

Rich is so fucked, all Lando has to do is look at him exactly like that and Rich would do anything for him. So much for keeping his distance. Rich is already attached. He no longer feels ambivalent about this job. He wants it. No, he needs it.

“Yeah,” Rich reassures. 

Lando smiles at him again and turns to Mark, “I like him.” That makes Rich smile. “Can you fill him in on the details?” Lando turns back to Rich, “And yeah, if you want the position, it’s yours.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate this opportunity,” Rich tells him. He sounds overly formal because he is trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. Or maybe it’s relief that he is feeling? His twin tells him he is too full of himself for exactly this reason. When he sets his sight on someone, Rich doesn’t think anyone can protect them as well as he can. His interview went exactly like this at his last job. He met the kids he would guard, and he was instantly protective of them and eager to look after their wellbeing. 

Damnit, he really misses those kids. 

“Thanks Lando,” Mark says, “You want to go get some rest? We can take it from here.”

“No, I’ll stay,” Lando responds, even though there is exhaustion in his voice. Jon sighs and cuts his eyes over to Lando, who looks at Jon, then glances at Rich. There is clearly something brewing, and Lando doesn’t want it to spill over with a new guy in the room. 

“Well, let’s just get into it,” Mark starts, interrupting the standoff between driver and trainer, Lando getting the last word, as he stays firmly planted on the couch. “So, it’s been a great season so far for Lando. First time competing for the Driver championship…”

“Not anymore,” Lando interrupts with a smile and a laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“And McLaren is in a battle for the Constructors Championship,” Mark continues, ignoring him. “But success brings a lot of attention of the good and bad variety.”

“It has been getting louder and harder to ignore for a while, mostly coming from the fans of his rival, Max Verstappen, but yesterday was difficult. Max had a great race and…” Jon pauses and looks to Lando. “And Land did well, but it was… difficult.” 

“I had a bad race,” Lando corrects, “and I made a lot of mistakes. That cost me. It’s okay, Jon, you know you can say it. I’m okay.”

They don’t ignore what Lando said, but no one knows how to respond. There is a long pause before Mark speaks again.

“There was also an interview, that is frankly being taken out of context, that fanned the flames. Max’s fans are ravenous and some others are angry as well. The tone of not just comments but direct messages has changed and there have been some threats coming in that seem genuinely concerning.” Mark finishes the explanation and looked at Rich. 

“Okay, I will need to see those messages.”

“We will get you access to the social media accounts, monitoring messages for threats will be one of your responsibilities,” Mark confirms.

“Good,” Rich says, pleased. He doesn’t want to be relying on others to determine what is a real threat or not and tell him about it. 

“For now, we would like you to develop a security plan and travel with Lando on Grand Prix weekends, events, and other public appearances. We don’t envision you needing to be with him in Monaco or the UK at this time, but…”

“If the threats increase or become more serious, that is going to change,” Rich finishes for Mark.

“Exactly, and if we get to that point, we will expect you to find additional personnel to fill in when you aren’t available.” 

“I can do that,” Rich confirms, already running through a list of people in his head and picking out the ones that seem like they would be a good fit for Lando. He glances over at the man, realizing both Lando and Jon haven’t said anything for a while. He isn’t as surprised as he should be to see that Lando has fallen asleep sitting up. Jon is gently scratching his scalp through his thick curls. Clearly, this is the action that got him to sleep, which it seems like he really needed to do based on the dark circles under his eyes. 

“He hasn’t slept for over thirty hours,” Jon tells him in explanation of the unusual behavior. 

Jon seems really close to the driver. He can’t help but wonder if there is something more going on between the two of them. Jon catches him still staring and Rich can’t help but raise a questioning eyebrow.

John chuckles almost silently, then speaks quietly, clearly trying not to disturb Lando. “It’s not like that. I’ve been training him since he was fourteen and he is like a little brother to me.” 

Rich nods. “I understand.” The hole in his heart aches. He can’t help but think of the kids, now teenagers, that he spent the last five years of his life guarding. 

“He is at his worst right now, so don’t make too much judgement. This lifestyle is difficult, but he is a good guy,” Jon tells him. 

If this is Lando at his worst, Rich isn’t worried at all, since he already finds him to be very likeable and endearing. 

They talk through the rest of the details. Rich will come back tomorrow to pick up a work computer, get the social media access he needs, as well as the itinerary for the Las Vegas Grand Prix taking place in a few weeks, so he can prepare.

Jon and Mark rise to walk him out. Rich stands as well, but before he can make it out, he hears his name in a soft, tired voice, “Rich?” 

He turns to Lando, seeing that Jon and Mark have fully left, giving Lando space to talk to Rich alone. “Yeah?” Rich asks, keeping his voice quiet, hoping their conversation doesn’t wake Lando so much that he can’t go right back to sleep. 

“I’m glad to have you part of the team,” he says with a tired smile. Even though it is the polite thing to say, it feels genuine to Rich. “There is something else. Another security concern.” Lando looks nervous and glances to the doorway where his trainer and manager disappeared. 

“They don’t know about this?” Rich guesses correctly. 

Lando nods. Feeling awkward standing up, Rich squats down in front of Lando to be more at his level, before immediately second guessing if it is awkward. Lando doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems relieved as he leans in closer to Rich and whispers. “There is someone in my DM’s, I’ve been deleting them so no one on my team sees but they… well, they know some things about me…”

“Like what?” Rich asks, in the same whispered tone.

“Things about my personal life,” Lando says, blushing and looking really uncomfortable.

Rich will not push at all. If this is something he is hiding from the people who seem to be closest to him, it must be very private. Probably because of exhaustion, Lando’s eyes betray the vulnerability he is trying to hide. Rich reaches out and squeezes his arm in a comforting gesture. He pushes away his fascination with the illogical way his hand almost completely wraps around Lando’s very muscular bicep. “I will be back tomorrow. If you can just give me the username then, I will look into it.” 

Lando nods and mouths, “Thank you,” looking like sleep is about to yank him under. 

Rich rises and positions one of the sage green throw pillows at one end of the couch and grabs a nearby matching blanket. “Lay down. Get some sleep,” Rich tells Lando. He doesn’t care if he is overstepping, he can’t see someone in need and not help and Lando complies easily, anyway, resting his head on the pillow and curling up tightly, one leg pulled into his chest and the other kicked out. He is asleep before Rich can finish spreading the blanket over him. 

When he turns to leave, Jon is smiling at him from the doorway. “You’ll fit in well here,” he tells Rich. 

November, 2024

It has been almost five days since Lando Norris hired Rich to be his bodyguard, and he has spent most of his time combing through social media comments and DMs. He has an extensive list of accounts that he needs to look into further. Top of the list are the usernames that Lando gave him. He received DMs of the same nature from all of them and it is likely the same person runs them. 

When Rich got home after the interview, he spent the rest of the day educating himself on Lando’s career, which quickly made him annoyed with himself. If he had looked into this at all before he went to meet the team, he would have known there was no chance he wouldn’t like this driver. Actually, it would have been obvious that he would like him, which, for once, wasn’t the goal. But he also knows he would have gone to the interview and accepted the job, anyway.

Lando has been an advocate for mental health for most of his career. Not just supporting charities, but also sharing his own experiences. In fact, the charity he does a lot of work with is one that Rich’s mum received help from when he was a child. Besides advocating for important things, Lando also seems to be a very talented athlete, a fun person to be around, a good friend, good to his family, and a very loyal member of the McLaren Formula 1 team. If half of what Rich has read proves to be true, he already feels proud to work for the man. 

As Rich dug into the current F1 season, it is shocking to see just how much and how quickly things have changed for Lando. He won his first Grand Prix this season and then thrusted immediately into a competition for the World Driver Championship with a three-time winner who is also a good friend of his. There is an obscene amount of media pressure and a lot of attention on social media, both in favor of and against him. At times, he seems to handle it all well and at other times he seems to crack under the pressure. 

The two races that brought on most of the criticism were Hungary and Brasil, last weekend. In Hungary, there was an issue with him being told to give position to his teammate and a clear hesitation to comply. It culminated in an intense and emotionally charged speech from his long time race engineer for the entire world to hear and Lando giving up the position at the last minute. Clearly, being put in that situation, there was no correct choice for him. There seems to be a pretty even split of fans and media outlets that think he should have or shouldn’t have given up the position. 

This past weekend was a mess and Rich quickly understood the state Lando was in at his interview just one day after. He started the race from pole position and ended in sixth, after messing up the start procedure, earning him a fine, and then making errors during the race, taking him off the track at one point. While he was struggling, his rival, Max Verstappen, started in twelfth position and recovered to first, winning the race. 

