strawberry-daiquiris

[strawberry-daiquiris]

lando: my monster is now actually in actual shops. whattaday

[strawberry-daiquiris]

iyaaaa please may i suggest 22 + lando/older man of your choice in case that sparks anything? <3

fanks lima that did spark something and it was lando/andrea and the MTC bathroom gloryhole 😌

Nobody tells Lando about it directly. He’s doing resistance band stretches in the back of the garage with Jon while the engineers are fiddling about with the rear wing assembly, and they’re talking about it. Pretty loudly, pretty shamelessly. About how there’s a certain bathroom on floor three of MTC, the small one just off the Composites department that only has two stalls in it. About the hole someone’s drilled into the dividing wall at waist height, the perfect height and width for —

“Oi,” Jon says, snapping his fingers in front of Lando’s face. “You’re meant to be stretching, not earwigging.”

”Yeah, alright,” Lando grouses, trying to switch his attention back to the chest stretches he’s been half-assing for the last five minutes. “Maybe you should be more interesting if you don’t want me to get bored of you, ever thought of that?”

“Noted, boss,” Jon says, cheerful, and spins him round to start on his shoulder stretches.

Andrea’s standing behind them, leaning against the central console with his big earphones hooked around his neck. Listening to the same conversation, one eyebrow minutely raised.

He meets Lando’s gaze as he turns, just for a second. Lando feels himself flush and looks away.

It takes about a week for Lando’s curiosity to get the better of him.

He knows it’s a stupid idea, but then surely as long as he’s quiet, discreet, there’s no real risk. Nobody would imagine it’s him. Or even better — they might want to think it’s him, but how could they prove it?

It’s tempting. Too tempting.

The factory is quiet by the time Lando’s finished for the day. Quiet, but not empty.

Lando excuses himself from the last few stragglers in the meeting room, waving his goodbyes and heading off in the direction of the lifts.

Glancing over his shoulder to check he’s not being followed, he pulls his hood up and cuts back to the stairs, climbing to level three. The bathrooms they’d been talking about are at the far end of the same corridor, tucked away. Hardly anyone uses them; hardly anyone knows they’re there. Lando can’t remember ever going in there before, which is probably why he’s never noticed the hole. But once he lets himself into the right-hand stall and latches the door behind himself, there it is. A couple of feet off the ground, a few inches wide, carefully and neatly drilled.

Beneath it, in black marker pen, someone has helpfully added instructions. Suck here.

*

He’s sat there for ages before anyone comes in. Perched on the toilet with the lid down, elbows on his knees, scrolling TikTok with the volume off. When fifteen minutes have ticked past, he wonders if he should just give up.

On the verge of standing, he hears the bathroom door creak open and freezes in place.

Fuck, maybe it’s just someone coming in for a piss. Or worse. Someone who doesn’t know about the reputation this place has, or knows about it but has decided to ignore it, thinks it’s weird or silly or gross.

Lando breathes as quietly as possible, sliding his phone back into his jeans pocket and pressing his sweaty palms against his thighs.

Footsteps cross the floor. The door of the stall next to him shuts gently; the click of the latch echoes off the tiles. There’s some shuffling, the whirr of a zip.

Then silence. Waiting.

Lando swallows, digs his fingers into his knees. Fuck, he should’ve googled this beforehand or something. Checked the etiquette. Is the other guy meant to just stick his cock through and hope for the best?

On the other side of the partition, the man clears his throat. It’s probably as close as Lando’s going to get to a come-on.

He exhales and taps the wall with a knuckle, just beside the waiting hole, hoping he’s telegraphing his meaning. I’m here, if you want it.

Nothing happens for a few seconds. Nausea rises in Lando’s belly. He’s fucked it. He’s creeped out someone from the Composites team who just wanted to use the fucking toilet. Oh Jesus, he’s going to get reported to HR.

A scuffle close to his head makes him jump. Whoever’s on the other side, they’re standing very close to the wall. Lando darts a glance downwards; the tips of two McLaren-branded trainers, the same ones they all wear, are just visible beneath the partition.

Lando looks up. The tip of a cock is poking through the hole in the wall, pink and flushed and slightly ridiculous.

He slides to his knees, shuffles closer, parts his lips and sticks out his tongue. Before he can chicken out, he licks the tip of the cock. Just a quick swipe, like he’s licking the swirl of an ice cream.

The man on the other side inhales sharply. There’s something faintly familiar; something tickling at the edges of Lando’s memory. He chooses not to think about it. Licks again.

Another shuddering breath. A soft word spoken under the breath in a language Lando can’t quite get a handle on, except he knows it’s not English. Well, at least he knows it’s not Oscar. Or Zak.

He parts his lips, closing them around the tip of the cock. His nose is pressed up against the wall, there’s no room to move. He taps the wall again, and as if by magic, the cock pushes further into his mouth, a pleasant wait on his tongue.

It’s still a pretty shit angle, and he can’t do much more than suckle on it; whoever it is, they’re not massively hung. There’s a slight upward curve to his cock, grazing the roof of Lando’s mouth as he thrusts through the hole as best he can.

