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Ever since Oscar got a new trainer—Artturi, he’s been in the gym like crazy. He appreciates it, enjoys it even, and he likes Artturi, so there’s no reason to complain there. But, fuck.
His back is in pain almost everyday. It’s ridiculous. The stabbing pain radiating over the wide area of his shoulders, extending down to his lower back is torturous. He’s had to learn yoga to relieve the pain.
Artturi tells him the pain is natural due to him not used to working out that part of him often. It’s “temporary”, but, God, it hurts.
He’s currently in the McLaren private gym, used mainly by him and Lando. It smells of cleaning wipes and the underlying hint of sweat in the air.
Oscar can see Lando on the treadmill, pace slowing as he cools down. He has a light gray tank top on, the back of his shirt turning dark gray from sweat. He can hear Lando’s panting, as he cools down. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t driving him crazy.
He must not be able to hear himself. Headphones over his ears, probably blasting some type of loud music.
It physically makes Oscar hotter and sweatier seeing his teammate wear sweatpants while working out. He gets hot way too easily, and here’s Lando, in thick sweatpants as he’s obviously sweating.
Oscar could never.
It’s why he’s laying flat on the bench press, back to the bench in a slight starfish pose as he feels the air conditioning hit his body slowly. His back hurts and he’s tired, short shorts hiked up to the top of his inner thighs.
He couldn’t really tell you why he bought these shorts. Lululemon shorts, actually. He thought they looked nice. To be fair, on the mannequin they looked much longer. On him though, one wrong move and it’s like he’s wearing a bikini bottom.
He doesn’t mind it per se, it’s just annoying having to pull the shorts down constantly just for them to hike back up on his growing thighs.
He sits up, wincing slightly as he feels the muscles in his back ache. Straightening his back out, eyes closed, he feels the temporary relief of tension for a moment. He hears the treadmill come to a stop and opens his eyes.
He watches silently as Lando steps off the machine, grabbing his water bottle sat on the floor. Oscar pretends to look busy stretching as Lando rips off his headphones while downing water, attempting to act like he wasn’t watching the way Lando’s throat would bob with every sip he took.
Twisting where he sits, Oscar cracks his back to loosen it up, groaning at the feeling.
That earns Lando’s attention, looking up at Oscar from across the room.
“You alright?” Oscar hears his teammate ask. He can also hear the shuffling of Lando’s sneakers as he walks closer to the bench, water bottle abandoned near the treadmill.
Oscar clears his throat, adjusting his position and averting his eyes from the bulge in those horrid and hot sweatpants.
Oscar nods, resting his hands on his exposed thighs.
“Uh, yeah. Back’s been killing me.”
Lando raises his brow, eyes dropping down just briefly. Enough that Oscar notices.
Lando scoffs, “Yeah, no wonder, mate.”
Oscar sits with a neutral expression, confusion racking his brain. “What d’you mean,” Oscar furrows his brows. He watches Lando walk closer to him, silent while Lando pats the back of his shoulder.
“I mean, your backs gotten huge. Artturi’s really working you, yeah?” Lando grins.
Oscar nods, maybe a little too quickly. He wants Lando’s hand on him again.
“Oh yeah. I, uh, have to stretch and do yoga a lot now. Not great,” Oscar grunts, lowering his eyes to the soft and light hair on his thighs.
Lando hums in understanding.
“I can help you.”
Oscar’s head shoots up to the eyes of Lando, watching as he shrugs.
“Stretch, I mean. You look tense.”
Oscar’s mouth parts slightly, words not able to make way out of him. He’d love nothing more than to feel the warmth of Lando near him, guiding him as he urges Oscar in releasing positions.
Oscar makes a face as if he’s contemplating it, but to be honest, he instantly agreed internally as soon as the words left Lando’s mouth.
Nodding, Oscar speaks, “I mean, yeah. If you want.”
Lando grins hugely at that, clapping his hands together as he urges Oscar to stand.
“I do. Get up.”
Oscar stands, walking forward and pulling down the hem of his shorts that are close to revealing his lack of underwear.
