Work Text:
Usually after disappointing races, like his P4 finish in the Netherlands, Oscar tried to get home as soon as possible, jerk off, have an hour long bath then watch tv before getting an early night. Tonight however he was in a random Dutch club, with the bass so high he could feel it in his chest, and music so loud he could barely hear himself think.
The reason he was there, much like all the other impromptu nights out he’d found himself on recently, was Lando.
Lando had won the Dutch grand prix and inevitably, in true Lando fashion, he’d chosen to spend the night at the club.
The thing was though, Oscar had no clue where the brit had disappeared off too. He’d promised Jon he’d keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t end up in either jail or the newspaper (apart from the obvious reason), but he couldn’t do that when he had no fucking idea where he was.
Lando was most likely fine, he was a grown man. He could look after himself and Oscar was probably too drunk for babysitting duty anyway. He was the side of intoxicated that made him feel warm and fuzzy, his hypersensitivity to touch numbed just enough to make it pleasant, wanted almost. His tongue was looser, his vision was hazy around the edges and his footing, although not yet unsteady, was lighter.
Oscar didn’t want to spend the night looking for Lando. He wanted to enjoy it for himself. Nothing serious, just a distraction, just a quick dance or conversation, and a shared glance that might lead into someone’s arms for the night.
…
Oscar drunkenly stumbled into the small bathroom of the VIP area, swinging the door open a little harder than intended, causing it to bounce off its hinges with a sharp bang. He stopped dead in his tracks as two pairs of ocean eyes shot to meet his
Max Verstappen sat on the counter where the sinks were installed, with Lando nestled between his thighs.
Oscar stared, mouth agape, too stunned and drunk to form a coherent thought that wasn’t just, ‘Oh’ or ‘that's hot.’
Max and Lando appeared quite dishevelled with their lips wet, hair tossed and cheeks flushed. Evidently, based on the fact they were both hard and in varying states of undress, Oscar had caught them mid make out session.
Over the last year Oscar had come to learn that the amount of buttons Lando had undone on his shirt directly correlated with how drunk and horny he was and, in that moment, his white fitted button-down was held together by one measly fastening, exposing the soft tanned flesh of his chest underneath.
Max, on the other hand, had his jeans shucked down, just enough to expose his tented erection under the fabric of his boxers. RedBull branded. Like a superhero outfit hidden beneath his civics. Like at a moment's notice, he could strip down to just his undies and become Captain RedBull, vigilante crime fighter, lover and protector of cats.
“I’m sorry,” Oscar spluttered out as his mouth finally reconnected with his brain. He turned on his heels to leave. “I’ll just- I’ll be out- I’ll stand by the-”
“-Osc wait a second.” Lando interrupted.
Oscar froze, took a deep breath then turned back the face the two of them, his arms swinging limply at his sides as he did. He wasn’t going to tell anyone what he’d seen and Lando was insane for even worrying that he might. But, just as he went to voice that, to assure them that he’d keep his mouth shut, he noticed the look in Lando’s eye. Mischievous and cocksure. Oscar was pretty sure he knew what the brit was going to ask before he even said it but that still didn’t make it any less unbelievable.
“Join us?”
Fuck, he must’ve been dreaming, he must’ve been about to have the best wet dream of his life. He pinched himself and, although it was definitely numbed by the alcohol in his system, he felt it.
Double fuck.
“I gotta piss,” Oscar deadpanned, temporarily deflecting from the proposition. He shuffled past Max and Lando to the urinal.
“Do you want him to join us Max?” Lando asked, his large hands still braced against the dutchman’s hips.
“Of course,” Max replied matter of fact, “I think you are both very lovely.”
Oscar’s dick twitched. His piss stream almost missed the bowl. He was genuinely considering joining them.
His crush on Lando didn’t need an explanation, it was obvious, everyone everywhere could apparently see it, heart-eyes-Piastri and all that, but Oscar also liked Max… a lot. Not in the same giddy, heedy way he liked Lando. His attraction to Max was more a deference, a respect, an idolisation perhaps. Not that Oscar had idols but when Max was the one on the top step, was it any wonder he looked up to him?