Rich groaned out loud and had to shut his laptop and take a break after seeing the interview that brought on the intense onslaught of hate that led to Rich being hired. He watched the whole interview first. A reporter asked Lando about safety cars and red flags. Lando responded by stating the timing and advantage they can give is down to luck and not talent. Combined with his obvious disappointment and frustration with his performance and his response being clipped without the question, fans are furious, believing he is saying Verstappen is not talented and is just lucky. If that was his intent or not feels irrelevant to Rich, anything said to a camera after taking such an intense mental blow should be taken with a grain of salt. Rich shudders at the thought of the things he said after being sacked from his previous job a few months ago. He would not want those things to be aired, and he didn’t mean half of them. 

Feeling bad for the young man, Rich text him directly the following day, when he found evidence of someone liking hate comments on his posts from his account on Instagram. Rich is concerned it might be someone on the team or the worst-case scenario, someone has access to the account that shouldn’t.

“Hi, I’m looking into some threats on social media.” Rich sent after much deliberation. He then sent a screenshot of the likes and followed up with. “Thought you needed to know someone did this. Do you know everyone who has access to your account?” He wrote the text five times before deciding being blunt was the best approach. 

“No one has access that would do that except for me,” Lando responded. “I fucked it up bad.” 

Rich stared at his employer’s confession, dumbstruck, feeling equal parts annoyed and concerned. Liking a comment on his own post that essentially says he is the biggest embarrassment in the sport is PR suicide. There is no way Lando doesn’t know that. He has been playing the media game for a long time. Was he just looking for attention or has he genuinely lost that much confidence in himself? 

Before Rich could reply, Lando sent another text. “Are you going to tell Mark and Jon?” 

“No,” Rich replied simply. He was pretty sure they would find out on their own, but it wouldn’t be because of him. Lando texted back a simple, “thank you.” 

A few days later, as he is digging into some of the threatening comments and profiles, Rich is still thinking about the incident and questioning his decision. He is already keeping a secret from the rest of the team for Lando. He is afraid he is already making some of the same mistakes he swore he never would again. It is the worst time for his twin brother, Joe, to call. But Rich has been dodging him for days, so he answers anyway. 

“What’s up little bro?” Joe asks, before Rich can great him. 

The thirteen minutes older thing is so overdone Rich doesn’t even acknowledge it anymore. Instead, he focuses on his brother’s tone. The greeting was not lighthearted; it was accusatory. “Just working on some things for my new job. Because some of us work.” 

“I work!” Joe protests, before adding, “when I need to.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Rich says, feeling bad for bringing that up. He is in a bad mood, but that doesn’t mean he should take it out on his brother. Joe does okay for himself, taking freelance cybersecurity jobs when he needs the money and splitting his time between staying with their mum back home in the UK and crashing with Rich in France. Rich could never live his life like that but it isn’t his life, it’s Joe’s and no matter how much of an ass he can be sometimes, Rich will never complain about him being around. 

“So the job is keeping you busy?” Joe asks, not being subtle about why he called at all. Joe is protective and has himself tied up in knots, worrying about Rich’s new job after the disaster at his last one. 

“Yeah. Trying to work out what comments and DMs on his social media accounts are real threats and what’s bullshit,” Rich says, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, just now realizing he needs to take a break, his head is hurting from staring at the screen too long.

“Lot’s of hate comments then?” It’s no surprise Joe sounds way too happy about this. The whole scheme to find a new employer that Rich would naturally dislike and not get too invested in was Joe’s idea, after all. Rich hates to disappoint him but also can’t make himself regret finding a job he is actually excited about. 

“Yeah, the kid is in some hot water,” Rich says, not able to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“The kid?” Joe says, skeptically.

“We are getting old,” he tells Joe. “At 36, a 24-year-old seems awfully young.”

“No,” Joe warns. “Don’t do that. This guy is a grown ass man. A spoiled one at that, his dad is one of the wealthiest people in the UK. He has never known hardship.” 

Rich doesn’t want to analyze why Joe’s comment pisses him off so much. “You don’t know that.” 

“Rich!” Joe practically shouts. “You are not already doing this. Get your head out of your ass. You know what these types of people are like.” 

Joe had been so enthusiastic when Rich got the call about this job because Lando’s upbringing and young-adulthood sounded very similar to the man they both hated most in the world, their father, George. He was raised by his wealthy parents. They spared no expense in helping their son pursue his dream of being a football star, starting at a young age. The ridiculous man child knew nothing of responsibility, and when their mum fell pregnant, he didn’t even stick around until Rich and Joe were born, leaving their mother disowned from her family, struggling to make ends meet, and battling with her mental health. 

Eventually, their mum tracked down George’s parents to discover they didn’t even know the twins existed. They arranged a deal to help their mum with the financial burden of raising two children on her own in exchange for having a relationship with their grandchildren. Rich loved his grandparents, but George never engaged in his sons’ lives. He became a pro footballer and never looked back, leaving his kids and parents in his wake, never thanking his parents for providing the foundation he needed to be successful as an athlete. 

Rich sighs, his brother sees the world as very black and white. It is easy for him to decide all wealthy athletes are as awful as George. But Rich sees the world in many shades of grey, looking for the good in people, and often being too forgiving of the bad. “Joe, don’t worry so much. It’s different this time. Like you said, Lando is an adult. I’m just his bodyguard, and a good team that I am excited to work with surrounds him. He won’t need anything from me other than protection.” 

It’s Joe’s turn to sigh. “Forgive me for finding that hard to believe. You are way too caring for your own good. Keep your nose out of his business, just do your job.” 

Rich can’t be too mad about that warning. His last job ended abruptly when he stepped in to prevent his employer from striking the kids that he hired Rich to protect. Before that, he actually helped a different client’s wife escape from her abusive husband before she immediately went back to him and blamed Rich for the whole thing. So there is a pattern of behavior here. Joe’s concerns are not unfounded. 

“I will,” Rich says.

Joe knows him too well and sees straight through the non-committal answer. “Promise me, Rich,” he commands in his 13 minutes older, big brother voice. 

“I promise,” Rich concedes, knowing Joe is correct about this even if it’s hard to admit. 

Chapter Text

March, 2025

Lando’s stomach churns as he makes his way back to McLaren hospitality, shivering in his rain jacket. He stops to sign things for fans when asked, but he doesn’t have time to have proper interactions. His race day schedule is tight, and anything he does right now takes away from the precious few moments he will have to himself before the race starts. 

Rich trails behind Lando. As always, he is unobtrusive but steps in when Lando needs him, knowing without Lando having to say anything, or even look at him. The man is good at his job and fits in well with the group. It’s a relief that things have gone so well, alleviating one stressor Lando carried into the first race of the season. 

Rich had been with him for the final two races last season and it had felt awkward, not because of him, but because of Lando, who was struggling to adjust to having a full-time bodyguard. Not to mention, the mortifying ordeal of Rich discovering Lando had been liking his own hate comments while deep in shame spiral after Brazil. When Lando received a text from Rich about it, assuming someone else with access to the account had done it, he wanted to the ground to swallow him whole as he explained he had done it himself. Luckily, Rich kept his word and didn’t tell anyone else about it. If Mark or Jon found out on their own, they never said anything about it. 

Once the season ended and McLaren had the Constructor’s trophy safely on display at the MTC, Lando finally had the mental capacity to adapt to having an additional person in his entourage. He got more comfortable having Rich around when he attended several events with him during the off-season. Pre-season testing went well too and this weekend, Lando found himself not waiting for his bodyguard to leave the room before sharing more sensitive information with Jon, Mark, and his parents. 

A jolt of excitement energizes Lando as he walks through Hospitality and pulls out his phone to check something off his list. Watching “make sure Rich fits in” disappear from his list of worries makes him feel lighter, especially since it was one of the more long-term items, sitting there since November. But seeing the long list of remaining worries, and the glaring ones at the top that have always been there, makes his stomach feel even more unsettled than before. He knows when his therapist told him to journal she didn’t mean for him to keep a detailed list of everything that worries and upsets him and only check them off when they are resolved. She would probably tell him that is unhealthy and she would probably be right. But it is the only way he can compartmentalize that shit and with his insanely fast-paced schedule and intense demands on him, sometimes he can only do what works instead of what is best. 

Lando hesitates when he reaches his driver room. He can hear the buzzing through the door and the stimulation does not mix well with the nerves he is trying to control and hide.. This isn’t an issue on the European leg of the season, when they have access to the McLaren motorhome. He has two driver rooms there, one for his personal team to occupy and a smaller changing room that he doesn’t let anyone else enter, so he can be alone when he needs it. But this weekend in Australia, he has to make do with one space. He does it as rarely as possible, but he reluctantly kicks everyone out to give himself a little quiet and solitude before qualifying and the race. He hates doing it; it makes him feel like a brat, but if he doesn’t get that time alone, his performance suffers. 

His hesitation gave Rich time to catch up with him. “You okay?” he asks quietly. Rich is always quiet and Lando really likes that.

Lando realizes when he paused in front of the door his shoulders sagged and he is chewing on his thumbnail, an unconscious nervous habit he cannot shake, no matter how babyish it makes him look. He mentally chastises himself for letting something as silly as a lack of privacy make him react so strongly. He reminds himself he is living the dream and drops his hand down, squares his shoulders and smiles at Rich. “Never better.” 