Look, don’t blame him. It’s gross, yes . But, honestly, he wasn’t expecting Lando to join him in the gym. He wanted to get it over with and hop in the shower immediately after. Here he is now.
He watches Lando come closer, silently. Heartbeat picking up speed under the intense gaze of the older boy.
“Alright, turn around. This’ll help. Trust me.” Lando teases with a smirk.
Oscar sighs playfully, following the instructions given. He stands quietly, finger tapping on his thigh, waiting for Lando.
He feels the large hand lie gently on his shoulder, skin flexing just the slightest with the touch. He feels another hand on him, both just below his shoulders applying pressure as they move across the span of his upper back.
Swallowing the spit that’s pooled in his mouth, Oscar looks everywhere except the floor-length mirrors in front of them.
“You need to relax, mate. You’re so tense.” Lando says lowly, hands now massaging his shoulders. Oscar relaxes the best he can, literally feeling a weight lifted off of him.
Lando’s hands go lower, slowly dropping down his back before coming back up. “Good.” Lando whispers.
Oh, holy fuck. Oscar is praying to all the gods above that he doesn’t get a boner right now.
Oscar’s breath hitches as he feels the heat from Lando’s body getting closer, along with Lando himself. Lando starts off by pressing the muscles leading to his mid-back, attempting to ease him up. Oscar can feel the drop of Lando’s hands, caressing the sides of his back as they drop down to his waist.
For a moment, Oscar can feel his waist being gripped before being released.
“Okay, get in a lunge position. Knee on the floor,” Lando clears his throat. Oscar licks his lips, mind still on the feel of Lando’s grip.
Oscar moves a leg in front of the other, wincing as he goes down on a knee. He is not built for this. He must start to tip over slightly because Lando’s hands are on him immediately.
Directly behind Oscar, Lando is partially crouched down, huge palm flat Oscar’s abdomen. The hand steadies him from tipping over, arm tight around him. He can only focus on the flexing of Lando’s fingers.
“Easy,” Lando whispers.
Oscar breathes out a chuckle, stabilizing himself and takes a quick look in the mirror in front of him. Fuck , he shouldn’t have.
Lando is leaning over him, huge hand splayed on his stomach as he stares at the pair in the mirror. His curls are damp with sweat, a strand falling down on his forehead. His skin is also glistening despite being almost dry. It makes Oscar feel funny.
Lando removes his hand from Oscar’s stomach, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position behind him.
“Hold your arms out.”
Oscar does so, lifting his arms and balancing himself. “Perfect,” Lando says, grin evident in his voice. Licking his lips once more, Oscar’s chest rises and falls with the deep breaths that he takes, desperation kicking in.
Again, there’s hands on his waist. Oscar doesn’t remember this stretch involving this much touching, but he is not complaining at all. This time, the hands are right above his hips, guiding him lower.
“Stretch your back leg out.” Oscar hears from Lando, muffled by the running thoughts in his own head.
He groans at the stretch, both in his leg and lower back. He hears Lando mumble something along the lines of him needing to straighten his back, which he does. Cursing under his breath, he feels the pressure of his stretching, always unwelcome in the moment, but it feels freeing.
Glancing up at the mirror, he sees that Lando isn’t crouched behind him anymore, but in a similar position. He’s partially kneeling with a leg over Oscar’s, surprisingly close to him.
Oscar’s breath hitches at Lando’s thumbs rubbing soothing circles above his hips where his hands lie. He wishes his shirt wasn’t separating them.
“So good. Alright?” Lando asks huskily.
Nodding, Oscar mumbles, “Yeah, feels good.” The stretch and the hands on him.
Lando hums in return, Oscar trying his best to not focus on the feeling of Lando’s hands making his waist seem small.
Oscar doesn’t realize his shorts are practically gripping onto his cock, shorts so hiked up in this position it looks like he has women’s underwear on. Oscar gulps, attempting to discreetly shift his hips to hide his thighs and the almost visible bulge of his length. He can’t even shift a bit. Lando immediately stops his movements with a firm grip, fingers right on top of his pelvis which makes him flinch.
