#kando

Keegan knocks as he pushes one side of the double doors open. "Paps?"

Lando is contorted on the bed, on his side but hips turned down so… his ass is facing the door. And he's under the sheets but the mound of it is still very apparent to Keegan at this angle. Very.

"Keegs?" He asks, looking up from his phone and slowly rotating onto his back. So slowly, like it hurts.

"Ya good?" Keegan asks. "Max—"

"Fucking Max," Lando says, voice tight as he gets onto his back. He's grumbling something else that Keegan can't hear, and so he moves closer to the bed, places his hands on the foot of it and locks his elbows to lean down and speak.

"Want me to hang?" He asks.

Lando shrugs, but Keegan kinda can't unsee the tender way Lando had flipped over and the strange position he had been lying in before. He's heard Max ask about Lando's back enough times to know.

"It's bothering you?" Keegan asks, and he's kneeing onto the bed to sit cross legged beside Lando's legs.

"Yeah, back fucking sucks right now."

Lando hit the curb pretty hard, nearly went into the wall before he'd managed to correct and keep it on track. But Keegan watched the slow motion replay, saw how the car bumped and then jerked sharply. Lando had taken floor damage.

Keegan tries to ignore the little pang that Lando called Max. When Keegan himself was across the suite, just a couple armchairs, a sofa, and some glass art installment between them. Lando could have text him.

As he watches, Lando shifts, almost arching his back and then rearranging his hips again.

"Jon do anything for it?"

Lando sighs. "Yeah, stretched me out and I've got, like, a patch on it. But not working as much as normal. And I've gotta take it off soon, can't sleep with it on."

As Keegan watches, Lando flips onto his stomach again, gingerly and slow. He pushes up off one knee, yanks up the bottom of his shirt to reveal a white pain patch across his lower back. Low enough the bottom tucks under his shorts.

Keegan scoots a little closer, still cross-legged, as Lando contorts to reach for it. "Need— I can…"

Lando's thick fingers catch a corner and manage to pry the peeling edge of the adhesive slightly further off. But then he flops back to the bed, breathing harder than he should be.

"Yeah," he says, and his voice is quiet compared to what it was. Almost somber.

"Yeah, I'll…" Keegan trails off as he fingers the edge of the patch where Lando peeled up the edge.

"Fast," Lando says. "Like a plaster."

Keegan rips it off in one go, yanks it from one hip to the other so all the adhesive is removed.

The yipe Lando makes reminds Keegan of the time he'd accidentally stepped on his childhood retriever's tail. He tosses the patch to the side and presses his hands to the red skin left behind, an impulse to soothe.

"Sorry, Paps." Keegan works his thumbs against Lando's skin for a moment.

"Just sucks," Lando says, and it's so muffled Keegan looks up to find Lando's face buried into the curve of his elbow as he has his arm above his head.

"Your back?"

Lando turns, unearths his face. Keegan's hands are still on his skin.

"Yeah." Lando screws up his face, closes his eyes. "Like, I know there's bigger problems. First world or whatever. But tonight it's just…" Lando closes his eyes, doesn't finish.

Keegan gets it. He's broken enough bones to know pain, a kid trying more and more complex skateboarding moves until he reached the level that got him a gold medal at seventeen. He knows it, and knows it's hard to see past in the thick of it.

Hesitantly, Keegan digs his fingers into the muscles of Lando's lower back, kneading where they feel like rocks under his touch, knotted tight.

"That okay?" He asks, but he's also watching Lando's face, gets to watch it twitch when Keegan finds a knot by his hip, and slacken when he digs into it. Lando's lips part gently and his eyes flutter open.

"Thanks," he says, and his voice is all quiet and small again. Keegan swallows.

"Sure, Paps."

He keeps going, feel sorta addicted to how he can feel Lando loosening under his touch, how he's sinking into the mattress. Keegan follows the tight paths of Lando's body, until he's shocked from watching Lando's face by catching his fingers on the elastic waist of Lando's shorts.

It just feels right when he pushes them down a little to keep following the tight muscles, until the skin under his hands becomes more plush, a layer of soft flesh above the muscles.

Lando stirs. "Keegs…"

For a moment, he thinks he's crossed a line, is ready to yank his hands back like he's been burned. But then Lando's tone sets in, the deepness of it. The slight roughness. He's closed his eyes again when Keegan looks at his face.

"Lan?"

