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The red of his suit made his bright brown hair stand out, styled so that his fringe — usually soft waves — was now perfectly combed to one side. The small curls, tamed under a light layer of gel, only served to highlight the lighter strands of his hair with a captivating, hypnotic sheen.
His suit, immaculate and freshly pressed, flattered every part of his body — tight in just the right places, loose and light around the joints for comfort and mobility. His tie, a scarlet red, ironed and smooth, was perfectly aligned with his shirt — not too tight, not too loose — hidden beneath the jacket, with faint, almost imperceptible embroidery forming tiny stars across its fabric.
And his face — oh, his face — clean, radiant, pale and serene, watched attentively over his team, the crowd, the other drivers and their guests, taking in every detail with his chocolate-coloured eyes. A small, bright, pearly smile was offered to each person who came to greet him, maintaining a brief but polite conversation, speaking of light and rather uninteresting topics.
It was the FIA Awards, after all — the final party, to be more specific. Everyone present wore their finest suits, hairstyles, and makeup, shining beneath the dim amber lights as they danced, drank, or chatted among themselves. Large, medium, and small groups — but no one alone. Everyone was accompanied and cheerful, colours shimmering to the rhythm of the music.
He searched the room for someone in particular — someone he hadn’t seen since the awards and dinner had ended, giving way to the guests’ free time. Lando was nowhere to be found, and Oscar was starting to grow bored.
Everything is always duller when Lando isn’t around, with his light jokes, his beautiful smile, and those bright green eyes.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, impatient, downing the rest of his non-alcoholic sparkling drink in one go — one of the many offered by the waiters gliding elegantly among the crowd.
The mildly tangy bubbles tickled his throat and slid down his oesophagus; he cleared his throat to shake off the sensation and once again searched for that familiar head of messy, soft curls.
He set the empty glass onto a waiter’s tray as they passed beside him, brushing slightly against his expensive blue suit before the waiter vanished again into the colourful sea of people.
Determined to find his partner, Oscar began to wander along the edges of the crowd, scanning like a hawk for any sign of Lando. He asked McLaren colleagues he came across, and also the drivers he bumped into. No one had seen or heard from his teammate.
Slightly frustrated, Oscar took another glass of sparkling drink — this time from a young waitress standing motionless like a mannequin beside a table of appetisers, offering drinks and snacks with a polite smile to anyone nearby.
He took quick, short sips until half the glass was gone, ignoring the sting in his throat caused by the overwhelming, almost desperate feeling of searching and not finding.
He turned his gaze towards a group of other drivers whispering and laughing together like teenagers gossiping about the rest. He approached them, hoping to find his elusive boyfriend among them.
As he reached the group, the first thing his ears caught was Max’s rough, half-choked laughter as he clung like an anchor to Charles’ broad shoulders. Charles, dimples showing, smiled dreamily at the Dutchman, who was still laughing.
Next to them stood Tsunoda and Gasly, sharing small sweets with the rest. Franco and Bortoleto, the remaining two in the lively, cheerful bunch, were trading insults in each other’s languages.
Gasly was the first to notice Oscar’s presence. With a playful, alcohol-fuelled grin, he extended a handful of sweets with both hands.
“Here, Piastri. The good kind — French sweets, top quality! Not that weird crap Yuki’s got.” he exclaimed in a thick French accent, taking Oscar’s smaller hands in his and clumsily dropping the sweets into them.
Yuki, his slanted eyes flashing with offence, shook his head and elbowed the Frenchman toward the Latin American duo, who grumbled at the sudden interruption.
Thus began a strange yet friendly war of insults — a chaotic mix of Portuguese, Spanish, French, and English.
Max and Charles had vanished amid the exchange of sweets and Yuki’s interruption. Where to, exactly? No idea.
Oscar didn’t have much time to think about it anyway, as a slightly tipsy Yuki practically threw a handful of sweets at him — their wrappers covered in cartoonish designs he couldn’t quite identify.
“Here, straight from Japan. They’re delicious — better than that French rubbish over there.” Yuki said, jerking his head towards Gasly, who was still bickering with the other two.
Oscar muttered a quick thanks — unsure if anyone even heard — as Yuki joined back into the multilingual shouting match.
