“Alright guys, I’m gonna head to bed. If you need me, do not bother me, it can probably wait,” Tom says, standing from where he sat on the ground. He shoves his phone in his pocket and walks away.
“Night, mate,” Max calls after him. Lando hums softly. Max can tell Lando is tired but too stubborn to give in. He nudges Lando’s thigh with his foot.
From where he’s sitting, he’s got a nice view of Lando. Lando’s sitting cross-legged, head moving along to the rhythm of a song he isn’t paying attention to, eyes half-lidded, yawn incoming any second now. Max himself has got his legs spread, one leg reaching all the way to Lando, the other firmly on the ground. He’s got his arms on the sides of the couch, body open and slumped in his position. He’s comfortable, wearing one of Lando’s hoodies (really, their closet has kind of become the bugs bunny communism meme by now) and loose joggers. The tunes echo from their living room box, the light mostly coming from their led-lights on the wall. It’s a vibe, really. Max feels like time has stopped ticking a little while ago and he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He could stay in this moment for a long time, but then it wouldn’t be a moment anymore, would it?
Lando perks up, eyes taking Max in for a second or two before he properly responds. He chuckles, “‘m glad he’s gone to sleep.”
“Yeah?” Max responds. It’s not… not really a question, but for some reason, he finds himself curious as to why Lando stayed up until after Tom went to sleep even though he’s been yawning steadily for a few hours now.
“Yeah.” Lando moves, hands crawling over the couch to rest at Max’s sides before he lays his head on Max’s chest, body in between Max’s legs, slotting there perfectly like the space was made for him.
Max gets one of his arms around Lando’s shoulders and moves the other to scratch Lando’s scalp. He’s trying to tell him via telepathy to go to sleep, to relax. It’s okay, they’re here, together, finally allowed to touch each other again without having to put up this whole masquerade as to how they’re Just Housemates And Definitely Not Occasionally Sleeping Together And Not In The Safe For Work Way (although that occasionally too). Max feels himself lulling into a comfortable, sleepy haze, though he’s still slightly on the edge. If someone were to go downstairs and see them like this, they wouldn’t really be surprised. Still, it feels weird to Max to fall asleep in the living room, to be unconscious where anyone can walk in when Lando is too. Lando’s safe in his hold and Max feels overly protective as if his friends are threats to Lando’s sleep schedule (if anyone’s a threat to Lando’s sleep schedule, it’s Lando), or just to Lando in general. He wills himself to stay awake, until maybe after Lando wakes up again and they have enough energy to head to their bedroom to sleep there.
Lando nuzzles his head on Max’s chest, the sudden movement gets Max to shoot his head toward Lando’s face. There’s a sly smirk on Lando’s cheeks. Max watches carefully how Lando snakes a hand under Max’s hoodie, absentmindedly drawing infinity signs on his skin. His hand is cold, at first, Max refrains from hissing. Lando’s hand is incredibly soft, different from Max’s own rough hands. No matter how much he takes care of his hands, Max’s will never be as soft as Lando’s. Max doesn’t mind, he loves how silk-like lines are being traced over his ribs. It’s Lando’s way of telling him that he knows he’s there, that he’s not just laying on anyone’s chest (he tends to fall asleep anywhere, after all) and that he knows he’s safe and protected. It’s become a small theme between the two of them - Lando’s constant appreciation of Max being there for him and Max’s constant appreciation of Lando wanting him near.
In the beginning, Max felt out of place, like he wasn’t meant to be in Lando’s home, like how it would always be Lando’s house before their house. But slowly, as time went on and their closets merged together, they, too, merged together to form a whole. The first time Max noticed it was when a friend had invited the two of them over to a party. They hadn’t bothered messaging Lando, they’d merely sent a message to Max dedicated for the both of them. In their friend group, it continued to be like that. Someone would message either Lando or Max, and the message would be for both of them, knowing it’d reach the other anyways. It wasn’t Lando-oh-and-Max-too, it was Lando & Max, Max & Lando, said in one breath.
