Work Text:
One-Shot: Under My Skin, Deep in My Soul.
The bell over the door gave a soft jingle when Oscar stepped into the studio. The place was quiet, dim light filtering through the dark glass, casting soft shadows on the walls lined with bold, expressive artwork. The air smelled like ink, alcohol, and post-piercing lotion. Everything felt foreign to him. So… intimidating.
But not more than the guy behind the front desk.
Lando looked up from his tablet when he heard the door, and the first thing he did was smile—one of those cocky, slow-building grins that started at the corner of the mouth and ended with a subtle bite to his bottom lip. His eyes scanned Oscar with ease. From the worn-out Vans to those long legs, the defined chest under a snug hoodie, and finally the face—handsome, calm, with a small nose piercing and that little hint of innocence Lando loved to mess with.
“Morning, big guy,” Lando said, leaning his tattooed forearms on the counter. His voice came out low, lazy, like every syllable was some kind of invitation.
Oscar stopped halfway, cheeks instantly heating up.
“Uh… hey. I’m Oscar.” He gave a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Any chance you’ve got time today? I was thinking about getting a piercing—side of the lip—and maybe… a tattoo on my back.”
Lando raised an eyebrow, smile widening.
“Straight to the point. I like that. I’m Lando—tattoo artist and body piercer.”
Oscar looked away, but stayed cool.
“Figured with the place empty, I could try my luck,” he said. Then, with the tiniest smirk: “Maybe the universe wanted it to be you.”
Lando let out a soft laugh, tilting his head as he stood and came around the counter.
“The universe is pretty smart sometimes,” he said, stepping close—close enough that Oscar could feel his warmth. “I’ve got a slot open now. Wanna start with the piercing? I promise I’ll be gentle.”
Oscar bit his lip—maybe from nerves, maybe just to tease.
“You don’t look like the gentle type.”
“Only at first,” Lando shot back, eyes sparkling. “Come on, big guy. I’ll take good care of you.”
Oscar followed him toward the back room, heart beating faster than he’d admit. Between the flirting, the needles, and the rush of it all… the studio didn’t feel so intimidating anymore. Not when the hands on his skin belonged to someone like Lando.
And maybe, just maybe, the piercing and the tattoo were just the beginning.
The procedure room was softly lit, warm yellow lights bouncing off metallic surfaces. Oscar sat down on the reclined chair while Lando snapped on latex gloves and picked up the tools with a kind of slow, teasing calm.
“Relax, big guy. It'll be quick... and kinda fun,” he said with a half-smile, like daring Oscar to blush again.
And of course, Oscar did.
“Do you flirt with all your clients like this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Lando shrugged, walking over with a sterilized clamp in hand.
“Only the ones who act like they don’t love it when I call them pretty.”
Oscar opened his mouth to fire something back, but Lando was already there—so close he could smell the mix of his cologne and antiseptic soap. The tattoo artist held Oscar’s chin with one hand—firm but surprisingly gentle—and tilted his face just right. His fingers were steady and careful, a soft contrast to his inked-up, confident vibe. Almost… tender.
“Take a deep breath for me,” Lando murmured, voice low, like it was just for them. His eyes didn’t leave Oscar’s until the very last second before glancing down at his mouth.
Oscar did as told, chest rising slowly. Then he felt the pressure of the needle. It wasn’t really pain—more like a shiver that started in his face and ran down his spine, heightened by how Lando kept that steady, grounding touch the whole time, like every move was meant to be felt, not feared.
When the needle slid out and the jewelry was in, Oscar let out a soft exhale that felt like more than relief—maybe surrender.
Lando cleaned the area with practiced ease, then leaned in again. His thumb brushed gently over the fresh piercing, almost like a reward.
“Looks good,” he said with a tilted smile. “But you? You were already something else.”
Oscar tried to smile, but couldn’t quite do it. Too busy fighting back a shy grin and the urge to hide his face in his hands.
“You’re such a flirt,” he muttered, running his tongue over the new metal, getting used to the feel.
“I’m just being honest,” Lando shrugged, tossing the tools back onto the tray. “Now… about that back tattoo. You still up for it?”
Oscar stood, trying to play it cool even though his eyes gave him away.
“If it’s you doing it… I think I’m up for anything.”
Lando chuckled, throwing his head back for a second, clearly charmed.
“Oh, big guy… you’re gonna be fun trouble.”
And Oscar—blushing, but with a crooked little smile—already knew that maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what he wanted.
The tattoo room was darker than the last one, with focused lighting—perfect for zoning in on what really mattered: the skin. Lando walked in first, flicking on the station and setting up like he could do it in his sleep—needles, ink, stencil paper, all lined up with practiced ease.
Oscar came in right after, eyes scanning the room with a mix of curiosity and nerves. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he let out a long breath, like he was bracing himself for something bigger—and maybe he was.
“Go ahead and take off your top and lay down here, face-down,” Lando said, pointing at the adjustable chair, not even looking up. “And while you’re at it, tell me what you’re thinkin’ of getting.”
Oscar didn’t answer right away. First, he grabbed the hem of his dark red hoodie and pulled it up slow, revealing pale skin and lean muscle that shifted with every movement. He tugged it over his head and dropped it onto the chair next to him, casual as hell, like he didn’t realize how much of a show that was.
But Lando noticed. Oh, he noticed.
His eyes lifted and froze for a second, like his brain had short-circuited. “Holy shit…” he muttered under his breath. “You’re a damn masterpiece, big guy.”
Oscar smirked, playing it innocent.
“Gonna compliment every part of me?”
“Only the ones I get the pleasure of seein’ up close.” Lando winked, snapping back to himself. “But for real—tell me what you wanna ink before I forget how to hold a needle.”
