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“Having a daddy kink is fucking weird,” Oscar deadpanned, the words spoken in between sporadic bursts of hushed laughter. He wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten to this topic, but it was almost six in the morning for him and nearing midnight for Lando, so it was only natural that their conversation had devolved into a whole lot of nothing, by this point of the night.
They were on a break from Formula 1, which only meant more time for calls like these. No matter the time difference, they always made sure to talk. Oscar had completely ruined his sleep schedule again, but it was worth it for the Discord calls that stretched on for hours after Lando’s stream ended—filled with so much ridiculous back-and-forth that his cheeks almost hurt from how much he’d been smiling.
“Don’t be such a prude, Oscar,” Lando responded with an amused chuckle of his own, adopting the same chastising tone that Lando used so often with Oscar, despite the fact that he was only two years older than him.
“I’m not a prude,” Oscar insisted, defending himself even though he knew that he was fighting a losing battle, with how stubborn Lando was when it came to pointless arguments such as this one. The other male was also probably operating on a higher brain capacity than he was at that moment, judging by the way that Oscar was already curled up underneath his comforter, half-asleep. If it wasn’t for how much he associated Lando’s voice coming through his phone speaker with the chaos that came with streaming, his low rumble could probably do wonders at putting him to bed. “It’s just weird. I never got it, like, the whole daddy thing.”
“One of my exes used to call me daddy,” Lando remarked, as nonchalant as ever, the words softened by a certain sense of nostalgia. Oscar’s features scrunched up as an instinctive response to the blunt admission, even though his camera had been turned off a long time ago, and Lando wouldn’t have been able to tell. “You’re so weird, Lando. Shut up.”
“What?” Lando replied, laughing. He was clearly amused, more than happy to fluster Oscar even when there weren’t thousands of people watching them. “It was a little weird at first, but after that it was mostly just hot. I swear my brain’s developed like, a Pavlovian response to it now. Dangerous stuff with how many people use it on Twitter,”
“No one’s calling you daddy, idiot,” Oscar responded, finding himself unsure of what to do with all of this new information and resorting to the easy way out instead: an insult, a language that they were both fluent in. Even though he could tell that Lando was mostly joking, he knew that his own words were untrue. Plenty of people called Lando daddy on Twitter—and him, as well, which he admittedly got a laugh from every once in a while—but now Oscar couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that his ex-girlfriend apparently used to as well.
“Yeah, you’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you?” Lando teased, his voice sounding closer somehow, like he was in the room with Oscar and not thousands of miles away, across the Ocean. “Seriously, though. It can be really hot. It’s not about being their actual dad or whatever. Actually, it probably fucking is, knowing some of these girls,” The words startled a laugh out of Oscar, prompting him to shake his head as he nestled further beneath the covers, a grin tugging at his lips. “It’s an authority thing, yeah? You get off on it because you’ve got power over them.”
“Stop explaining your fucking daddy kink to me,” Oscar replied, distantly glad that he didn’t have his camera on anymore. If he did, there was no doubting that Lando would have used the opportunity to make fun of him for just how red his face was, as if the whole room was suddenly a few degrees warmer.
Lando only laughed in response, like this was the funniest thing in the world to him. While they’d obviously talked about sex before, this particular conversation was getting beneath his skin, for reasons that he didn’t particularly want to analyze. Contrary to what most of their fans believed, the pair had never crossed any lines that they shouldn’t have, as friends. Sure, they spent an absurdly large amount of their time together, and their playful interactions came naturally to them, but that didn’t mean that they were attracted to each other. And while Oscar knew that this conversation wasn’t one that crossed any boundaries, per se, there was something about the fact that Lando had a fucking daddy kink that he couldn’t get out of his head.
“Sorry, sorry. I knew that this would be too much for you.” Lando stated, voice travelling as if he was getting up to get something and bringing Oscar along with him. Moments later, Oscar could hear Lando gulping down mouthfuls of water, and he tried not to fixate on the mental image too much, his thoughts drifting to Lando’s hands; and how absurdly large they probably looked wrapped around his water bottle.
“What?” Oscar responded, indignance coloring his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing. Jesus, don’t get all defensive on me. There’s nothing wrong with being vanilla, Oscar, everybody’s got their preferences.” Lando knew exactly what to say to get beneath Oscar’s skin, and unluckily for him, Oscar had a fairly bad habit of going along with it, even when it probably wasn’t the best idea for him to do so. “I’m not vanilla, alright? I just don’t see the appeal of calling someone daddy.”
