in oblak we trust

"Hello," Jenson says, walking over from where he's parked the golf cart. He's in chinos and an oversized polo Steve is almost certain he's worn to present on Sky. "I'm a bit early."

Steve makes a show of glancing down at his watch. "You're the first," he says, but of course Jenson knows that. He nods towards the tent. "He might be asleep."

Jenson's eyes soften and his lips curl into a fond smile. "Maybe I just let him rest," he says, voice dipping quieter.

Steve gives a half shake of the head. "I think he'd be rather put out," he says. "Slot after yours is open, you can stay if you have the time."

Jenson gives him a contemplative look. "Thanks," he says, and then he ducks inside the tent.

Steve places himself directly in front of the magnet strip holding the panels shut. It's not because it makes it marginally easier to hear the soft voices inside. It's the most strategically advantageous placement. Besides, Lando wanted him close.

"Hey, sweetheart." Jenson's voice is barely audible.

Steve can hear the mumble of Lando's reply, but not the words.

"Yeah," Jenson says. He sounds amused. "I was there all weekend. You're too fancy for me now."

A noise of protest from Lando, the sound of rustling.

"Uh-huh," Jenson says. "You're a world champion now."

"So're you," Lando says.

Jenson hums in agreement. "You're a champion forever," he says, voice tipping lower. "They can never take it from you."

There's silence. At least, there's no more talking. It takes a minute for Steve's ears to adjust to the almost staticky sound of lips connecting.

"You and Vale," Jenson murmurs. "Up on that balcony."

Lando giggles, and Steve finds himself smiling at the sound.

"You should've texted," Lando says. "I'd have made time."

Jenson doesn't reply, which Steve takes to mean his mouth is better occupied. There's an abrupt, high-pitched moan and then a chuckle, much deeper.

"Evil," Lando says.

"You love it," Jenson replies.

The words don't come, but the moans of pleasure do.

"Jense," Lando says, more an exhalation than a word. "Oh fuck, yeah."

So it's Jenson on his knees for Lando, then. Steve would've bet that one wrong.

"Can you—" Lando says. "Yeah." He sounds utterly self-satisfied.

The sound of Jenson's mouth on Lando's dick is blessedly covered by Lando's moans, slightly too much chest in them to be breathy.

"No, no," Lando says. "Come up here."

Jenson pulls off with a pop that feels intentionally loud. Steve feels a quick flash of annoyance, adjusts his stance outside the door. There's a bluetooth speaker, if volume becomes a concern.

"I thought this was whatever I want?" Jenson says. His tone is light, but there's a real question in it.

"I mean, yeah," Lando says. "But."

Steve stifles a snort. It's quintessentially Lando to sign himself up for an afternoon of free use and then try and engineer how exactly he's used.

"So lie back and take it," Jenson says, in a tone Steve doesn't think he's ever heard from him before.

"I want you to fuck me though," Lando says. Steve can picture the coquettish look that probably accompanies it, lip caught between his teeth, looking down his body at Jenson through his eyelashes. "S'been a minute."

"Trust me," Jenson says. "Yeah?"

A soft smacking of lips.

"Yeah," Lando says.

"Good boy."