Oscar stepped closer, phone in hand, scrolling through his gallery until he found what he was looking for. He held it out to Lando. It looked simple at first—just a curved line running down the spine, dotted with tiny elements—stars, flowers, points. But the kind of simple that carried meaning.
“I drew this,” he said. “I want it to follow my spine. Something subtle, like a mark only I know is there. But still mine, you know?”
Lando studied the image for a beat, genuinely impressed.
“You draw?”
“Sometimes. When I’m too quiet, my head needs a way out,” Oscar said with a shrug.
“Well, your head’s got talent,” Lando smiled, flipping open his tablet to start a new sketch. “Send it to the shop email... or you want my number so you can send it directly?”
“Just give me your number. Easier.”
Lando gave it, nice and slow, watching Oscar the whole time. The file landed in seconds, and he started adjusting the size and placement of the design.
“Lemme prep the stencil. We’ll lay it out on your back and you tell me if it’s right before I start putting permanent ink on that pretty skin of yours.”
Oscar did as he was told, lying face-down on the chair. The way his waistband dipped just slightly as he settled made Lando pause for a breath, eyes lingering for a beat too long.
He leaned down carefully, gloved fingers brushing skin as he set the stencil in place.
“You got meanings behind all these little symbols?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Oscar chuckled, voice muffled by the headrest.
“I do. But maybe I’ll only tell you if you make it to the end without flirting again.”
“That’s gonna be tough, with these wide, beautiful shoulders right in front of me,” Lando mumbled, eyes locked on the curve of Oscar’s back. “But I’ll try.”
Oscar laughed again, quiet but warm.
“I doubt you’ll last.”
Lando smoothed the paper down gently, the design transferring in a clean, delicate arc. He grabbed his machine and flicked it on, the familiar buzzing sound filling the room.
“You ready for this, big guy?”
Oscar turned his head just enough to flash him a look over his shoulder.
“Been ready.”
Lando looked over his placement one more time, then killed the machine for a sec and stepped back.
“Alright, up real quick. Want you to check it in the mirror before I go makin’ it forever.”
Oscar pushed himself up lazily, the light catching on his bare back as he crossed to the full-length mirror by the wall. He turned around and looked, head tilted, gaze trailing down the stencil. For a second, he just stared—quiet, smiling softly.
“Perfect…” he said, voice low, honest. “Exactly how I imagined it.”
Lando crossed his arms, watching from behind with a lazy smirk.
“Good to know these hands still got it.”
Oscar turned just enough to meet his eyes through the mirror. That smirk of his shifted into something bolder, more playful.
“They definitely got it, tattoo boy.”
Lando bit his lip, his gaze sharpening.
“You keep callin’ me that with that freshly pierced mouth, Oscar… and we’re gonna end up with way more than just a tattoo tonight.”
Oscar chuckled, sauntering back to the chair and laying down again like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Then you better start quick, before I say something worse.”
Lando powered up the machine again, shaking his head with a grin.
“You’re way more dangerous than you look, big guy.”
And with that, the buzzing kicked back in, and he started tattooing Oscar’s skin—maybe marking more than just ink.
The steady hum of the tattoo machine filled the air, low and hypnotic. Lando leaned over Oscar, totally focused, relaxed posture and sharp hands working the needle down his spine. The skin twitched slightly with each pass—firm pressure, but not harsh.
Oscar stayed still, only letting out quiet breaths here and there. It didn’t exactly hurt… but some spots hit just deep enough to pull a sigh out of him. He didn’t complain, though. Just closed his eyes, breathed through it, and let Lando work.
“You take it well,” Lando said, eyes never leaving the lines. “Kinda figured you were the tough type… but now I’m startin’ to think you like the pain a little.”
Oscar laughed, soft and low, voice muffled.
“And you look like the type who likes messing with people when they’re vulnerable.”
“Not my fault you look hot even when you’re quietly groaning,” Lando shot back, half-joking—but not really. His gaze flicked over Oscar’s back, now streaked with dark ink. “I’d stop just to admire, but then I’d lose focus.”
He paused now and then to wipe the extra ink off with smooth, steady motions. The damp cloth dragged lightly across the sensitive skin, and Lando paid attention to how Oscar’s breath hitched just a little each time, or how his hands gripped the chair a bit tighter.
“Everything okay back there?” Lando asked after hitting a more sensitive spot, where Oscar had reflexively tensed his shoulder.
“Yeah.” He let out a soft sigh. “It’s hitting, but it’s fine. You’ve got a light hand.”
“I know.” Lando smiled, dipping the needle again and wiping the skin. “Light hand, heavy mouth.”
Oscar laughed again, this time turning his face slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of Lando over his shoulder.
“You really don’t stop, do you?”
“Only when I get you to laugh like that.” Lando winked. “Then it’s worth it.”
The Australian looked away again, biting his lip without noticing — like it could hold back the smile threatening to spread.
Lando kept going, tracing the design with care, his fingers steady and sure, following the natural curve of Oscar’s spine like he already knew it by heart. And even with the sensitive skin and slightly heavier breaths, the mood between them was easy — made of good silences and scattered flirtation.
“You know…” Oscar murmured after a few more minutes, his voice lazy from the position, “You’re kinda annoying when you flirt like this.”
“Annoying?” Lando raised an eyebrow, wiping another part of Oscar’s back with a slow swipe of the cloth. “Was that a compliment?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Annoying as in… impossible to ignore.”
Lando chuckled, clearly pleased.
“Then I must be doing my job right.”
And he kept going, tracing each part of the design Oscar had drawn with precision. It was delicate work, artistic — almost too intimate to be just professional.
But neither of them seemed to mind the line blurring between ink and intention.