Lando shifts against the mattress again. "I…"

Keegan digs his fingers in further, feels Lando's body twitch. "What?" He feels desperate to know, needs to be told because his curiosity is ready to eat him whole.

Lando doesn't answer, just slowly draws one of his legs up the bed to push his body up, put a few inches between himself and the mattress. And he slithers a hand down the sheets to shove it beneath himself.

The noise he makes twists Keegan's stomach, makes his own mouth fall open so he can suck in a huge lung full of air through it. He splays his hand across Lando's skin, needs more of it under his palm. As much as possible.

"God," he gasps, and tightens his hand again to grip onto Lando's flesh.

Lando opens his eyes, a slit of green in the dimly lit room. "You—"he gasps, eyes falling to Keegan's lap. "You too."

Keegan looks down. He's also hard. Obviously so. "Me?"

Lando's eyes gently close again. "Touch yourself," he says in all but a whisper.

Keegan really doesn't have to be told twice. He shoves his free hand into his sweats, cups himself over his boxers for a moment before slipping his hand into those too. As he does, he watches Lando, watches how he turns his head to plant his forehead against the sheets, draws his chin to his chest so he creates a pocket to breath as his back arches.

"Lan, don't—" Keegan tries, but then Lando is pushing himself onto his side again, facing Keegan so he gets a look at how Lando has pulled himself out of his shorts, is openly working his fist over his cock.

"Oh, my—" Keegan can't help how he crawls forwards, rips his hand out of his own pants to reach for Lando, to push on his hip and force him gently over onto his back. And then Keegan slides a leg over him, straddles his thighs and stares at Lando's stupid big hand on his cock.

When Keegan looks up, Lando has his lip in his mouth, biting down so hard it's white.

"I..." Keegan moves in a haze, pushing his own sweats and boxers down as far as he can while straddling Lando and shuffling close enough to bat Lando's hand away and grab them both in his own.

Lando makes a tight noise, one that sounds like it starts in his chest and works its way to his mouth.

Keegan is enamored, can't stop staring down at Lando with his mouth wide open. Lando's shirt is still pushed up, the flex of his abs visible as he pants beneath Keegan.

His back.

"This okay?" Keegan asks, free hand curling around Lando's hip.

Lando nods, lip under his teeth again.

Keegan takes a shaking breath. "Don't lemme hurt you."

Under Keegan, Lando's leg jerks and then his hands is on Keegan's knee, squeezing. He has to be close, and Keegan speeds up. There isn't enough moisture for the speed, and he regretfully peels his hand away for a moment to lick his palm.

The noise Lando makes sounds almost painful, and Keegan freezes but he's just watching Keegan's actions, pupils blown. Keegan does it again, just for Lando. He licks from the heel of his hand to the tip of his middle finger. Lando is shaking beneath him.

When Keegan grips their cocks again, Lando throws his head back and Keegan sorta can't believe it, can't believe how reactive Lando is. How badly he needs it.

"Yeah Paps, I got you," Keegan says, and he doesn't know where it's coming from, but it's doing something for Lando. He arches beneath Keegan, and Keegan lifts his weight, eyes searching over Lando, not liking the curve he's giving his spine. But then Lando is spilling over Keegan's fist, slow lazy blurts that run down his knuckles.

Keegan keeps going, watches Lando's cock finish and then let's go to wrap his come-dirty hand around just his cock and jerk himself aggressively to his own orgasm, head bowed and panting breathes gasping from between his lips. The squelch is horrible, a visceral noise in the quit of the room.

He comes partially on Lando, drips onto his thighs and his shorts. As soon as Keegan realizes, he feels sorta bad about it but when he looks up, Lando is looking at him softly.

"You okay?" Keegan asks, and pets over Lando's hips with his clean hand, inches his fingers around the curve of his waist to press soft fingers into his flank.

Lando nods, lets his head rest back against the sheets and closes his eyes. "Sorta what I needed, Keegs."

A hot flush goes up Keegan's body, and he looks again at his drops of come on Lando. Slowly, he takes off his shirt and wipes at them, then wipes off his own hand too.

When Keegan shifts off of Lando's legs, Lando's eyes fly open.

"Stay," he says quietly, half sitting up to look at Keegan properly as he kneels beside Lando. "Sleep. In here."

If it was anyone else with those two medals, Lando might feel silly bringing the WDC trophy with them on the ski trip, but Keegan looks at it with round eyes and begs Lando to drink a beer out of it, which ends up with all of them drinking beer out of it like some self important, fuckboy beer funnel.

