They're an open secret and have been since before Max even remembers them being together. Lando's a simp and can't help gushing over Max, Max is just as gone on the fucking moron and if their love language in public is mostly rinsing each other's attempts at CoD then it's not like everyone else doesn't know it is.
Some things are more secret, though. No one else has to know about this, as Max drags lace over his shoulders, smooths it down over his pecs. It's more of a cropped t-shirt than lingerie, the soft peach colour and translucent fabric aside but it's fancy and he likes it, the juxtaposition of the flimsy fabric over muscle making him feel more masculine than a small, pretty guy would normally get to.
He's got matching shorts on, similarly simply cut and a little loose, sexy in the way they don't hide his dick. He looks hot, comfortable, a little bit cocky even in the mirror of Lando's bathroom.
Lando himself looks quite different, next to Max. He's looking down, preoccupied with clipping a stocking onto the suspender belt cinching his waist, pale blue and plain, it's the opposite of the way the fancy fabric makes Max's work, all delicate engineering but in what almost could be plain cotton.
Lando's not wearing a bra and the panties beneath the garter belt are equally simple, a plain cut of matte silk that almost does the opposite of Max's shorts, somehow tucking his dick away to create a more feminine line. He looks insanely hot, almost vulnerable and Max wants to take and get taken by him.
"We should start an OnlyFans." Max stretches elaborately, showing off and putting an arm around Lando's shoulders to pull him close, admire them together. "It's not fair of us to be this hot and keep it to ourselves."
Lando's biting his lip in their reflection, looking nervous, "Hmm, I might…" He casts around for a moment and Max takes advantage of him twisting his neck to nuzzle it. "Yeah, definitely."
Lando leans away for a second, grabbing something off the counter and pulling it over his head. It's a light, gently loose vest in the same pale blue, cut low so it shows off the space between his pecs almost like they're tits and just shaped enough it highlights Lando's slim waist, only increases how delicate he looks.
Max shoves him up against the sink, Lando's back to the mirror and his own hands spread over Lando's shoulders, waist, drawing him in for Max to make out with like he's drowning. Lando scoots himself up on the counter so Max can stand between his thighs and it's the hottest thing ever, even if it's ridiculous to get dressed up just to take it all off, Max feeling sexier than he ever has.
"Mmmf," Lando pulls back. "I wanna do this properly, in bed."
"You just don't like seeing yourself," Max grumbles, letting Lando wrap his legs around Max for a second, even while he's allegedly trying to separate them, a hickey getting sucked onto his neck just where the line of his top is. "Oof, don't make it too obvious."
Lando makes a disgruntled sound but does leave Max's skin alone, unlocks his legs from round him and gives him a slight shove in the chest to move. "You can mark me up," he murmurs in Max's ear, husky, "I like it, when I can still see it later."
Max groans, shivers and pulls Lando into the bedroom with him, almost throws him on the bed. He knows Lando can take some rough handling, as almost ephemeral as he looks right now and Max wants. Crawling over Lando, pinning his wrists, Max knows he could escape, could fight him easily hard enough to get away but it’s even hotter that Lando just melts back into the duvet, lets Max do what he wants.
The skin at the side of his neck is soft and warm between Max’s teeth, Lando arching beneath him, stockinged feet rubbing against Max’s calves as he writhes. “Mine,” Max isn’t really possessive, there’s never been any question of either of them straying far but Lando had asked him to claim him, wanted Max to leave evidence that what they do goes way beyond streaming sessions.
“Yeah,” Lando whimpers it, still shifting beneath Max but it’s turned sinewy, less desperate since he released the bite. “Max, fuck.”
Something about how quiet Lando breathes it takes all the urge to ravage him out of Max, turns it to reverent kissing, with Lando’s arms hooked round his neck, resting on Max’s shoulders. They switch around on who tops, Max sometimes needing to get fucked as evidence Lando actually likes him and Lando sometimes getting like this, all needy pliance and soft wonder. But Max isn’t actually sure what he’s allowed to do, now they’re on the bed and worked up.
