you don’t bother looking up. you knew who it was as soon as his presence invaded your solitude, as much as you hate the fact. instead, you pluck the cigarette from your mouth and hold it up in daniel’s direction. he guides the flame to the end of the smoke and sets it alight. 

reluctantly, you mutter a, “thanks.”

he waves it off in your periphery, then-

jesus christ, is he gonna sit down?!

he sits down next to you, warmth radiating off of him from just being inside with the heat pump on full blast. this is your worst fucking nightmare. 

choosing to keep ignoring him, you inhale through the stick, feeling the heavy smoke ride down your trachea. you hold your breath for a beat, letting it all sink to the bottom of your lungs, and then breathe out, watching the smoke streamline from your lips and dissipate as it meets the air. 

you’re tempted to angle your exhale slightly towards daniel, so he gets a nice face full of secondhand smoke and will want to leave, but that’s also kind of a  dickhead move, so you don’t.

the worst part about this is how familiar it is. you and daniel, sitting together outside a party, smoking a cigarette. if you had drunk maybe one more glass of whatever was being served at the makeshift bar, you probably would have already settled onto his shoulder out of sheer force of habit. 

as it happens, you’d turned down that refill to come outside, landing you in your present predicament. 

the dickhead interrupts your thoughts by plucking the cigarette from your fingers and taking a hit himself. you stare at him.

“michelle said you quit.” 

he hums in acknowledgement and shrugs, handing you it back. 

“well, old habits die hard.” 

you can’t think of anything to respond to that with, so you place the cigarette back between your lips. you think you can taste him on it as you breathe. you both go quiet again; you can only hear a steady hum of conversation from the house, and a brood of cicadas buzzing happily somewhere in the garden.

daniel stands suddenly. 

“gotta pee. stay here, alright?”

and then he’s gone.

there’s a part of you that wants to leave, ignore his instruction— fuck you daniel; you can’t tell me what to do. 

the other part of you, which argues, “i mean, we’re already playing nice,” and, “i don’t wanna move,” quickly wins out in your mind, so you stay where you are and breathe in more smoke. 

he comes back pretty fast, and retakes his seat uncomfortably close to you. he sucks in a breath, even though he doesn’t have the cigarette, and speaks.

“y’know, i miss you.” 

fuck off.

“nah, i- i actual do.” 

shit, you said that out loud. you say it again anyway, ‘cause you mean it, “fuck off.”

now he just looks sad. 

it’s really not a good look on daniel; any expression apart from ‘happy’ looks out of place on his stupid fucking mug.

you take another drag. 

he adjusts his position on the bench and inadvertently pushes his shorts up as he does so. what a slut, oh my god. now you’re staring at the ship on his thigh, the words ‘only memories’ staring right back at you. stupid fucking tattoo. you definitely have both stupid fucking regrets and stupid fucking memories. 

the cigarette’s almost through, and you debate pulling another out of the pack and chain-smoking it. 

nah, better not. you’ll be responsible now and play your part in keeping daniel’s athlete lungs from turning black, despite his own efforts to quicken the process. 

before you throw the butt down, you offer it one more time to him. one hit of mainstream smoke is better than a whole new cigarette’s worth of secondhand smoke, right? i mean, yeah, you care about his health, but not that much. 

he’s clearly not as concerned as you, because he takes his time breathing in, and then out. when his exhale is transparent again, he makes a sound, gesturing to the butt. you shake your head, so he drops it and grinds it into the ground with his heel. 

you’re content to keep sitting there, even without a heaviness in each inhale to keep you grounded. daniel, on the other hand, starts fidgeting. he’s never been able to sit still, christ. he's shaking his leg up and down, running his fingers over his watch’s bezel, twisting his signet ring. it’s kinda pissing you off, honestly. it always has, a little bit.

the party looks like it’s over now; you can see the hostess waving at someone who’s just left. you don’t really fancy giving her the impression you and daniel are back together, so you stand before she has a chance to come out and spot you two practically cozied up on top of each other. 

his eyes follow your movement, and he frowns when you dust yourself off, catching onto your plan to leave.

god, he looks so sad, which means it can only be either extreme pity or a severe lapse in rational judgement that makes you pause in the doorway and look back at him.

“…this was nice, danny.”

it’s almost comical how fast he brightens. he opens his mouth, and you know what he’s going to try before he even forms a word.

“nice enough to try again?”

you sigh. he’s so predictable.

“i’ll, uh… i’ll call you, yeah?”

george waves clumsily at the hundreds of faces, and they holler back in response. there’s a camera somewhere and it clicks rapidly as he smiles. you reach for your phone to film your best friend, a strange feeling in your heart telling you that you’re going to want to remember this night. george is given the microphone and you can hear the plea “speech, speech, speech,” being thrown at him. swaying slightly, george indulges them.

“thank you everyone for coming out and being here with us this evening,” he’s interrupted by another round of cheers erupting out, “i’m so immensely thankful to the team back home for getting the car to where it is. yeah— really, really happy, just amazing.” 

he takes a beat to really look around the club, a small smile appearing on his face as he registers everyone who’s here for him. “thanks so much guys, hoping for many more wins in the coming races.” 

he flashes the camera one more grin and places the microphone back down, hopping down from the platform to be met with a swarm of fans again. 

“george! george, have some champagne, won’t you?” a bottle gets thrust into his hands.

“absolutely not, mate.” he passes it off to someone else, disgust written plainly on his face. you know he hates champagne.  

squinting at him from where you’re sat, you can see his white dress shirt has already been soaked in sweat and alcohol, the sheer amount of people in the room not helping any. he disapppears from view as the crowd engulfs him, only to reappear a couple of meters to the right, riding atop the shoulders of a friend. 

probably under the influence of some alcohol he does like, george starts leaning backwards, trusting someone will catch him. they do.

facing up towards the ceiling, he gets passed from person to person over the waves of people in the club, arms spread out as he closes his eyes to relish the moment. he gets set down on his feet as the crowd realises they’re about to hit a wall, and then he’s gone again.

after a few seconds go by and you still don’t see him, you stop the recording and tuck your phone back in your bag, deciding you’ll show him the video tomorrow to poke fun at his uncharacteristic carefreeness tonight.

you hear your name get called and spot a group of girls waving at you. you’re not sure you recognise them, but gesture for security to let them to come over into the deluxe section anyway.

“oh my god, hi, i love you so much! could we get a photo please?” 

taken aback by the request that you don’t get very often, you recover with a smile and a, “yeah, of course!”

they group up around you and the girl with the phone takes a few selfies, then a 0.5. they thank you excitedly, and tell you all about how coming to this grand prix was their graduation gift to themselves. 

“we’ve got two more days here,” one tells you.

“hey, do you have any recommendations for us?” another chimes in, “like, places to go or eat?”

a phone gets handed to you. you think for a second, then pull up the maps app and zoom in on some spots you reckon they’d like. they thank you again, talking over each other as they inch back towards the dancefloor.

“oh! i almost forgot—“ the brunette stops in her tracks, rifling around in her bag for something. the others pause as well, waiting for their friend.

“we made these for all the wags we see this weekend,” she passes you a bracelet, cyan blue and black beads alternating. four white beads in the middle spell out ‘GR63’, “um, we just gave one to lily muni he, and we met kika and alex on saturday!” 

you don’t notice her slip-up, busy admiring their handiwork under the dim club lighting before slipping it on your wrist, “it’s beautiful, guys. thank you so much.”

“do you know where george is? do you think we could get a photo with him too?” they chatter amongst themselves as they leave, already looking out for their next target.

speaking of, you haven’t seen george since he was crowd surfing. you scan the room, hoping to spot him.

you finally see him stood by the bar, taking a break from the excitement of the night. someone’s talking to him, but he’s been staring at you for the last five minutes. his face lights up as your gaze finally lands on him, and he excuses himself politely from the conversation he hadn’t been paying any attention to. he pushes past the guests and slowly makes his way to you. 

“hello darling,” he plonks himself down next to you, “enjoying yourself?” 

he brings his arm up behind you, resting on the back of the booth, while his knee knocks against yours. you don’t flinch away like you had done when you were strangers, once upon a time; you stay where you are, comfortable in his presence. 

“mm, what’re you having?” 

he gestures down to the glass in your hand, a pink straw lolling about the rim. 

“i don’t know. it’s a mix of everything, i think.” 

you’d trusted alex to get you a drink, but from the taste of it, it seemed like he’d asked the bartender to pour every alcohol available into the little glass. you offer it to him and he takes a sip through the straw, grimacing when the flavour hits his tongue. 