They enter together and Mark immediately sucks Lando into an urgent conversation, asking him to look over a contract. “Do we need to do this now?” Lando asks.

“Yes. They are here and I’m sure they will sign immediately if you win the race,” Mark tells him excitedly. 

“No pressure, huh?” Lando teases.

“Eh, they will probably sign no matter what,” Mark reassures him.

“I’m not worried about it and I can’t read this right now. I trust you. Anything I’m not going to like?” Lando asks, tapping the page in front of him.

“Yes,” Mark says. “They want a few…”

“Please,” Lando cuts him off, squeezing Mark’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me right now. I’ll worry about it after the race.” 

Before Mark can say anything else, the floppy straw of his drink bottle is poking him in the face. Lando takes the bottle from Jon, who has clearly been trying to get his attention for a while. “You need two more,” Jon informs him.

“Sure. Okay,” Lando responds to Jon, trying to stay focused on his conversation with Mark. But two more? That’s too much. “Wait a second,” he says, turning his full attention to Jon. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Jon says, trying to slip away, putting on a fake clueless smile. 

“No. No. Not so fast,” Lando says, catching him by the wrist. “That is too much. Wet race? Safety cars? I do not want to pee my race suit,” Lando tells him with no shame. He is long past being embarrassed about his body around Jon, who has been monitoring every function since he was fourteen. 

“Have you ever?” Jon says back, amused. They do have this conversation almost every weekend and it has never actually happened.

“There was a close call…” Lando starts.

“In 2023,” Jon finishes with a fond chuckle. “But it didn’t happen. You’re fine.” 

Lando sighs, but before he can argue further, a timid voice fills the lull in their conversation. “Lando?” 

“Yeah?” Lando says, immediately worried that he sounded too harsh. He makes sure he is still smiling and tries again in a softer voice, “How can I help you?” Adrien is facing him, practically shaking and clutching his tablet so tightly, Lando is worried it might break. Unfortunately, Adrien, the other new addition to the team, is probably not going to work out. He is a nice guy, but unlike Rich, he is not meshing well with everyone else. Lando didn’t think he needed a PA and the number of questions he has to answer for Adrien every day has only proven him right. 

“Umm… I have to finalize the menu selections for the flight home…” 

He doesn’t actually ask, but Lando assumes Adrien is asking what he wants, an answer he doesn’t have before the race has even started. The flight home feels like the distant future, even though it is less than twelve hours away. “Ask Jon,” Lando teases his trainer. “He likes to be in control of everything I put in my body.” 

When the joke lands, Rich snickers from across the room and raises an eyebrow when Lando catches his eye. Lando winks back, making Rich chuckle silently and shake his head. 

“Shut it, you muppet,” Jon says, trying to swat him playfully on the back of the head. 

When Lando dodges the blow, he accidentally bumps into Adrien, who almost falls on his ass. Lando catches him by the shoulders and holds on so he can regain his balance. Adrien looks like he is about to cry. This is really not going to work out, Lando is worried the kid may not come back of his own accord before Mark can get around to letting him go. “Sorry mate,” Lando says as gently as he can manage without being condescending. “My mum can probably help with the food question,” he tells him, awkwardly guiding the taller man by the shoulders to the sofa, where Adam and Cisca, Lando’s parents, are sitting. 

“Mum, will you please help Adrien finalize the menu for the flight home?” he asks. 

“Of course,” she responds, looking up from her phone that seems to vex her. She smiles sweetly at Adrien before looking to Lando. “Will you help me? This damn thing isn’t working,” she grumbles, poking at her phone in irritation. 

“Let me see,” he says, reaching out but before she can hand it over, his dad wraps an arm around Lando’s waist and pulls him onto the sofa between them, the space is so tight he is basically sitting in his dads lap. Lando can’t help but smile as his dad gives him a big cuddle before allowing him to help his mother. “What are we trying to do here, Mum?” 

“I can’t get this picture to send to your brother.” 

“Mum, that’s not a picture. It’s a thirteen minute video,” he informs her.

“Damnit! How did I do that?” she asks, laughing at herself. 

“I have no idea,” Lando says before glancing at his watch. Fuck, he only has thirty-five minutes before he needs to be at the McLaren garage for last-minute preparations. He clears his throat and hauls himself off the sofa. “I hate to ask it, but can I have the room now?” he tries to say it with confidence, but his voice trails off as guilt sets in. 

“No worries,” Mark says, catching on and quickly trying to stamp out his worries. Everyone agrees enthusiastically and clears the room. 

Rich is the last one at the door. “Rich?” Lando asks, getting his attention. “Will you wake me up in twenty-eight minutes?”

Rich looks at him, eyes sparkling as he smirks and shakes his head in playful disapproval. “You got it. I’ll tell Jon to be ready to run,” he jokes, knowing the three of them will have to sprint to the garage if Lando sleeps that long. It won’t be the first time, and this is only Rich’s third race. 

With the room now empty, Lando can drop all pretense of being cool, calm and collected. He whimpers miserably, finally acknowledging the dull but insistent pain in his stomach, as he changes into his fireproofs, race suit, and boots. 

Lando collapses, lying down on the sofa, and curls up into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut as all the worries and anxiety swarm him. “What if I mess up the start? What if I’m not good anymore? What if I crash? What if I die? What if I make a fool of myself? What if my car breaks down? What if the fans still hate me? What if….” The questions are only in his head but they are so loud, he covers his ears, foolishly trying to block them out, but there is only one thing that can make this stop. He forces himself into the controlled breathing rhythm he learned years ago, to help him sleep and fight jet lag. It works almost too well, and it only takes him a few minutes to dive into the welcome nothingness of sleep. 

May, 2024

Slipping into a booth in a quiet corner of the club, Lando shakes his head, trying to clear it a little. He is tipsy, so his thoughts are even more jumbled than normal, but for once, there aren’t worries and stressors clogging up his neural pathways. Right now, he feels excited, relieved, and accomplished. Today he cleared the biggest hurdle of his career, the one that has been making him a bit of a joke for too long. He stood at the top of the podium and accepted the first place Miami Grand Prix trophy, forever shedding the moniker, ‘Lando No Wins.’

The relief that he won’t spend the rest of his career making podium appearances but always falling short of the top step is more intoxicating than the alcohol he has consumed tonight. He is free to dream again. He had been so focused on that goal; it was the hurdle he had to clear before he could look toward bigger things. But now his career feels full of possibilities again. He feels justified in asking himself what else he wants to achieve? What other wins does he want? Monaco? Silverstone? Spa? Maybe a Constructor’s or Driver’s Championship? Maybe even both, eventually?

 Oscar slides into the booth next to Lando, interrupting his daydreaming. He sits a little closer than is strictly necessary and deposits two shots of something clear that is probably deadly on the table before settling against the back of the seat. Oscar crosses his arms over his chest in a way that unintentionally shows off his biceps. At least Lando thinks it’s unintentional. Regardless, his alcohol addled brain lets him stare at Oscar’s muscular arms for a beat too long and it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed based on the look Oscar is giving him. 

“That is your teammate, for fuck’s sake,” Lando reprimands himself, silently, tearing his gaze away from Oscar and watching the dancefloor instead. 

“So, Lando wins now?” Oscar says straight into his ear, to be heard over the music, his voice more husky and broad than normal. 

Before Lando can register what is happening, his body responds to the sultry voice of a sexy man, directed at him. He bites his bottom lip and gives Oscar an obvious once over before meeting his eyes. His teammate flexes his arms more and gives Lando a knowing smirk. 

Has he lost his mind? Lando jolts back to reality and blushes deeply. He rips his eyes away, which he knows must be fucking sparkling with adoration, and stares back out at the dancers, stretching his arm over his head to squeeze the back of his neck because it is sore from the race, not because he wants to flex his biceps for Oscar. He glances back long enough to see Oscar looking at his flexing muscle with appreciation; it makes Lando’s chest puff with pride. 

“What the hell is happening here?” Lando asks himself. It’s not like he has never noticed that Oscar is attractive. He isn’t blind, but he thought the guy wasn’t his type. Lando wants someone who will take charge, and he thought that wasn’t Oscar. Not to mention getting involved with a teammate in Formula 1, where your teammate is also your biggest rival, is just about the stupidest thing he could do. But the Oscar sitting next to him now is a different man. His quiet demeanor is reading as confident instead of reserved, making Lando respond on a base hormonal level. There is no way Oscar doesn’t know exactly what he is doing. 

Oscar lets him watch the dance floor and collect himself for a moment before scrambling his brain again by bringing his lips so close they are almost touching Lando’s ear as he asks, “you aren’t planning on taking any of those girls back to your room, are you?” 

Lando wants to come up with a sexy and teasing reply, but all he manages is saying, “no,” after swallowing thickly. 

“What are you? Bi-curious or something?” Oscar asks.

It’s not that the alarm bells aren’t going off, warning him not to discuss his biggest secret with his teammate. They are just drowned out by all the blood in his body rushing south.