The final curve of the design slid into place under Oscar’s skin with perfect flow. Lando turned off the machine, the buzzing cutting off and leaving behind only the comfortable silence they shared, their breaths falling in sync. He rested his elbows on the edge of the chair, admiring the finished work for a moment before stepping back.
“All done,” he murmured. “And it looks fucking incredible.”
Oscar let out a long breath, his back muscles finally relaxing completely.
“Can I see?”
“Of course.” Lando grabbed a small handheld mirror, but before handing it over, he gently cleaned the tattooed skin. The cloth moved slowly, wiping away the excess ink and revealing the full piece. The design looked like it had always belonged there — like it had just been waiting to be revealed.
“There you go.” Lando extended the mirror, holding it steady while Oscar took it in one hand and turned to glance over his shoulder.
He stayed quiet for a few seconds, eyes following the line that flowed down his spine with deliberate grace.
“Lando…” he said softly, still watching the reflection. “This is… beautiful. Better than I imagined.”
Lando leaned on his hand, a soft smirk on his lips.
“Not my fault. You’ve got perfect skin to tattoo.”
Oscar arched a brow, still looking in the mirror — though clearly more interested in the tattoo artist’s reflection than his own ink.
“And you’re a dangerous tattoo artist.”
“Dangerous?”
“Yeah. The kind that makes you wanna come back just to be touched like that again.”
Lando let out a low laugh, genuinely amused — but that glint of mischief was still in his eyes.
“I give discounts to clients who flirt back.”
“Then I’ll need to come back every week.” Oscar replied, not even trying to hide his smile anymore, though his cheeks still held a faint blush.
“I’ll charge in coffee. Or dinner.” Lando shrugged as he walked over to prep the bandage. “Nothing too formal… just enough for you to see me out of this smock and for me to admire your tattoo with more time.”
Oscar slowly turned his head, following Lando with his eyes.
“Are you asking me out, pretty tattoo guy?”
“I’m leaving it in the air. But if you say yes, I promise not to bring any needles.”
Oscar laughed and finally sat up carefully as Lando finished wrapping the tattoo with plastic. He reached into his jeans pocket, typed something into his phone, and turned the screen toward Lando — showing the studio contact now saved under his name, along with a little fire emoji.
“Sent you my number. In case you want to see how the tattoo heals. Or talk me into getting another one.”
Lando took the phone with a pleased smile.
“Or just see you again. No excuses.”
And when Oscar pulled the burgundy hoodie back on — slower this time, like he’d grown fond of the attention — the air between them had shifted.
It wasn’t just flirtation anymore: it was a promise.
Something had started there.
And it didn’t even need ink to leave a mark.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
Oscar was leaning against the glass door of the studio, hands stuffed in the pockets of his light beige hoodie, that same cocky half-smile tugging at his lips, and the side piercing still a little red. The sunset outside painted the sky in orange tones, casting a warm, hazy glow through the entrance.
Lando spotted him the second he looked up from the counter where he was sorting inks. He gave a lazy, shameless grin — the kind that had basically become his trademark by now.
“Knew you couldn’t stay away too long, big guy.”
Oscar stepped inside, taking a slow look around the empty studio before his eyes landed on Lando.
“Just came to show you how the tattoo’s healing. You said you wanted to see it, remember?”
Lando dropped the ink bottle and grabbed some random towel to wipe his hands before leaning on the counter with his elbows.
“And what if I told you I only said that as an excuse to see you again?”
Oscar grinned, not even trying to hide it.
“Then I’d say it worked.”
The tattoo artist made his way around the counter, taking his time, steady steps, until he stopped right in front of the Aussie. There was something different in the way they looked at each other now. Less nervous tension, more familiarity. Almost like they’d missed each other — even if it had only been one time.
“Show me,” Lando said quietly, and Oscar turned around, pulling his hoodie over his head in one smooth, easy motion.
The skin was still a bit tender, but the tattoo was settling in, starting to come alive in that healing stage. Lando ran his fingers carefully around the edge of the protective film, not touching it directly, eyes focused, his expression soft.
“Healing up nice. You really take care of the stuff you like, huh?”
Oscar tilted his head slightly.
“Only the stuff that’s worth it.”
Lando let out a quiet chuckle, leaning in just a little more — his mouth now way too close to the curve of Oscar’s neck. Maybe on purpose. Maybe not.
“You wanna grab dinner with me tonight?”
Oscar paused for a second, then nodded, still facing away.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“I like to build some tension.” Lando murmured, before stepping back and giving a light, playful slap to the small of Oscar’s back.
“Now put that hoodie back on before I completely forget how to act professional. Again.”
Oscar laughed, pulling it back over his head with a wide smile and flushed cheeks — not from embarrassment, but from that good kind of excitement. The kind that comes when something’s just starting but already feels like the right thing.
At the studio door, right before heading out, he turned around one last time.
“Oh, and Lando?”
“Yeah?”
“I might be thinking about getting another piercing.”
“Another one on your mouth?”
“Maybe... lower.”
Lando almost choked laughing.
“You’re dangerous, Oscar.”
“And you love it.”
Door shut. Night falling. And something a whole lot more interesting about to unfold.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
Lando was already sitting at the restaurant table when the door opened and Oscar walked in.
It was automatic — he forgot how to breathe.
The tight black shirt hugged Oscar’s broad shoulders and defined chest like it had been stitched straight onto his body. The dark green cargo pants fit just right — casual, but still... way too hot to be innocent. And on his feet, a fresh pair of Vans, way too clean for someone who supposedly “didn’t try that hard.”
But what really made Lando swallow hard was the way the light hit the ball piercing on the side of Oscar’s mouth... and the small nose ring, swapped in for the little stud he used to wear.
Same guy from the tattoo chair — but now? He looked like the dangerous version.
The kind that looked... edible.
“Fuck me…” Lando muttered under his breath, then broke into a huge grin the second Oscar spotted him and started walking over.