Lando wriggles again, now slowly crawling up Max’s body. His hair is messy and his eyes look tired. Max is truly wondering why he hadn’t gone to bed yet, whatever he might want to do right now, could probably wait. They can cuddle tomorrow too!
Lando kisses Max’s jawline. All of Max’s worries for Lando to go to sleep fade to the background, forever weak for whichever attention Lando gives him. He chuckles, smiling lovingly. His hand is still tracing little 8’s over his ribs as he kisses Max’s lips, slowly, sighing through his nose as if he can finally relax now. He moves up Max’s body with determination, slotting his legs in between Max’s and steadying himself with one hand on the couch. He presses his hips down, firm against Max’s, and Max gasps.
Lando uses this to get his tongue inside Max’s mouth, suddenly having an energy burst of which Max had seen nothing all night. Maybe he’s been saving up, maybe this had been his idea the entire night. Either way, Max loves it, lets himself get guided to crane his neck, only mildly struggling to keep up with the perseverance with which Lando steals every breath from his mouth.
The infinity signs he’s been drawing are faltering, Lando now holding his rib cage with intent.
Max manages to chuckle, “What’s gotten into you?” So fondly, that Lando smiles shyly in return.
“Been wanting to kiss you all night, you look so good in my hoodie.”
“I wear your hoodies all the time,” Max presses a quick kiss to Lando’s nose, “What’s special about tonight?”
Lando bites his lip, “Before tonight I wore that one, it hadn’t even been washed, you just grabbed it and walked around in it all day, for all our friends to see. My name’s so big on your chest- it’s just- I-” Lando looks away, shy, suddenly, for confessing this.
Max kisses him again, “Hmm little possessive there, Bob?”
Lando nods softly.
Max whispers in Lando’s ear, “I’m yours, babe. They all have to know.”
Lando whines softly, then presses a kiss under Max’s ear, nibbles his earlobe. Max bucks up involuntarily, forever weakened by all the small touches. Over time, Lando had discovered all the secret buttons to Max’s nerve system. He’s memorised them like they’re buttons on an F1 steering wheel, like writing his own signature. All the tiny touches make Max fall apart in his hold, and Max trusts no one as much as Lando to push all these buttons, to have his way with him, to make him crumble to pieces and revert to nothing but a whimpering, incoherent mess.
“Oh baby,” Lando whispers, hands moving to Max’s waist, one holding his hips in place, the other curling around Max’s erection, “I’m gonna make you moan my name so loud, everyone is gonna know.” His voice is deep, deep and raspy in a way that gets Max to whimper, to whine, to beg if he keeps this teasing up.
Lando places one last kiss on Max’s jawline - though he’s more smirking than kissing - before crawling to Max’s hips. He mouths Max’s dick through the fabric, shamelessly wetting his joggers, getting Max adjusted to the heat of his mouth. His fingers, now no longer as cold as before, dance over Max’s chest, sneak under his hoodie, nails scratching his tummy. Max arches his back, his toes curling in his socks, eyes squeezed shut.
Lando gets to work pretty quickly, freeing Max’s dick from his joggers and-
“You’re not even wearing underwear?” Lando’s head shoots up to meet Max.
Max struggles to open his eyes but dares himself to meet Lando’s gaze. He swallows audibly, “I, uh, didn’t really have time when we woke up, we, uh- were in quite a rush before everyone came.”
“You- this whole time-” Lando seems disbelieving. Max almost feels embarrassed, but then Lando asked, “God I could’ve jerked you off during dinner.”
“Lando,” Max whines.
“Never wear underwear again, m’kay? I’ll get creative.” Lando smirks to himself, eyes back on Max’s dick, one hand slowly jerking him. They’ve got no lube nearby, so Lando’s careful not to get Max uncomfortable. He seems to be touching Max more in a way to keep his own hands busy than to get Max anywhere.
“God- you’re gonna make me come without even touching me,” mutters Max.