“eugh, that’s horrid. i hate that.”

you laugh and take it back from him, watching the liquid form a vortex as you swirl the glass around. you find the straw with your tongue and take another sip. it’s not as bad as george is making it out to be; he’s just picky when it comes to alcohol. 

two of your friends catch your eye then, dancing with each other atop one of the little tables, lots of people around cheering them on. 

“i think they’re gonna get engaged soon,” you say, pointing at them. she’s swaying quite a bit; he catches her when she stumbles over herself. the two of them laugh drunknely, then kiss. you hear a unanimous, ‘aww’ from their spectators.  

“what’s that, darling?” 

george leans down to hear you better, tilting his ear towards you. you repeat what you’d said, and he nods in agreement. 

“don’t tell anyone, but i know for a fact she’s got a ring for him already.”

your mouth drops open in shock and your eyes twinkle with excitement. 

“you’re joking.”

george shakes his head, enjoying the way you lean in towards him, seeking more information that you know he’ll give you. as your body shifts, your dress strap falls off your shoulder. 

george leans in, reflexes clearly not dulled by drink, and murmurs a soft, “i’ve got it.”

his skin brushes against yours as he fixes it for you, and you almost shiver at the intimacy of it all. he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, just above where the strap now sits.

yeah, he’s definitely drunk. he only ever gets this touchy when he’s had a little bit more than he can handle, when his inhibitions are loosened and reservations mitigated by alcohol. you do wish he did it more when he was sober, but those wants are kept secret; for your knowledge only.

you glance down at him, watching his chest move as he breathes, wet shirt sticking to his abs. there’s a feral, alcohol-fuelled part of your brain that’s gnawing at the bars of her enclosure to lick him; to taste the sweat that’s soaked his clothing, to run your tongue over the muscles that he flaunts on social media so often. you tell her off and push her even further to the back of your mind, unwilling to indulge in any thoughts that would certainly ruin your friendship with george. you’ve held them back for years now; one more night holds no significance.

“is that new?” 

you follow his gaze from your shoulder down to the cyan beads on your wrist, and nod happily, holding your hand out for george to inspect it. his lips finally leave your skin as he takes it in his. 

“there were some girls earlier. they wanted a photo and gave me this. they said they were trying to give them to all the girls— lily, francisca, alexandra— y’know. ooh, also-”

george smiles to himself as he takes a closer look, realising you’re wearing his colours and his number, but chooses not to comment on it for now, nodding for you to go on instead, inferring from your tone of voice that there’s more you’re excited to tell him about.

he’s correct.

you only notice he’s stopped nodding along and humming in agreement after you’ve been going on for five minutes or so. he’s just kind of staring at you. it’s nothing malicious; he’s just... watching, an absentminded smile on his face. you cut yourself off mid-sentence, jaw snapping shut, suddenly self-conscious. you become afraid that he’s lost interest, that he’s smiling cause he finds you amusing, like one would a little pet or some silly plaything.

“hmm?” 

to his credit, george doesn’t miss a beat when your words stop, prompting you to carry on right away.

“sorry, i didn’t realise i was rambling. i’ve probably had too much to drink,” you laugh nervously, trying to save yourself.

“keep going, darling. i was listening.”

“are you sure?” 

he frowns at you. 

“why would i stop?” he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, calloused thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he reassures you, “you were about to tell me which spots you recommended them. might be best to steer clear of those places while they’re in town though, hm? in case they want to tell all their friends where to find us. you said two more days, right?”

your eyes soften as you realise he really was listening to everything you said. even the little details. you feel your shoulders relax for having avoided what would have been a total humiliation, and you reach out for your drink, taking a sip to collect yourself. 

“don’t worry, i’m not that stupid. none of our spots, just the nice ones everyone goes to anyway.”

he smiles, happy to have eased your palpable discomfort and also proud of your foresight. 

“that’s my girl.”

you almost choke. your hand is still in his, and now he has a funny look in his eye. no, it must be the alcohol playing tricks on you. there’s no way. you shake it off and chalk it up to the spirit of victory in the air instead. 

george must pick up on the new turmoil arising in your head and squeezes your hand twice, gently— i’m here. 

“hey, do you wanna get some air?”

your handbag gets picked up before you can even finish your question, shrugged onto his shoulder as he gestures for you to go ahead.

you down the last dregs of your drink before placing it back down on the table. he guides you down the few stairs there are, one hand supporting yours, the other on the small of your back, and thanks the bouncer as he unclips the rope barrier for you to walk through.

george notices him before you do; his height allows him to see the crowd parting for a drunk guy pushing through, headed right your way. george's arm sneaks behind your waist and pulls you into his side just as the guy pushes past you, the stench of soured alcohol wafting along in his wake. you stumble a bit at the force, but you’re saved from face-planting by george, holding you steady.

“you alright, love?” he checks you over, making sure you’re okay, before shooting a dirty look at the guy’s retreating form. 

you nod, turning your head back to see if you can spot who it was. they’re long gone now, probably already on the other side of the club. brushing it off, you link your arm in george’s and make the slow journey to the exit. 

george gets stopped twice for photos, and you wait off to the side both times, patiently. one of the fans says something to him, and they both look down at the handbag, still in his hand, then over at you. george laughs. you notice a thin blush across his cheeks afterwards, but it’s probably just the club lights or the alcohol. the fan wishes you both a good night and another congratulations to george, and then you’re back in the party. 

the two of you push your way to the coat check, and you shrug on your overcoat, wanting to dress warm for the cool night air. 

you fiddle with the buttons, but the alcohol has made your hands clumsy and very uncompliant. seeing this, george gets down on one knee in front of you and starts buttoning you up, one at a time, working his way up. his slender fingers reach your collar quickly, and he stands back up when he’s done.

“there we go,” he murmurs.

you’re finding it harder and harder to block out your fancies with every move he makes tonight. 

he opts not to also get his suit jacket wet like his shirt is already, slinging it over his shoulder instead. george holds the door open for you, like he always does, and somehow manages to get back in front of you to summon the elevator. it’s especially in moments like these that you wish he were yours, that he would have a reason to be so gentlemanly to you other than just being a gentleman.

it feels like it takes longer to reach the ground floor than it had to go up. there’s no music, just the whirring of gears as they work to deliver you safely. george seems to be deep in thought, studying the patterns on the floor, tongue in between his teeth. you fiddle with your new bracelet, running your fingers over each bead, tracing the grooves of his initials. 

the streets are empty when you leave the building; everyone’s either asleep or celebrating in a club or superyacht. you’re happy to be outside, away from the noise and lights of the amber lounge. you consider running down to the water; taking off your shoes and wading in, but the rational part of your brain reminds you that it’s the middle of the night and the sea wouldn’t spare your feet from freezing just because you’re more than a little bit drunk.

leaning against the balustrade instead, you breathe in the night air, staring out at the reflection of the stars on the sea.

“it’s so beautiful tonight,” you say.

george hums in agreement from behind you. 

“it is.”

you turn back to him, and he’s already looking at you. you can tell he’s had something on his mind all night, so you give him the time to speak it aloud. he shifts on his feet, then exhales sharply. you can see his breath in the cold air. 

“…you haven’t congratulated me yet,” he finally points out. 

you laugh lightly at him, puzzled. he’s never been one to ask for your praises before, but you suppose this win was pretty monumental.

“congratulations, george.” 

he shakes his head, staring up at the stars above you.

“that’s not what i meant.”

you tilt your head at him, waiting for him to elaborate. when he doesn’t respond, your foot reaches out to nudge at his calf. 

“what did you mean then?”

his attention falls back on you and he stares, kind of unnervingly. he only moves when a gust of wind blows by, shivering as his drenched shirt gets even colder. 

he sets his jacket down on the balustrade first, then your bag on top, taking care not to let the leather touch the cobblestone. he’s been yelled at more than once for scuffing up the bottom of your bags before. your eyes drift to his hands as he does so, watching his fingers flex. 

you let a beat pass, only the lapping of the waves below filling the silence.

“george?”

“kiss me.”

you blink at him, not entirely sure you’ve heard him right. he doesn’t mean it, surely. there’s no way he wants you in the same way you do him. he sways a little on his feet. 

