n/a

But Lando stays perfectly still, sprawled out on the sheets, blinking up at her with wide eyes. His cock’s flushed and hard and huge against his belly and it makes her insane seeing it, knowing that he has all that and he’s still asking her to fuck him. 

He’d begged her for it, really, after he’d seen her strap in the draw of her nightstand. He’d had her pressed up against the wall of her bedroom, her nipples brushing against the cool plaster with each thrust of his hips, his fingers rubbing steady circles over her clit.

“Want you to fuck me like this,” Lando whimpered, breath hot against her ear. “Want you to make me come on your cock.”

She’d shuddered and come so hard she couldn’t catch a full breath, her clit twitching against Lando’s fingers, cunt throbbing around Lando’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Lando moaned. “Jesus, Osc.” His lips slid against her neck and then he was coming, his hitched whines echoing through the room.

Oscar had thought maybe it was just a fantasy. Dirty talk that he knew would make her come her brains out.

But Lando had brought it up again while they’d been lying in bed one night. His head was resting on her stomach, Oscar scratching her fingers idly over his scalp, his soft curls tickling her palm.

“I want you to,” Lando whispered. “Want you to fuck me.”

Oscar took a shaky breath, fingers tightening in Lando’s curls. A tiny grin appeared on Lando’s face, like he knew exactly how much it affected her, hearing him say it.

“Has anyone done that to you before?” Oscar asked, voice strained.

“No,” Lando whispered. “But I’ve, like—to myself.”

“Jesus,” Oscar murmured, dragging her hand down the plane of Lando’s back, tracing the dip of his spine. “And did you, uh, like it?”

Lando moaned at that, tipping his face against her stomach.

“Fuck, you did, didn’t you?” Oscar breathed. She ran her palm over the firm skin of Lando’s ass, imagining how he’d look underneath her, his muscles trembling as she pushed in.

“Yeah,” Lando whispered. “Liked it so much, Osc.”

Lando had eaten her out after. Let her swing a leg across his face and grind against his mouth. He’d stared up at her with a dazed expression, eyes huge and wet, and Oscar couldn’t stop imagining what he’d look like getting fucked. The same wide-eyed desperation, blinking up at Oscar with something like awe. She’d come with a choked moan, soaking Lando’s chin.

Now, as Oscar slips a second finger into him, she realizes he was telling the truth. He likes it. He likes it so fucking much.

Oscar tells him as much and he nods, whimpers. He lets go of one knee and brings a hand up to his chest, fingers brushing over his nipple.

Lando takes it so easily that she doesn’t bother with a third finger, just pushes off the bed and grabs the harness.

Normally, Oscar hates this part. Hates how stupid she must look tugging at the straps of the harness, hates how the harness sits right below the bit of flesh on her belly, the bright blue dildo jutting out obscenely. The whole thing makes her want to turn off the lights, shove a pillow over her partner’s face, tell them to look the other way.

But Lando’s watching her with hooded eyes, fingers still toying with his nipple, thighs still splayed open. His cock’s leaking against his stomach and he’s letting out these tiny little sounds that she’s not even sure he knows he’s making, eyes fixed on her strap.

Her breath catches at the sight, cunt throbbing. She wraps a shaking hand around the dildo, stroking once, feeling stupid even as she does it.

But Lando moans, thighs sliding farther apart. When his eyes flick up to hers, they’re dark and glassy, the look he normally gets right when he’s about to come. 

Oscar knees her way onto the bed and presses a palm against the back of Lando’s thigh, holding him open. He’s still hard, still looking up at her with a breathless expression, still brushing over his nipple.

She pushes in and it’s so fucking easy, easier than anything. Just a hint of resistance and then Lando’s opening for her, a whimper spilling out of him as she slides in.

“God,” Oscar breathes, staring down at where the strap’s disappearing inside him, at his cock leaking against his stomach. “You like it.”

“Yeah, fuck,” Lando gasps, hand flying down to grip his cock. She thinks he’s going to stroke himself, but he just grips the tip of his cock hard, the way he does whenever he’s trying to stop himself from coming too soon.

“Oh my god,” Oscar pants and she feels wetness slipping down her thigh, soaking the straps of the harness. “That’s so—” She trails off and starts fucking him in earnest, reveling in the little uh, uh, uh’s she pushes out of him with each pass of her hips. 

He’s still gripping his cock tightly in his fist, eyes squeezed shut, eyebrows knit together, his whole body clenched tight.

He lets out an awful little whimper and she needs to hear him say it, suddenly, needs to know he likes it, needs to know this isn't a joke.

“Lando,” Oscar says, fingers digging into the back of his thigh. “Lando, look at me, please.”

Lando opens his eyes the tiniest bit and he’s squinting up at her, like he can’t look at her full on or he’ll come.

“Tell me you like it,” Oscar begs. “Please, I need to—tell me you like it.”

Lando’s head tips to the side, pink mouth dropping open, panting against the pillow. He tries to say something, something that sounds like I and like, but the sentence fractures into a moan, his cock jerking in his fist.

And then he's coming, spilling all over his stomach in slow, messy pulses, come leaking between his fingers. He's whining, high and frantic, hips rocking back against her even as he comes.

“That’s it,” Oscar moans, watching him shudder underneath her, his face scrunching up, his toes curling, high, hitched whimpers spilling out of him.

It’s one of the things she loves most about him, how he always seems to lose himself completely when he comes, stops caring about whether he looks good. Like he knows the part she likes most is seeing him surrender himself to it.

She pulls out the moment he’s done coming, afraid of pushing him too far, and starts to slide off the bed, planning to grab a washcloth.

But before she can, hands find her hips and she’s being flipped onto her back, Lando sliding down between her legs.