But then they keep drinking out of it. And then Lando is flopping, loose limbed and ruddy cheeked, onto the couch beside Keegan. He throws an arm around Lando’s shoulders as he slouches lower, head level with Keegan’s shoulder so that when Martin holds up his phone, Lando just has to tilt his head and show his teeth for a picture that he knows he will love. One for the album.

Lando stays there. Keegan is warm. He keeps playing with the collar of Lando’s shirt as he talks to the others, and Lando is sorta just existing in his happy, drunk haze. Max—bless him, he’s such a good friend—makes Lando a drink and hands it to him but his big hands are clumsy right now and he bumps it before grabbing it and ice cold ginger beer and vodka dumps onto Lando and Keegan.

“Fuck,” Lando says, almost too calm.

Keegan jumps, his attention having been on Ed by the fireplace.

“Christ, Paps.” He leans to put a little space between them and look at the damage to his shirt, the dark, wet stain spreading across his ribs.

“Sorr’s,” Lando says, sitting up and putting the drink on the coffee table where Max sighs and slides a coaster under the wet base. “Let’s—“

He motions towards the bedrooms, and heads into his to find a new shirt. As he’s yanking his own WDC merch from his luggage, he hears footsteps behind him and there’s Keegan, followed him in drunkenly instead of going to his own room.

“Need a shirt?” Lando offers, nonplussed about sharing.

“Guess,” Keegan says, looking down at his wet shirt, holding it away from his body by holding the hem tense. “And pants.”

Lando looks further down and sees that he indeed did also spill on Keegan’s jeans. It sorta looks like… well he’s pissed himself.

“Mate.”

Lando lets the smallest giggle slip out, but then Keegan echoes it and they’re both giggling, and then Lando is handing a tshirt and sweats to Keegan, and he’s still giggling as he starts trying to unbutton his jeans to change. But he can’t get the button with his giggly, drunk fingers. Lando brandishes the clothes he’s offering in his outstretched arm, teasing him.

“Mate,” Keegan bemoans, practically folded in half trying to get his jeans off.

Lando is still laughing but manages to deliver a dry line anyways. “Arm’s getting tired.”

Keegan snort laughs and then Lando tosses the clothes onto the foot of the bed and pushes Keegan’s shoulders up to stoop and work on the button himself.

He pops it but doesn’t leave it to Keegan after that. Instead, he unzips them too and lets them fall off of his hips, loose as they are.

There are hands in Lando’s hair. Lando doesn’t know when he stopped laughing. He’s breathing hard. Keegan’s fingers gently move in his hair and Lando’s getting horny. Well, hornier than he was. He’s always horny when he drinks.

“Guy ever sucked your dick?” Lando doesn’t even realize he’s saying it until he does. But he’s looking at the outline of Keegan’s dick in his boxers. And either he’s… as big as Lando. Or he’s hard. Or some combo of both.

Above him, there’s an audible swallow. “A couple times.”

“Gets freaky in the Olympic village?” Lando asks as he leans forwards and lets his nose brush Keegan’s length through the fabric. Keegan’s breath audibly stutters.

“A bit.”

When Lando looks up, through his lashes, Keegan is looking down with his mouth hanging open.

“Ya want it sucked?”

Keegan snaps his jaw shut. “Fuuuuuck,” he says through his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Lando.”

He takes that as a yes. In his drunken mind, he doesn’t even care if it was. He’s horny now, and been pressed against Keegan all night and is mouth is getting wet thinking about the taste of a dick on his tongue.

Keegan is hard when Lando gets his dick out. Lando also thinks he might not be able to stay standing through a blow job, so he man handles Keegan to the bed and sits on his heels between Keegan’s knees.

Lando’s a little too drunk to make a show of it. He could have looked up through his lashes again, held eye contact while he lowered his head, licked around the head to tease before actually going for it. Instead, he shoves as much as he can in his mouth without gagging and just lets his saliva pool, makes it wet as he can and starts working over Keegan, careful not to let anything bump his throat. He knows he’s drank enough that he can’t risk it.

Keegan comes fast. Lando remembers being 22 and a mouth almost being too much. And girls telling him his come tasted like shit. Keegan’s sure does.

Lando spits it onto the clean shirt he was offering Keegan, needs it out of his mouth. But he’s still got a hand on Keegan’s thighs and knows at 22 how fast you can’t get it up again.