Whatever the shortcomings of Lando’s blowjob, they don’t seem to be much of an issue. It only takes a few minutes of gentle sucking, teasing the slit with his tongue, before he can taste precum leaking. He can hear the man breathing hard, the fastenings of his trousers scraping against the wall where he’s humping against it. There’s something obscene about it, the way he’s making this man fall apart in a bathroom that smells of antiseptic spray and air freshener, the way he exists only as a mouth to fuck. It’s making him hard too, aching in his jeans. He undoes them with trembling hands, trying not to let the rhythm of his mouth and tongue falter as he gets a hand on himself.

The man grunts, and recognition stabs at the back of Lando’s mind again. He ignores it, hollows his cheek and sucks hard, tongue rubbing eager circles just below the head where he knows it’s good. A sharp, bitten-off moan, and salt spreads across his tongue. Lando’s swallowed it down before he realises he could have spat it into the toilet next to him.

He sinks to his haunches, jacking himself off frantically. The cock withdraws from the hole and Lando whimpers, involuntary. He��s vaguely aware that he should be ashamed about this, on his knees in a public toilet with the taste of anonymous spunk coating his mouth, bundling toilet roll into one hand so he doesn’t get come all over his jeans. But if there’s nobody to see it, why should he feel shame?

The stall door next to him unlatches. Lando listens to the tap running, the splash of the man washing his hands. He comes as the man dries his hands beneath the air dryer, muffling his moans beneath the noise.

*

Afterwards, he has to splash his face with cold water. He’s pink across the cheeks, eyes reddened where they’d watered with the effort. His mouth looks soft and swollen. He tries to fix his hair, smooth his clothes back into place.

Before he leaves, he peers into the adjoining stall. On the other side of the hole, written in the same black marker, a different set of instructions. Fuck here.

He closes the door behind himself as quietly as possible as he leaves, trying not to draw attention to anyone who might be walking past, and walks towards the lift as quickly as he can.

Someone holds the doors for him as he turns the corner to the foyer. Lando steps inside the lift.

“Lando,” Andrea greets him, inclining his head.

Lando nods, swallowing hard and digging his phone out of his pocket so he has something to look at in the hope Andrea won’t notice his freshly fucked face.

As he looks down, something snags his attention. The zip to Andrea’s trousers is undone.

His eyes jerk up to Andrea’s face. Andrea’s staring right back at him, at his swollen mouth, his mussed-up hair.

He swallows. His brain feels awfully blank; he can’t remember a single normal thing they might have a conversation about.

Before his panic can spiral, the lift pings to signal the ground floor.

As the door opens, Andrea reaches out. Touches his arm, a gesture that could easily be read as friendly. “It is good to see you working late, Lando,” he says, and meets Lando’s eyes. “I think I will be here in the evening all week, too.”

[strawberry-daiquiris]

hi hi hi i just read your landoscar yuri where they're like step-sisters and it was just so amazingly good, i loved the summery vibes and their dynamic was really really cute. very awesome, so thank you!

thank you anon, that is lovely to hear because they are so special to meeeeee. i love that fic because it’s a rare example of me managing to keep a story short but still pack a lot in. i sometimes forget it’s only 3k because i feel them both in my bones. i love the idea they are cute when they are so disgusting - knickers in the pocket, getting off in your dad’s new jacuzzi, fucking in the pub garden levels of disgusting is the cute we can all only dream of.

[strawberry-daiquiris]

Max and Jon giggling at Lando coming out of his car

And Lando immediately tripping after

[strawberry-daiquiris]

georgerussell63 🇦🇺🇦🇺🇦🇺🇬🇧

[strawberry-daiquiris]

✨ it’s been a long time coming ✨

[strawberry-daiquiris]

just reading your old fic ‘you signed up for this’ and noticing the restaurant in Texas old Oscar tells them not to go to is the one from Oscar’s story a few days ago😭

hahahaha yes, i saw this too! oscar's beef with terry blacks is entirely my own because i had a rubbish experience there the first time i went to austin. seeing that picture gave me flashbacks because we were literally sat one table away from where he was and i was having the rant of my LIFE about how much i wasn't enjoying it and how expensive it was.

hopefully real oscar has a better time than i did, even if time travelling oscar did not 🥰🥰🥰

[strawberry-daiquiris]

McLarenF1: Movie time with Lando and Oscar 🍿🎨

[strawberry-daiquiris]

x

[strawberry-daiquiris]

heatwave induced delirium and my grandstand order arriving have me wishing my life away. i don’t want to work i want it to be 2 weeks time wearing fluoro and watching the fast cars in fp2.

[strawberry-daiquiris]

The wedding ring aughhh ough yeowchh🤕

[strawberry-daiquiris]

would you ever write more oscarmark? you're so brilliant at capturing their dynamic, the christmas fic is something i think about minimum seven times a day lol

if the right idea came to me then definitely, yes. i think the thing about oscarmark is that for me the christmas fic is sort of the definitive version of them in my mind, and i don’t want to write a(nother) sequel, so i need a different perspective on it that i just haven’t found yet.

that said, the way oscar is eclipsing mark and taking the old man’s breath away as he does it… that is very intriguing and strokes the feral bits of my brain so 😈

[strawberry-daiquiris]

best friends to lovers is about DEVOTION it's about CODEPENDENCY it's about the intimacy of being known and being seen it's about holding someone so close to your heart you forget where you end and where they begin it's about knowing the worst parts about someone and loving them not only despite but FOR it

[strawberry-daiquiris]

[strawberry-daiquiris]

ever since i was a little girl i knew i liked problematic tropes