Also Max was objectively very hot.
“I won.” Lando stated, like he was offering up an excuse, like if Oscar still had reservations then he could use the idea that this was just some sort of prize for Lando as a good enough reason to say yes.
Oscar didn’t need the excuse. Hell, if Lando had texted him on a random Tuesday night and asked to hookup he’d probably have dropped whatever he was doing in an instant to be there. Honestly the same would've probably gone for if had Max asked too.
Oscar was well aware this was only casual but he wasn’t looking for forever just, whatever.
He took a deep breath to steel himself, tucked his semi-hard dick back into his pants then sauntered over to Max and Lando, trying his best to look confident and casual and not like his heart was about to explode out of his chest on a spring like one of those old cartoons.
He manoververed himself to join the brit between the cushions of Max’s thighs, positioning himself so that he faced Lando and Max could see both their side profiles.
Oscar calculatedly flicked out his tongue to wet his lips before pulling the bottom one through his teeth, following the trace of Lando’s gaze darting down to it. He then glanced at Max, who was watching closely from his seated position. He gave Oscar a reassuring smile then brought his hand up placed it against the nape of his neck, squeezing slightly. It made Oscar’s breath hitch.
He wanted this and it was clear Lando and Max wanted it too so why not take the plunge. “Okay,” Oscar shrugged nonchalantly then unceremoniously cupped the brits' alcohol flushed cheeks and closed the distance, pressing their lips together.
For a moment Lando stood unmoving, stunned by Oscar’s forwardness but quickly caught up and before long took the lead.
The way Lando kissed made sense to Oscar. The brit’s tongue was frantic and busy, like he was jumping from thought to thought, constantly changing his mind about what to do with it, about what Oscar might like, unable to settle on just one thing for more than a moment. Despite the disorganisation of it, Oscar felt his body and mind unspooling and he moaned quietly into Lando’s mouth as his hands fell to brit’s waist.
They kissed until they had to break apart for air, Oscar’s pink lips swollen and spit soaked, his dick hard and aching in his jeans. “Now kiss Max,” Lando ordered, his voice a low growl, his siren eyes glinting with power and want.
Oscar’s eyes shot to the dutchman’s. He’d hardly forgotten he was there but still, as wide azure blue eyes met his own, his heartrate spiked. Max hadn’t moved from the counter, his thighs were still spread, caging them both in, but his hands had started to roam. One hooked in the belt loop of Lando’s jeans, the other gazing at the hem of Oscar's shirt, casual and relaxed but eager, like making out in public bathrooms with two of his colleagues/rivals was something he did regularly. Maybe he did, Oscar wasn’t one to judge.
Max lent in a little, then stopped, his eyes darting back and forth from Oscar’s eyes to his lips, as if asking for permission. Oscar reached a hand to the nape of Max’s neck, where the short hairs prickled his fingertips. Then he pulled Max in, efficiently closing the final few inches.
When Max brushed his tongue across Oscar’s lips, asking for permission to enter, Oscar wasted no time granting it. He’d half expected Max to kiss rough and dominant, but he was tender, doting almost. Despite his ruthless reputation on track, off it, here, he was gentle, soft, pliant.
Their tongues explored each other's mouths, a perfect give and take, so different from the boisterousness of Lando. It was almost incomparable, but equally as enjoyable and equally as hot.
Lando thought so too. “I could watch you two forever,” he told them, voice low and rough, “but also I want you both so bad.” He pressed himself into Oscar, grinding his aching dick against the aussie's thigh, nuzzling into the spot where Oscar’s neck met his shoulder, drawing the skin there between his teeth before sucking.
Oscar hissed at the sudden pain, breaking his kiss with Max to lull his head, to expose his neck further for Lando. Oscar’s hands came up to grasp at the brits curls, burying his fists into them, clenching tight.
Lando groaned into Oscar’s neck at the sensation as he continued to grind his hips. Meanwhile Max snaked his hands past Lando’s open shirt to tickle at his ribs and circle the brit’s nipples with the pad of his fingers, rolling the nub between them.