“You ever fucked a guy?”

Keegan’s still half dead from coming but shakes his head no.

“Great, it’s just like fucking a girl in the ass but I have a G spot.”

“Oh fuck,” Keegan gasps as he catches on.

Lando’s still between his knees, wrestling Keegan’s boxers fully off of his legs and then shoving his shirt up to his armpits until Keegan takes it in his own hands and yanks it off.

It’s a good view. Keegan is young and wired, toned everywhere that matters and skinny everywhere else. V lines like he either fucks a lot or hits the gym too much. Lando knows it’s sorta both.

Lando crawls up the bed, onto and then over Keegan to flop onto his back and wrestle off his own pants.

“There’s lube in…” he trails off, motioning towards his half empty toiletry bag on the dresser, most of the contents in the en suite. Except blessedly the lube.

Keegan stumbles to the dresser, naked. His pale ass faces Lando and it’s a good ass.

He makes Keegan open him up, hates doing it himself and having someone just watch. Has to make it a show or oddly perfunctory. At least if someone else is doing it, they’re both involved. Usually Lando likes kissing during, but he hasn’t kissed Keegan and doesn’t know if he’s down and isn’t going to ask when Keegan’s got a finger in his ass.

It should have been assumed, what with the accolades and all, but Keegan’s a fast learner. Instantly locks in the muscle memory when he hits Lando’s prostate and does it again and again.

“Gotta stop,” Lando gasps, wriggling on Keegan’s fingers. “If you’re gonna get in me.”

“You can?” Keegan asks. “With just this?”

Lando screws his eyes shut. “Yeah, almost am.”

“Can you? Can I?”

Lando is wrinkling his nose to stave it off. “What?”

“Come like this?”

Lando gasps as Keegan brushes over his prostate again and he can’t focus. “You want to?”

“Yeah,” Keegan pants. “That’s like… gnarly.”

Lando wishes he could bear opening his eyes cause the tone in Keegan’s voice is so nice, the reverence of it all. That Lando’s body could do that.

“Yeah then,” Lando agrees, fisting the sheets. “I will.”

“Yeah?”

Lando nods. He’s so close.

Keegan pets over his stomach with the hand not knuckle deep in Lando’s ass. “Ya need like?” Fingertips brush his dick. Hesitant.

“I can, without.”

“Fuck.” The hand lands on Lando’s hip instead, holding it down while Keegan presses on Lando’s prostate.

“Yeah,” Lando gasps. “Massage like—“

“A girl?” Keegan asks, rubbing a little circle into it.

Lando takes his lip between his teeth and nods.

“Like that?”

Again, Lando nods. The vigor nearly makes him dizzy. His eyes are still shut.

Keegan’s panting into the open air and Lando can hear his heartbeat. He’s so close it feels like a sneeze building but in his gut.

“Yeah good, Paps?”

Lando’s leg twitches and he bumps Keegan, who chuckles. But he’s still rubbing over Lando, and he tilts his own hips a hair to catch it just ever so slightly different and he’s spilling, completely untouched.

“Woah, mate,” Keegan says, and Lando can barely hear him over the blood in his ears. “That’s not—“

There’s silence save for Lando’s heaving breath.

“Is that piss?”

Lando’s barely listening. He can’t feel his toes.

“Nah,” he pants. His eyes are still closed. “Fuck off.”

“What’s it then?” Keegan says, sounding unconvinced. Lando doesn’t know when he pulled his fingers out. The hand on his hip is missing.

“Stop being a dick. It’s like… gay stuff. Cause…” Lando has to keep catching his breath. “You were in my ass.”

“Oh.” Lando feels the mattress shift, and then Keegan’s hot hand is on his thigh. “Sick.”

“Sure, mate,” Lando says, not fully able to listen. But he can finally open his eyes.

Keegan’s still between his legs, sitting back on his heels and looking at the mess on the stomach of Lando’s tshirt—the WDC shirt—the pool of milky prostate fluid.

Lando wrinkles his face and yanks the shirt off, balling it so nothing drips on the bed and then dropping it onto the floor before flopping back again.

“C’mere.”

Keegan moves immediately, lying down beside Lando. He rolls into Keegan’s side, likes when Keegan still automatically puts an arm around him.

“Was that good, Paps?”

Lando nods and his nose is brushing Keegan’s collarbone. “Pretty fucking good.”