The lingerie feels strange under his fingertips, where he’s tracing the line of a suspender up Lando’s thigh, feeling the seam of his underwear. Max slides his finger under, rubbing gently over Lando’s hip bone and hears him whimper into the kiss.
“Do you like it?”
Lando looks nonplussed by Max’s question, blinking up at him as he pulls back. “What?”
“This,” Max gestures at what Lando’s wearing.
“Oh.” Lando blushes, closes his eyes, “Yeah, I’ve thought about wearing a dress before, I dunno why.”
Max watches him for a moment, the way he can see the fight between determined and sure of who he is and anxiety, insecurity raging through Lando. Then kisses him again, instead because it’s way more fun. “You should, if you want. You look good. So good.”
Lando’s always been a little bit feminine and it’s probably a big part of why Max likes him, confused enough about his own sexuality to not really be able to explain why Lando and no other boys. Why Lando and no one else at all, really. Why they’re so happy to be weird with each other when they’re both quite nervous the rest of the time.
“You look hot,” Lando blurts it out, like he’s shy about even complimenting Max, hands reaching to slide under the top, span his fingers across Max’s chest, beneath the lace. “Like, really hot. I’m glad we did this.”
It had started as a half-joking discussion, over insta models, how they couldn’t get away with posing in their underwear. Then it’d turned to being horny over each other, Max meaning it seriously when he said Lando was hotter than instagram girls, would look fit as fuck in fancy lingerie.
He’d been kind of imagining something more elaborate but the stuff Lando eventually got suits him perfectly, not too over-the-top, showing off how pretty Lando is rather than the underwear itself. Max dips his head to press soft kisses up Lando’s collarbone, neck, not biting this time. “Me too, I know you hate it when I say it but you’re fucking hot.”
Lando squirms, beneath him and Max can hear the way he’s about to protest, doesn’t let him. He catches Lando’s bottom lip between his teeth, instead, sucks gently on it until he’s forgotten the mortifying ordeal of being fancied by the person he’s been fucking for the last half-decade.
“Can I fuck you?” He murmurs it into Lando’s ear, trailing more kisses over his skin and feeling curls brush his nose, the way Lando shivers and mewls beneath him.
“Yee-eah,” Lando sounds almost like he’s cold, pressing up against Max with so much need. “Do it, uhm - oh, y’know.”
Max smiles, pulls back to quirk an eyebrow at Lando and appreciate how bright his eyes are shining, over the pink blush on his cheekbones, “I do?”
“Fucking - like, jesus christ Max - make it nice, you know.” Max does, gets that Lando is asking him to make love to him but also wants to make him say it.
“Oh yeah? You want me to make you feel special?” Max tugs the vest down with his teeth, to lave his tongue round Lando’s nipple and feel him twist his legs together in pleasure, sink deeper into the bed. “You want me to take it slow, make you beg for it?”
Lando whimpers at ‘beg’ and Max has some sudden inspiration. “You want me to tie you up, like that girl?”
One of the subjects of their insta browsing had been a pretty, wholesome-looking girl in flowery underwear, hands tied above her head. It wasn’t the kind of thing Max got off on, too posed and too - well, not-Lando-y, honestly but it was a hot idea and Lando had seemed particularly hypnotised by it, for a second. The idea of getting kinky isn’t really out of either of their boundaries but whips and chains are really not their thing.
“Yes,” Lando whispers it, stretches his own arms above his head. “I dunno what you can use.”
“I do - stay still” Max pushes the vest up, gently, kisses Lando’s stomach as he hops off the bed and into the en suite, lace shifting sexily over his arse as he walks. It only takes a second to find it, the ribbon from the box his stuff had come in, a matching peach colour that will look perfect around Lando’s wrists.