“Lando,” Oscar gasps, fingers flying to his hair. “You don’t—”

Lando looks up at her, his face flushed, curls sticking to his forehead. “I like it,” Lando whispers. He gives her a tiny grin before he leans forward, dragging his tongue over the wetness on her thighs, sliding his lips over the straps of her harness.

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, tugging him tighter against her. “You like it so fucking much, fuck.”

As it is, Oscar can only let out a devastated whimper when Lando sucks Oscar’s soft cock into his mouth, still sticky with the remnants of Oscar’s last orgasm. Lando wonders idly how many times he can make Oscar come tonight. This will only be Oscar’s second, and he’s already acting like he’s being tortured, back arching off the bed like he’s being electrocuted every time Lando licks over the head of his cock.

“Lando,” Oscar whimpers, flushed and sweaty, trying to twist away from Lando’s mouth. “Please, you have to—it’s so—oh.”

Oscar breaks off on a shaky moan, mouth dropping open as Lando slips two fingers into Oscar’s arse. The slide’s easy. Oscar’s still wet and open from when Lando fucked him. Lando aims for his swollen prostate right away, rubbing mercilessly as he starts up a steady rhythm on Oscar’s stiffening cock.

“Fuck, shit, I—” Oscar gasps, thighs slamming shut, whacking one of Lando’s ears.

Lando pulls off. “Should’ve tied your ankles too,” Lando muses, wincing when he brings the hand not currently buried in Oscar up to rub his sore ear.

Oscar immediately lets his thighs fall open, looking down at Lando with a devastated expression. “Sorry,” Oscar whispers.

“Nah, all good,” Lando says, leaning down to press a kiss to Oscar’s sensitive cock, grinning when Oscar whimpers. “Just, like, maybe try not to knee me in the face again? Sort of trying to ruin you right now.”

Oscar lets out a shaky laugh that turns into a moan halfway through when Lando slips a third finger into his arse.

“Maybe next time?” Oscar asks.

Oscar’s voice was so quiet Lando’s not sure he heard him correctly. “What next time?”

“Maybe next time you could like”—Oscar takes a shuddery breath, flush darkening—“tie my ankles, too.”

“God,” Lando moans, heat shooting through him at the confirmation that Oscar likes this, that Oscar likes this enough to want Lando to do it again.

Lando can’t help himself, has to lean down and suck Oscar’s cock into his mouth, groaning at the taste of Oscar’s pre-come dribbling onto his tongue. An image flashes through Lando’s mind of making Oscar come so much that he doesn’t have anything left, his cock twitching and throbbing with nothing coming out. Giving all of it to Lando.

Before long, Oscar’s trembling under him, cock growing impossibly harder in Lando’s mouth, leaking pre-come. Lando knows he’s close. Knows it’ll only take one well-timed thrust against Oscar’s prostate to have Oscar spilling in his mouth.

Oscar can’t stop whining, face, neck, and chest all flushed a gorgeous pink. His hair’s sticking to his forehead and he’s hiding his eyes against his bicep, like he can’t bear to see what Lando’s doing to him. Lando knows it probably hurts, knows Oscar wants to come even as he’s achy and oversensitive, even as he knows Lando won’t stop even after he comes. The thought has Lando’s hips hitching against the bedsheets, trying to get some relief.

“Close,” Oscar gasps. He doesn’t sound happy about it and Lando sees a tear slip from the corner of Oscar’s eye.

When Lando moans around him and sucks hard, exactly the way Oscar normally likes, Oscar lets out a desperate sob, shaking his head frantically. “No,” Oscar begs. “No, I—don’t make me come.”

Lando doesn’t hear Oscar’s safe word, so he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing.

Oscar comes with an awful little whimper, whole body shaking as he fills Lando’s mouth with a pitiful amount of come. When Lando keeps sucking even after Oscar’s come, Oscar’s leg kicks out and his hands open wide above his head, fingers splaying out.

“Stop,” Oscar pleads, twisting underneath him. “Please, stop, I can’t—oh.”

But Lando keeps sucking him, enjoying the sobs Oscar lets out, the way he can’t seem to figure out whether he’s loving or hating it, pushing up and pulling away from Lando’s mouth.

Eventually, Lando’s own arousal is too pressing to ignore and he pulls off Oscar’s cock, shuffling up the bed.

Oscar goes lax against the bed, brow smoothing, and Lando wants to laugh when he realizes Oscar thinks they’re done. That Lando would really let him off the hook after two measly orgasms.

Lando doesn’t say anything to correct that misunderstanding, just grabs the lube and slicks up his cock.

Oscar doesn’t realize what’s happening until Lando’s already pushing in.

Oscar’s eyes fly open and he looks up at Lando with a panicked expression, his face wet with sweat and tears, skin flushed an outraged pink.

“God, Osc,” Lando moans, getting his hands on the backs of Oscar’s thighs and pushing, spreading Oscar open. The slide’s impossibly easy, Oscar too fucked out to do anything more than moan and clench weakly around Lando, rim barely able to tighten.

“Lando,” Oscar whines. “I can’t—hurts.”

Lando snorts. “What’re you complaining about? You get to come again.”

Oscar’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, frantic. “No, I don’t—I don’t want to.”

“Already, Osc?” Lando asks with a mean little laugh. He starts up a steady rhythm, moaning at the sight of Oscar’s soft cock bouncing against his stomach. “Remember you saying you could give me at least four.”

Oscar screams at that, toes curling, hands scrabbling at the cuffs. “I can’t,” Oscar pleads. “I can’t, fuck, no.”

Lando shrugs, bringing a hand down to play with Oscar’s spent cock, heat flaring in his belly when Oscar sobs at the feeling, trying to get away.