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Oscar drunkenly stumbled into the small bathroom of the VIP area. He stopped dead in his tracks as two pairs of ocean eyes shot to meet his
Max Verstappen sat on the counter where the sinks were installed, with Lando, in a shirt with all but one button undone, between his thighs.
Oscar stared, mouth agape, too stunned and drunk to form a coherent thought.
Lando eyed him, mischievous and cocksure.
“Join us?”
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