“george, you’re drunk.”

he scoffs, “come on, darling; it’s just a kiss.”

he pulls you in by the waist, like he had before in the club, and his head dips down, closer and closer to you.

he pauses when his lips are barely about to touch yours. you stare doe-eyed up at him, afraid to move even an inch for fear of breaking the delicate moment. his eyes flit up, searching yours. whatever complaints were floating around in your head die on your tongue as his presence surrounds you. 

he’s so close to you; you could study every pore, each mole dotting his skin. a breathy little sigh leaves your chest involuntarily as you realise your years-long béguin may be contented much sooner than you’d ever thought. his tongue darts out to his lips instinctively, like he would taste your air if he could only catch it.

you nod at him, the slightest, most imperceptible movement of your head, and he takes it as the permission it is. his lips press against yours, soft and plush, and you think you could die in this moment and be happy with how you went out. 

you start to pull away, so completely satisfied to have finally kissed him, but george has just gotten a taste of you, and now he never wants to stop. the hand on the base of your neck keeps you close as his tongue slips into your mouth, licking at your lips, your tongue, your teeth. you can’t help a small moan as he pulls you flush against his chest, the kiss getting messier as his usual composure unravels, just for you. your breaths mix together, hot on each other’s skin.  

he’s desperate for you; hands moving against your body, grasping at your dress, your hair, your face— everywhere all at once. you’re breathless. you feel like all the air’s been sucked out of your body by just his kisses, and that he’s your only lifeline. your hands push against his chest lightly, and he lets you move your head to the side to catch your breath. 

he doesn’t stop when you do. instead, his lips drag along your jaw, and he inhales, deep and ragged, when his nose meets your pulse point. his exhale is shaky, like he can’t get enough of your scent. 

“george…”

he glances up to you and he looks so unlike himself; hair messy, eyes dark, and lips swollen, glistening with spit. your heart skips a beat as you realise you’ve caused this in him. you can feel his hands trembling on either side of your face from the cold or the adrenaline, or both. 

his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, already leaning back in for more of you. you get squeezed even closer into him and you can’t help but giggle, a flood of happy emotions taking over you. 

george’s teeth clack against yours as he tries to keep the kiss going, but when he realises your elation won’t let up, he’s pulling away laughing too. you fold over in his arms as your body shakes, immensely pleased at the turn this night’s taken. you would look insane to any onlookers who might look down from the lounge’s balcony; the two of you, dressed up for the afterparty, cackling to each other at nothing on an empty beach. 

george recovers first, wiping a stray tear away as he sucks in fresh air. he kisses your forehead as you follow suit, gasping like a fish while holding your stomach, which is starting to hurt. he peppers kisses all over your face, only stopping when you tap at his arm hurriedly; the cold wet of his shirt pushed against you is making the front of your coat also cold and wet. he holds you like that for a while, and you know he’s committing this moment to memory, just like you are. 

he picks up your bag and slips his jacket over his shoulders without letting go of you, tucked into his side and makes his way back up the beach with you. his fingers find the bracelet on your wrist and it’s his turn to fidget with the beads. he can’t help but admire how lovely the colour is against your skin. he’d like to see you wear it more, he thinks.

“come on, darling. let’s go home.” 

enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹

taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: @vroomvroomcircuit @nightwingblvd @disneyprincemuke  @williamsracinggf @l3nney @thankyoulovely @nottivagos @gerardswhore @hannahbananababybanana @lovelylittletboy @furiouswitchducky @georgeismyprincess @cyerielle03 @splaex @theodorenottsgf47 @ultimateh8r @landocat @the-stories-of-a-human-being @klarisenkaa @mlths @innie-world @sanguineassassinblizzard @midnightsinwonderland3 @livalss @vinskyspuff @nothingdontcallmeanything @maxedoutmayhem @unsvripted @amikookie290 @nana6397 @dlthl @loveslight-blue @ox404 @liplutly

──★ baker!oscar who’s bakery is right next door to your coffee shop. the smell of the store’s baked goods, fresh from the oven, has always tempted you to go in, but you usually settle for grabbing one of the pastries from the café’s display case that you order in bulk from a commercial supplier instead, since you can just take them for free. today, though, the café’s closed for some electrical work, and you’re getting hungry after having to let the sparky into the store at 9am, a whole two hours ago. a bell rings as you push the heavy door to the bakery open.

──★ baker!oscar who has a streak of flour on his cheek when you first see him. he’s rearranging the little cakes in the display cabinet when you come in, trying to figure out a configuration that looks good to the customer. he’s wearing an orange apron, and the sleeves of his undershirt are rolled up to his elbows. you can’t help but stare at his forearms for a second longer than probably appropriate, watching his muscles flex. 

──★ baker!oscar who greets you with a, “hi there, welcome to osc’s,” but doesn’t look up yet, focussed on finding the perfect angle for this chocolate cake. when he finally looks at you, his whole face lights up in recognition, “hey, you’re from the café next door!” 

──★ baker!oscar who explains that he’s seen you working more than a few times as he’s walked past the storefront. he’s come in for coffee twice as well, but you’d gone to take care of something in the back both times. you rack your brain to try and place him at all, but come up with nothing, apologising to him for it. he waves you off, a smile on his face. “i’m oscar, by the way. osc’s,” he says, pointing down to the sign and then back to himself. your mouth forms an ‘oh’ of recognition. “cute name. who came up with it?” “uhh… my mum?” “i meant the bakery, but good on your mum, too.” he blushes as he realises his mistake, and you think to yourself, he’s adorable.

──★ baker!oscar who you feel like you’ve known forever; it’s so easy to talk to him. banter comes naturally, and you’re joking around like this guy wasn’t a total stranger five minutes ago. his deadpan humor is right up your alley, and he seems to be finding your jokes funny as well. somewhere in the back of your mind, you realise you haven’t smiled this hard in ages; it’s been so busy with the café lately, you haven’t had a moment to yourself in a good few weeks. you finally order a pain au chocolat, and he nods, approving of your choice.

──★ baker!oscar who gives you his staff discount as you pay. either you don’t notice, too engaged in your conversation, or you don’t bring it up, letting him have his small victory. he almost doesn’t let you pay at all, but he doesn’t want to scare you off by being too upfront too soon. 

──★ baker!oscar who grabs you a pain au chocolat like you requested, putting it in a brown paper bag with the bakery’s logo on it, and who then throws in a complimentary cinnamon roll as well. he just stares at you and gestures down to the bag when you protest, “it’s in there now. that’s cross contamination; i can’t put it back.” you point out that all the viennoiseries in the cabinet are already touching each other and he just replies, “that’s different.”

──★ baker!oscar who has quite a smug look on his face when you concede, realising he’s not going to let this go. “fine, but next time you come by for coffee, it’s on me, okay?” he nods, already excited for next time. he invites you to hang around for a bit, seeing as it’s been a pretty quiet day so far, starting up on a story from when he’d first opened the bakery, involving a line going all the way out the door, and one oscar working the shop.

──★ baker!oscar who’s just gotten to the part where he’s juggling a pos system that doesn’t want to work, a tray of croissants coming out of the oven, and a customer wanting to order for a birthday party the next day, when your phone pings with a text from the sparky. she’s all done; just needing you to come check over everything before she leaves. you promise oscar that you'll come back soon, and reiterate your prior statement that his next coffee’s on the house. the bell dings again as you leave with your pastries, and oscar can’t help but feel a little sad. his mood perks up, though, as he watches you finally notice the writing on the paper bag in your hand, through the window.

──★ baker!oscar who’s somehow written ‘call me sometime xxx-xxx-xxxx’ on the bag without you noticing. you turn back to look at him through the storefront, an incredulous smile on your face.

──★ baker!oscar who seems to have busied himself with unloading a huge tray of what looks like sourdough loaves from the industrial oven in the back. you watch as steam billows out into the shop as the oven door is opened, and you catch the faintest whiff of fresh bread on the air as it wafts through the doorframe. it smells divine. 

──★ baker!oscar who’s smiling to himself as he unloads the oven, over the moon that he’s finally had a conversation with the pretty girl from next door. on the minute walk back to your café, you start typing out an email to the commercial bakery, cancelling all future orders. you think you’ve found a new supplier to order from, from now on— someone much more local. 

enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹

taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: @vroomvroomcircuit @nightwingblvd @disneyprincemuke  @williamsracinggf @l3nney @thankyoulovely @nottivagos @gerardswhore @hannahbananababybanana

max had just finished a triple header, and you weren’t able to accompany him at all due to work commitments. add in a week of testing before the races, and you haven’t seen each other for a whole month; hence the entanglement of limbs under your duvet now.

“i really missed you, schjat.”

you sigh happily and push your nose further into the crook of his neck, breathing in his delicious scent as your hands run up and down his arms, squeezing at his muscles. 

“you did good though; i was watching.” 

he glances over to the three trophies he brought home, two gold and one silver.