“Or something,” Lando responds when he gets himself somewhat under control. Oscar stays silent, clearly waiting for more of an explanation. “You could say that I have never met a woman that can keep my dick hard.” Lando mentally kicks himself, appalled that he said it like that. Those drinks must have been stronger than he realized, or maybe getting the attention he craves but rarely receives is going to his head. Both of them. 

Lando bites back a gasp when Oscar uncrosses his arm and rests a warm hand on his inner thigh, high enough that Lando knows he can feel the way his jeans are straining around his erection. “That doesn’t seem like a problem right now,” Oscar smirks. 

“It’s not,” Lando reassures with a chuckle, turning red as he tries not to wiggle around to get friction on his painfully hard cock. 

“You’re cute,” Oscar tells him. His voice is a touch patronizing, and that only turns Lando on more. “With that blush and those pretty eyes, I have no doubt you drive guys wild.”

Lando shakes his head as Oscar’s words punch through the alcohol fog. “Not really,” he says, scooting away to create some distance, forcing Oscar to remove his hand. “Why are you doing this?” Lando asks matter-of-factly, realizing that this is likely some kind of cruel joke he has been too drunk and too slow to recognize. 

Oscar shrugs and looks at Lando, dropping the sexy persona and looking more like the Osc that Lando knows. “I was just a little curious and your response confirmed by suspicions. I guess I got carried away… And well, winning looks good on you.” 

Lando doesn’t mean to show so much insecurity with his next question, but he can’t seem to find his filter tonight. “You aren’t making fun of me?” 

“Of course not,” Oscar says kindly, finding Lando’s hand under the table and giving it a squeeze before letting go. Oscar’s shameless flirting had got Lando hot and bothered, but that simple action makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. “You don’t get a lot of male attention, do you?” he asks Lando, sounding sympathetic. 

“No, not really,” Land responds honestly, feeling vulnerable, but also sensing he can trust Oscar. “I’m guessing you do?”

“When I go looking for it,” Oscar answers, looking a little embarrassed to admit it. 

“That’s my problem. I don’t really like to approach guys. I guess I like to be approached. And with my need for everything to be secret and my… preferences… even when an opportunity presents itself, it rarely works out.” Lando is now spilling the entire sad story of his love life to his teammate. He knows he should stop, but now that he started, it is all pouring out of him. He has no one to confide in about these things. All of his friends are painfully straight. 

“Preferences?” Oscar asks, raising an eyebrow, encouraging Lando to continue spilling his secrets. 

He is dumb enough to comply. “Okay. I know it’s not the cool thing right now… It’s popular to be a switch, I guess. But that’s not me.”

“You’re a bottom, yeah.” It isn’t a question. Oscar says it as a statement, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

Lando nods. “A pretty submissive one.” He knows his cheeks are scarlet. Oscar figured him out so easily. Why can’t other guys do the same thing? “When people fantasize about hooking up with a professional athlete, that is rarely the dream.” 

Oscar seems to consider it. “You have a point. I guess my hookups have involved me in a different type of role than you mentioned. Well, really the opposite.” Oscar is the one blushing now. 

Lando has to try really hard not to think about Oscar giving him commands and using Lando’s body however he wants. It’s just about the hottest thing he could imagine. He has to force himself back to reality and the conversation they are having right now. 

He continues his explanation, hoping Oscar will understand. “Even if they are willing, more dominant guys rarely want someone like me. I’m too sturdy and athletic, too self-sufficient…”

Lando didn’t realize he started chewing on his thumbnail until Oscar gently guides his hand away from his mouth. “I don’t think you are too much of anything. I think you are perfect.” 

Their eyes meet and they hold contact for a long time. If they weren’t teammates, and it wasn’t absolutely forbidden, this would be the moment they kiss. 

“It doesn’t seem right for you to spend your night alone after your maiden victory.” Oscar tells him, the sultry voice from earlier coming back in. 

“Yeah?” Lando asks, his heart is pounding, hoping Oscar is going to offer what he Lando really wants. 

“Yeah,” Oscar says, taking a risk out and gently rubbing his thumb across Lando’s lower lip. “That pouty lip drives me crazy…” Oscar seems to struggle with something internally. After a tense pause, he breaks the tense silence. “Do you have a spare room key?” 

Lando nods, probably too enthusiastically, already fishing it out of his wallet before Oscar can ask. 

He trades the key for his shot, as Oscar picks up his. They clink their glasses together, “to these violent delights,” Oscar toasts. It is unexpectedly romantic, making Lando feel warm and fuzzy inside. But maybe that’s just the alcohol. 

Oscar leans in, breath smelling like astringent alcohol, and speaks directly into his ear in a no nonsense, commanding tone. “I expect to find you in bed, naked, and don’t even think about touching yourself until I get there.” 

The command goes straight to Lando’s dick, and he is too turned on to talk, afraid he will moan if he opens his mouth. He nods instead. 

“We’ll work on that,” Oscar tells him, shaking his head condescendingly as he stands. “I expect you to use your words.” Lando feels like he could come just from Oscar, looking at him like that and talking to him in that way. Before Lando can unscramble his brain enough to answer him, Oscar is gone. 

There is no point in pretending like he will not do exactly as he was told. The moment Lando gets to his hotel room he strips down and showers throughly, making sure he is clean everywhere. The doubt and anxiety doesn’t creep in until he is laying naked in bed, waiting for his teammate to come fuck him. This is the stupidest thing Lando could do tonight. He better hope Oscar doesn’t show. 

Unlocking his phone, Lando adds “Oscar shows up,” to his list of worries. But the thought of laying here all night waiting for someone who would never arrive may be worse than opening the door to whatever this is with Oscar. So he adds, “Oscar doesn’t show up,” to the list. He quickly forgets the list and the entire concept of worrying when the door creaks open and Oscar consumes his mind and body. 

March 2025

It would be an understatement to say Lando is feeling annoyed and defensive right now. Winning the first Grand Prix of the season should be exciting. It should be something to celebrate. But the moment his press officer threw him into the media pen, he felt attacked. After last year, it shouldn’t have surprised him, but he has a stubborn tendency towards optimism, so it did. 

The journalists and reporters seemed so shocked that he and Oscar were fast during the race. They were both in the running for the podium until Oscar got stuck in the grass. He made it back on the track and finished the race, but missed the podium by a long shot because of that delay. 

Lando felt the need to repeat in each interview that the car is fast, but the drivers are also part of the equation. He was trying to defend himself and Oscar. He wanted to get ahead of the narrative that the press is already spinning, saying that the car is just fast and they are mediocre drivers. 

Now it seems like he should have kept his mouth shut. As they wait for the post-race debrief to start, Oscar looks like a kicked puppy and Andrea is looking at Lando with disappointment written all over his face. The look is one Lando has seen before, letting him know he is about to get his ass handed to him. He just wishes he knew why, so he could get ahead of it. McLaren has always had a strong culture of teamwork and mutual respect, but since Andrea took the helm in 2023, he has taken it to a new extreme. Nothing is done in private and everyone gets reprimanded and celebrated publically. It is a double-edged sword. The reproach is painful, but it makes the congratulations that much sweeter. Unfortunately for Lando, being called out in front of his whole team is an effective punishment, if Andrea intends for it to be or not. No matter how hard he tries not to, Lando has an innate desire to be liked, so having his mistakes, and worst of all character flaws, called out in front of the team that feels like family to him, makes him feel about an inch tall. 

When the too small Paddock meeting room fills with a sea of Papaya tops, Andrea starts the meeting with a general summary of the race, like usual, highlighting their successes and opportunities for improvement. He then starts the conversation by asking for driver feedback on the car. He turns to Oscar first. These meetings don’t delve into too much complexity, that will come later when people are more rested and they evaluate the race data. 

“Car felt great,” Oscar starts. “Thank you for such a great car to start the season. The suspension felt a little off in places, which I’m sure will show in the data.” Oscar stops, but Andrea gives him a pointed look. “And umm, I’m sorry for going off the track and getting stuck like that. Yeah, that was all on me, not the car or anything else.” 

Everyone nods at Oscar in appreciation of his apology, but no one steps in with placating statements. No matter how Lando feels about Oscar personally, his heart still aches for him as a driver and a teammate. Lando wishes he could also see Oscar as a friend again, but he isn’t a big enough person to not hold a grudge about the way Oscar treated him last year. That pain runs deep. 

Lando can’t keep his mouth shut, which seems to be a theme today. “Mistakes happen Oscar. Conditions were rough. The track was so slick. It’s just luck that I didn’t get stuck too when I went off the track.” 

Oscar’s eyes harden as they level on Lando, not hiding how annoyed he is that Lando went against the team culture of accountability by trying to defend him. If pressed, Lando would say that sometimes it goes too far and crosses over from accountability to humiliation. If really pressed, he would have to admit that he thinks Andrea intends for it to be that way. 

Oscar’s annoyance morphs into anger, and his response is cold and cruel. “I thought you would have learned by now to stop attributing things to luck.”