“You say it like it’s a bad word, you’re ridiculous. And it’s like I said, there’s nothing wrong with being vanilla.”
“I am not vanilla. There’s plenty of things that I’m into that aren’t vanilla, for your information.” Oscar was quick to refute defensively, cutting Lando off before he’d even finished saying what he’d wanted to say.
The older male simply chuckled in response, his next question practically dripping with amusement. “Oh, yeah? Pray tell.”
Oscar knew that he could’ve just ended the conversation there. He could’ve played it off as a joke, told Lando that he wasn’t about to start listing off his kinks just to prove that he wasn’t vanilla, but the more petty (and sleep-deprived) side of Oscar wasn’t about to back down from a challenge. And especially not from Lando, who loved taking the piss out of him, in any given situation.
“I like when girls take control. And I like the feeling of, like, being scratched and stuff. Pain in general, I guess.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone call, stretching out for a few moments, before Lando was bursting out into laughter, the reaction causing Oscar’s cheeks to color violently. “Shut the fuck up, mate,” Oscar huffed out, hating how whiny he sounded but unable to do anything to prevent it, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be able to whack the other male across the head.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Of course you’d be into getting bossed around in bed, makes sense that it’s the only place where you’re not a total control freak.”
“Fuck you. I’m not a control freak.” There was something beginning to stew in the pit of Oscar’s stomach, a familiar warmth that the brunette didn’t want to address or even acknowledge; there was something about how Lando was laughing at him, the tone of his voice, the way that he was talking to Oscar, and it was making him feel warm all over, and like he was simultaneously too small and too large for his own body.
“You’re into getting hurt, Oscar? I’ve gotta admit that that’s kinkier than I expected. I feel like most girls probably wouldn’t be able to do all that much damage, though? You might be better off with someone bigger than you.”
“Like you?” Oscar was quick to retort, and this time, when the silence stretched out, it wasn’t followed by any laughter at all. Only a sharp intake of breath, one that Oscar didn’t quite know how to interpret, and he chose to remain silent instead of digging himself into a bigger hole. It was obvious that Lando had only been joking, but Oscar had asked the question regardless, and there was nothing that he could do to take it back now.
“Someone like me, maybe.” Lando said quietly, his tone careful, as if he knew he was beginning to tread onto dangerous territory. Or maybe they’d been treading on dangerous territory for a long time now, and he’d just been in denial about it. “Someone that could take control of you the way that you wanted. Hold you down, mark you up, hurt you.”
Oscar bit down on his lower lip to suppress a whimper, shuffling beneath the covers as he pressed his thighs together, the warmth in his stomach morphing into something that was quickly beginning to resemble arousal. “How would you have the slightest clue about how I’d like to be taken control of, Lando?”
“Oh, I’d know. You’d have it written all over your face, Oscar. You always do. Maybe you’d resist at first because you can be so goddamn stubborn, but it wouldn’t be long before you’d be begging.”
Oscar envisioned it, being made to beg for Lando, and the thought had him sucking in a breath, unsure of how to respond. A part of Oscar was almost waiting for the inevitable moment where the tension would snap and Lando would laugh, tell Oscar that this entire thing was part of an elaborate joke, one that was meant to humiliate him beyond belief, and that was it. That moment hadn’t come yet, though, and here they were, with Oscar half-hard in his boxers, aching to be touched.
“Have me begging, how?” Maybe Oscar wasn’t necessarily doing his part to uphold his side of the conversation—it wasn’t as if he was particularly skilled in phone sex, after all—considering all of the questions that he was asking, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. He didn’t think he had it in him to form articulate sentences in response to the things that Lando was saying to him, and all he could bring himself to focus on in that moment was resisting the urge to touch himself in the way that he really wanted to.
“I’d put you on your knees. Hold you down and make you choke on my cock. It might get messy if it’s your first time, but that’s okay. I’d make a mess of you, have your spit getting everywhere, make you gag on it. I’d hold you down until you couldn’t take it anymore, until you’re begging to be let up. But then you’d just come right back for it, wouldn’t you? I just know that you’d be a slut for it, Oscar.”