Lando pulled off Oscar's skin with a pop before greedily chasing Max’s lips, kissing hungry and messy.
Max hummed into Lando’s mouth with satisfaction as he continued to toy with his sensitive areola. Meanwhile Oscar unbuttoned the final fastening of Lando’s shirt and kissed down his neck, across his collarbone and toward his other neglected nipple. He drew it into his mouth and rolled his tongue over the teet, feeling the way Lando shivered and jerked against his touch, their touch- his and Max’s.
“We should head back to a hotel” Lando panted, breaking the kiss, his voice coming out as a moan.
He was right of course. This was escalating fast and a club bathroom, no matter how VIP it supposedly was, was probably not the best place for wherever this was going.
“Yeah, probably,” Max huffed with a laugh. “I think my place is closest.”
…
Max flicked on the light of his hotel room then strode over to the window and pulled down the blinds.
Lando and Oscar kicked off their shoes at the doorway then ventured in, Lando beelined it to the bed and flopped down face first into the duvet with a content moan before rolling over, propping himself up in his elbows, and patting both his arms against the bed like a seal, beckoning for Max and Oscar to join him.
Oscar buried his hands in his pockets and chewed the inside of his cheek to quell his nervous excitement as he followed Lando’s instruction and joined him on the bed. The brit wasted no time pulling him in and slotting their lips together again, ardently resuming their kiss.
Soon after, Max joined them too, plopping down on the mattress on Lando’s other side with an exaggerated grunt.
“Old man,” Lando teased between pecks.
“I’m only twenty-six,” Max huffed, removing his shoes and tossing them towards his suitcase.
“Still the oldest one here,” Lando pointed out.
“Says the one with chronic back issues,” Oscar added, breaking the kiss to jab playfully.
“Rude,” Lando fake gasped.
“Do you need a zuma frame?” Max giggled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Shall we get some tempurpedic pillows sent up from reception?” Oscar smiled, cocking an eyebrow, “so you don’t put your back out when you fuck me?”
Lando’s eyes suddenly went wide and sparkly against the blushed pink hue of his waterline. The corners of his mouth pulled into a naughty grin. “You want me to fuck you?” he questioned suggestively.
Oscar shrugged, nonchalant. “I mean, if you want to,” he voiced but was unable to hide the way his cheeks turned an almost Ferrari red. “No pressure though.”
Lando beamed so wide he looked more pixie than human. “Oh Oscar, I’d love to fuck you.”
“Thanks,” Oscar replied flatly, the same awkward way he always did whenever someone complimented him.
“What about you Max?” Lando continued with unabashed excitement, “do you want me to fuck you too?”
Max scoffed then glanced between the two of them, his ocean blue eyes lingering on Oscar for a moment, his gaze raking up and down, unsubtly checking him out. Oscar swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat.
“I want to suck Oscar’s dick,” the dutchman uttered bluntly as he continued his unwavering stare.
Oscar's heart stuttered. Max’s mouth and the words that came from it were perhaps the single hottest thing about him and the prospect of having that mouth wrapped around his dick sent a shiver down his spine. “Okay,” Oscar gulped, biting back a whimper. “I- you too- for you I mean- I want to- yeah,” he trailed off.
“Sounds lovely.” Max replied with a soft gaze and honest smile, then he shuffled up the bed a little, lent around Lando, and pulled Oscar in for a devastating kiss. In no time at all Lando was there too, latching himself to Max’s back like a limpet.
The three of them kissed until they were hard and wanting.
Max shucked up Oscar's shirt and Oscar raised his arms above his head to help manoeuvre it off before doing the same to Max in return, pulling off his white tee and tossing it to the floor in a crumpled mess.
Oscar couldn’t help but stare in awe at Max’s body, he’d never seen him shirtless before. Unlike George, Max didn’t post topless pictures on instagram. Max’s chest was broad and chiselled and his pecs were insane, soft and inviting. Oscar very much wanted to use them as a pillow.
