Max Verstappen beauty appreciator ฅᨐฅ

Sometimes, Oscar wishes he could keep him like this: frantic and close to begging for it, tears swirling in those seaglass eyes, lips swollen from the abuse of his own teeth. Lando looks pathetic like this, staring up at Oscar even as saltwater leaks from the corners of his eyes, slicking unruly paths down each cheek.

“Oscar, please —,” Lando gasps, and he sounds wretched with it, voice high and raspy all at once. He’s trying to rock himself down onto Oscar’s hand, the one finger that’s been dipping in and out between his legs for five minutes now, never going further than that first stretch of muscle. “Please, I need it. Need — inside, please —,” he cuts himself off with a desperate moan as Oscar slips the tip of his finger just barely over the edge once again.

Despite the almost nothing pressure of it Lando’s body opens up greedily, trying to take the digit further. Oscar’s already spent the better part of an hour working him open pain-stakingly, four fingers deep before he’d retracted to the one, Lando gaping so ineffectively around it.

Oscar hums contemplatively, eyes almost flat as they look over Lando’s screwed up features. “Hm,” he says, pushing in deeper and then withdrawing completely. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

The sound Lando makes is downright helpless, caught between a sob and a whine. His whole body is held taut with it, muscles straining everywhere Oscar casts his gaze; his hips are still rocking back against nothing, chasing a phantom intrusion that one singular finger isn’t going to satisfy anyway..

“Look at you,” Oscar murmurs. “Fucking gagging for it, aren’t you?” He hooks his thumb over Lando’s rim, tugging him open even further, groaning at the way the muscles try to flutter around nothing.

“Please,” Lando sobs, more wetness sliding over the curve of his cheeks, droplets catching on those impossibly long lashes and all along his waterline. “I can’t, it’s so — empty.” The word tumbles out of him like a slur, mournful and bitter with the way it catches between his teeth.

Oscar makes a pitying sound, reaching a hand between Lando’s legs to curl his fist around his cock. His fingertips don’t even meet, the girth of him a stretch; he’s hot and heavy in Oscar’s hand, the tip angrily purpling. “Maybe you should just come like this,” he says lightly, tone almost conversational. “Not sure you really deserve to be fucked.”

It rips through Lando like a bullet, landing like a threat. He shakes his head violently against the pillow, thrashing like he’s trying to get away, even as his hips buck up into the touch. “No, no, no, Oscar, no, please,” he begs, hitching little breaths punched from his chest, words falling over one another in their haste to be freed. “Osc, you can’t, you can’t, I need it —.”

“I can,” Oscar’s voice is sharp, brow raised as he keeps his grip firm, pace consistent. “Boys like you don’t deserve to be fucked, Lan, do they? Crying shame when you’ve got all this,” he punctuates his words with a particularly rough twist of his palm up the entire, impossible length of Lando. “Should be doing the fucking with a gift like that.”

He sees the blood rush to Lando’s cheeks in real time, the embarrassment that floods him with every word. He’s writhing against the sheets down, desperately trying to hold his orgasm back, arse clenching around nothing. From his lips, a torrent of indecipherable words and noises are let loose.

“Useless, aren’t you?” Oscar pushes, thumbing across the wet tip of Lando’s cock. “All this dick and you don’t even know what to do with it. It’s wasted on you.” Gripping the tip of between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezes sharply. “Say it.”

The sob burst free of Lando’s chest, breaking it like a dam, any barrier to his pleas dashed. “Yeah, fuck, I’m — oh — I’m useless,” he gasps, legs kicking out, spread almost the distance of the width of the bed. “Please, please, I need you — need you to fuck me, please, need to be filled, need you to fill me —.”

Oscar smirks, dropping his hand to the base of Lando’s dick and squeezing as tightly as he can, relishing the sensual arch of Lando’s back. There’s a layer of sweat coating the entirety of Lando’s body now from the exertion of being teased so relentlessly; of holding himself back before he can get what he truly wants and needs.

Leaning down, Oscar sucks an already pebbled nipple in between his lips, tonguing at the flesh before biting down hard, a broken wail emitted from somewhere above him.

Lando’s squirming desperately up against him, thighs shaking and held apart. It’s easy for Oscar to slip his hand back down between them, pressing two fingers in without any warning. Lando gasps, back arching further, but it’s not enough — Oscar knows it isn’t, knows it’s nowhere near enough, from the way he can barely feel the squeeze of Lando’s walls around his fingers.

“God, you’re so loose,” he tuts, moving back so that he can look Lando in the face; shoot him an expression that’s half grimace. “It’s not even going to feel good for me, is it?” Another tut, even as he brushes a sweaty curl away from Lando’s forehead with aching tenderness. “Probably won’t even be able to come inside you, you’re that loose.”

Eyes widening in panic, Lando reaches out, tries to clutch at Oscar’s arms. “No, no, you can, I can make it good, I promise,” he babbles helplessly, a fresh wave of tears rising to his eyes. “Please, please, Osc, c’mon, I can — I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Hm,” Oscar purses his lips like he’s thinking about it, hungry eyes devouring the pathetic image of Lando before him. His cock twitches against his stomach at the sight. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lando,” he says softly, before leaning forward, pressing Lando’s thighs back with a grip under each one. “You’re lucky I’m so nice.”

He presses inside in one slick, brutal motion, all the prep making it an easy slide. The force of it bludgeons an audible breath from Lando, one that seems to reverberate off the walls around them, his eyes rolling back into his head in unison. Gorgeous, Oscar thinks.

Prettiest Lando’s ever looked is when he’s laid out on Oscar’s bed begging to be filled, cock hung and heavy and useless between his legs.

It only takes a few thrusts for Lando’s hand to wriggle down towards his dick; Oscar catches the movement, fingers curling bone crushingly around his wrist in an instant.

When Lando flicks his gaze up to Oscar’s face he feels his heart sink, dread curling under his ribs.