It has the intended effect. Lando blushes and becomes very interested in the wood grain of the table as he mentally reprimands himself for sticking his neck out for Oscar. Even with a wounded heart, Lando still finds it difficult not to forget that Oscar doesn’t want his help or sympathy anymore. They get along well enough because they have to, but by handing his room key to Oscar in Miami, he set in motion a series of events that would ensure they can never be friends again. 

Lando doesn’t have time to recover from his embarrassment at being reminded of the worst interview of his career before Andrea sets in on him. “Your thoughts on the car?” he asks. Before Lando can respond, the team principal adds with emphasis, “not the weather.” He makes it sound like Lando pointing out they just raced in a monsoon is ridiculous, like that information is irrelevant to a discussion of the race.

“Yeah, like I said earlier in the weekend, the front end still feels numb, but it really is a great car. Really fast. Amazing race pace. Thank you.” Lando found his composure half way through his response and can look around at the team and express his appreciation. 

“Was it fast, Lando?” Andrea asks.

“Yes, it was mega,” Lando answers immediately, sensing a trap but not knowing how to avoid it.

“You could have fooled me and anyone else that watched your interviews…”

Shit, there’s the trap. “I was just trying to say…”

Andrea cuts off Lando’s interruption with a decisive hand gesture, making it clear it was a mistake to speak. “It doesn’t matter what you were ‘trying to say’, it only matters what people heard, and every single person in this room heard you belittle their contributions. You made it clear you think the driving is more important than the car. If you are such a great driver that doesn’t need this team, why did you not win your first race until last year? Your sixth season.” 

Lando feels his face go red again with shame. He wants to make his case and explain the meaning behind his comments to the press, but it sounds more like he is pleading for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry… that isn’t what I was trying to say at all. I don’t think that. Really…” he looks around pleadingly for understanding, but everyone either looks at him blankly or avoids his gaze, playing their part in this ritual well. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work and the car is incredible. I just wanted to get ahead of the implication that Oscar and I don’t know how to drive… that it’s just the car…” The look Andrea gives him tells Lando that he once again said the wrong thing. 

“Lando, this is a team sport. What the press says about your driving is insignificant. Do we not pay you enough to handle a little criticism on our behalf?” Andrea asks. 

Lando wants to disappear. He is so uncomfortable and ashamed of himself. Andrea pointing out his considerable salary in this context reminds him he is just an over paid brat. “Sorry. Of course you do. I.. of course…” 

Andrea cuts off the stammering, looking pleased now. Clearly Lando’s guilt and humiliation are determined to be sufficient, because his face shifts into a small, encouraging smile. “Lando, we just don’t want to see a repeat of last year’s media blunders. We will get you some more media training.” 

Lando is so desperate for any understanding, anything to lessen the ached of guilt that has settled into his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says, accepting his punishment from Andrea with a nod and a shy smile. 

With his own nod, Andrea smiles wider and opens his arms, gesturing in an encompassing motion. “Your drive was very good today. I’m sure I speak for the whole team when I say that we appreciate your contribution, always.” 

The team claps for him with genuine smiles and excitement for their win today. Lando feels undeserving. “Really, I didn’t do much. The car is incredible. Will’s direction, the mechanics, pit crew, engineers, everyone. You are all the reason we won today,” he tells them urgently. He needs them to know how much he appreciates him and how much he cares for the McLaren family. 

By the time the meeting wraps up, Lando is still feeling sick from the whiplash, but he stops to talk to everyone approaching him on his way to the door, even though their congratulations only add to his disappointment in himself for not showing his appreciation how he should. 

His teammates are clearly worried. They treat him better than he deserves. They have all hovered around him after difficult meetings since Hungary last year. They all saw him fall apart in a way he didn’t mean for them to see, in a way he never wanted anyone to see. No one but Oscar knows that his appalling handling of the team orders that day and the dressing down he earned and received, not just in front of the team but on the radio, in front of the world, were not what pushed him over the edge that night on the plane. 

When he finally makes it out the door, Rich falls into step beside him. One shared look between them tells Lando that Rich heard more of the meeting than he would have liked them to. He mumbles out an apology, which gets a confused look from Rich, so Lando shuts his mouth, using the short walk to gather himself. Even though he feels miserable, he needs to be happy and celebratory with not just the McLaren team, but now his personal team and family. They have all sacrificed so much to get him here, to guide him to stand at the top of the podium at a season opener. It’s time to celebrate them. 

For the second time today, Lando finds himself frozen at the door of his driver’s room, hesitating to enter, suppressing his internal turmoil so he can be the best version of himself. The worry list comes out again. “They don’t know I care,” he adds before pocketing his phone and taking his hat off so he can press his forehead against the cool surface of the door and taking a grounding breath. 

Lando had been so lost in his own thoughts he forgot Rich was with him for a moment. Remembering he is being watched, he feels a need to explain, but does not know how to without saying way too much. Eventually, he just mumbles, “I’m trying to get it right.”

Rich’s big hand lands on top of his head, mussing his curls. “Your doing a good job, kid.” 

Rich didn’t have to say that and his earnest but caring tone fills Lando with warmth, helping him find his smile. It is giving him the strength to enter the room and welcome the hugs and congratulations. He can express his appreciation and love for the people who have dedicated so much of their lives to him and his success. He just wishes he got it right with the McLaren team, too. 

Chapter Text

March 2025

The atmosphere on the plane is awkward and quiet, in the absence of the comfortable banter and conversation fueled by Lando. Rich is a fixer by nature. He can’t stand when people are unhappy or upset. He is struggling with the urge to help his coworkers, but on this plane full of men, no one will admit they are anything other than happy and tired. A cabin full of exhausted people and no one is sleeping, not even Lando? They can’t fool Rich even if they are deluding themselves. 

Mark has his laptop out, and appears to be transfixed by something on the screen, but in reality, he isn’t doing much of anything other than getting lost in his thoughts. Jon is restless, shifting in his seat as he reads something on his phone and glancing at Lando anxiously every few seconds. Adrien is flitting around the cabin, looking for the fan letters and gifts from the weekend that Lando wants to go through. The photographer seems to be the only person actually engaged in what he is doing, editing photos on a massive laptop. Lando oversees it all with a smile and friendly chatter when he can bring himself to do it, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes and when he talks, the usual enthusiasm in his voice is missing.

Rich isn’t bothering to pretend. He is sitting in silence, trying to keep his eyes shut and fall asleep, wanting the miserable journey to be over quickly. He wants to go back to his little house in the French countryside and decompress. This weekend, particularly the race, has left him feeling tense in the same way everyone else is trying to hide. A one, two podium for McLaren was, of course, amazing, and Lando isn’t so conceited to be upset with a second place finish. But Rich knows everyone is a little shocked by Oscar’s pace all weekend, not that Lando would ever admit that. 

The truly upsetting event of the weekend was Lando’s brake issue at the end of the race. Rich is still new to this and isn’t truly understanding what it means for the brake pedal to be “going long”, but from what Jon explained to him it sounds like a really dangerous situation, confirmed by how shaken Lando has seemed since he got out of his car hours ago. 

Luckily, Rich slips off to sleep after a while and gets a reprieve from the awkward atmosphere, even though he is dreaming of high-speed car crashes. He wakes with a bit of a start to a sweaty hand on his shoulder and his name being whispered repeatedly. “Jesus, Adrien!” Rich grumbles, recovering from his shock. “You startled me.” He blinks rapidly, trying to center himself in reality and shake off the ominous dream. 

“Sorry… I… sorry,” Adrien mumbles, his face turning red as he looks around to see if anyone is paying attention to him. The kid is nice, but he doesn’t seem to be a good fit for this team or really, this type of job. He is supposed to take care of tasks that no one else could stay on top of, like arranging travel and food, and other daily necessities but the guy can’t accomplish anything without asking a bunch of questions and he has a special ability to always be in the way. 

“It’s fine. Just speak up, the whispering was a little creepy,” Rich tells him with a smile and chuckle, trying to put the kid at ease since he looks like he is about to piss himself. “What did you need?”

“Oh… Yeah. Umm… They need you,” Adrian splutters out. 

Rich really wants to ask him to clarify who “they” are because that’s a pretty silly answer, but he truly isn’t trying to torment the guy, so he looks around instead. Any amusement disappears when he spots Lando sitting at the small table with Jon and Mark around him. They are firing off questions and Lando is insisting he is fine, but the look in his eyes is telling a different story. 

“Is it a threat?” he hears Mark ask. 

“It’s okay, Rich will investigate it, I’m sure,” Lando reassures his manager. 

That gets Rich moving quickly, standing from his seat so suddenly, he almost collides with Adrien, who was still hovering by his seat. Adrien stumbles out of the way, making room for Rich to sit with the other men, who are deep in frantic conversation. “Fill me in,” he says, falling easily into his no-nonsense persona. The body guard, security coordinator, and sometimes private investigator side of Rich isn’t his favorite, but when he is fully immersed in that role, he is at his most confident. 