With his mission to find Lando clearly a failure, he pocketed the sweets, keeping just one to eat then and there. Walking with that new weight in his jacket pockets, Oscar returned to his original spot.
Near the seats reserved for him and his currently missing companion, he sat on one of the many empty chairs and began to chew and savour the sweet.
He played with it for what must have been five minutes, letting the hard blueberry-flavoured candy dissolve slowly on his tongue, rolling it between his teeth and listening to the faint clicks as it tapped against his molars.
When the sweet had thinned and was almost completely melted away, Oscar felt a pair of hands rest on his shoulders.
Large, heavy, comforting hands — warm and affectionate — stroked from his shoulders to his shoulder blades and up to the nape of his neck, gently ruffling the strands of hair freed from gel, now messy and slightly tangled.
Lando. Oscar thought, smiling without even realising it, turning his face slightly to look back.
“Hey, love.” Lando greeted with a bright smile, his green eyes glimmering almost gold under the light.
Oscar looked at his once-missing boyfriend — his suit, even tighter than his own, accentuated his shoulders and waist. He looked both small and broad in that strange but sensual way that made Oscar’s mouth water. The navy-blue colour, so dark it was almost black, suited him perfectly.
“Where have you been all this time?” Oscar asked, deciding to get straight to the question that had kept him uneasy all evening — the disappearance of his extravagant and very beautiful man.
Lando shrugged, brushing off the younger man’s question as if his disappearance hadn’t been the reason behind Oscar’s desperation and boredom.
“Eh, here and there. Don’t worry about it, babe. How’s your night been so far?” the older one asked in return, pulling a chair closer to Oscar’s and sitting down, pressing his thighs against the Australian’s — a warm, welcome touch that eased him immediately.
“I suppose fine, nothing out of the ordinary. You know, my partner vanished, so I had to go looking for him. I ran into some of the others — Pierre and Yuki are already a bit drunk. They gave me these sweets, here.” Oscar said, taking a few from his jacket pocket — both French and Japanese ones — and placing them into Lando’s warm, slightly rough hands.
“Oh, thanks, love.” Lando exclaimed happily, taking two of the Japanese sweets while pocketing the rest. He popped both into his mouth at once, savouring the sugary, fruity fantasy flavour.
A few quiet minutes passed, with Lando playing with the sweets in his mouth and Oscar eating another couple of Gasly’s French ones — both enjoying the other’s company far more than they’d ever admit.
By the time Lando popped a third sweet into his mouth, he suddenly jumped to his feet, catching Oscar off guard. The Australian looked up at the shorter man, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“And where are you off to now?” he asked, half curious, half worried — not wanting to be left alone to die of boredom.
“Correction — where we’re off to. Come on, love, follow me.” Lando said with a small smile. Oscar nodded meekly, letting himself be led — almost dragged — by the older man to who knew where.
They walked hand in hand, unashamed and unafraid. After all, their relationship was completely public. They hadn’t made any official statements, nor did they exaggerate their physical affection in public — but they didn’t hide either, as if what they were doing was some unforgivable sin.
Of course, in some countries they couldn’t even share a hotel room during race weeks, but that never stopped or diminished the love they had for each other — even if they couldn’t get within ten metres of one another.
Lando led them through several corridors of the huge venue where the awards were being held. The people, the lights, and the noise gradually faded the farther they went from the heart of the celebration.
“Love, don’t you think we’re going a bit too far?” Oscar asked, his voice showing a hint of worry — and even more curiosity about where the shorter man was taking them.
“Shhh, we’re almost there.” Lando murmured, his tone playful and mischievous in Oscar’s ears, as if this whole thing had been a carefully laid plan.
Oscar couldn’t help but feel even more curious about what his lovely boyfriend was hiding.
Lando led them down the last corridor — the darkest and most hidden one. The lights were so dim they barely illuminated more than four metres ahead, and the sepulchral silence was broken only by their footsteps. They were definitely in the most remote area of the party.
“You didn’t bring me all the way here to murder me, did you? Because I’d quite like to know if my boyfriend turned out to be a serial killer who’s planning to get rid of his grid rivals one by one, starting with his teammate. If that’s the case, let me just say it’s the most suspicious thing ever.” Oscar began, joking at first, before ending up describing one of those cliché ‘90s slasher plots.