“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar breathed out, thinking about being on his knees for Lando, getting his face fucked by him. He’d never given anyone a blowjob before—or been with anyone that had a dick, for that matter—but it wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it, as if he’d never spent far too much time fixated on the way that a girl’s mouth looked stretched around a cock that was almost too big for it in porn. He often found himself wondering whether it was pleasurable to have someone else controlling the amount of air that you could take in, if it felt good to choke on someone’s solid length. “I’d want that.”
“Of course you would. I don’t think that it’d take long at all to have you desperate for me. I know that you get off on how much bigger I am than you. It wouldn’t take much to manhandle you, put you in your place and keep you held down, make it so that you couldn’t move. I’d leave bruises all over you, Oscar, around your wrists, on your little waist, on your ass. I bet you like hickeys, don’t you? I’d cover you in them, leave bites all over your body. I would take you apart.” Lando enunciated every last word, and he’d never spoken to him like that before—never left Oscar so worked up he could barely think straight.
Oscar couldn’t take it anymore, hands travelling down his body to palm himself through his sweats, where he was now fully hard, maybe even a little wet with pre-cum. His flush only deepened with how loud he whimpered as soon as his hand came into contact with his covered cock; what he was doing had to be painfully obvious, but maybe that was exactly what he wanted, as he let out another noise into the phone.
“Are you touching yourself?” Lando questioned, voice dipping dangerously low, his tone filled with equal parts curiosity and want. The brunette only managed a whine in response, too embarrassed to admit to it but not wanting to lie to Lando by denying it either.
“You’d get slapped for touching yourself without my permission if I was there, you know that? Clearly behaving isn’t your strong suit.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not here then, isn’t it?” Despite the biting words, Oscar pulled his hands away, a bitten-off whine escaping the back of his throat at the sudden disappearance of the contact.
“You’d be gagging for it if I was.”Lando murmured, as if it was the surest thing in the world—a simple, undeniable fact that Oscar would be tripping over himself for the chance to touch him. He didn’t want to believe that that was true; but then he thought about it, about doing this in person and being faced with the reality of him—broader, stronger, built in a way that made the difference between them impossible to ignore. He imagined standing close, close enough to notice the solid line of muscle beneath his clothes, the kind of presence that demanded attention without trying. Maybe he couldn’t argue with it after all, not when the thought alone made something low in his stomach tighten.
“You can touch yourself, Oscar, it’s okay. Do you wanna turn on your camera for me?”
Oscar hesitated, worrying his lower lip in between his teeth in lieu of a response. Something about the thought of Lando seeing him like this was too much for him, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he was ready for that level of vulnerability yet. Perhaps it was ridiculous, considering the fact that they’d been talking about Oscar choking on his cock only mere moments ago, but Oscar felt like putting an image to his desire was going a tad too far, crossing too many boundaries.
Even though only a few seconds had passed, Lando must have taken note of his hesitation, because he was quick to speak up again, careful not to pressure Oscar into doing anything that he didn’t want to do. They may have joked around a lot, but it wasn’t a lie to say that Lando cared more about Oscar than most other people did and was well aware of his limits. “Hey, that’s okay if you don’t want to, yeah? Can you keep touching yourself for me, Oscar? I want to hear you get yourself off.”
“’M sorry,” Oscar apologized, cursory, before he was doing as told, shuffling his sweats down his thighs before he was loosely gripping his cock through his boxers, his hips jerking upwards as an instinctive response to the lax grip. “Lando,” Oscar whined, the word coming out far needier than he’d intended, so far removed from himself that the brunette could barely recognize the sound of his own voice.
“Turn over and get a pillow under your legs.” The command had another whimper ripped from Oscar’s throat, fumbling beneath the covers as he rushed to get into position, turning and grasping around for a couple of moments before he found a spare pillow on the other side of the bed. He pulled it towards him, folding the pillow in half before getting it between his thighs. With that, he roughly ground forward, moaning at the feeling of his covered dick trapped against the fabric of the pillow; it was too much and not enough at the same time, and Oscar did it again, letting another sound out right into his phone, his moans probably reverberating in Lando’s headpiece.
“There you go, Oscar. Good boy. Keep going.” Oscar didn’t need to be told twice, continuing to thrust his hips into the gap between his folded pillow. He’d been half-hard ever since Lando brought up the stupid daddy thing, maybe even before that, and now he felt like he was a hair’s touch away from coming in his boxers—something that he hadn’t done since he was a teenager and got hard over the smallest of things—and making a mess all over himself. “Talk to me, Lando, please.”