Lando’s craning his neck up, off the bed, looking for Max by the time he gets back even though it’s probably been less than half a minute. He looks gorgeous, arms still raised and legs stretched out long, one thigh resting over the other, silky, smooth skin only highlighted by the stockings.
Max doesn’t let himself look too long, although it’s tempting, knows Lando will be getting frantic under his gaze already. “I reckon,” he says, getting back on the bed and straddling Lando’s waist. “That you could get a pretty good following on Insta.”
Lando sticks his tongue out at him, “Three million not enough for you?”
“We could make it five,” Max kisses his forehead, leans up to wrap the ribbon around Lando’s wrists. “If I took photos of you like his.”
There’s a whine, beneath him and Max pauses, looks down at Lando to check he’s ok. He’s got his eyes closed but looks happy enough Max is confident to go ahead with tying him up, he can always undo it if it’s too much. He’s got no real idea what he’s doing anyway, just looping a simple bow so Lando’s wrists are semi-trapped together by a figure of eight that’s probably incredibly easy to get out of.
The soft glow of peach satin around the muscle on Lando’s forearms is hypnotic, so delicate. It takes effort to drag his eyes away from it, down to check on Lando, "You OK?"
"Mmm," Lando sighs, sounding relaxed, flexes his hands and arms slightly like he's testing the hold. "Yeah, s'nice. Thank you."
Max isn't expecting the thanks and it takes him back for a moment, has to bend down for more soft kisses. "Thank you. You look gorgeous."
He says it without thinking but for once Lando doesn't try and get away, pinned under Max in any case, he just sighs and stretches a little, eyes still closed. "Thought you were going to make me beg?"
Max smirks, leans backwards to run his fingers between Lando's thighs, teasing. "Yeah."
The full-body shiver that runs through Lando is very worth it. Like this, Max can look at him - like the very slight restraint has made it possible for Lando to give up and accept Max is thirsty as fuck about him. Or maybe it's him feeling more confident, too, sometimes just as keen to shy away from Lando looking at him but the lacy underwear's making Max feel raunchy, hot for himself as well as the boy underneath him.
"Lando," he gets a hum in response, continues. "If I do something you don't like, tell me, OK?"
Lando smiles, blinks his eyes open to look up at Max and for a second he's so pretty Max thinks he's going to die or something, this work of art laid out before him. Big, grey-blue eyes and long lashes have him fixated but the halo of Lando's curls and the line of his shoulders, to where his wrists are tied with the ribbon, could be carved from marble in a museum if his skin wasn't so warm and glowing.
Shifting himself on his knees makes the lace drag over his own dick and Max realises how hard he is at the same time Lando bites his bottom lip, staring at Max with a sort of unguarded lust he’s never seen before. When they’d started having sex it had been very no homo, some sort of thing they didn’t really talk about or acknowledge was sex, maybe just counted it as mutual wanking. Over the years, it’s turned more grown up in the same way they have, gone from frantic humping and quick hand jobs to teasing, proper fucking, spending the odd day in bed together just because it feels good and more often than not cuddling after, Max’s arms round Lando or Lando’s nose buried in his hair.
But they don’t get to dress up for each other much. Have never really had the chance to show off together.
“Can I come to Monaco?”
He doesn’t know why he blurts it out, now of all times.
“Yeah,” Lando shrugs, like he’s forgotten where his hands are and instantly regrets the awkward movement. “I meant it when I asked you.”
Max bends down, presses his palms into the duvet either side of Lando’s raised arms and kisses him like his life depends on it. He’s hard as hell, can feel where the lace is wet with his own precum when it shifts over his dick, jostled by the way Lando moves undeneath him, arching his hips up to try and get relief or friction or something, some more touch than where Max is sitting over his waist.
“Shhh, you wanted to beg,” Max says it kindly, sucking at Lando’s ear then grazing his teeth down his neck, biting down again, hard, at the junction to his shoulder to hear Lando whine, breathe out a curse like he’s coming up from drowning.