Lando doesn’t respond, simply says, “I could try and make you come with my feet, like- when you’re sitting across the table, I could just get my feet in your lap, use my toes to touch you… would that be possible?”
Max can’t even answer, he’s got no clue, but the image alone is getting him to roll his eyes into the back of his head.
“Well, one way to find out. I’m really looking forward to breakfast tomorrow, see if you can keep from moaning while the rest is there-”
Max makes a punched-out noise, back arching again at the teasing Lando’s doing.
“-They’d have no clue, and you could just come in your pants because of me.” Lando smirks, then seems to shake out of his daydream. He kisses Max’s groin, eyes daring as he looks at Max. He licks the base of Max’s dick, makes his way up to get him properly wet. “You’re into that.” Lando states, giving little kitten licks to the head of Max’s cock, licking him clean from all the leaking he’s been doing.
Max isn’t much of a leaker, not like Lando who gets messy very quickly. But all the talking Lando’s been doing is driving him insane. He’s gotten so much more comfortable with this, with figuring out his sexuality, with figuring out sex with Max, with figuring out what he likes and what Max likes and where they meet. Max remembers the very first time Lando went down on him, enthusiastically trying to get him to come as soon as possible. Bit by bit, Lando realised he really likes the weight of Max’s dick on his tongue, the stretching it does for his lips, the taste of Max’s come. Simultaneously, he learned that Max’s orgasms are way more intense when Lando gets him off slower than when he’s rushed. Sure, they’ve had their moments of fast-and-frantic, drawn into a horny haze of nothing but desire and need to come.
There’s something special about prolonging an orgasm, the build-up in every nerve ending of a body, the way fingers helplessly grasp at sheets, hair, headboards, anything. Toes curling, back arching, eyes shut, and relief like finally letting go of a breath that’s been held in.
Lando hums happily around Max’s dick, sinking deeper and taking in more and more. His mouth is stretched around Max, eyes a bit watery and he looks so gorgeous.
Max is overwhelmed with everything Lando does for him, all the time. The small and the big things - like inviting him to his home, like staying up to suck him off because he hadn’t been able to do that all day. Maybe it was a tad selfish - because Lando loves sucking Max off - but it doesn’t matter. Max is grateful either way. His hands tangle with Lando’s curls, encouragingly tugging and swirling around.
Lando lays down in between Max’s legs, body fully rested so he can focus on nothing but the blowjob he’s giving. His hands are fully under Max’s sweater now, playfully dancing over his skin, swirling around his nipples, nails scratching and leaving marks.
Lando takes his time, but all the talking he’d been doing has Max on edge already. His thighs tense, his breath hitches. Lando is everywhere and it’s so much. He’s so fucking close…
The last step of their staircase creaks and Max’s head shoots to the sound. His heart is beating fast as fuck, Lando’s still a comfortable warmth around his dick and then Tom steps into the room. For a second, Max feels disgusted, caught, worried about what Tom might say. Lando freezes around him, fingers suddenly stilling.
Tom holds his phone high, “Max d’you have a charger around here?”
Max realises that Tom can’t see Lando, that the back of the couch is high enough to cover Lando entirely. If Tom’s attentive, he might wonder where Lando’d gone, and why Max’d be downstairs all by himself, but Tom is tired too, focused on nothing but finding a charger for his phone.
None of the realisations truly calm Max. Firstly because he has no fucking clue where any charger might be, and secondly because Tom might spot Lando if he takes more than two steps forward.
Max tries to play it cool, “Kitchen, maybe?” His voice is a tad rough, so he clears his throat. He hopes Tom won’t notice it. Frankly, he hopes Tom will get the fuck out of here.
Tom nods and vanishes into the kitchen.
Lando pops off of Max’s dick, smiling wide and chuckling softly. His voice sounds hoarse when he says, “Cannot wait to see his face when we tell him.”
“Noo,” Max’s eyes are wide, “This is none of his business.”