“Be still. Just a bit longer.” Lando speaks.
Oscar cannot be still actually; he’s slowly getting harder due to what’s supposed to be an innocent and friendly stretch. Oscar straightens his back again, arms out as he struggles to maintain his balance and shifts backwards.
He instantly stops breathing, ass coming into brief contact with Lando. He moves away almost as fast as he made contact with him, bringing his leg with him to sit on both.
He feels Lando’s hands retreat as he shakes his head in defeat.
He’s panting, hot with need as he sits on his haunches, hands flat on the cool ground. “I can’t..” Oscar breathes, trying to focus his attention on the cool air in the room.
“Too bad?” Lando asks, sounding genuinely concerned at Oscar’s movements.
Yeah, totally too bad. Oscar wants to rip his shorts off and take Lando right in the middle of the gym floor, dirty and raw. Oscar can’t do anything but nod, “Yeah, just, uh, a lot.”
Lando makes a noise of understanding, quiet for a moment as if he’s thinking.
“Here, how ‘bout I help you with an easier one?” Lando suggests, voice lit with a teasing tone.
Please, just let me go , Oscar thinks. In reality though, he knows he’d voluntarily stay here for hours on end if it meant getting this close to Lando. Oscar sighs and shrugs, taking the moment to lift himself off his legs to pull his shorts down.
“Fuck, alright,” Oscar huffs, looking into the mirror. He makes eye contact with Lando again. Green eyes filled with something Oscar can’t recognize, and he can’t look away. Lando grins, licking the side of his lips as he partially matches Oscar’s position.
“Arms up and lean forward.”
Oscar hesitantly pulls his arms up, in the same position as before. He must’ve did it wrong because Lando’s hands are on him again. This time under both his biceps, pushing his arms up slowly as they both come vertical above his head. Oscar wants his hands on him forever.
Pushing Oscar’s arms close together, he releases him, just before pressing on Oscar’s back.
Oscar’s eyes practically bulge out of his head with the uncalled-for movement. He’s being pushed flat to the floor, arms laid in front of him. He can’t even focus on the pull of his muscles, only the compromising position he’s in.
His head is gently pressed to the floor, back stretching as Lando starts to apply pressure to the middle of his back.
He’s breathing heavily, thoughts so loud he barely hears the soothing words coming from his teammate. Telling him how well he’s doing, how good he’s doing. He also misses the sound of Lando shuffling behind him, until he feels him behind him directly.
Oscar can’t help but to flinch softly, chest pounding as he feels the material of those uncomfortable sweatpants of Lando’s. Oscar unconsciously shifts his hips and arms, biting his bottom lip as his ass just definitely hits Lando’s bulge. He wishes he couldn’t feel it so easily, but he’s the idiot who decided to go commando.
“Be still,” Lando grunts, still pressing flat on Oscar’s back. Oscar immediately stills, breathing silently as he feels Lando get impossibly closer. He has to know what he’s doing. One hand on his back as the other makes his way to grab both of Oscar’s wrists.
Holy fuck. Oscar can clearly feel the print of Lando’s cock almost perfectly now. Thin material of his shorts sliding up on his ass while Lando leans closer into his space. His hands twitch as his wrists are brought together with the tight grip of Lando, body aching with tension and want.
It would be so easy to grind back onto Lando right now.
He’s stretched over him, body practically on top of him as the hand on his back slowly caresses him through the shirt, making its way down to his waist. His shirt is already pulled up from the movements, a sliver of skin out. Oscar almost jumps out of his body when he feels Lando’s hand on his bare waist, grabbing at him.
Oscar’s head raises up from the floor, trying his best to look over his shoulder, but he’s unsuccessful. “Lando,” Oscar whimpers, the sound even surprising himself.
“Shh,” Lando hushes him, leaning over so that his face is near Oscar’s, dick pressed right against ass. And by right against it, it’s right against it. Oscar tries to fight the urge to back up into it, but Lando chuckles against his ear.
“Do you know your ass is peeking out through these fucking shorts of yours?” Lando grits out, hands tightening on Oscar just momentarily. “Do you even have underwear on?”