“you were my motivation,” he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“cheesy.”

your hand travels down now to his chest, over his pecs and along his collarbone. you can’t get enough of him, but he’s just as bad; a hand on your arse that hasn’t left it in hours, and the other curled around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“now i get you for a whole week. lucky me,” you murmur, lips curling up when he shudders at your breath on his neck. 

one of the cats meows forlornly from somewhere in the apartment, and max groans, moving to get up and take care of them.

“no, no… don’t leave,” you pout at him, grabbing onto his waistband, “i just refilled the feeder…”

right on cue, you hear the faint whirr of the automatic feeder in the kitchen dispensing jimmy and sassy’s food, and the meows stop. 

seeing that you’re right, as always, max flops back down, almost on top of you. you let go of his pants and wrap yourself around his waist, touching whatever hot skin you can get your hands on. 

“i was scared when george almost crashed into you,” you admit, mumbling into his chest.

he huffs out a smile and tilts his head down to look at you best he can.

“i was too. good that it didn’t turn out that way, hm?”

you move your head up to kiss him, and he reciprocates just as eagerly, forgetting all about your conversation. somehow, there’s still space between the two of you, but max quickly eliminates it, pushing his pelvis forwards to meet yours, and hooking your legs even tighter with his. he rolls you onto your back, pushing himself up in the same movement. you feel it as his biceps engage, hands still squeezing at his arms, and it only makes you kiss him with more fervour, so utterly in love with this man and every part of him. 

it’s dizzying; how quickly max can take your breath away. his tongue moves against yours as his hands traverse your body; your thighs, your arse, your waist. he tugs at your lip with his teeth, pulling back only slightly to see your eyes. you gaze up at him, dark and half-lidded, waiting for him to come back. 

you can feel his heart beating under his skin. it quickens the longer he looks at you. 

he shifts his weight onto one arm, bringing the other up to replace his mouth on yours. his thumb drags along your bottom lip, and your tongue darts out to meet it, pushing flat against his callouses. max takes a shaky breath in, his attention flitting between your eyes and your mouth.

he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and pops it in his own, tongue swirling around the taste of you, slowly. your breaths get heavier as you watch him, feeling more and more jealous of his stupid finger. finally, after what feels like an eternity of watching him make out with his thumb, he takes pity and his lips crash into yours again. you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you, deepening the kiss hungrily. 

he lets out a small whine when your hip brushes his crotch, a sizeable hardness begging for your attention already. you ignore it in favour of teasing him some more, nipping at his lip and clawing at his back, raking your nails down. he arches into it, chasing after that feeling he loves of pleasure and pain combined. he encourages you by running his tongue along your teeth messily, swollen lips pushing into yours like you have any more to give. 

he kisses you once more, a quick brush of his lips against yours, before he lets go of you to catch his breath, flopping back down next to you and pulling you in by the hips, getting comfy in bed again. his hand, still wet with spit, comes up to move the hair out of your face. 

“i’m never going that long without you again,” he says resolutely, “i’ll skip the races if i have to.”

you laugh, still slightly breathless, at his declaration, knowing he doesn’t really mean it, and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“yeah, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, hm?”

enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹

taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: @vroomvroomcircuit @nightwingblvd @disneyprincemuke @williamsracinggf @peachmd @l3nney @thankyoulovely

your hand travels down now to his chest, over his pecs and along his collarbone. you can’t get enough of him, but he’s just as bad; a hand on your arse that hasn’t left it in hours, and the other curled around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“now i get you for a whole week. lucky me,” you murmur, lips curling up when he shudders at your breath on his neck. 

one of the cats meows forlornly from somewhere in the apartment, and max groans, moving to get up and take care of them.

“no, no… don’t leave,” you pout at him, grabbing onto his waistband, “i just refilled the feeder…”

right on cue, you hear the faint whirr of the automatic feeder in the kitchen dispensing jimmy and sassy’s food, and the meows stop. 

seeing that you’re right, as always, max flops back down, almost on top of you. you let go of his pants and wrap yourself around his waist, touching whatever hot skin you can get your hands on. 

“i was scared when george almost crashed into you,” you admit, mumbling into his chest.

he huffs out a smile and tilts his head down to look at you best he can.

“i was too. good that it didn’t turn out that way, hm?”

you move your head up to kiss him, and he reciprocates just as eagerly, forgetting all about your conversation. somehow, there’s still space between the two of you, but max quickly eliminates it, pushing his pelvis forwards to meet yours, and hooking your legs even tighter with his. he rolls you onto your back, pushing himself up in the same movement. you feel it as his biceps engage, hands still squeezing at his arms, and it only makes you kiss him with more fervour, so utterly in love with this man and every part of him. 

it’s dizzying; how quickly max can take your breath away. his tongue moves against yours as his hands traverse your body; your thighs, your arse, your waist. he tugs at your lip with his teeth, pulling back only slightly to see your eyes. you gaze up at him, dark and half-lidded, waiting for him to come back. 

you can feel his heart beating under his skin. it quickens the longer he looks at you. 

he shifts his weight onto one arm, bringing the other up to replace his mouth on yours. his thumb drags along your bottom lip, and your tongue darts out to meet it, pushing flat against his callouses. max takes a shaky breath in, his attention flitting between your eyes and your mouth.

he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and pops it in his own, tongue swirling around the taste of you, slowly. your breaths get heavier as you watch him, feeling more and more jealous of his stupid finger. finally, after what feels like an eternity of watching him make out with his thumb, he takes pity and his lips crash into yours again. you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you, deepening the kiss hungrily. 

he lets out a small whine when your hip brushes his crotch, a sizeable hardness begging for your attention already. you ignore it in favour of teasing him some more, nipping at his lip and clawing at his back, raking your nails down. he arches into it, chasing after that feeling he loves of pleasure and pain combined. he encourages you by running his tongue along your teeth messily, swollen lips pushing into yours like you have any more to give. 

he kisses you once more, a quick brush of his lips against yours, before he lets go of you to catch his breath, flopping back down next to you and pulling you in by the hips, getting comfy in bed again. his hand, still wet with spit, comes up to move the hair out of your face. 

“i’m never going that long without you again,” he says resolutely, “i’ll skip the races if i have to.”

you laugh, still slightly breathless, at his declaration, knowing he doesn’t really mean it, and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“yeah, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, hm?”

enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹

taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: @vroomvroomcircuit @nightwingblvd @disneyprincemuke @williamsracinggf @peachmd @l3nney @thankyoulovely

you finally find it on your bed, under a pile of clothes, probably thrown there haphazardly while you were searching for something else. a glance at the caller id before you pick up shows you it’s lando. 

“hey!”

“hi angel, you home?”

“uh, yeah, i am. why?”

“i got you a gift; i know you’ve been studying so hard lately. you need to go sign for delivery, though.”

you smile as you picture him now, thinking up ways to treat you even from a hotel room on the other side of the world.

“oh, that’s so sweet of you, lan. you know you didn’t have to.”

you feel yourself frown as your eyes fall back on your study materials.

“are you sure i have to sign for it? i can’t really afford to take any breaks right now. can’t they just leave it at the door?”

“no, angel. now go.” 

you sigh and push yourself away from the desk to get the door. 

“this better be worth it. i have to get straight back to work after, okay?”

lando’s standing on your doorstep.

he has suitcase in one hand and a designer shopping bag in the other, both of which he lets go of when you open the door. 

he scoops you up in a big hug before you can process what’s happening.

“hi angel. missed you,” he mumbles into your neck. 

“…you didn’t tell me you were coming!”

your overworked brain has finally put together that lando's here, hugging you, and not halfway across the globe. he's here. with you.

he sets you back down on your feet, though he doesn’t let go of you yet, and shrugs at your baffled expression.

“that’s kinda why they call it a surprise.” 

lando’s so warm, and, mm, he smells so nice; it makes you want to spend the whole day in his arms, if only you didn’t have to study.

oh, you have to study. 

fuck. you’d almost forgotten.

“lando! i have to get back to studying. it’s really nice to have you home!”

you press a kiss to his cheek and run back to your room before he can object. 

as you’re rereading the passage you were on before his call came through, you hear him drop his stuff in the entryway, then push the front door shut after him. 

lando appears in your open doorway, knocking at the frame as he rounds the corner.

“just blowing me off like that, angel?”

your eyes don’t leave the page as you reply, “i’m sorry, lan, but this is important.”

lando frowns. he knows you’ve been getting up at dawn and only going to bed in the early hours of the morning for the entirety of the past week just to study. 

“you can’t take a break for ten minutes? i flew all this way…”

if he squints, he thinks he can see a dark cloud looming over you as you shake your head no. he moves behind you to massage your shoulders, really trying to convince you. 