“Hey,” Oscar said, all chill, but with a sparkle in his eye behind that messy fringe. “I get here too early?”
“You got here hot,” Lando blurted out before he could stop himself, and Oscar laughed, already blushing, already dropping into the chair across from him like it was impossible to stay shy around this guy for long.
“You’re serious trouble,” he shot back, leaning his elbows on the table and flicking his tongue lightly across the piercing — like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Don’t start that or I won’t even let the food get here.”
Oscar bit his lip, smile all crooked. “Are we actually here to eat, or just to keep shamelessly flirting with each other?”
“Both.” Lando clicked his tongue. “But if you keep crossing and uncrossing those damn legs like that, big guy, I’m gonna forget the whole menu.”
Oscar leaned in a little, gaze sharper now.
“You saying I’m distracting you?”
“I’m saying you’ve got me hard and we haven’t even ordered wine yet.”
Oscar’s eyes went wide and he started laughing, covering his mouth with his hand.
“You have zero filter!”
“No time for filters — I’m in a rush.” Lando shrugged, still wearing that same smug, addicted-to-you grin. “You show up in that tight-ass shirt, with that shiny-ass piercing... and that fucking nose ring... I don’t know if I wanna kiss you or bite you.”
Oscar turned red again, looking away just for a second. He wasn’t used to compliments that blunt — especially from someone who said it all so casually, like wanting him was as obvious as the damn dinner special.
The waiter showed up and they ordered something quick — not that it really mattered. The hunger was for something else. Dinner flowed with talk about everything and nothing, Oscar chatting about the classes he was teaching at the university, his design projects, and Lando sharing how he got into tattooing, the crazy shit he’d seen at the studio, and all the people who’d ended up on his table.
“You know what makes you different from everyone else?” Lando said, after sipping his wine.
“Hm?”
“You made me wanna slow down.”
Oscar looked at him for a few quiet seconds — and for the first time that night, he didn’t joke back. He just smiled. Smaller this time. Realer.
“Good. ’Cause I kinda wanna take my time with you too.”
Lando didn’t say anything right away. He just watched Oscar playing with his glass, eyes lowered, that piercing catching the restaurant light.
That mouth.
That calm.
And that teasing, bold vibe that still had something vulnerable underneath it — something that made Lando want to stick around.
“After dinner…” Lando said low, voice somewhere between a promise and a dare. “We’re gonna walk for a bit. I’ll throw my arm over your shoulders. You’ll laugh again, like you always do. And when you stop laughing... I’m gonna kiss you.”
Oscar just nodded, slow, eyes locked on his.
“We planning everything now?”
“I’m just calling it like it is. Inevitable.”
Oscar smirked.
“Then make it happen, hot tattoo guy.”
And Lando knew.
This was just the beginning.
Dinner wrapped up with plates basically licked clean, glasses empty, and that low-key tension still humming between them — not the awkward kind, the good kind. The kind that makes your skin buzz. Oscar grabbed the check before Lando could even move.
“Hey, I was gonna pay,” the tattoo artist protested, raising an eyebrow.
“I know.” Oscar gave him that signature mix of smug and sweet. “But this one’s on me.”
He slid his card like it was no big deal, and Lando just watched him like he’d watched the sun rise — right in the middle of a restaurant. Maybe it was the effortless charm Oscar had, or the way he never waited around for praise.
But Lando was screwed.
Worse than before.
“You do know that just made you even hotter, right?” he murmured, stepping in close once they were outside, the night air cool against their skin, a nice little contrast to the leftover warmth from the wine.
Oscar chuckled, running a hand through his fringe.
“And you keep talking like I’m not affected.”
“You’re not. You never were.”
The street was quiet now, slowing down for the night. Lando slid his arm around Oscar’s shoulders just like he’d said he would. And Oscar didn’t hesitate — just leaned in a little, their bodies syncing up as they walked like the whole world had decided to slow down just for them.
Lando glanced over.
Oscar was looking straight ahead, but there was that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
They both stopped walking at the same time, no words needed — like something invisible had pulled them to a halt.
Maybe it was impulse.
Maybe just perfect timing.
“Now?” Oscar asked, voice low.
Lando nodded.
“Now.”
And then… the kiss.
It tasted like wine — dry, warm — but there was something sweeter underneath.
Maybe it was the way Oscar grabbed his waist like he’d been waiting all damn day.
Maybe it was how his lips kissed Lando with hunger and pressure, but still had this almost careful touch.
Lando felt heat bloom deep inside, spreading fast through every inch of him. He brought his tattooed hand to the back of Oscar’s neck, fingers slipping into the soft, dark hair and giving it a tug. He wanted to feel all of him. Wanted to know if Oscar would react how he imagined.
And oh, he did.
Oscar gasped into his mouth, pulling him in tighter, bodies pressed close, sharing breath, sharing heat.
Lando’s other hand slid up Oscar’s arm, fingers wrapping around the solid muscle beneath that fitted sleeve. He could feel how strong he was — and it made him moan, soft and desperate, right into Oscar’s lips.
Oscar chuckled, all breathy and smug, between kisses.
“You’re kinda easy to melt, huh?”
“With you?” Lando’s voice was wrecked, low and raspy. “I turn into lava.”
They kissed again.
And again.
And again.
Like they couldn’t get enough. Like they had all the time in the world — and maybe they did.
Between kisses, the decision was made without really saying it: the night wasn’t ending on some random sidewalk. Oscar answered Lando’s silent invite with a look that said yes in all the right ways, fingers sliding into his as they caught a cab to Lando’s place.
The second the door clicked shut, Lando was pulling him in by the collar of that tight black shirt, bodies colliding like magnets.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, big guy…” he whispered against Oscar’s lips, voice hot and low and barely holding on.