Mark and Jon are talking over each other and Lando just looks at him and mouths, “help me,” as the fear in his wide eyes morphs into amusement. 

From the other two, Rich catches a few words: “Monaco”, “Fan”, “Key Card”, “Trash”…. None of that is making any sense to him. 

“One at a time,” Rich commands firmly, lifting a hand, signaling them to be quiet. Mark and Jon look at each other and then, at the same time, they shift their gazes to Lando. They are so in synch it looks choreographed. In any other situation, it would have made Rich laugh. Lando squirms uncomfortably, the levity disappearing from his eyes. 

“Lando isn’t really explaining it to us,” Jon says, pinching Lando’s earlobe like he is a troublesome child. 

Lando swats his hand away and tells him to stop. But clearly Jon knows what he is doing because Lando is smiling again. It doesn’t last long, the smile fades as he says, “it’s private.” 

Mark jumps in on this. “It shouldn’t be. We should know these things. I need to know these things. What about NDA’s? Once we figure out the security issue, we will discuss this further.” 

Unlike Jon’s silly reprimand, Mark is serious, and Lando looks properly chastised. “I told you it wasn’t necessary,” he grumbles. 

“It is always necessary, especially if this…”

“Enough! Please,” Lando interrupts abruptly, glancing around at the others on the plane anxiously. 

Rich is done listening to them argue. If there is a security issue, he needs to know what it is before they land in Monaco. “Okay, Lando, you come with me,” he tells the boy, taking control, since security is his job. Clearly, he won’t get a good idea of what happened, discussing it like this. “We will talk alone.” Mark opens his mouth to protest, but Rich cuts him off with a glare.

Lando stands, and slips something from the table in his pocket as he leads Rich to the seats in the back of the small jet, giving an illusion of privacy. Rich is eager to assess whatever the threat is that has everyone so worried, but when he sees Lando squeezing his eyes shut and breathing deeply, it is more important to give him a moment to collect himself. After a few seconds, Lando opens his eyes and fishes his phone out, typing something furiously before putting it away.

“Sorry, I just.. yeah,” Lando trails off, looking uncertain. 

“Just start at the beginning,” Rich prods gently. 

“I can’t do that,” Lando says seriously, shaking his head. 

“Okay,” Rich says, trying to stay patient. Lando is his boss after all and a genuinely nice guy despite his fame and lavish lifestyle. He looks truly shook up right now, in a way Rich has never seen, not even the exhausted state he was in when Rich first met him. Tonight, he seems like he is barely grasping on to the control he is so good at maintaining. He is always quick to make a joke or blame himself in serious situations to put others at ease, but right now, he seems quiet and small.

Rich is fighting the urge to reach out to the younger man with a reassuring touch. “Just tell me as much detail as you can.” 

“I was going through some letters and stuff that fans gave me over the weekend and well, there was an envelope and this was in it.” Lando pulls a hotel room key card out of his pocket. 

“Can I see?” Rich asks. 

Lando’s face turns a violent shade of red as he hands it over. “I guess. The others saw it already.” 

Lando can’t seem to look at Rich as he hands the card over, and he stares intently at his lap and chews on his thumbnail while Rich inspects the card. It is from a Hilton hotel, no surprise there, and there is a room number written on it, but that clearly isn’t what is causing so much embarrassment for Lando. Written on one side of the card is, “get ready to beg.” Flipping the card over, he sees, “You’ve been a very bad boy,” written with the word ‘bad’ triple underlined. 

“It’s yours?” Rich asks. The handwriting is not Lando’s, so Rich assumes he was the recipient. Based on his embarrassment now, he clearly had been excited to recieve it. Images of Lando submitting pop into Rich’s mind and he has to shove them out. He did not need to know that his unfairly attractive employer is into the same things he is. Not to mention the handwriting is pretty and Rich has no reason to believe Lando received this from anyone other than a woman.

“Yeah,” Lando mumbles, not looking at him. Rich waits, needing more explanation and eventually Lando clarifies. “Before we left for Australia, I was cleaning out some stuff. I binned it at my flat. In Monaco.” 

“And you got it back in an envelope in China?” Rich asks, feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Someone knows where Lando lives and seems to have followed him across the world to make sure he knows that. That level of obsession is dangerous, regardless of if they have bad intentions or not. 

Lando nods. “What can tell me about the card?” Rich asks, lightly tapping Lando’s wrist, prompting him to take his hand away from his mouth.

“Someone gave it to me last year. I was seeing them,” Lando says, sounding truly miserable. 

“Are you still seeing them?”

Lando chuckles bitterly and finally glances at Rich, still blushing but looking a little more comfortable now that the most difficult part is behind him. “No.” 

“I need to know who you were seeing,” Rich tells him, feeling bad for the kid. This is very unfair to him, but it is Rich’s job to keep him safe. 

Lando shakes his head no. “I can’t.”

“Lando, they are likely involved. This seems very… personal.” Rich can already tell he isn’t getting through to him. 

“They aren’t involved,” Lando insists. 

“You can’t know that,” Rich argues. 

“I can know that. They have just as much to lose as I do and they wouldn’t have time to orchestrate this silly bull shit.” Anger flashes in Lando’s eyes before he covers it up. “Trust me, if I thought he was responsible, it would annoy me, not….” Lando stops suddenly and buries his face in his hands.

“Hey, I believe you. I won’t ask anymore about him,” he says, not wanting to upset Lando any further. He is clearly fighting to stay calm, and Rich is a little worried he will lose that battle. He runs back over what he said in his mind, trying to figure out what made him so upset. It click, Lando said ‘he’ instead of ‘she’.

“People don’t know that you are interested in men?” Rich asks quiet enough that no one else on the plane will overhear. 

Lando peaks at Rich from between his fingers. “No. They can’t know. Not about me or the other guy. It would be a disaster.” 

Rich is understanding why Lando is getting so worked up. It isn’t just a threat to his safety, but someone is also threatening to out him. “I’m guessing Jon and Mark know?”

“About me? Yeah,” Lando answers, shrinking in on himself. 

“Hey, this isn’t anything you need to be ashamed of. I understand you want it to stay private, but don’t feel bad for what you like or who you do it with.”

Lando drops his hands, looking irritated with Rich. It startles him, but he would rather see the kid mad than sad or embarrassed. “I appreciate it the sentiment but I’m sorry, I don’t think you can understand.” 

Of course Lando feels annoyed. He probably doesn’t know that Rich is a gay man. He doesn’t hide it, but it also doesn’t come up often at work. “You’re right, I can’t understand the public pressure and media scrutiny.” 

“It’s frustrating. No one understands. I don’t have any gay friends,” he grumbles, seeming more generally angry now, no longer taking it out on Rich specifically.

“I like to think we are friends,” Rich tells him. 

“We are. Of course we are,” Lando says, looking worried that he has offended Rich. “I didn’t mean to snap at…”

“It’s okay,” Rich tells him. “You can’t say you don’t have any gay friends anymore, though.” 

Lando’s eyes get comically wide and he stares at Rich like he is seeing him for the first time again. Rich can’t help but flush a little under his scrutiny. Lando smiles at him. “That’s so cool.” 

The unexpected response pulls a full belly laugh from Rich before he can stop himself. Lando joins in and they have to fight to collect themselves when Mark snaps from across the plane. “This is a serious situation!” 

“Do you have any idea who could be responsible?” Rich asks when they calm down. 

Lando looks around before whispering, “No, but I think it’s the same person who has been sending those messages.”

Rich knows exactly what he is referring to. He has been keeping track of a series of threatening messages Lando has been receiving, since he was first told about it at his interview last Autumn. It is a constant source of frustration for Rich that he can’t get that situation under control. Every time they block an account, another appears sending the same messages, but Rich can’t find anything identifying on any of the accounts. “Why do you think that? Those threats have been pretty vague. This is more series than that. It’s more specific.”

“Don’t be mad,” Lando says, flashing Rich a shy smile, trying to turn on the charm.

“Lando,” Rich says in a warning tone, letting the boy know he has not manipulated him so easily. 

“I have been deleting some messages. I didn’t want anyone else to see them. They referenced that… relationship.” Lando gestures to the key card to clarify. 

“You can’t do that,” Rich says sternly. He may not be easy to manipulate, but Rich is an empath, so when Lando’s face falls, he immediately feels guilty.

“I know. No one can know about it, though. Not even people I trust. Rich, it’s humiliating. That a stranger knows and they are coming after me and know where I live…” Lando cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, clearly annoyed with himself for showing so much emotion. “I don’t know what to do,” he concludes. 

The unspoken is obvious. Lando is scared, even though he will never admit it. Rich can’t fight the urge to offer him comfort as he gently takes Lando’s hand and squeezes it. “You’re safe. I’ll make sure of it. That’s my job and I’m good at it.”

Lando squeezes his hand back and manages a small, genuine smile. “That is why I hired you.” 