“time for a break, baby. come on.”

when you don’t respond, still hunched over your paperwork, he sighs and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. it’s only a minute before you hear his belt clinking as he frees his cock from his pants and, curiosity getting the better of you, finally look back.

he’s already half hard, thick vein pulsing along the length of him. your pussy clenches involuntarily at the sight of him. 

“come here, angel. let’s make you feel good, yeah?”

you chew on your lip as your gaze flicks from your desk, covered with papers and textbooks, to lando, now pumping himself as he waits for your decision.

you shiver when you realise his gaze is on you as he touches himself, ravenous and needy. the intense eye contact is broken when he throws his head back, his hand having done something he likes; the prettiest sound comes out of his mouth as he does. 

the need to taste him finally overwhelms your tunnel vision and you drop to the floor to watch him fuck his hand. the soft ‘thump’ of your knees meeting carpet catches his attention and he stops, staring down at you. 

he considers the hand that was just on his cock before using it to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him. the smell of him is thick and fucking irresistible. 

“you gonna let me help you? empty that pretty little head of yours?” 

you swallow thickly and nod, accepting that lando’s in control now.

he lets go of your chin, and two fingers beckon you closer. you oblige, shuffling in to between his legs. 

he taps his cock at your lips and you open for him, tongue lolling out. lando leans down and gives you a kiss on the crown of your head for being so obedient before settling back, letting you decide on the pace you go at.

“oh, fuck-!”

you take all of him in one go, and he makes a sound of surprise as his tip hits the back of your throat. you relax your jaw and take a few deep breaths through your nose, before moving your head to rest against his thigh. lando’s fingers stroke through your hair softly. 

any prior thoughts of studying are long gone by now; you’re solely focussed on nothing but the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“fuck, good girl…” 

you close your eyes, happy to be relieved of your stressors, if at least for a little while. 

you’re not sure how long he keeps you there, only that when you next open your eyes, the sun outside is setting and lando is squeezing the duvet he’s sitting on top of for dear life, willing himself not to come right then and there. his cock twitches as you press your tongue flat along his length, trying your best to keep it still. his gaze falls down at the first movement from you in a while, and he lets out a shaky sigh when your eyes finally meet his. 

you’re sure you look absolutely wrecked; eyes glazed over as you struggle for shallow breaths. there’s drool slipping out of the corners of your mouth, onto his thighs, onto the bed. you can vaguely feel your cunt getting wetter and wetter. you know if lando were to reach down there, his fingers would certainly come away glistening with slick.

“let me do the thinking from now on, why don’t we? you look so much prettier warming my cock than you do slaving over those silly books, baby.” 

you can’t reply with words; your jaw stretched wide, so you settle for a small whine of agreement instead.

“so good for me, my angel.”

he pushes the hair out of your face, and they leave thin wet streaks, from your slobber, in their wake. you can taste the salt of his precome leaking onto your tongue.

lando shifts his hips, probably getting uncomfortable from sitting in the same position for such a long time, and has to hold back a groan when his cock hitting the roof of your mouth makes you choke around him, tears sliding down your cheeks. 

you try— and fail— to swallow, again, and that does it. 

“you wanna help me come, baby? gonna let me use this hole of yours?”

you make another desperate sound— yes please.

lando grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing you down further on his cock before he pulls you off. you gasp in your first real breath in hours, then you’re swallowing him down again. he pushes you down again and again, trying to force himself further down your throat each time. 

wet, squelchy sounds fill the room as he uses you freely, hips bucking up into your mouth at a pace you can’t keep up with; you let your jaw go slack so he can better chase his own pleasure. lando doesn’t last very long like this, not after being edged by every little movement your tongue made, every swallow around him. you can tell he’s close when his breaths quicken, and more and more moans start tumbling from his mouth. 

“coming, gonna come-“

his hips stutter, and the hand on the back of your head holds you down as he comes. you feel it hit the roof of your mouth before dripping down to your tongue. you think you hear him growl as he empties himself in you. 

he pulls out when he’s done, and you go limp against his thigh with nothing holding you up anymore. you finally swallow, sticking your tongue out after to show him it all gone.

“such a good girl.” 

he pulls you in for a kiss, and your pussy flutters as you realise he’s tasting himself on your lips. you don’t want to let go of him, but then his sudden standing up addles your brain, still trying to gain control after the docile headspace you were just in, and you let go with a whine. 

lando tucks himself back in his pants, where your drool has left a massive wet patch on the crotch. 

“mm— thank you, lan.”

he smiles approvingly at your manners, and looks you up and down. 

“are you feeling better?”

you nod; you are— all your earlier stress has vanished, and your thoughts feel lighter already. 

he holds his hand out for you to take.

“good,” he pulls you towards the door, “i wasn’t lying on the phone by the way; i did get some actual gifts for you, and you’re gonna open all of them before you even think about reading any more of those stupid textbooks.”

enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹

taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: @vroomvroomcircuit @nightwingblvd @disneyprincemuke @williamsracinggf @peachmd @l3nney @thankyoulovely @nottivagos

YOU: i told u alr stupid

YOU: shopping

YOU: cause someone only told me we were going to bali 

YOU: TWO DAYS before we leave

YOU: and i have NOTHING TO WEAR ughhh

LANDO: lol

LANDO: srry 

YOU: hate u

you wait for him to reply; he doesn’t. probably actually paying attention to his meeting now. 

you duck into the changing room and try on the three bikinis in your hand, snapping a photo while you’re in each one so you can look back and compare before making a decision. 

shit. you end up liking all of them; all three look absolutely banging on you, accentuating every curve and dip of your body that you want accentuated, and you can’t bring yourself pick just one. 

standing naked save your underwear in the changing room, swimwear hung back up on their hangers and your clothes still in a neat pile on the little stool, you sigh as you consider what to do next. 

then an idea pops in your head. your gaze shifts from your phone, to the bikinis on the hook, and back to your phone. 

YOU attached three pictures

LANDO: wowowww

LANDO: supa sexc

you hadn’t expected him to reply straightaway, but now that he has, you can get his opinion. 

YOU: which one????

there’s a pause as he reads your message, also probably looking through the photos again, then another notification comes through. 

LANDO: all 

YOU: lol good one

YOU: bffr

LANDO: ok send mre pics

LANDO: more*

you oblige him, slipping each one on again and taking a few more photos. you go for some different angles this time, moving your hair out of the way so he can see your body properly. 

YOU attached five pictures

the typing bubble pops up again. you wait for a text to appear, but after a few seconds of bouncing up and down, they disappear. his attention must have been called back to the meeting. that means you’ve been left to your own devices again to decide which one to buy. fuck. 

you flick through the photos you took, considering the different colours and fits, narrowing your eyes at your phone as if to get a different perspective. 

a text comes through, then another in quick succession.

LANDO: u look so sexy angel

LANDO: getting so hard

you can imagine him now, sitting at a big conference table, nodding along as zak rambles on about some type of business or rather, trying to pretend his pants haven’t gotten suddenly very tight around the crotch.

YOU: ur not supposed to get horny stupid ur supposed to help me decide

LANDO attached one picture

you click on the photo, and watch as it downloads. as soon as you see the loaded image, you can’t help but try memorise every part of it.

the photo is blurred— he clearly didn’t want to get caught taking it—, but you can make out his hand gripping at his cock under the black pants he’d worn out today, veins dark on the back of his hand. 

you lick your lips subconsciously, your mouth suddenly full of saliva. you can feel your underwear getting wetter the longer you stare at it. 

YOU: how long til ur meetings over

LANDO: supposed to go to 5

LANDO: kms

you check the time. almost a whole nother hour until he’s home. you start typing out a response, but backspace it all as his typing indicator pops up again.

LANDO: so hard it hurts babyyy

another pause.

LANDO: buy them all

LANDO: srsly

LANDO: god i need u rn

you start putting your clothes back on as you run his suggestion through your head, your body cold from the amount of time you’ve been texting him naked. you could buy all three, but that’s a lot of money that you would be spending on what is essentially six strips of cloth. it’s almost as if lando can sense your hesitation through the phone, because another text pops up just as you think it.

LANDO: use my card

you always have one of his bank cards in your wallet, though you’ve never ever used it. it’s mostly there for decoration; in case of emergency. you chew at your lip, hesitant. it would be a nice treat for yourself, you reason. 

YOU: u sure?

LANDO: ye

LANDO: or ill give it all to max and he can look sexy on vacay instead

you roll your eyes. even when he’s insisting on spoiling you, he always has to throw in some cheek.