Oscar smiled against his mouth — slow, wicked.
“I think I do,” he said, hand slipping down Lando’s side, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt.
“Fuck…” Lando breathed, eyes fluttering shut as that warm hand met his skin.
They stumbled their way to the couch, trading messy kisses and greedy touches.
Lando dropped down, and Oscar followed — straddling his lap with such effortless confidence, it knocked the air clean out of him. Those strong thighs locked in tight around Lando’s waist, and that shiny lip piercing — so close now — looked like it was made just to drive him insane.
“You look real pretty when you’re outta breath,” Oscar teased, lips grazing along Lando’s jaw, dropping wet, lazy kisses that left chills behind.
“And you,” Lando groaned, dragging him closer by the waist, palms flat against his back, “are hot as sin when you go into this mode.”
“What mode?”
“This one,” Lando said, almost growling, “cocky, teasing, acting like you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
Oscar bit his bottom lip, noses brushing, grin getting wider.
“Maybe I do.”
Lando let out another moan, low and muffled through his teeth, as one hand slid up the back of Oscar’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair again.
The pull this time was rougher — and Oscar gasped, breath catching for a second as his hips rolled harder against him.
“Fuck…” Lando muttered, eyes locked on his like he couldn’t look away. “You’re a goddamn wet dream with legs.”
Oscar let out that same nasal laugh, the one that was quickly becoming his weakness.
“You haven’t even seen the full show yet.”
Lando grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him again — deep, messy, needy — like he wanted to burn himself into Oscar’s memory just with his mouth.
Oscar kissed back just as hard, fingers sliding under his shirt, tracing the inked lines on his skin like he already knew exactly where to touch.
Clothes started getting messy.
Touches got bolder.
And the couch? Way too damn small for everything they wanted to do.
Lando was completely at Oscar’s mercy — to the way he switched from soft to filthy without warning, to the way he whispered against his ear, to the way he scratched lightly down his ribs while kissing him breathless.
No one had ever flipped the game on him like this.
And Lando?
Lando was loving losing.
The kiss was getting too hot — the kind that burns the corners of your mouth, messes up your breathing, and sets every nerve on edge.
Lando kept getting pulled deeper into it — into Oscar’s taste, the way he kissed with that mix of sweetness and fire, like he knew how to wreck him from the inside out.
Oscar’s hands were getting hungrier by the second, roaming down Lando’s waist, gripping his shirt tight, sliding back up — and then, without warning, he pulled away from the kiss just enough to stand up from Lando’s lap, nice and slow.
“Stand up,” he said, voice low and dripping with want.
Lando didn’t even think — just stood, breathing heavy, eyes locked on Oscar’s. He barely had time to react before strong hands grabbed his thighs and lifted him like it was nothing, their bodies pressed tight again — Lando wrapped his legs around Oscar’s waist on instinct, arms around his neck.
“Oscar…” he moaned in his ear, voice hitching when he felt those teeth sinking into his neck.
“Show me your room…” Oscar whispered between kisses, hot breath on skin. “Now.”
Lando shivered all over when Oscar’s big hands cupped his ass and squeezed, hard, like he was claiming it.
“Fuck…” he sighed, fingers digging into Oscar’s shoulders. “That way… third door on the right…”
Oscar started walking without stopping the assault on his neck — kissing, sucking, biting. With every step, Lando’s body arched just a little, chasing friction, more contact. He felt like fire, his whole body burning up against Oscar’s, who carried him like he weighed nothing.
“You like teasing, huh, tattoo boy?” Oscar murmured, biting the spot between his jaw and neck. “Well, guess who’s doing the teasing now?”
Lando groaned, eyes squeezed shut.
“Do whatever you want with me…”
“I already am.”
The bedroom door shut with a soft thud from Oscar’s foot. Seconds later, Lando was being laid down gently on messy sheets, his body still buzzing from the heat of it all. Oscar hovered over him with dark, hungry eyes, pulling his shirt off over his head and revealing a firm, gorgeous body already marked by Lando’s hands and nails.
“You always this fucking hot… or just when you’re trying to kill me with lust?”
Lando gave him a crooked smirk, pupils blown wide.
“Only when someone grabs me like that.”
Oscar leaned down, lips back on his neck, and whispered,
“Then get ready… ‘cause I haven’t even started yet.”
The room was drenched in warm shadows, the wrinkled sheets witnessing the growing tension between them.
Lando was completely gone — lips swollen and wet, body arching under Oscar like he needed more.
And Oscar? Oscar looked at him like he was the most beautiful, precious thing he’d ever seen.
The kisses got rougher.
Their bodies pressed together, skin on skin, sweat tracing soft lines as Lando moaned low against Oscar’s ear, his voice breaking under the weight of it all.
“Just like that… don’t stop…” he murmured, breath shaky, fingers digging into Oscar’s arms like he needed something to hold onto or he’d come undone.
Oscar moved with that same almost-cruel precision, every thrust deep, intense, hitting just right to keep Lando completely at his mercy. Every movement echoed with muffled slaps and moans that melted together in the heat of the room.
Lando clawed at his arms without even meaning to. Pleasure was rolling through him in waves, making every nerve spark. And when it got too much, he bit down on Oscar’s neck—hard, possessive, like it was the only way to survive what he was feeling.
Oscar groaned with each bite, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressed to Lando’s, hips slamming harder.
“You’re perfect…” he breathed out through shaky moans. “So fucking mine, Lando… fuck…”
Those words made Lando lose it completely. He moaned loud, voice rough and wrecked, almost begging.
“Say it again… tell me you’re all mine…”
Oscar grinned, body trembling with every push.
“All yours. Every fuckin’ inch.”