Instead he lent down and latched his mouth to Max’s nipple, elisting a low groan from the dutchman. He ran the flat pad of his tongue over the teet then nipped and pulled at it with his bunny teeth.
“Fuck Oscar,” Max moaned, head thrown back, digging his fingers into Oscar's sides, right over the slight ache of his recently healed but still bruised broken rib.
Once Oscar pulled off Max’s swollen nipple with a pop, the dutchman collapsed into the sheets, next to where Lando had settled himself on the pillows, the brit simply enjoying the view as he lazily palmed himself through his jeans.
Max pulled Oscar down and Oscar straddled his hips. Max kissed at his neck, lapped at his sweat soaked skin, then he unbuckled the aussie’s jeans before reaching behind him and sliding his hands under the back hem of his boxers, groping and kneading his bare ass cheeks, guiding his hips in small circles, grinding their still-clothed aching cocks together.
Lando clambered up and latched himself to Oscar’s back. He ran his palms down Oscar’s arms, nibbled at his ear, kissed the large mole on the side of his neck. He then grazed his fingertips along Oscar’s collarbone, causing the aussie’s skin to erupt with goosebumps. “Your shoulders recently,” Lando mussed, planting soft kisses along the ridges of muscle, “Fuck Oscar, you’ve gotten so broad. You’ve legit been driving me insane when you change with the door open.”
Oscar had been leaving the door open on purpose. He chuckled, before cutting off and burying his head in Max’s shoulder, with a breathless whimper as Lando sucked another bruising kiss into his skin.
“You’re a sadist.” Oscar muttered with a pout in Lando’s direction.
“You like it,” Lando replied smugly and, although Oscar couldn’t see Lando’s face, he knew he was grinning.
Oscar didn’t say anything else just nuzzled deeper against Max’s jawline as the dutchman gently carded his hands through Oscar’s hair.
Oscar breathed in deeply. Lando wore a lot of cologne, and whilst it smelt good, Oscar often found it a little overwhelming but Max, just like Oscar, only wore deodorant, and after dancing and sweating in the club for the last couple hours had become rather stinky. Oscar found it unbelievably arousing.
Lando lent down, caging his body around the aussie, rubbing his aching hardness into the crevice of his ass. He mouthed at Oscar’s earlobe causing a shiver to run down his spine. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?” he whispered, voice honey-smooth.
Oscar nodded eagerly, forcing a hoarse “Yes… please,” from his throat.
Max, still pinned below Oscar, helped Lando shimmy down the aussie’s jeans and underwear, before also removing his own, leaving them both fully naked. He then splayed his legs wide and to the side, like a frog, allowing Oscar to reposition himself between them, atop Max, propped up on his knees and elbows, ass perfectly presented for Lando.
Lando, although still in his trousers had at least, removed his already unbuttoned shirt to expose his lean, perfectly tanned torso underneath. He grabbed the bottle of lube he’d thrown against the covers earlier, uncapped it, and applied a generous amount to his fingers.
“Might be cold,” he warned, then pressed the tip of his finger against the starfish of Oscar’s hole.
Oscar gasped at the sensation, his hands grasping at anything they could to ground himself, they found Max’s slim waist.
Max bucked his hips, providing a devastating friction to his and Oscar’s members pinned between their stomachs. Max groaned at the sensation. As did Oscar.
Lando teasingly circled Oscar’s hole a few times before sliding a finger in, his bony knuckles dragging against the tight ring of muscle.
Oscar keened at the delightful touch, choking out a euphoric sob, muffled against the rock face of Max’s neck. Then he felt the press of a thumb under his chin coaxing him up, bringing his gaze to meet Max’s. Max splayed his fingers wide, down the side of Oscar’s neck, not pressing, just touching. It turned him to putty.
“I love the sounds you make.” Max whispered, his thumb tracing along the bone of Oscar’s jaw. “There’s no need to be shy, I want to hear how good you feel.”
Oscar couldn’t find any words to respond, just nodded and hummed a high pitched confirmation as his eyes fluttered closed.