“Fuck, Oscar. You have no idea how much I wish you were here. I’d be kissing you until you couldn’t think straight. I’d spit in your mouth, make you swallow it. Then I’d get my mouth on your neck, leave bruises all over you, so that everyone could tell that you were mine. My personal cockslut, Oscar, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Oscar couldn’t handle having Lando speak to him like this, in a voice that was tainted black with desire, each of his words practically dripping with pure, unrestrained sex.
“I’ve had girls have problems with taking me all the way.” Lando spoke casually, as if he was relaying a simple fact about the weather, not telling Oscar that his dick was apparently too big for sex. They joked about it all the time, and maybe Oscar had a tendency to fixate on the things that Lando had said about his dick size more than was strictly necessary. He’d never really been sure why, but he’d always put it down to the fact that it was one of the few things that he didn’t know about his best friend; how big his dick was. Now, he realized that that might not have been his sole reason for finding the thought so difficult to rid from his mind, in the end.
“But that doesn’t matter, Oscar. I’d make it fit. It’s what your body is made for, after all.” It should have been demeaning, to have Lando tell him that his body was made for sex, but it did nothing to quell his arousal. In fact, it only made him harder, made the wetness that he felt in his boxers even more noticeable, as pre-cum continued to leak steadily from the head of his cock.
“I’d have your face pressed down on the bed, lie on top of you and keep you held down, fuck you until you couldn’t speak, Oscar. I know just how I’d take care of you, I’d have you out of your mind with pleasure. I think about it sometimes, when you’re acting up and being a brat, how easy it would be to shut you up with a mouth full of cock. I can tell that it’s what you need, I honestly think that I know you better than you know yourself.”
Perhaps it was just delirium from how long he’d been hard, but Oscar was beginning to think that Lando was right. As far as he knew, the other male had never been with a boy before either, but it was obvious that he’d been dominant to others before, and maybe he really could tell what it was that Oscar needed. Maybe the feeling that came over him sometimes wasn’t loneliness, those instances when he was overwhelmed with the desire to finally be able to see his best friend again. Maybe it was more than that, a hidden desire to finally belong to someone; or not just someone, if he was being fully honest with himself, but to Lando.
“Why haven’t you found anyone else yet, Oscar? To take care of you?” Oscar knew what Lando was asking. Why hadn’t he found someone bigger than him to push him around and take control of him yet? Why hadn’t he been with any men since he’d started having doubts about his sexuality?
“I dunno,” Oscar mumbled into the phone, his hips slowing into smaller circles as he began to get frustrated, unsure of why Lando was asking him these kind of questions when it was obvious that all that he wanted to do was come. “’M scared, I guess. I don’t even know where to find people and I wouldn’t want anyone recognizing me.”
These were all thinly veiled excuses, half-truths. He hadn’t found someone yet because he didn’t want to, because the only person that he wanted to take care of him was Lando. He was everything that he’d ever wanted, and maybe it had been simmering within both of them for a long time now, something that Oscar was far too scared to give a name to. Now that they’d crossed the line, however, there was nothing that he wanted more than to have Lando fuck him into the mattress like he’d said he would, make it so that he couldn’t walk. There was silence on the other end of the line, as if Lando was waiting for more to be said, and Oscar groaned, his hips stilling.
“I want you, Lando.” It was with that that Oscar made a decision, pressing the button on his phone to turn his camera on, feeling something in him burn with shame at the sight that was reflected back to him on his phone screen, his lips bitten raw, flushed face, half-lidded eyes. He was trying his very hardest not to turn it back off again, to hide his face and go to sleep, to not have Lando talk him through jerking himself off and wanting to see how ruined he looked while he was doing it. But there was no chance of that now that they’d come this far. Oscar honestly didn’t think that he would be able to come tonight if it wasn’t with Lando talking him through it, as difficult as it was for him to admit to himself.
“Baby,” Lando breathed, and Oscar whined in response, squeezing the pillow between his legs as he felt a familiar coiling within his stomach, far sooner than he would’ve liked, as if Lando calling him baby had a direct fucking connection to his cock. “You’re fucking precious, Oscar. Can you put your fingers in your mouth for me, sweetheart? Show me how you’d look choking on my cock?”
Oscar haphazardly balanced his phone on the backrest of his bed before he was shoving three of his fingers into his mouth, too far gone to even try to tease, shoving them straight down his throat and making himself gag on them. Even three of his fingers didn’t seem like they would compare to the girth of Lando’s cock, and the brunette fit his pinky in as well, moaning around his fingers as he felt spit beginning to drip down his arm, making him even messier than he already was.