Lando gave him a puzzled look before bursting out laughing, clutching his stomach with the hand that wasn’t holding Oscar’s smaller one.
The Australian smiled instinctively, delighted by his partner’s laughter — proud and happy to be the cause of it.
“You’re funny, but sorry to disappoint you — I’m not the British version of Scream or any other slasher. I’m just a boyfriend who’s dying to kiss his partner.” Lando said once he’d caught his breath.
Oh, well, that explains why we wandered so far from the main party, Oscar thought, suddenly feeling his ears heat up and a tight knot form in his stomach.
“Well… what are you waiting for then?” the Australian asked with a half-smile.
The Brit smiled with pure delight, stepping close enough that their chests touched and their pulses synced as one — warm breaths intertwining in a gentle rhythm.
Oscar suddenly felt — caught off guard and snapped out of his daze from staring at the face he was lucky enough to see every day — a pair of large, strong hands sliding from his floating ribs down to his waist. The nimble hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket and came out almost as quickly as they’d gone in, followed by the faint crackle of plastic. Oscar looked up towards Lando’s hands, only to see a pair of sweets resting in his palms — one French, one Japanese. Blue and red, like their matching suits.
With gentle, careful fingers, Lando brought the red sweet to Oscar’s lips, slowly parting them. Their eye contact was as intense as the emotions running between them.
Oscar accepted the sweet obediently, deliberately licking Lando’s warm fingers, smiling inwardly when he saw the Brit’s cheeks flush a faint, lovely pink barely visible in the dark.
Once the sweet was in his mouth, Oscar began to roll it softly from side to side with his tongue.
Lando watched the movement of Oscar’s mouth with hunger, then popped his own sweet — a blue one — into his mouth, shaping it slightly with his tongue before grabbing the Australian by the collar and pulling him close until their lips met in a wet, faintly tangy clash caused by the sweets.
Oscar wasted no time. His smaller hands found Lando’s slim waist, thumbs pressing into the dip between hip and stomach, drawing a soft gasp from the shorter man, who parted his lips mid-kiss — causing his sweet to pass into Oscar’s mouth.
With both sweets between his lips now, Oscar guided them towards a nearby wall, pressing Lando against it until his body was moulded against the surface under the intensity of the Australian’s grip.
“Ah-Osc…” Lando gasped, his hands running through the cracked, dried gel in Oscar’s hair, breaking apart the stiffness that had cruelly flattened the soft brown strands.
Oscar growled against the other’s lips, licking them greedily while manoeuvring the two sweets —now smaller and warmer than before— so that, with a faint click, they slipped into Lando’s mouth, who gladly accepted them mid-kiss, further messing up his pretty boyfriend’s hair.
The taller one growled again, freeing one hand to start caressing Lando’s lower back over his clothes, carefully sliding down until he felt the edge of his trousers.
“Lando, Lando…” Oscar murmured, his voice slightly cracked with excitement and thrill; adrenaline sent sharp pulses straight to his groin, where his trousers were beginning to tighten uncomfortably.
The kiss went on until they broke apart for a few seconds, panting and gasping for air, only to meet again like a pair of magnets —now including the clash of teeth and the dance of tongues— with the sweets completely dissolved and mixed with their shared saliva.
Oscar then shifted his face, moving from Lando’s mouth to his flushed cheeks, his forehead, his jawline, his Adam’s apple, his neck —that exquisite spot where his carotid vein revealed just how fast his heart was beating because of him.
Pride burned in his chest when Lando moaned his name with urgency, quickly unbuttoning, even with one hand since he refused to let go of his lover’s waist, the first buttons of his blue shirt, lowering the tie just enough to expose the Brit’s collarbones.
Without wasting a second, he nibbled at that area, careful not to leave marks too lasting —no matter how much he wanted to— sucking gently on the tanned, smooth skin of the older man, forcing him to sigh and pant for more as he writhed against the wall in sheer urgency.