Oscar squirms, shifting his thighs as he feels himself chub up. “Please…Lando.”
Lando’s lips are right near Oscar’s ear, breathing heavily in it as he pushes forward, his now hard cock right against Oscar’s covered hole. Oscar is panting relentlessly, sweating everywhere.
Oscar shakily groans as Lando nips on his ear. He sounds pathetic. He’s been reduced to a number of three braincells since starting this. “Answer me,” Lando growls, grinding into Oscar hard.
Oscar shakes his head the best he can, almost sobbing as he answers. “No, no.”
He hears a chuckle from him, before he feels the unsuspected strength of Lando pulling him up. It’s fast, the release of his wrists, him being pulled up by his shoulder to rest on his knees as he leans against Lando. His knees hurt, bad, but it’s so worth it. Lando also comes to kneel behind him, practically dragging him into a sitting position on top of his lap.
He feels the firm grip on his jaw, forcing him by his head to look in the mirror. He looks…slutty. The shorts are riding on his cock, thighs completely out as a hand lies on his exposed stomach—like he’s claimed. The thought makes him moan aloud softly.
He watching as Lando smiles with teeth behind him. “Look at you. You look pathetic, Osc.” Oscar lets out a strange sound he wasn’t aware he could make, knees trembling where he kneels. Lando recognizes his instability, and basically sits on his own legs, dragging Oscar on top of him, onto his lap.
It quite literally takes his breath away.
Oscar watches speechless as Lando grinds into Oscar from behind, grabbing a thigh tightly as he does. Oscar’s mouth parts as he grinds back without realizing, earning another tight grip on his thigh.
“Fuck, you want it?” Lando breathes, pushing his cock in between Oscar’s cheeks. Oscar can’t find it in him to care how desperate he is, nodding as pushes back onto Lando, swiveling his hips uncoordinatedly.
Lando moans right in his ear, arm coming to wrap around the middle of Oscar. Oscar leans back onto Lando, eyes struggling to stay open as the heat takes over inside of him.
Lando laughs; it sounds cold but Oscar knows it’s nowhere near. It sounds hungry.
“Of course you do. Look like a right slut in these fuckin’ shorts.” Lando breathes, pressing a small kiss to Oscar’s exposed neck. Oscar shakes with the moan he lets out, letting himself be practically dragged onto Lando’s cock.
Oscar spreads his knees, arm gripping onto the Lando’s as he grinds back, feeling the slide of Lando’s cock in between his ass and onto his balls. He feels as if he could come just from this.
“God, you are. You want it this bad?” Lando bites out, pushing his hips into Oscar’s, following his movements. Oscar groans, “Yes, fuck. So bad.” His mind is completely gone, chasing the feeling.
In the mirror, they look fucking ridiculous. The position they’re in looks uncomfortable, Oscar looks a mess with his hair wild and stuck to his face, while Lando has a tight and solid grip on his waist, panting into his neck and ear.
Lando grins into Oscar’s neck, slowing his grinding for a second to lift Oscar up off of his lap. Oscar whines at loss of contact and holds himself up with his hands.
He looks back in confusion only to see Lando shuffling out his sweatpants hurriedly. Fuck, he looks even bigger in boxers.
Lando gets the sweatpants to his lower thighs before cursing and grabbing Oscar to pull him back onto him. Oscar breathes at the sudden moment, immediately moaning at the feeling of only thin layers between them now.
Both hands on his waist, Lando moves Oscar’s hips back and forth on him, Oscar following the guiding of it.
Oscar’s breath quickens. Each movement sends tingling sensations coursing through Oscar’s core, and he bites his lip to stifle the desperate whines threatening to escape.
“C’mon, Osc,” Lando murmurs teasingly, his breath hot against Oscar’s neck. “You can do better than that. Making me do all the work.”
Oscar feels a flush creep up his cheeks, but he’s too far gone to let embarrassment hold him back.
He leans back, hand reaching behind him to grab on the back of Lando’s neck. He rocks his hips back, using his knees and the grip from Lando’s hands on his waist. He breathes heavily, moaning as he feels the tip of Lando’s clothed cock hit his hole.