He’s not totally merciless, so he scoots down Lando’s body to kiss and bite over his abs again, watch the way he arches and how elegant it looks, vest riding up over the garter belt to show the lines of his body. For a short guy, Lando’s got weirdly long legs and it suits him, like this, Max grabbing his left foot and his right knee to firmly push them apart, stop Lando kind of writhing to hide himself.
“So fucking hot,” he kisses up Lando’s inner thigh, hears him gasp when Max runs his tongue up the seam of the panties, next to his balls. “I’m so fucking hard for you, Lando,” he sounds hoarse, even to himself. “We’re both dripping all -” he opens his lips wider, mouths through the fabric, where it's stretched across Lando’s dick, “- over -” Lando makes a broken sound when Max tugs on the fabric with his teeth, “- these nice, new things.”
“Fuck, Max, please. ”
“Is that it?” Max kneels up, “I thought it’d take a bit more to have you begging.”
Lando’s eyes are very bright, when he cranes his head up to look at Max, “Fuck you.”
“Well that’s not asking nicely, is it,” says Max and goes back to sucking a hickey onto the sensitive skin of Lando’s inner thigh, enjoying the sobbing noises he gets.
“ Please, Max, please - I am begging, I’m asking you as nicely as I can - ah! ” Lando cries out sharply when Max bites again, at the same time as sliding one finger up the side of the panties, to run over his trapped dick. “Please fuck me, you’re so fucking good, so hot, I need you.”
Lando’s a manipulative little shit and surely knows that makes Max’s dick jump, easily played for whenever he can give Lando something rather than the unequal way their relationship seems to have fallen, lately. He bites him again, just for good measure, smirking at the yelp before he pushes the panties aside and reaches for lube.
It’s awkward, not a lot to space to work in between suspenders and underwear that’s getting smeared with at least as much lube as precum and saliva. He’s left Lando’s dick pressed upwards, his balls exposed for Max to play with while he’s working him open. Lando repeatedly tries to move his arms, jerks every time he's reminded they’re tied and it’s not like Max thinks, for even a single second, that he couldn’t get out but just remembering he’s not supposed to seems to be effective.
“Can I fuck you now? Ask me to fuck you, baby, you look so good.”
Lando flexes on Max’s fingers, makes a whiny noise and then looks up at him, pupils dilated. “Max, if you don’t get inside me in like four fucking seconds I will kill you,” he pants, then seems to remember himself. “ Please. ”
He decides to ignore it, hooking one of Lando’s thighs over his own forearm and pushing upwards and into him. “Of course,” he kisses over the mark he left on Lando’s neck, earlier. “Gonna give it to you so good.”
“Mmmnflgh,” Lando throws his head back to the mattress, “Fuck, yeah. Like that.”
Max knows what he wants and frankly, he’s kind of just hoping he can hold off coming long enough to give it to him, fucking in steady and deep and slow, holding Lando’s leg with one hand to get himself the space and almost cradling him with the other, behind his waist. Max feels sexy, powerful, the way he’s undone the man beneath him and how Lando’s all wantonly his, beautiful as he is.
“God, fuck-” Lando whimpers and Max can feel his toes curling, where they’re digging into Max’s arse, “I’m gonna come, I can’t - fuck. ”
It’s very hot, Lando coming and shaking and fighting to keep his hands above his head, half-jacknifing them with the way he’s twisting with the force of it. But what sends Max over is slowing down, fucking him tenderly through it, when Lando finally brings his tied hands up to touch Max’s face, fingers cradling his jaw and the orgasm rips through him like g forces.
“Fuck.” Max kisses Lando’s fingers, not ready to pull out yet, then ducks his head to pull at the bow with his teeth, unravel the ribbon. It falls onto Lando’s chest, between them and he flexes his wrists, turning them over, like he’s discovering something new. Max guesses they both are.