“I-I need you so much, Osc, I don't think I can hold out… fuck!” Lando curses excitedly, rubbing his body against the taller man's, searching for friction between his legs, his chest, anywhere. He wants more of Oscar, everything if possible.
"I know, babe, believe me, but we have to be patient. You don't want to get caught like this, do you?" the taller man murmurs with a smile, turning Lando around with a sharp, yet careful, movement, leaving his forehead against the wall and his back against his chest, his butt right where he wanted it, raised and placed in front of him.
“Or is it that you want them to see you getting fucked to the guts? Mmm? Tell me baby, you like being watched, don’t you? That they admire you.” he murmurs against Lando’s ear, biting his earlobe, rubbing his growing erection against the smaller man’s ass, who also began to move, wanting release more and more.
“Yes, yes, yes, Oscar, please…” Lando whimpers, biting his lip and stifling the screams he wants to let out, but can’t. Oscar continued nibbling on Lando’s neck, moving down to the nape of his neck, his hands firmly caressing the older man’s sides, leaving a trail of tickles and heat in their wake.
"Baby, kiss me again." Lando half-begs, half-commands, turning his head just enough to barely catch a glimpse of the younger man's face.
The Australian, delighted to satisfy his partner, moved from the nape of his neck to the smaller man's parted lips, beginning another dance of tongues and saliva.
They were so caught up in each other that they almost didn’t notice the footsteps quickly approaching where they were.
Oscar was the first to hear them, pulling his mouth away from Lando’s with a wet smack and a thin thread of saliva glistening between them.
“Someone’s coming.” he announced into the air, feeling the adrenaline surge through his body as he let go of the heated body in front of him and started straightening his neatly pressed suit and previously styled hair, now almost free of any trace of what had just happened.
Lando did the same, buttoning up his shirt, adjusting his tie, and covering the wet marks around his neck and jaw, still tingling from the intense sensations.
They stared at each other for a few seconds without saying a word, deciding it was better to catch their breath and come up with some excuse for whoever had just arrived.
To their surprise, it was Max and Charles, pacing back and forth like they were on a yacht, swaying like two completely drunk men. Smiling at each other, eyes sparkling.
“Oh, what a coincidence, Oscar, Lando.” Charles greeted with a smile, one hand resting comfortably on Max’s waist, who kept muttering to himself about some improvement for the cars.
Oscar cleared his throat before speaking, glancing at Lando and his flushed cheeks before looking back at the Monegasque.
“Yes, we just, uh, wanted to take a walk and get away from the party for a bit, but we ended up lost here.” he explained simply, sneaking a glance at Lando, who nodded in confirmation of their poor excuse.
Charles watched them with a grin from ear to ear, trying to keep Max still while he continued talking in a mix of German, Dutch, and English.
“I see, your tongue’s purple, Oscar.” Charles added.
Oscar blushed all the way up to his neck at that detail noticed by the Ferrari driver.
“Yes… Pierre gave us some sweets.” he explained simply, silently hoping the brunette wouldn’t ask any more questions.
Charles nodded understandingly, laughing softly at Max’s surprised exclamation, who finally seemed to notice the McLaren drivers’ presence.
“Lando, Oscar, what are you doing here?” he asked curiously, looking at the Papaya team pair.
Oscar opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Lando, who smiled, half awkward, half amused by the situation.
“Nothing really. How much have you had to drink, Max?” the Brit asked, steering the topic toward the blonde.
“Not much, the usual, you know.” Max replied with a slight pout, moving closer to Charles until he was almost merging into his body.
“Better take him back to the hotel to rest. You two should head back too, the party’s winding down.” Charles advised, holding Max close as they resumed their walk toward the brighter corridors.
Oscar and Lando glanced at each other for a moment as the other two passed by, feeling the tension ease as the Ferrari and Red Bull drivers walked away.
At least, that was the case until Max shouted back at them between broken laughs.
“They only had blue and red sweets!!” he exclaimed before dissolving into laughter against Charles, who was also laughing, though less intensely, but still present.
Lando and Oscar stared at each other in shock, Lando sticking out his tongue to show it. Oscar followed suit a few seconds later.
Sure enough, both of their tongues were a deep shade of purple.
They looked at each other one last time before bursting into hysterical, love-filled laughter.