And then everything cracked wide open — sighs, shivers, moans tangled between them. Lando felt the world spin, muscles locking up, skin burning hot as release hit him hard. He bit Oscar’s shoulder again, deep, like he wanted to leave his teeth there forever.
Oscar buried his face in Lando’s neck, panting, groaning low, and with his voice still wrecked, he whispered,
“You drive me fucking insane…”
They stayed like that, bodies tangled up, hearts racing, until the world slowly started to settle back into place.
The room had gone quiet, except for their uneven breaths, slowly syncing into something calmer. Sweat still clung to Lando’s temples, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as aftershocks rolled through him.
Oscar was still on top of him, face buried in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped tight around his waist like he had no intention of letting go. Lando ran his fingers slowly down Oscar’s back, tracing soft, invisible lines.
“Fuck…” Lando mumbled with a lazy grin on his lips. “You’re like… a goddamn force of nature, you know that?”
Oscar let out a muffled laugh against his skin, still breathing a little hard.
“Gonna take that as a compliment.”
“It is. A big one. I’m still trying to remember my name.”
Oscar lifted his head just enough to look at him, eyes glowing with that post-bliss haze. The piercing at the corner of his mouth sparkled under the warm bedside light, and his messy hair was falling in a way that Lando thought should be straight-up illegal.
“And you,” Oscar said with a crooked smirk, “when you scratch and bite like that… fuck, I damn near lose it.”
“Near?” Lando teased, biting his bottom lip as his hand slid up to the back of Oscar’s neck.
“I thought I already drove you over the edge.”
“Yeah, maybe you did. But I’m stubborn as hell. Might need a few more rounds to be sure.”
Lando laughed, dropping his head back on the pillow as Oscar laid down with his head resting on his chest.
“Already talking about more rounds?”
“I’m talkin’ exclusivity,” Oscar murmured against his skin, lips brushing softly against his chest.
“And about gettin’ to know more of that dirty little charm of yours…”
Lando’s heart did this little skip at that. He smiled—soft, honest—as he gently ran his fingers through Oscar’s hair.
“Won’t be hard to drive you crazy for real. You’re already halfway there.”
Oscar looked up again, eyes glinting, smile pure trouble.
“Only if the path leads us back here. Or, I dunno… maybe on your tattoo bench.”
Lando raised an eyebrow, laughing.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“But what a way to go, pretty tattoo boy.”
They laughed together, still tangled up under the messy sheets, legs intertwined like they never wanted to let go. And for a second, it really felt like the world had stopped—right there, in that room, in that exact moment—where everything just felt right.
And deep down, they both knew:
This night? It was only the beginning.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
The studio doorbell gave a soft little ding when Oscar walked in, but for Lando, it felt like the whole world paused for a second.
He looked up from the organizing bench and immediately smiled when he saw his boyfriend walk in with that lazy, confident strut he loved so much. Lando’s heart still kicked up a notch every time Oscar showed up like that, unannounced — like time hadn’t dulled the feeling, just made it sink deeper.
Oscar’s blonde hair had grown out a little, messy bangs falling just over his warm brown eyes. The subtle hoop at the corner of his mouth caught the fading afternoon light, and the nose ring was still right there, tying it all together like an unfair cheat code.
But it wasn’t just the details — it was the whole damn package that made Lando forget how to breathe. The white, kinda see-through shirt clung just right to Oscar’s frame, and if Lando squinted, he could see the outline of the spine tattoo — the one he’d inked himself months ago, between bold flirting and shy blushes from the Aussie.
His black pants hung dangerously low on his hips, waistband of his boxers peeking out just enough to drag Lando’s mind straight to some very recent — and very good — memories.
New black sneakers completed that effortless look only Oscar could pull off.
“What’s up, pretty boy tattoo artist?” Oscar greeted with that raspy voice and crooked smile he always used when he wanted to tease.
“You’re a damn vision, you know that?” Lando shot back, licking his lips and leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “You never get tired of knocking the air outta my lungs, huh?”
Oscar chuckled and walked up to him, leaning on the counter across from his boyfriend.
“I came to book a new session. Want another tattoo.”
Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Where d’you want it this time?”
Oscar leaned in, lips almost brushing Lando’s, but stopped just a hair away. His eyes locked onto Lando’s like he was about to say something forbidden.
“On my hip. Small one. Just your initials… and the number four. Your lucky number.”
For a second, Lando didn’t say anything. His chest ached in that good, warm way, eyes softening as a slow, real smile took over his face — the kind he only gave Oscar.
“You’re gonna kill me with love, man.”
“With style, remember?” Oscar murmured, grinning as he gave Lando’s waist a playful pinch. “Besides… you’ve already marked me in more ways than one.”
Lando’s eyes dropped instinctively to Oscar’s arm — where another tattoo he’d done lived, inked during a night of long kisses and impatient hands. It was a piece they’d finished after a blowjob so intense Lando had nearly blacked out in his studio chair.
“That one came with a bonus,” Lando said, voice low and teasing.
“Well… maybe tonight’s got room for a new bonus too.”
Lando smiled, pulling Oscar in by the waist and kissing him slow. It was the kind of kiss you give when it’s already yours — but still full of promise. They’d been together for months now — sharing breakfast runs, movies on the couch, spontaneous trips, and way too many midnight cravings. And still, every kiss felt like the first — full of want, full of warmth, and that electric spark that just never faded.
“Go up to the room,” Lando said, fingers brushing along the hem of Oscar’s white shirt. “I’ll get the stencil ready.”
Oscar stepped back, giving Lando that look — the one that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
“I’m ready for another mark from you, babe.”
Lando grinned, and for the first time that afternoon, there was this quiet gleam in his eyes — the kind that said, this right here... it’s real.
Because with Oscar, every line he inked wasn’t just about the tattoo.
It was emotion.