The friction coming from the tightness of his shorts and on his ass has him whimpering and making pathetic noises. The grunting against his neck urges him on as he chases his embarrassingly near and close high.
Lando’s grabbing Oscar incredibly tight; he wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a bruise there tomorrow. He wouldn’t mind.
Fully focused on the feeling of the cock currently sliding in between his cheeks, he jumps in surprise when Lando palms his cock through his damp shorts. Pushing his hips forward into the hand, he almost screams at the touch, thin layer making it feel as if it was skin on skin.
Lando rubs him ruthlessly, forcing his hips into his roughly, clearly chasing his pleasure. Oscar can feel the bottom of his ass against the material of Lando’s boxers, surprising him how much the shorts are hiking up.
“Such a good boy. Should keep you like this,” Lando groans, teeth nipping Oscar’s neck.
That’s it for Oscar. His orgasm is unexpected for both him and Lando, shaking as he slows his grinding just a bit as Lando strokes him while he orgasms through his shorts.
“Oh, Lando .”
Oscar feels like he can’t stop coming, his body is shaking and Lando is thrusting right against his perineum, pressing on his balls. His moaning is shaky as comes, feeling the grip falter the tiniest amount.
It feels primal and raw. The panting of the two joined as Oscar comes down from his high, and Lando approaching his.
Oscar groans as the last bit of come seeps out his cock, feeling the slowing of Lando’s hips. Lando’s panting now, lips against his neck as he opens his mouth.
“Let me come on you,” Lando speaks, solid tone faltering. Oscar nods, too fucked out to speak back. He wants to be marked, he wants to leave here dirty and covered with the scent of Lando.
He doesn’t complain when Lando asks him to bend over, hands on the floor with his ass practically completely exposed. He hears shuffling behind him; he looks up into the mirror to see Lando propping himself up on his knees as he pulls his cock out his boxers. Oscar groans as he feels his cock limply twitch at the sight.
He bites his bottom lip when the bottom of his exposed cheek is grabbed roughly as Lando strokes his cock fast.
It doesn’t take Lando long to come, he can feel the ropes landing on his ass and thighs, whimpering at the feeling. Lando grunts his name as he comes, eyes focused on red mark from his hand and the sliver of his cheek that’s visible and peeking out of his shorts.
Oscar breathes hard and fast, the last spurts landing on him as Lando backs up, chest rising and falling.
Oscar collapses on the ground—tired of holding himself up—when he knows Lando is done. He hears Lando huff and sit on the floor, also catching his breath. Oscar feels great, despite his back starting to hurt again .
Lando pokes his calf, “You ok?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. Oscar laughs and weakly holds his thumb up. “My back hurts again. Feels like you actually fucked me.” Oscar says tiredly from the floor, face to the ground, listening to the soft chuckle from Lando. It makes him blush just a little.
“Not yet, unfortunately.” Lando smiles. Oscar lifts his head up, turning to meet Lando’s gaze behind him. Oscar bites back a smile, failing when he sees the pink on Lando’s cheeks. His stomach feels weird.
Lando taps the back of Oscar’s leg before standing up, pulling his sweatpants with him.
“Get up, nasty.” Lando teases.
Oscar groans and stands, careful not to let his come-covered ass touch the ground.
“You’re the one who decided to come on me, mate.” Oscar grins, deciding to leave his shorts pulled up; he’s gonna hop in the shower after this immediately anyways. Lando steps closer to him and tilts his head, licking his lips he smiles, “You didn’t complain though, did you?”
Oscar bites back a smile, eyes flicking over Lando’s face. “No, I did not.” He admits.
“See,” Lando grins, stepping closer as he leans into Oscar’s space. Oscar doesn’t back up as lips are pressed to his. He kisses back immediately, Lando smiling into the kiss.
They kiss until the other needs to pull away for air, both of them trying their hardest to not smile like two utter complete fools.
“You smell.” Lando grins, eyes not moving away from Oscar’s.
He scoffs playfully, “Yeah, you’re no better. We need a shower. Bad .”