YOU: ok

YOU: thank u lan

YOU: love uuu

feeling confident, you leave the changing room and pass the cashier the three bikinis, watching as she bags them up for you. 

you swipe his shiny black card on the eftpos machine and enter in the pin you vaguely remember him telling you ages ago, a giddy feeling rising up in you as the display shows you a proud ‘transaction accepted’. 

you take the bag she gives you with a huge smile.

“thank you!” 

you make your way home from the shop, stopping once at a café to get a snack, and once for a photo with a girl who recognises you from the sports channel. you’ve only just shut the front door when your phone pings again. there’s a text from earlier that you hadn’t seen yet, plus three new ones. 

LANDO: love u angel

━━━━━━ unread messages ━━━━━━

LANDO: leaving now

LANDO: cya soon

LANDO: u better be naked 

it’s a five minute drive from the technology centre to here. you have five minutes. you drop your shopping bags down at the door and all but run to the bedroom, pulling your pants and socks off as you go.

the sound of the front door closing alerts you that lando’s home, and you pull your shirt off over your head. as you toss it into the laundry hamper, you hear, right in your ear, “hi angel. missed you.”

a pair of arms appear from behind you, hands cupping at your breasts with no hesitation, squeezing and kneading; thumbs flicking at your nipples. you can feel his hard cock pressing against the small of your back; he might’ve stayed hard the entire rest of the meeting, and the drive home.

the thought sends another wave of slick to your pussy. if you weren't standing with your legs pressed together, one might even be able to see it drip down your thighs.

“hi, lan. nice of you to announce yourself.”

“you looked so pretty today, baby.” 

ignoring your jab, lando’s mouth drags along the nape of your neck, raising goosebumps. his hand tilts your chin up to meet his intense gaze. as you lean back into him, his eyes drop down to your chest. 

“fuck…”

he finally kisses you, his stubble— grown out in the off-season— scratching your chin as your mouths move together. his tongue tastes of energy drink, sugary and light. 

“couldn’t stop picturing you… just like this, actually.”

his lips don’t leave yours for longer than necessary as he twirls you around to face him. finally able to touch him back, you run your hands up his front, feeling all the muscle under his shirt. your tits get squashed up against him as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

“made me so hard in front of zak and the whole team…” he murmurs, “knew what you were doing, didn’t you? naughty.” 

he pulls away and bades you sit on the bed, a hand on your shoulder pushing you down onto the plush duvet. you feel yourself clenching, so eager for anything he would give you. then he kneels down at the foot of the bed and pulls you toward him, hooking your legs over his shoulders in one movement.

you let out a little yelp as your back hits the bed from the force, and steady yourself by holding onto lando’s hands, pressing fingerprints into your thighs. you’re so insanely turned on at his casual dominance, the way he’s staring you down right now.

“so wet, aren’t we, angel?” 

one of his hands has shifted down your hip and starts playing with your cunt, no underwear to stop him; one finger coating itself in your shiny arousal as you squirm for him. 

his tongue is between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed as he focusses in on working at you. he finally fits his whole index in, curling it at just the right point to hit your g-spot. then, he pushes a second finger in alongside, making you gasp at the stretch. 

“fuck- lando!” 

“i know, angel. so good, isn’t it? gonna make you feel good, baby. you gonna let me?”

you nod frantically to all of it, your eyes squeezed shut as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. 

“please, lan!” 

you don’t even know what you’re pleading for; you just want more.

those pictures must have really put him in a good mood, because he doesn’t even tease like normal when he finally puts his mouth on you. his tongue draws circles on your clit as his hands keep themselves busy; one on your hip, keeping himself stable, the other three fingers deep in your pussy.

your fingers curl in his hair, pushing him down, his tongue deeper. he’s making sounds too; small whines as he laps and slurps at your cunt like it’s his last meal, a long groan as you pull on his hair in the way he likes. his nose bumps at your clit and you shudder at the stimulation.

your brain starts to feel fuzzy at the edges as you feel yourself draw closer and closer to the edge. lando knows your body by now, maybe even as well than you do, and recognises the signs of just how close you are. his fingers start fucking you deeper, more purposeful; determined to bring you to your climax. 

“come for me, won’t you, angel? come on.” 

you let instinct take over as your orgasm washes over your body, grinding down on lando’s face. he doesn’t stop as you ride out your high, tongue darting out to lap up all your come. you think you might have lost the feeling in your toes. he keeps at it, eager as ever, until you push him off, unable to take anymore overstimulation. 

you blink away the invading tiredness as you catch your breath, and raise your head to  check on him.

lando looks a mess. 

his curls are dishevelled from your fingers running through them, and his cheeks are flushed. he wipes his mouth crudely with the back of his hand, a glistening streak on his chin remaining untouched. 

he stands up, dusting his knees off and stretching, then crawls up the bed to lie with you. he’s still hard; you can see the outline of it against his thigh, but he doesn’t seem concerned about himself, rather content that you’ve been taken care of thoroughly. you let your eyes flutter shut as his breaths fill the silence. 

“i don’t think we should go to bali, angel.”

you frown and turn your head to the side to question him.

“what? why not?”

“i think i might die if you’re in these bikinis for a whole week. it’s for my health, baby, you understand, right?”  

your frown dissipates and you knock him on the forehead. 

“ow!”

“you’re stupid.”

“yeah, i’ll be stupid if you keep this up,” he says, gesturing from your hand to his head where you just hit him, “gonna concuss me, angel.”

you roll your eyes at him again.

“hey.”

you hum in reply, encouraging him to go on. he gestures down to his cock, straining to be free from his pants.

“you wanna show me what you bought so we can go round two?”

enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹

taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: @vroomvroomcircuit @nightwingblvd @clarknsun @thekentarchives @disneyprincemuke @williamsracinggf @peachmd @l3nney @gerardswhore

you and fewtrell were still friends; a silly breakup didn’t change that. so, just like he’d done with all his other friends, he’d invited you to his party. it wasn’t for some big event or anything; "just because,” he’d told you with a smile. 

his little apartment was crammed full of people, some of whom you didn’t recognise, more of whom you did. everyone had greeted you excitedly; you hadn’t really turned up to these things for a couple of months. you’d used work or school as excuses, but everyone knew the real reason. 

your friend had been the one to show you the post; a fan account sharing a photo they’d found of lando with some girl on a date, sat in the shade at a cafe table.

you’d smiled brightly and told her you were “so over him,” as he clearly was you. she’d matched your smile and given you a big hug and told you how proud she was of you and that, “i know it hasn’t been easy, but he’s such a scumbag anyway. you’re so much better without him.”

you’d raised your coffee mug and cheersed her, laughing at getting away from him unscathed, but on the inside, you were absolutely fuming.

“i’m sorry, angel. i’m just getting too busy; i have so many things on, and i feel so exhausted all the time. i want you to have everything you deserve, but i just don’t have the time anymore to make that happen,” and then here he was, not even two months later, sharing this random girl’s fucking drink; a bright lipstick stain on the rim of the cup right under where his mouth was placed. 

“don’t look fucking busy to me,” you’d hissed as you scrolled through the fanpage’s feed later that day.

post after post was dedicated to sightings of him. press events, races, selfies with fans, merch photoshoots, and that stupid date. you'd stalked through the account until you recognised the pictures as being screenshotted from your own stories, and told yourself that was that, and there was nothing else to be done.

you hadn’t expected lando to be here tonight. from the way he’d paled when you made eye contact, then darted off, hoping you wouldn’t follow him, he hadn’t either.

of course, because you didn't live to appease him, you’d trailed behind him from room to room, keeping a healthy distance until he was alone. then you’d cornered him and dragged him into the closest room that would provide you both privacy— the guest bathroom. 

one thing had led to the next, and you find yourself in the position you’re in now; on your knees in front of him, one hand stroking along his weeping cock, the other pressed against his thigh for support.

“i was trying to move on…” lando manages, throwing his head back with a groan as you press a kiss to his tip, right on the slit. you lick your bottom lip as you pull away and taste salt.

“is that why you went on that date? to move on?” 

your hand keeps stroking him as you talk, your eyes trained on his face as he struggles to articulate himself. 

“use your words, lan.”

a few tears fall from his eyes as he whines for you to keep going. 

“i’m sorry!” bursts from his lips, “oli set it up; he said i needed to stop moping! i didn’t know there would be paps; i think she called them herself, i-“

he cuts himself off with a choke at a particularly sharp flick of your wrist.

“she’s pretty, lan.”

he doesn’t reply, eyes wide and brows scrunched together as he tries to figure out where you’re going with this. you don’t stop fisting his cock, sticky precome dripping down your hand.