It was memory.
It was love.
Oscar was already lying on the tattoo bench, white shirt tossed aside, skin warm and exposed at the waist. His black pants were pulled down just enough to leave the left side of his hip bare — the perfect spot for the new piece. He rested his elbow under his head, looking totally chill — but his eyes? Locked on Lando the entire time.
“Ready?” Lando asked as he approached, stencil in hand.
“Always,” Oscar said with a soft smirk, eyes dropping briefly to where the tattoo would go. “I trust you with my eyes closed.”
When he peeled it back, the clean outline of “LN” with a subtle little 4 below appeared, tilted just slightly along the curve of his hip.
Oscar turned his head toward the mirror on the wall and let out a low whistle.
“Damn, that’s sexy.”
“You mean the tattoo or you?” Lando teased, already sliding on his gloves.
“Both. But especially the artist,” Oscar grinned, biting down softly on the little hoop at the corner of his mouth.
Lando laughed, then let out a long breath. He loved this back-and-forth — the playful teasing, the soft burn underneath it all. But what really got him was how real it felt. Like home, but hotter.
“It’s gonna sting a little,” he warned, flipping on the machine and placing a steadying hand on Oscar’s hip.
“Not more than I burn for you, babe,” Oscar shot back, making Lando laugh out loud.
“Stop trying to distract me or I’m gonna mess up your ink,” he joked — but his eyes were full of nothing but affection as he started the first line.
The needle moved with precision, and even though Oscar was used to tattoos by now, he let out a soft breath when that familiar sting hit.
Lando noticed and slowed his pace just a bit.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s good. It’s you marking me again,” Oscar said, voice low and dreamy, eyes half-lidded, clearly enjoying the way Lando’s other hand pressed gently on his waist every now and then to keep him steady.
Lando didn’t answer — not out loud.
Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right above where he was tattooing. Then he got back to work, totally focused, heart racing the whole time.
When he finished, he cleaned the skin with gentle hands, even blew on it softly like that’d ease the sting somehow.
“All done,” he said, voice soft. “Perfect. Just like you.”
Oscar looked up at him with a lazy, love-drunk smile.
“Guess you’re officially part of me now. Like, literally.”
Lando pulled off the gloves, tossed them in the bin, and leaned down again — this time meeting Oscar’s lips with a kiss that was slow, deep, and full of feeling. The kind of kiss that said everything they didn’t need to say out loud.
“I’ll mark you as many times as you want, babe,” he whispered against his lips. “’Cause you’re mine.”
Oscar smiled into the kiss, tugging Lando closer like he never wanted to let go.
“All yours. Since the first piercing.”
The late afternoon sky was all golden and orange when they stepped out of the studio. Lando locked the door with one hand, the other already wrapped around Oscar’s waist, pulling his boyfriend in close like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Still can’t believe you actually let me tattoo my initials on your hip,” Lando muttered, smirking, eyes shining as he looked at Oscar in profile.
“You’d already left your mark in other ways, tattoo boy,” Oscar replied, voice low and raspy — the kind of tone Lando knew was on purpose, just to mess with him. And yeah... it worked every damn time.
Lando melted into the hug Oscar gave him, his boyfriend’s bigger, warmer body fitting against his like it was made to. Maybe it was. Even after all these months, Lando still felt like he was melting every time they were this close — pressed together, heart to heart.
“I still call you big guy,” Lando said with a cheeky grin, resting his chin on Oscar’s broad shoulder as they strolled down the quiet sidewalk.
Oscar let out a soft laugh, dipping his head to kiss the top of Lando’s curls — a simple move, but so intimate, so full of care, it made Lando’s chest bloom with warmth.
“And I still love when you do,” Oscar whispered into his hair, his hand sliding down Lando’s back to his waist, pulling him even closer.
“You’re totally using the walk to my place to make me all soft, huh?”
“Soft? Babe, after today, I’m trying to leave you shaking.”
Lando laughed, loud and unfiltered — the kind of laugh Oscar always said was his favorite.
“We could order a pizza. Watch a movie.”
“And I fuck you on the couch halfway through?” Oscar replied casually, like he’d already mapped it all out. “Sounds like a solid plan.”
“You’re the worst,” Lando said with a lovesick grin, squeezing Oscar’s waist. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
Oscar turned just enough to kiss his cheek, then murmured with a tone that felt more like a promise than anything:
“Me neither.”
And just like that, they kept walking, stuck to each other like two bodies that knew each other inside and out… and still wanted to discover more with every touch, every day.
A whole year later, and the fire was still burning.
But now there was love too.
And damn, it was beautiful.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
The sunlight was sneaking through the cracks in Lando’s bedroom curtains, casting golden streaks across the messy sheets and the tangle of legs stretched out on the bed. The white sheet barely covered their bodies, leaving Oscar’s fresh tattoo slightly red on his hip, and the soft marks from kisses and bites the night before.
Lando was curled up against Oscar’s chest, curls a total mess, one leg thrown over his boyfriend’s hip, breathing slow and steady. He blinked lazily, like he was waking up in slow motion — and had zero plans to move.
“You awake?” Oscar mumbled, voice still scratchy with sleep, fingers lazily tracing the curve of Lando’s waist.
“Am now…” Lando answered, voice all soft and whiny as he buried his face deeper into Oscar’s chest. “And I don’t wanna get up. At all.”
Oscar smiled and kissed the top of Lando’s messy curls.
“We could stay here all day.”
“Mmm… dangerous promises, considering you left me barely able to walk last night,” Lando muttered, smirking through his sleepy voice.
Oscar let out a low laugh, fingers now tracing Lando’s tattoo on the side of his thigh.
“And you still say I’m the tease.”
Lando lifted his head a bit, resting his chin on Oscar’s chest to look at him — sleepy eyes but still full of that playful spark.