“Look at you. You’re so far gone, Oscar, fucking slut,” Oscar whimpered around the fingers in his mouth as he thrust them in deeper, his hips beginning to resume their movement from where he was grinding into the pillow, distantly wishing he had Lando behind him to guide the movement of his body, to take care of him.
“Need to come, Lando,” Oscar managed to get out from between his fingers, his words garbled as his hips stuttered, whiny moans slipping out, almost beginning to feel lightheaded with the way that he was depriving himself of air. He was pushing himself past his limit in the way that he imagined Lando would.
“Touch yourself, Oscar, c’mon, come for me,” Lando murmured urgently, and Oscar used his free hand, the one that he wasn’t using to choke himself, to finallyfinallyfinally get a hand around his cock as he moaned loudly, feeling hot shame burn beneath his skin at just how wet he was, despite the fact that he’d barely been touched at all.
Oscar thrust into his hand, using his own pre-cum as natural lubrication as he gagged around his fingers, his drool running down from his hand and leaking onto his bedsheets instead. It took a couple more pulls of his wrist before the brunette was coming, leaving bite-marks on his hand as he suppressed his whimpers, his flush deepening as he rode the high of an orgasm that had been building for far too long now, Lando’s labored breathing on the other line only prolonging the peak.
It felt like it went on for ages, and it was with images of Lando in mind that he came; Lando’s huge hands wrapped all the way around his waist, his fingers pressed against his throat as he stole his air, his mouth filled with the other male’s cum. He’d never wanted anything more, and he imagined swallowing Lando’s load as he slowly retracted his hand from his mouth, pinpricks of pain dotting up his skin from where he’d bitten himself.
“Oscar? You okay?” The brunette’s head lifted as he realized that his phone had been knocked down from where he’d placed it, and he quickly urged it back upright—with his clean hand, though in this situation that meant the one that was covered in his saliva rather than his cum—and he flushed hotly at his reflection, trying to gather the words in his head together now that his brain felt like it had been scrambled after his orgasm.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, knocked my phone over,” He eventually got out in response, and his voice sounded like shit, croaky in a way that made it sound like he really had just had his throat fucked.
“Was that okay?” Lando questioned after a moment, tentative, and Oscar rolled over in bed, a tired laugh bubbling from his lips. “It was good, Lando, thanks. I think we’ve got some stuff we need to talk about. But I’m tired and messy and I just wanna go to sleep now, so we can have that conversation later.”
“You want me to leave while you get yourself cleaned up?” Lando asked carefully, and panic began to crawl its way up Oscar’s throat.
“No. Can you stay on the line, please? Until I fall asleep?” He wasn’t usually like this, didn’t think that he would’ve cared all that much if Lando hung up on him right in that moment, but there was a large part of him that didn’t want the other male to leave, especially not after what they’d just done with each other—as if the six hours that they’d already been talking hadn’t been enough. “Of course. Clingy baby,”
“Shut the fuck up mate” Oscar snapped, but soon he was mirroring Lando’s laugh, an instinctual reaction, though the amusement was short-lived as his gaze travelled downwards, getting an eyeful of the mess that he’d made all over himself and his boxers. “I wish you were here to help me clean up.”
“If I was there right now, we definitely wouldn’t be cleaning up, Oscar. I’d be making you come so hard that you’d forget your own name. Again.”
Oscar felt his softened cock give a kick at the certainty beneath Lando’s words and he whined, covering his face in his pillow before looking back at his phone, his cheeks flushed red. “Shut up, idiot. What’s wrong with you?”
“Lots of things, but you still like me, Oscar. And that’s all that matters.” Was it really as simple as Lando made it sound? Oscar wasn’t quite so sure yet, but in that moment, with Lando on the other end of the phone, coupled with the fact that the perpetual itch that seemed to remain ever-present beneath his skin finally felt like it had faded away and ebbed to nothingness, maybe it really was all that simple. The progression from friends to lovers didn’t have to be something that was monumental, especially not when they had each other to figure things out along the way. This was new for both of them, after all. “I might like you, but never enough to call you daddy. Sorry.”
Oscar could practically hear the amusement lining Lando’s next words as he spoke, somehow managing to sound the most certain that he’d sounded all night: “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”