“did you fuck her?”

he shakes his head desperately, tears rolling down his cheeks at the stimulation you're giving him. 

“lando, words.”

“i didn’t!”

really? you stop all of a sudden, contemplating the new information he’s just revealed to you. 

“…have you fucked anyone else since me?”

he sniffles at the question and shifts on his feet.

“lando.”

god, it’s getting exhausting having to constantly remind him of his manners.

“yes.”

his reply is so quiet that if you hadn’t been listening with pricked ears, you might’ve mistaken it for just a breath passing his lips.

“was that a yes?” 

to be fair, you have as well. and you’re not going to punish him for taking advantage of being single, but he doesn’t have to know that.

“did you enjoy it?”

he frowns, then shakes his head gloomily. god, this is getting more interesting by the second.

“and why not, lan?”

lando hesitates, biting down on his tongue as he mentally debates himself on whether to tell you or not. the part of him that still wants to be a good boy for you wins out. 

“no one else’s been able to make me come; there’s something wrong… i-i  don’t know.”

he averts his gaze, almost shamefully, missing the smile that creeps along your mouth.

“oh, you poor thing, lan. that must be really hard, huh?”

he sniffles again, pitifully. 

feeling sorry for him, your hand resumes stroking up and down, and you take pleasure in watching the emotion on his face contort from shame to satisfaction. he opens his mouth to reply to your last question when the doorknob rattles, followed by a series of hard knocks. 

“hello?! i need to take a shit!”

lando’s eyes widen even more at the sound of one of his friends’ voices on the other side. 

your hand doesn’t stop moving up and down; lando’s flies up to his mouth to muffle himself, eyebrows knitting together at the prospect of being caught. you reach up and push it away, probably more forcefully than you needed to. 

“don’t even think about it,” you hiss, before licking a wet stripe up the underside of him, balls to tip. his mouth drops open at the feeling of your warm tongue, then you’re taking his cock in your mouth and sucking hard.

you can hear his nails scratching at the wood of the door as he scrambles for purchase; something, anything to ground himself as your head bobs up and down on his cock. 

the doorknob rattles once more, then falls silent. you pull off with a ‘pop’ and smile up at him.

“good boy, lan. so good.”

his eyes are still shut tight, but a small, proud smile appears on his face at the praise. you reward him by returning to his cock, trying to suppress your gag reflex each time he hits the back of your throat. 

he’s assumed he’s allowed to be loud now, breathy moans leaving his perfect lips as he throws his head back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

an idea pops into your head and your mouth is moving before you can contain it, pulling off him to rest your cheek against his flushed tip. 

“why don’t you film this, honey?” 

lando’s eyes fly open, taken aback by your suggestion.

“yeah,” you’re rolling the idea around in the back of your mind.

you decide you like it and you want to keep going, “get your phone out, lando; let’s film this for the next girl you go out with. show her how to make you come like i do, yeah?” 

he’s shaking like a leaf, poor thing, but you don’t let up. one hand comes up to stroke just the base of his cock, knuckles brushing against your cheek as you do so.

“i mean, you’re moving on from me. if you fuck her, you should at least come in her, right, honey? so let’s help her learn. give her a lesson on how to treat you properly, lan.”

you’re pretty convinced your words are going in one ear and going out the other. he seems more focussed on not busting prematurely to properly take in what you’re saying.

you’ve had enough of his disobedience.

“lando, do you want to come?”

it’s not so much a question as it is a threat, and lando recognises it, eyes flying open as your words finally get through the thick fog of pleasure. 

he nods desperately, tears pricking at his eyes again. what a crybaby.

“yes— fuck, yes, please; don’t just leave me here!” 

it’s not illogical for him to be so worried; you can recall many a party in the past, just like this one, where you’d left him hard and leaking on a whim. 

you pull your hand away now and he chases after it with his hips before whining, defeated.

“get your fucking phone out, lando.” 

he fumbles around in his pants pocket for his phone and passes it to you obediently. you reward him with another kiss to his cock. he shudders at the contact.

staring at his lockscreen, you type in the passcode he’d had during your relationship— your birthday—, not necessarily expecting it to work. the screen slides up and you find yourself on his homescreen. 

“i thought you were moving on, honey. what’s this?”

blush coats his cheeks as he glances away from you and the unlocked phone you hold in your hand.

“i haven’t changed it yet. was gonna… just got used to it.”

how cute. 

“you wanna be good for me? you wanna help your girl learn?”

he nods again, though he’s slower to agree, like he doesn’t like everything what you’re saying. it’s funny; how he thinks his opinion matters. 

you start off jerking him slowly, watching as he draws his lip between his teeth, his hands shaking as he struggles to press record. you hear the little ding sound and the flash shines in your eyes as he finally starts filming, and you feel yourself get wetter than you should at the knowledge that you’re on camera. 

you start by mouthing slowly at his head, enjoying how much he struggles to maintain any semblance of composure. he squirms as your tongue passes over his tip, hands flexing as he fights the incessant urge to rush you. 

you know the exact moment his patience runs out; he pushes his hips forward, forcing himself past your lips. you glare up at him from the base of his pelvis, mouth split open by his thick cock, but don’t make any move to stop and scold him. 

instead, you take it in stride, taking a deep breath through your nose before pulling off almost all the way, then back down again. lando lets out a heavy sigh as your mouth moves around him, warm and hot.

you glance up and notice the phone drifting off-course, filming more of the bathtub than you, so you stop, balls-deep, and frown at him through the camera until he gets the memo. when he points it back at your face, you smile as best you can, wide-eyed and innocent like this is something casual for you, before returning to the task at hand.

he keens at you and thrusts his hips forward, desperate, and you gag as he hits the back of your throat. this earns him a hard swat to the thigh, to which he babbles out a, “sorry, fuck-,” before you take him even deeper.

you take his free hand and hold it against your neck, pushing his palm flat against the bulge that appears as his cock slides down your throat over and over. 

“oh fuck- oh my god...”

his cock twitches in your mouth as he feels you take him entirely.

you kind of regret the whole filming thing now; you can’t see his pretty face anymore when you glance up, just a blinding light in your face and a dark lens staring at you. 

he’s squirming more and more, and you know he’s close; he’s getting so loud. his moans are becoming more choked as he nears his peak, and he sets the phone down with a slam against the marble countertop; his hands fly down to grip at your hair. you almost think to stop and tell him off, but this is a special occasion, you suppose. 

“fuck, please let me come; please, please,” he begs you.

you pull off him just enough to murmur at his tip, “i don’t know, honey. do you deserve it?” 

he nods pathetically, pushing his hips forward to get the slightest bit of stimulation from you, ignoring the sensitivity of your lips mouthing at his head.

you decide to be cruel. 

a sob escapes him as you lean back on your heels, away from him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“but what about your girl, lando?” 

you glance towards his phone, abandoned on the edge of the sink, probably still rolling. 

“fuck, she’s not my girl; i don’t care about her. fuck her- fuckin’- please!”

your head tilts to the side, and your eyes drift up, pretending to think about it. 

“mm, no. that’s not very fair to her, is it?”

the tears start up again; this time out of frustration. his brain isn’t working nearly hard enough for him to think of what the right thing to say is. instead, when he opens his mouth, what comes out is a pitiful, ragged gasp. 

“what are you gonna do to convince me you deserve it, lan? ‘cause… i don’t think you’re doing a very good job of it right now.”

his eyes squeeze shut as he racks his brain for what you want to hear. 

“move back in with me. i’ve missed you so bad, angel— fuck!”

you thumb swipes over his leaking slit, smearing precome over his sensitive head. still not good enough. he hisses and whines again.

“please-, i can’t live without you. i need you. i need you, angel!“ 

his lip is raw from biting down on it, his lashes wet from crying. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i was wrong; i was so wrong to end it! i miss you all the time, i regret it every day; i’m so sorry, please come back, please, please-“

you hum, finally satisfied with his grovelling, and hollow your cheeks as you take all of him in your mouth again. hands in your hair holding you in place, lando’s hips take over as he chases his own pleasure, bucking forward, forcing his cock down your throat. your jaw goes slack and you finally allow him take what he wants from you; just a hole for him to empty his balls in. 