Max lent in and placed a soft kiss against his mouth and Oscar lost himself entirely to the sensation. Lando’s touch and Max’s lips.
Lando slid another finger in, twisting and scissoring until he could add a third, stretching him wide and ready. All the while Max mapped his mouth, explored the ridge of his teeth and swallowed down his salacious moans.
Once Oscar was fully prepared Lando reached for a condom he just happened to have in the back pocket of his jeans, and finally pulled down his own trousers and underwear. He palmed himself as he gestured for Max and Oscar to change positions.
Oh yeah, Max was going to suck Oscar’s dick and he was going to suck Max’s in return. Good olde sixty-nine.
Oscar untangled himself from Max’s arms, allowing the dutchman to reposition. Max stayed on his back but rotated one-hundred and eighty degrees so that his head was towards the foot of the bed and his feet towards the pillow, then he directed Oscar to get back on top, on all fours just like before, but this time with his dick in Max’s face and Max’s in his, Lando then positioned himself behind on his knees, lining himself up with Oscar’s entrance.
Lando pushed in at the same time that Max took Oscar into his mouth and the blood rush and pleasure was so much that Oscar’s mind blue-screened.
Lando was big. Not so big that it hurt or was unpleasant but big enough that Oscar felt the burn as his body made way. He’d somewhat always assumed that Lando was a bottom but, with a dick like his, he realised it would have been such a waste. He was very glad to be wrong.
With a moan, Oscar mouthed and nuzzled into the short trail of strawberry blond hair that led from Max’s belly button to the meadow above his shaft. Just like Max’s neck, it smelt of sweat amongst other things and made Oscar's stomach flip and mouth water.
“You can put your mouth on it, you know,” came Max’s voice with a rasp, similar, Oscar imagined, to how he’d sound first thing in the morning. Oscar couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like waking up next to him. Not that he needed or wanted to know, he was just curious.
“Yeah,” Oscar panted in return, “I know.” He wasn’t about to admit, that in his own pleasure, he had in fact lost track of what he was supposed to be doing.
Oscar finally took Max into his mouth. He experimentally moved his tongue along the underside of Max’s head, dragged his teeth across the skin, Max bucked his hips, almost causing Oscar to choke. In response Oscar buried his too-long nails into the soft flesh of Max’s thighs, pressing crescent marks into the skin, holding him down.
Oscar bobbed his head; tried to make it feel good but, thanks to the incredible things Max and Lando were doing to him at the other end of the mattress, he struggled to stay focused.
Oscar tried to concentrate, but each wave of pleasure washed away any thoughts he’d managed to etch into the sand of his mind. The pace of Lando's rhythm, the drag of Max’s lips along his member and the press of Max’s dick against the back of his throat completely filled his mind, leaving room for nothing else.
It was all Oscar could manage to match the bob of his head to the rhythm of Lando’s thrusts. It was like his mouth around Max was moving on its own, operating only at the most basic level, on instinct, without technique of finesse. Thankfully though, based on the way Max twitched and writhed and moaned below him, based on the now syncopated rhythm of Max’s mouth on his own member, Oscar figured he was doing a good enough job. He kept at it, focused on keeping his breathing even. He didn’t even register Max telling him to slow, or warning him that he was close, until it was too late.
“Shit, Oz-“ Max cried out bucking his hips despite Oscar pinning him down, and then was coming. Abrupt and unceremonious.
Oscar brainlessly swallowed him down, taking all that he gave, sucking him through to completion.
“Shit Max,” Lando chuckled from above, temporarily stilling hilt-deep inside of Oscar, much to his dismay, “always gotta come first huh?”
“Oh shut up,” the dutchman groaned breathlessly. “I was on edge and Oscar doesn’t know how to take it slow.”
“I’ll take that a compliment.” Oscar chuffed, regaining some clarity, removing his lips from Max and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He peered down at Max through the gap between their bodies, “It’s cool if you want to tap out though.”
“No Oscar,” Max replied, quick and honest. “I want to make you feel good, but I can get my dick out your face if you would prefer?”
