The jendo…..agenda………..
Hello anon! This ficlet brought to you by the video of Lando moving dirty in another man's arms.
Lando's a race winner. He's a race winner, and he's celebrating the way everyone tells him to celebrate. Zak reschedules his flight and Max leaves Penelope with Kelly so they can go out together. Lando isn't entirely sure where Max is, at this point. He wouldn't blame him for going back to the hotel. Max won his first race before Lando was even in the sport. Lando has been taking drinks from people all night, whatever they put in his hands. Someone hands him something that tastes like ginger and he grimaces as it goes down. He sways to the music, too loud and not as good as one of Martin's sets, and half-stumbles. There are arms around him, then, and he should be slightly concerned about being pulled back against the chest of some stranger, but he isn't. He tips his head up, up, and sees it's one of Max's friends. Liam, maybe? Or Lucas? It doesn't matter. He smiles up at Lucas and traps his arms in place, swaying them both. Lucas says something into his hair, but Lando can't hear him over the music so he just nods. Lucas grinds forward against Lando's ass, and Lando bites his lip when he feels Lucas' dick through his pants. Maybe he'd said something about that. Lando works his hips back, a tease, and Lucas' arms tighten around Lando like a seatbelt, pulling them closer into each other. Vaguely, Lando is aware he's in public. The club is dimly lit apart from the flashing lights, but someone could be filming. He's just trying to work out how much he cares about that possibility when Max finds him.
"There you are," Max says.
Lucas' grip loosens on Lando but he doesn't let go.
"Here I am," Lando says. He holds out his hands to Max. "Dance with me."
Max chuckles, which Lando sees more than hears, the quick backward movement of Max's head, his broad smile.
"Sorry, mate," Max says to Lucas. "I'm going to steal back my date."
Lucas says something in Dutch that Lando couldn't understand even if he wasn't, he now realizes, incredibly drunk in a very loud club.
Max's grip on Lando's arm is firm as he leads him through the club, depositing his ginger drink on a table somewhere and guiding Lando outside into air that is somehow still warm.
Lando yawns, exhaustion hitting him in the night air. "I had fun," he says.
Max snorts. "Lucas wanted a different kind of fun, I think." He shoots Lando a sideways look but doesn't say anything else.
Lando shrugs. He's half-hard in his jeans, and even the heat from Max's body where they're standing shoulder to shoulder is compelling. He tries to subtly adjust himself, but of course Max notices.
Max laughs. "We can get you sorted out if you want. I can go get him. You have an NDA at the hotel, right?"
Lando waves his hand. "Paperwork," he says, and Max nods in understanding.
They tumble into an Uber and Lando gets the giggles, which fortunately Max was drunk enough to appreciate. They end up laughing over nothing most of the way back to the hotel. Their driver gets an obscene tip, even though Lando didn't puke in his car, he doesn't even feel sick.
They have to walk past the hotel bar to get to the elevator bank, and they've just pressed the button, Max's steadying arm around Lando's waist, when Lando hears a familiar voice calling for him.
"Lando," Jenson says, jogging over to them. He's still in the pink and white shirt he'd been wearing when he interviewed him. "I never got to congratulate you properly."
The elevator pings and Max claps Lando on the shoulder. "Can you get to your room from here?" he asks. "I'm about to fall asleep on my feet."
"I'll look after him," Jenson says, and something low and warm curls in Lando's stomach.
The look on Max's face makes it clear he's thinking about staying anyway, but Lando grins at him. Jenson isn't Max's random friend. Jenson is Jenson. He doesn't want to fuck Lando, but if he did, Lando would say yes in a heartbeat. He's thought Jenson was fit since before he was old enough to know he thought Jenson was fit. Max disappears into the elevator and Lando turns to Jenson, beaming.
"Had a good night, have we?" Jenson asks. His voice is wrecked, and Lando would swear he could feel the rasp of it up his spine. His cheeks are just bright enough that Lando can tell he's been properly drinking in the hotel bar, not just nursing something for the last. Three hours, or five, Lando isn't sure exactly what time it is.
"Yeah," Lando says. It comes out like a sigh. "Max took me out to this club, we ran into a bunch of people, like, Travis Kelce. You know, the football player?"
"Yeah, I know of him," Jenson says.
"Well like, him," Lando says. "And then we went somewhere else and a few of Max's friends met up with us, a couple of my friends were here from London as well." He shrugs. "I was dancing," he says.
"Were you?" Jenson asks. His gaze drifts down Lando's body, and Lando, still half-hard, can't help but take it as interest.
"I was going to get fucked, I think," Lando says. Jenson's eyes snap up to his like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "But Max said it was time to go." He bites his lip, hopes it make him look seductive instead of just. More drunk.
Jenson takes a half-step closer. "Would you like to get fucked?" He asks.
Lando feels like he's having an out of body experience, because there's no way Jenson is making him the offer it seems like he's making, and yet.
Lando nods. "I feel like I deserve a proper celebration," he says, sighing. "First win, and all that."
Jenson snorts. "You don't have to lay it on so thick," he says. "I'm a sure thing if you want me."
And yeah, fuck, Lando wants him. Lando wants him immediately, before he can change his mind. Lando jams the button for the elevator and gasps as Jenson steps up behind him, too close for public but somehow not touching.
"Your place or mine?" Lando asks, and he's proud of how steady his voice is.
"Yours," Jenson purrs. Lando's skin pebbles under his breath. "I'll let you sleep when I leave in the morning."
"Okay," Lando says. He doesn't look at Jenson until they're in the elevator, until he's pressed the button for his floor, until the doors slide shut. Jenson is looking at him with something that isn't quite the bursting pride he'd shown in the paddock, not the fondness Lando is used to getting from him, not simply arousal. It's a mix of those, and something else as well. Lando is too drunk to parse it, he just drinks it in, basks in it, the warmth of Jenson's steady gaze like the sun itself.
They manage to restrain themselves until they get to Lando's hotel room, but then Jenson is on him and any questions Lando had about his willingness are swept away in their very first kiss.
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