March 2025

The activities for the day are long over and night is creeping in. Rich is struggling with the bizarre schedule he is keeping leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix. Lando will do just about anything to ensure he gets proper rest before a race weekend. Even if that means adjusting his entire schedule by seven hours when there is more than a week left until the race. Of course, Rich could keep a normal schedule, but he doesn’t see the point when his job right now is to go everywhere with Lando. 

After the ominous appearance of the key card in China, Rich insisted on increasing Lando’s security, insisting that he can not go out in public alone unless he is going somewhere, like the padel court or one of those fancy restaurants he likes, that has security restricting access. Even then, he needs to be meeting someone if he doesn’t want Rich on his tail. Mark and Jon fully support Rich’s security plan and Lando does too, even if he loudly complains to anyone who will listen that he doesn’t need a babysitter. He does it in good humor, so Rich doesn’t mind. At this point it has become a bit they repeat everywhere they go, using it to break the tension brought on by Rich’s sudden presence at all of Lando’s engagements. Their easy banter puts others at ease. 

Fortunately, the ease continues when they are alone in Lando’s Monte Carlo flat. Rich is staying with him and scheduling his days off for chunks of time that Lando doesn’t have any commitments. Lando feels terrible about it, but Rich insists he doesn’t mind. Of course, he misses his little cottage in the French countryside, but it is too far to drive back and forth from every day and he prefers to be here anyway, unable to shake his unease that the person stalking and harassing his client know’s where he lives. No matter how good Lando’s security system is, and Rich has ensured it is the best, he is safer with Rich there. 

The kid is busy, so Rich doesn’t expect to make it home for a few more days for the first time since returning from the double header. It will only be for one night though, because soon after they will jet off to the UK for Lando to fulfill his duties at the MTC. Rich is looking forward to that. He will spend the days with his mum and brother while Lando is working. He plans to convince Joe to come to France and stay in the cottage for a while, so it isn’t sitting empty. 

Rich is spending less time than he expected in the guest room he took over. Lando seems to enjoy having him around, and honestly, the feeling is mutual. They have fallen into an easy rhythm over the past few days, staying up until three in the morning and waking up at eleven. Rich goes for a run with Lando and Jon, then accompanies them to the gym, getting in his own workout while Lando trains. They spend the rest of the afternoon and evening working, either going to meetings all over Monaco, or working with Mark, Jon, and Adrien at Lando’s flat. When night falls, Rich always seems to find himself here, sprawled on Lando’s sofa reading a trashy thriller novel while the other man sits at his computer for hours on end, reviewing race data and tapes or playing video games online with his friends. When Lando gets tired, he will settle on the other end of the sofa and scroll on his phone, until it is late enough to go to bed. 

Seeing Lando in his own space, doing his daily activities is fascinating. The normal chaos that accompanies him is not absent. It is just slower and quieter. The flat is so silent when Lando isn’t trying to check in with every member of his team, keeping them motivated and entertained with cheeky comments and sarcastic complaints. 

The disturbances caused by Lando’s lack of awareness frequently interrupt the silence. Among other things, Rich hears dishes clattering to the floor in the kitchen or Lando bumping into furniture occasionally, then cursing it out for being exactly where it has always been while nursing a fresh bruise. The kid spends at least an hour a day wandering around the flat looking for things he has misplaced. He is a bit of a disaster, and Rich refuses to admit to himself how cute he finds it, especially when Lando gets so excited and grateful when Rich finds one of his missing items, helps him clean up broken glass, or checks on him after hearing a painful sounding bang. 

Rich didn’t realize Lando had been tense the past few days until he wanders into the living room and flings his body on to the couch, dramatically. His muscles are so loose and relaxed from the massage Jon gave him earlier that his body melds into the sofa, as limp as a spaghetti noodle. He landed laying on his back with his head resting just a few inches away from Rich’s thigh.

His proximity isn’t the only thing that breaks the norm. Instead of pulling out his phone, Lando looks up at Rich through long dark lashes and complains. “I’m bored.” 

“Poor thing,” Rich teases, not trying to hide his amusement as he switches off his Kindle and sets it aside, giving Lando his full attention. 

Lando nods, “there isn’t anything to do.” 

Rich makes a show of turning his head and looking around the flat. “I’m pretty sure you have every video game console made in the last 50 years, all the streaming services, a fully stocked bookshelf, and the building has a gym and a pool.”

The kid considers Rich’s comments solemnly for a second. “I really do have a hard life.” His eyes sparkle with mischief the moment the words leave his mouth. All it takes for him to lose his composure is a raised eyebrow from Rich and Lando erupts into whining laughter, his eyes watering with mirth. Seeing the pure delight shining through his blue eyes melts Rich’s heart a little and before he knows it, his own laughter bubbles over. They take a long time to calm down because as every time they start to quiet, they make eye contact and the whole things starts up again. 

When they eventually catch their breath and Lando is wiping the moisture from his eyes, Rich asks, “what do you usually do when you’re bored?”

“Not usually bored,” he answers quickly. “I don’t have the time for it. But I’m also not usually staying up half the night and no one schedules me this late.” 

“Schedules you?” Rich asks. “You make yourself sound like a holiday time share.”

“I kind of am,” Lando answers, shrugging awkwardly from his prone position. “For the amount I’m paid, I do what I’m told. My schedule is really the least of the things I gave up control over.”

“What are you told to do?” Rich asks, seeing an opportunity to clear up some of his confusion surrounding Lando’s relationship with McLaren. 

“Oh! so many things, I don’t even know where to start. They contractually have a lot of say in my public image and my appearances. What products I’m seen using and a lot of times they tell me and Oscar what to say to the media. Not that I’m always good at listening. Oh, even my employees that I hire and pay! Adrien is Zak’s nephew.”

“I was wondering…” Rich starts to say, but cuts himself off realizing that no matter how comfortable he is getting with his boss, he shouldn’t shit talk a coworker in front of him. 

Lando doesn’t miss it. “Oh, I know. I tried to give him an out after Australia, but he wanted to stay and it isn’t worth the fallout to make him leave.” 

Rich hums and nods in understanding, quickly changing the subject before he says something he shouldn’t. “I thought they pay you for your abilities?”

“Sort of, but really, there is so much more to being successful as a Formula 1 driver than just driving. I wish it were that simple.” Lando trails off and starts picking at the hem of his sweatpants. 

“What about the safety risk?” Rich asks, thinking about the mechanical issues on Sunday.

Lando’s responds in a measured tone at first, but as he goes, the words come quickly and franticly. “It doesn’t really feel dangerous to me. I actually feel really safe in my cockpit. Well, until I’m crashing… or my brakes are slowly going out in the middle of a race and Will is telling me all the technicalities about how it’s actually the pedal and not the brakes. But it doesn’t really matter, because either way, I will eventually reach the point I can’t stop the car and the team wants me to ask to retire the car instead of telling me to do it, when they know damn well when I’m pumping with adrenaline I will never consider my safety first. Not until I’m crashing and realizing how fragile the human body is, not anywhere near as durable and strong as the carbon fiber that is giving way and cracking all around me.” 

He stops and takes a huge breath, blushing crimson, and avoiding Rich’s gaze. “Just pretend like I didn’t say all that. It’s fine. The team is looking out for my safety 99% of the time. That’s what matters.”

Rich desperately wants to push because he is concerned about the 1% when his safety isn’t the priority and Lando has every right to be angry about what happened on Sunday, but he is enjoying seeing him so relaxed, and doesn’t want to ruin that. “Said what?” Rich asks with a wink.

Lando beams at him before suggesting they play a video game. 

Rich isn’t really into gaming at all, but he would do anything to keep a smile on Lando’s face, so he agrees. It doesn’t really matter anyway because Lando quickly abandons their FIFA game, fixing Rich with a curious gaze and turning sideways on the couch so he is sitting cross-legged, staring at the side of Rich’s face. 

“Yes?” Rich asks, after finishing his turn.

Lando squints and scrunches his face and licks his lip in a way that Rich would find both adorable and sexy if Lando wasn’t his boss.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Lando requests. 

“Sure, but you first.” Rich feels awkward sitting properly on the sofa with Lando staring at his profile, so he turns his body to face Lando to the best of his ability. He isn’t half as flexible as the little dude though and he hasn’t been able to pretzel his body like that in fifteen years, so he ends up just tilting the angle of his body. 

“No,” Lando insists. “I asked you first,” he adds, sounding childish in a way that makes Rich chuckle. When he is relaxed like this, Lando radiates middle child energy. He tinges everything he says with sarcasm, is contrary just for the fun of it, and is self-deprecating for the sake of others’ amusement. A childhood spent fighting to be included and keep people’s attention clearly molded his personality, as you would expect from someone with three other siblings. 

Rich puts his hands up in surrender, and since he has siblings on the mind, he says, “I have a twin brother.” 

Lando lights up with excitement. “You do? That is so cool!”

“Yeah, my only sibling. His name is Joe, and he is older by thirteen minutes. We are identical, not that we look much alike anymore.” 