“It’s okay,” Oscar shrugged, poking the now softening member, "I like it- smells good- and if I don’t want to look at it I'll just bite your thighs or something.”
Max’s dick made a valiant but ultimately futile effort to stir. “Sounds lovely,” he swallowed.
“Great.” Oscar replied, then, with a quick circle of his hips, urged Lando to resume.
As soon as Lando refound his rhythm and Max took him back into his mouth, Oscar was instantly transported to heaven.
Oscar tilted his head down to watch. He couldn’t help it, he’d always been observant and now, that he didn’t have to focus on pleasuring anyone else, he could put all his effort into enjoying his own experience. Besides he didn’t know if anything like this would happen again and he didn’t want to forget a single moment of it.
He watched the way Max’s plump lips pulled against the length of his spit-soaked cock as he slid up and down. He watched the way Max’s face flushed, a thin sheen of sweat across his cheeks and brow. He watched the way Max’s cheeks hollowed, the way his hair fell as he bobbed his head, the way his adam’s-apple rippled as he swallowed Oscar deep.
Oscar watched as Lando removed one hand from the meat of his butt-cheek to bring down to Max’s neck, pressing firmly against it, fingertips digging in. He watched and felt as Max’s throat clenched and swallowed around him, felt his hum vibrate through his body, sending a shiver down his sine, from the top of his scalp, to the tips of his toes.
He felt as Lando nailed that most perfect spot inside him.
“Fuck!” Oscar drawled “you’re both so good for me!” The words tumbled from his mouth before he had a chance to hold them back, to understand what they meant. Then he buried his head against Max’s thigh, bit down and came with a short groan, Lando unloading a few stuttering thrusts later.
It was only once Lando had pulled out and he clumsily rolled off Max and onto the bed, once his breathing had evened out and the fuzziness of his vision had faded, that he noticed that he’d hit the so-called money shot.
The dutchman was up on his knees, sat back on his haunches, his azure blue eyes glassy. His cheeks and lips painted with Oscar’s cum.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Oscar gasped apologetically, his voice still a little raw.
“Don’t be,” Lando chuckled, “he liked it.”
Despite being spent, Oscar felt a small wave of arousal crash against his insides.
Lando rolled off his condom, tied the end, then discarded it in the bin in the bathroom.
Once he’d sauntered back over to the bed. He wordlessly placed his palm against Max’s neck, tilted his head to inspect the mess then, with his tongue, licked a slow fat stripe across Max’s cum-covered cheek, making a consisted effort to show Oscar the cooling liquid on his tongue before taking it into his mouth and swallowing it down.
Oscar was undoubtedly disgusted but for whatever reason couldn’t look away or help the heat that pooled in his gut. “Lando are you serious,” Oscar exclaimed with a choked laugh “you won’t eat fish but you’ll eat… that!?”
Lando just shrugged with a mischievous smile and glistening half-lidded eyes then, he carefully wiped the rest of Oscar’s cum from Max’s face with a tissue whilst Max sat quiet, still and patient. Lando’s large angular hand pressed against his neck the whole time.
…
Max and Oscar lazily lay on the bed as Lando tousled his hair in the mirror then collected his phone, wallet and keys. “You guys coming back to the club?” he asked, sliding everything back into his pockets.
“No way,” Oscar yawned, barely able to keep his eyes open, “I think I’ll head back to my hotel.”
“You can stay here,” Max offered, the sentence blurted out like he’d said it before thinking. “I mean if you’d like?”
Oscar’s heart flipped, “Yeah,” he whispered unable to hide his crooked smile, “I would like.”
“Well I'm gonna head back.” Lando added, turning on his heels to leave before pausing by the door. “Maybe we can do this again sometime?” he suggested. His tone was casual but it was clear he was hopeful.
“Na, I think I’m good,” Oscar snorted sarcastically, unable to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks.
Lando pouted but Max laughed, the kind that made the corner of his eyes crinkle. “That sounds really lovely,” he said earnestly and Oscar didn’t dare analyse why the dutchman’s laugh made his stomach flip.