“You did get even harder, though. I felt you twitching.”
“Shut up,” Max mutters, this is no time to dive into his exhibitionistic side. He’d much prefer it if they were on a lounge bed on a random beach in the middle of nowhere where neither of them ever have a chance of being recognised. If they get caught exactly like this by a random passerby, that’d be much hotter than by their friend.
Lando shrugs, a little cocky smile on his face, “Alright,” he says, and lowers himself over Max’s dick again. He’s a bit faster, a bit nastier, than a second ago. Hollowing his cheeks and giving Max absolutely no room to breathe. He meets Max’s eyes and softly scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin, Max bucks up into his mouth, hands shakily gripping the backrest of the couch like it’s his lifeline.
“Fuuuuck,” Max whispers, looking up at the ceiling. His toes hurt from curling so much, but he can’t stop. His entire body is getting close to his high, in anticipation of coming, on the verge of it, needing just a bit more.
Lando bobs his head a few more times, swipes his tongue under Max’s cockhead and Max groans low, “Cl-close.”
Lando taps his thigh, soundlessly telling him to come in his mouth, telling him it’s okay, telling him he wants it. Max’s back arches, his grip on Lando’s hair is menacing, strong, tight. His orgasm crashes into him, ripples through his entire body, filling Lando’s mouth. Lando moves back just enough to get all of it, swallowing around Max’s dick.
“Lando.” The name is like a prayer on Max’s lips like he knows no word better than this name.
Lando sits back after cleaning Max’s dick. He wipes his mouth to get the remaining come from his face, the drops he couldn’t keep in his mouth. He sucks his thumb clean and watches proudly at the sack of boneless meat that he’s reduced Max to.
From the kitchen, Tom walks back into the living room, “Found it, thanks ma-” He freezes in his wake. Max sees how Lando shamelessly looks at Tom whilst cleaning his fingers. There is absolutely no doubt that Tom can piece one and one together to know what’s going on. “What.” It’s not even a question, it’s a statement.
“Thought you were asleep,” Lando says, voice fucked into the next dimension, “What’re you doing here?” Lando’s free hand lands on Max’s thigh, squeezing him softly.
Max is suddenly incredibly bothered by Tom being here, by him being in this house in general. He feels protective, nay, possessive over Lando. No one is supposed to see Lando like this, no one but Max. Lando has a wonderful hazy glaze over his eyes every time they have sex, every time either of them came. He’s just this bit more vulnerable, careless, unguarded, and he trusts Max with seeing that, with putting him in this state of mind and taking care of him. No one but Max should ever see him like this.
“I-” Tom looks between Max and Lando. Max tries to send him as many telepathic messages that say get the fuck out, mate as possible. Tom seems to get the message, raising his hands and saying, “I’m not gonna deal with anything that I saw. I’m gonna erase this from my retinas and go to sleep. I’ll see y’all in the morning.” He turns around on his heels and all but sprints up the stairs.
Lando chuckles softly when Tom’s out of sight, to which Max rolls his shoulders, some of the protectiveness and possession easing out of him now that it’s just the two of them again. He groans, “We are never doing that again.”
“Aren’t we?” Lando smirks, hands helping Max to put his jogging pants back on, “I thought it was quite fun.”
“We scarred him for life, mate!”
Lando smiles, moving down to kiss Max, forcing his tongue inside so Max has no choice but to taste himself. As if the blowjob itself hadn’t been enough of a reminder that Lando’d do anything for him, that they have merged together to form a whole, that they work best if they work together. Lando smirks, “Next time, I’ll have you bent over the counter and anyone can see me eating you out.”
“Hmm, sure you will,” Max smiles, he’s way too tired to think of the logistics of this fantasy. “Energised enough to get up and move to the bed?”
“Yeah,” Lando stands up, reaching out to help Max - who no longer feels as boneless as a second or two ago - up from the couch. “I could use some sleep.”
Max wraps an arm around Lando’s waist, murmuring, “I know, baby. Come on.”