Lando absorbs every word and considers for a moment. “Are you two close?”

“Yeah, he actually lives with me sometimes. He splits his time between staying with mum back home and staying with me. He is a bit of a free spirit. Doesn’t date, or ever want to settle down, or anything like that. We are very different.” Rich feels his cheeks flush, realizing he just revealed that he hopes to settle down with someone one day. 

“Does he like to travel?” Lando asks. 

“Oh yeah, loves it,” Rich answers with a smile, thinking about Joe backpacking around Europe while Rich was in the police academy. “He takes freelance cyber security jobs when he has to work.”

“Well, if he ever wants to… or is interested… or just wants to travel somewhere cool, he is welcome to travel with us to a race. Obviously, I can get him a VIP pass and what not.” Lando looks so sweet and nervous as he chews on his thumbnail, looking up at Rich, waiting for a response, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

Rich isn’t sure if he wants to meet Joe or wants Rich to feel comfortable enough to invite his family to a race, or both, but it warms Rich’s heart. He doesn’t want to upset Lando, so he lies. “I’ll talk to him. I’m sure he would love that.”

In reality, that would be a disaster. Joe despises sports, athletes, and wealth so the whole affair would disgust him. Worst of all, he might actually accept just to intimidate or fuck with Lando, thinking he was doing the whole protective ‘older’ brother thing. Joe is in his ear at least once a week, trying to get Rich to find a different job, convinced that he likes Lando too much, that he is too attached, and that this will end in disaster like all the jobs before when he got in so deep. Joe is probably correct, but Rich is enjoying being part of this team too much to do anything about it. 

Lando nods and smiles. 

“Your turn,” Rich probes. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” 

“Fuck, that is actually difficult,” Lando says, frustrated. “You have met all my siblings, parents, and friends. Not to mention you read all the comments on my social media posts and my DM’s so you have probably seen everything there is to find about me on the internet.” 

“I have seen all the karting photos. And the funny interview moments. And the time you crashed doing a hot lap in 2019. And those videos of you getting drunk and very cozy with men at nightclubs, which makes a lot more sense now that I know your preferences. And the story about…” 

“Stop! Oh my god! Stop!” Lando says, swatting at Rich, wrapping his arms around him and literally covering his mouth with his hand. “Ugh. Being in the public eye can be so embarrassing.” 

Unable to resist the opportunity with Lando wrapped around him and leaning on his back, Rich stands suddenly, gripping Lando’s forearms so he doesn’t fall. Lando squeals loudly and weakly tells Rich to put him down as he gives him a piggyback ride down the hallway, where he deposits the kid in front of his bedroom door. “It’s three, you need your beauty sleep,” he tells Lando. 

“Beauty sleep?” Lando scoffs. “Look at me, it clearly isn’t working,” he adds with a smile and a headshake.

Before Rich can embarrass himself by telling Lando how beautiful he is, the kid disappears into his room, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Rich does a final perimeter check of the flat for the night and makes sure he properly armed the security system before taking himself to the guest room, that Lando has already started calling his room. Rich is almost asleep before he realizes Lando never told him something he didn’t know about him. It doesn’t matter though; he gave up a secret unintentionally with that sliver of genuine insecurity he showed outside his bedroom door. Rich lays awake too long after that trying to figure out if there is a not weird, creepy, or inappropriate way to make sure Lando knows how attractive he is.

May 2024

Oscar holds Lando’s face under his chin, pinching it tight between his thumb and forefingers. He takes a moment to consider him in the florescent lighting of his changing room at the MTC. “Too bad your face isn’t much to look at,” he drawls lazily, continuing to fix Lando with an uninterested gaze. 

Lando swallows nervously and tries to look away, but Oscar doesn’t release his grip on his face. He feels his face heating and his cock softening from the insult. Oscar drops his eyes and chuckles, rolling his eyes when he sees Lando’s limp dick. 

“Poor thing, did I hurt your feelings?” He asks. 

Lando doesn’t know what he is supposed to say, so stays quiet and drops his eyes when Oscar releases him. 

“So dumb, you don’t even remember how to speak,” Oscar admonishes, making Lando’s blush spread down his chest. The unkind words almost make the embarrassment of standing naked and exposed facing a fully clothed Oscar too much. 

Oscar must know that, because he lightens his tone and traces his fingers lightly over Lando’s skin. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk or be pretty. Just let me use this perfect body of yours and I will make you feel so good.” 

Like it had never gone soft at all, Lando’s dick chubs up as he whimpers in appreciation. This is the part he likes. He can deal with the insults, if that is what he needs to do to get taken care of. 

“On your knees.” Lando can barely hear Oscar over the blood pounding in his ears, but the hands on his shoulders guide him to the ground. He doesn’t have to think at all. Oscar pinches his jaw as he fishes out his cock one handed. 

The Aussie looks obscene standing in front of him, still dressed, with just his cock and balls out. Lando whimpers again, desperate to taste him. He wants to be used, to make Osc feel good; he wants to see his face as he shoots down his throat. 

“Your such a slut for me,” Oscar says quietly, gently stroking a thumb down Lando’s check. Lando is so hard, he feels like he will explode at the lightest touch and it is taking all of his effort not to grab himself and rocket over the edge. 

When Lando doesn’t respond, Oscar clicks his tongue and leans over to get in his face, the gentle touch gone as he squeezes Lando’s face tight. “Say you’re my slut.” 

“I’m your slut,” Lando spits out quickly, desperate to please. 

With a nod and no warning, Osc straightens up and shoves his dick into Lando’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat immediately and making him gag. “Take it like the good slut you are,” he commands. 

Lando lets his eyes slip shut and holds his mouth as wide open as he can, focusing on the pain in his jaw to keep him from gagging as Oscar brutally fucks his throat. Calloused hands dig into his scalp and Oscar’s pace increases as he pulls on Lando’s hair. 

There is spit dripping off Lando’s chin and his eyes are watering as he fights to breathe through his nose. Every time he gets a breath, he sobs messily around Oscar’s cock on the exhale. His brain dumps all the worries that usually overwhelm him. All he can think about now is his need to breathe and his painfully hard dick, that is making a small puddle of pre-cum on the floor. 

Oscar’s pace falters and his thrusts become frantic. Lando pries his eyes open, just in time to watch Osc climax so deep in his throat, he doesn’t even taste the cum. He watches in awe as fluttering dark lashes obscure Oscar’s brown eyes and his mouth falls open in a silent scream. Lando’s chest wells with pride. He did that. 

Pulling away from him, Oscar stumbles backwards until he bumps into the bench against the wall and collapses onto it, not even looking at Lando as he tucks away his rapidly softening cock. Desperate whimpers fill the changing room until Osc finally looks at him. Lando knows better than to touch himself without permission. He learned that the first night in Miami, but he feels like he might actually faint if he doesn’t get some relief. 

“Come here, slut.”

He scrambles to his feet and rushes to Oscar, who pulls him into his lap. Lando wraps his arms around Oscar’s and tucks his face into his neck, inhaling his faintly chocolatey scent. 

“You can’t even get yourself off. I really have to do all the work,” Oscar complains. “I don’t know what I was expecting from a little cock drunk whore.” 

It doesn’t matter what he says, because he is holding Lando close and fisting his cock. It only takes a few tugs to pull an orgasm from Lando. Everything goes white behind his closed eyes and soft murmurs pour from his lips as the pleasure consumes him. He is slowly coming back to reality when Oscar grumbles, “I’m not cleaning this up.” 

Lando peaks up at him and leans back enough to lick his cum from Oscar’s hand as quickly as he can, not wanting to waste any of the precious time he gets to be heald. When Osc’s hand is free from cum and wet with saliva, he hides his face in his neck again, squeezing him tighter. 

Oscar responds by tightening his arms around Lando and burying a hand in his hair. He might just be using it to wipe the spit off his hand, but Lando doesn’t care. Any touch feels amazing. 

All too soon, Oscar squirms and releases Lando, prying his arms from around him and scooting him off his lap, as he stands. When Lando whimpers in complaint. He rolls his eyes. “There is no such thing as enough cuddles for you.” He sounds annoyed but in a nice, teasing way. 

Lando chuckles and mumbles, “sorry,” looking down at his lap. Oscar’s finger hooks under his chin and lifts his head until their eyes meet. He smiles sweetly at Lando and gives him a quick peck on the lips before heading for the door. 

“Osc,” Lando calls out just in time, snagging one last bit of his attention. “Thank you.” 

Oscar nods and then he is gone, the door closing quietly behind him. Lando pulls his legs to his chest, rests his head on his knees, breathing deeply, trying to come down from the weird sex high, even though he doesn’t want to. 

Now that he is alone in his changing room, naked, sweaty, and sticky with cum, his chest feels hollow and he is desperately lonely, just wishing Oscar would come back. When he feels a tear roll down his face, he swipes it away and shakes his head, laughing at himself.

“Get it together, Lando,” he mumbles as he stands and cleans up, already looking forward to the next time he gets to be the center of his teammate’s attention.