“thank you, thank you, thank you-“ he’s babbling as he gets closer, like he always does, “fuck, angel; love you, thank you, love you-”

he finally comes with a broken cry, hot come spurting in your mouth. his hips don’t stop, prolonging his orgasm for as long as possible after months of being unable to. your pussy clenches on nothing as he pulses against your tongue.

you manage to swallow half of his seed, coating your mouth in the bitter taste of him. the other half oozes out of the corners of your mouth, and you jerk your head to the side to avoid getting any on your dress. his cock slides out of your mouth easily, leaving a soreness in the back of your throat when you swallow.

you look up at lando. his legs are shaking and his eyes are trained on you, following your every movement like a dog would it’s master. 

“such a good boy, lan. come here, honey.” 

at your command, he slides down to the ground to meet you, and when his knees settle against your own, you kiss him finally. 

a relieved whine escapes him as he melts into your touch, shoulders sagging and body leaning towards yours. he’s kissing you desperately, trying to communicate months of dissatisfaction with his tongue as he pushes it into your mouth, running along your teeth. his hands grab at the front of your dress, trying to pull you closer, ever closer. 

he tilts his head down and away from you, so your lips end up on his cheek. you open your mouth to complain until you feel his tongue dart out and licks up his own come from your chin. you smile against his stubble. maybe he hasn’t lost all his manners after all.

his mouth returns to yours and the taste gets mixed in with your saliva and his. you can’t help but moan as everything familiar sinks in, and you realise lando’s back. he's here, with you. emboldened by your noises, his teeth nip at your lip; not hard enough to draw blood, but not softly either. his arm sneaks around your waist, settling at your hip. 

it stays there for not even five seconds.

he trails it slowly down, drawing little patterns on your thigh as he edges towards your cunt, trying to be inconspicuous. you only notice subconsciously his fingers dancing along your panties, light against the wet spot right on the front of them, or your hips canting up, aching for him to touch you like he used to do. 

your hands fly up to either side of his face as lando pulls your panties to the side and pushes his index in in one go. his mouth stills against yours once he’s buried up to the knuckle, waiting for you to stop him. when you don’t show any signs of wanting to, he curls his finger up tentatively. a sigh leaves your lips as even just one of his fingers fills you up in the way you’re used to.

taking your sounds as permission to continue, he pushes his tongue back past your lips as he drives his thick finger in and out of your sopping wet pussy. his teeth clack against yours as he swallows down all the noises you’re making. 

he pulls out suddenly, and his mouth leaves yours again; this time to take his slick-covered finger in his mouth, tongue swirling around his knuckle as he licks up every trace of you. you pant heavily, taking the opportunity to catch your breath as you watch him with half-lidded eyes, on his knees in front of you. your tongue runs over your swollen bottom lip, feeling every mark left by his teeth, and your pussy clenches, wanting him back in her now. 

you reach out for him, and his hand drops from his mouth as you near. you pull him towards you by the chin, tapping at his lips— still wet from a mix of your slick and his saliva— when you're happy with how close he is.

his jaw hangs open on command, and his eyes dart down to your lips expectantly. pleased with his retained obedience, you kiss the tip of his nose gently before prying his mouth open wider, and spitting. 

he moans happily as his tongue rolls your saliva around his mouth, before he swallows and shows you. 

“mm, such a good boy, aren’t you?” 

you don’t mean to say it out loud, but lando hears all the same. his pupils get impossibly darker, and he all but lunges back at you, pushing you against the side of the tub as he connects your mouths together again. 

your fingers find his hair and pull, earning a desperate whine from him just as his index and middle fingers push back into you with no resistance. his hand starts pumping in and out and you gasp into his open-mouthed kisses, back arching off the porcelain skirt as he hits your g-spot like he never forgot how to. you can feel his hardening cock against your hip, eager to fuck you again after so many months.

as much as you also want that, you tear yourself away from him as the amount of time you two have spent in this bathroom suddenly occurs to you. any longer and either someone will get max to unlock the door because they really need to piss, or max himself will find you as he’s cleaning up the apartment afterwards.

a string of spit connects your mouths still, until your finger comes up and twists itself around it, breaking as it gets too thin. his fingers slip out of you with a wet squelch and your cunt mourns being full already. you push yourself off the ground, brushing your knees of imaginary dirt. lando remains where he is, crumpled on the ground, chest heaving.

“come on, clean yourself up.”

you grab a towel, neatly folded by the sink, and throw it at him. he takes a moment to get to work, but does as you say, rubbing at his face first, then cleaning the excess amounts of your slick off his hand, and finally drying off his spit-covered cock. you smooth your hair down in the mirror, and pull your dress down, trying to look like you haven’t just hooked up with your ex in your friend’s bathroom. 

lando gets up slower than you had, and pulls his trousers back up his hips. another little ding from his phone as he picks it up tells you that, like you had suspected, it had been recording even after lando had tossed it aside.  

“you okay?”

lando sniffs one more time to compose himself, and nods, taking your hand in his as you unlock the door and step out.

there’s no one lingering around the bathroom, thank god— they would surely ask what the two of you were doing in there, but as you make your way through to the living room where everyone else is, you don’t miss the shocked looks the two of you get from the other partygoers, each of whom knows about your messy breakup. 

“lando! i’ve been looking for…” max’s sentence dies off in his throat as takes notice of who lando’s with. 

“max! isn’t this great? you always throw such a good party; thanks for the invite, babe.”

you let go of lando’s hand to wrap your arms around max’s neck. he hugs you back just a second too slow. 

“hi love. i, uh… i didn’t know this was a thing again?” he gestures to the two of you when you step back to lando’s side. 

lando smiles cockily, an aura of confidence around him, and entwines your hand with his again, the whiny boy in the bathroom completely gone from sight.

“well, we ran into each other earlier and got to talking and, honestly, mate? i didn’t realise how bad i missed my angel.” 

he presses a kiss to the side of your head as he says the last part, making you blush at the attention. max eyes the two of you suspiciously, like he knows something, but shrugs and decides to drop it. 

“well, as long as you’re both happy, i’m happy.” 

you nod eagerly at him, then at lando, who’s doing the same as you. you’re sure you both look goofy as hell, like a couple of bobbleheads.

max looks weirded out. whether it’s from the sudden rebirth of your relationship or the way the two of you are acting, you’re not sure.

you make your escape before things get even more awkward tonight. 

“bye, max! nice to see you again; i’m sure lando can fill you in later! love you!” you push lando in some random direction, speaking quickly so max can’t interrupt. 

his hand raises in a half-arsed wave, and you think you hear an affectionate, “weirdos,” before you’re out of earshot.

taking charge once you’re both around the corner, lando grabs your hand and clears a path to the kitchen, where he rummages around in max’s cupboards for two glasses and pours you a drink before doing the same for himself. 

you take a sip, the first thing you’ve tasted that’s not lando in at least an hour and a half, and sigh happily. he leans against the counters, watching your throat bob as you swallow down the alcohol. 

“you know we’re gonna need to have a proper talk,” you posit, glancing at him over the rim of your glass. 

he nods, a serious expression on his face very unbefitting him.

“and you should probably delete that video.”

lando pretends to think about it, before his face splits with another cheeky smile.

“mm… nah.”

“lando.”

he pulls you in by the waist and presses another kiss to your cheek. he dwells for a second, breathing in your scent before carrying on.

“it’s really hot. i might keep it for when i’m alone at a race and missing you, angel.”

you roll your eyes before realising how happy you are to be falling back into a familiar dynamic with him. lando seems to come to the same realisation at the same time, smiling softly down at you as his arm comes up to rest on your shoulders. 

“will you come over tonight?” he murmurs into your hair. 

you make a face at him, “…what?”

lando shrugs at you like it’s obvious, “saves you having to drive tomorrow morning.” 

“okay… um, remind me again why i’m coming to your place at all tomorrow?”

“well, we have to talk, right? might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible. plus, we wouldn’t have to do it in a bathroom at mine.”

he waggles his eyebrows as he says the last bit, clearly looking forward to continuing where you’d left off earlier. you respond to his confidence with a pat on the arm, and take another sip of your drink.

“let’s just see how the night turns out, okay?” 

it’s not a no, and from the way you catch him grinning into his drink, he knows it just as much as you. 

enjoyed this fic? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹

taglist ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: @vroomvroomcircuit @nightwingblvd @disneyprincemuke @williamsracinggf @l3nney @thankyoulovely @nottivagos @the-holy-trinity-l @thegirlinblackgreensilver @santana200807 @indiegirly @oscarpiastriloverr @rafegf-real @foggystrangerradiance @painfullyboundlesssphinx @ab232323sblog @landosgirl @fuckingsimp4azriel @cheekynorris @whatarewed0ing @lili-cc @maeliily @scar-005 @ronanpakes0 @allbritishbitchx @lewisroscoelove @thisisthesoundoftheend