“’Cause you are, big guy. You wreck me with that sweet-boy face and then act like you didn’t do a damn thing.”
Oscar chuckled, pulling Lando further up until the curly-haired mess was laying on top of him completely. His big hands slid down Lando’s bare back, and he whispered against his lips:
“And you drive me crazy with that soft little clingy self, sweet mouth, and a body covered in my marks.”
“Wow. Poetic much? You writing a book about me now?”
“Already did. It’s written all over your skin.”
Lando grinned, wide and totally genuine, before stealing a slow, lazy kiss — one that turned into two, then three, until they were laughing again under the sheets.
“Breakfast?” Oscar offered, even though neither of them looked ready to leave bed.
“Only if we’re naked and I’m sitting on your lap.”
“Anything you want, babe.”
And so they stayed like that, tangled in kisses and soft touches, wrapped in morning light and the rare comfort of loving someone who knew every part of you — inside and out — and still wanted more.
A few hours later, with the sun already high and the smell of coffee and toasted bread filling Lando’s kitchen, they were sitting side by side at the counter — Oscar in black boxers and an old tee of Lando’s, and Lando in nothing but loose shorts, chest covered in love bites from the night before.
“We really need to take a few days just for us,” Lando said quietly, spreading butter on toast, eyes still heavy with sleep but wearing a soft smile.
Oscar, coffee mug in hand, tilted his head to get a better look at his boyfriend.
“Is this your way of convincing me to take a vacation?”
“Am I wrong?” Lando raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of the toast.
Oscar shrugged, smirking. “Depends. We talkin’ cabin in the middle of nowhere or cheesy couple trip with ocean views?”
Lando paused, eyes narrowing in thought, then grinned.
“What if it’s both? First few days in a cabin — fireplace, wine, blankets, you keeping me warm. Then beach days, salty skin, and you fucking me in a bungalow facing the ocean?”
Oscar choked on his coffee and laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Jesus, Lando.”
“I’m just being practical,” Lando said, flashing that smug grin Oscar knew way too well. “We do everything we want, in every kind of weather. Could even become a tradition.”
Oscar leaned in, slinging an arm around Lando’s shoulders and kissing his cheek.
“Alright then. Two weeks. I’ll book the flights, you pick the spots. Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“That you’ll tattoo me on one of those days. Somewhere new. Something that’s ours.”
Lando slowly turned to him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips — sweet, full of promise.
“Promise. You gonna give me another mark too?”
Oscar smiled, eyes lighting up.
“As many as you want.”
There they were — half-eaten toast, legs tangled under the counter, whispering plans for the near future. Yeah, it was a trip. But more than that, it was just another chapter in the story they were writing together — on skin and in their hearts.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
Snow was falling lazily outside, covering everything in a quiet white blanket. The cabin was cozy, all dark wood and stone accents, a fire crackling softly in the background while Lando curled up under a blanket on the couch, hands wrapped around a mug of mulled wine, his curls still damp from the shower.
Oscar walked into the room in a big hoodie and flannel pants, but his eyes went straight to his boyfriend — tucked in with his knees up, skin still warm from the steam, eyes glowing in the firelight.
“You look like a damn movie character,” Oscar muttered with a half-smile.
“And you’re wasting the chance to come cuddle with me,” Lando shot back, raising an eyebrow. “I’m freezing over here.”
Oscar didn’t even wait two seconds before throwing himself next to him, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy and earning a kiss on the cheek as a reward. Silence settled in for a bit, just the fireplace and wind outside filling the room. But, as usual, Lando was the first to break it.
“This trip was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had.”
“Yeah. Starting to think you should make impulsive decisions more often, tattoo boy.”
Lando laughed against Oscar’s chest, tracing little circles on his sweatshirt-covered stomach.
“You thought about where you want your next tattoo yet?”
Oscar paused for a second, then slowly lifted the hem of his hoodie, revealing his ribs.
“Here. And I want it to be something that feels like this place. This trip. You.”
Lando shifted to get a better look, his eyes shining with quiet emotion.
“You’re getting addicted, big guy.”
Oscar smiled and pulled Lando’s face close, kissing him slow.
“Pretty sure I’m just addicted to you.”
That night ended with more wine, more kisses, and the warmth of each other’s body heating up the cabin bed. Lando fell asleep on top of Oscar, listening to his heartbeat like it was a song written just for him. And in that little hidden-away place, they made another memory — one just waiting to be inked into skin.
Still in the cabin – Three days later
The morning was quiet, snow still falling lightly outside, but the cold felt like a distant thing. The fireplace burned low, and Lando carefully set up his little makeshift station on the wooden table. Soft daylight filtered through the foggy windows, hitting Oscar’s blond hair just right as he watched, curious.
“You sure you wanna do this here?” Lando asked, pulling gloves out of the packaging.
“I’m sure. Here. With you. Right now,” Oscar said, steady and sure, already shirtless, his torso bare and perfect. The sweatpants hung low on his hips, and Lando had to look away for a second just to stay focused.
He’d picked a spot on the ribs — easy enough to reach even without a table. He placed the stencil gently, cool fingers on warm skin, heart full and a little tight.
“All set,” he whispered. “It’s gonna sting a bit.”
“Already used to you making me feel things,” Oscar teased, biting his lip and locking eyes with him.
Lando let out a soft laugh and got to work. The needle buzzed quietly as he carefully traced the fine-lined silhouette of two small pine trees, close together, with a tiny snowflake floating between them. Right next to it, he added the initial O and a tiny heart, almost invisible unless you knew what to look for.
“All done. A little something from us… from the cabin.”
Oscar looked in the small mirror, his eyes softening.
“It’s perfect.”
Lando just smiled, still gloved, but Oscar pulled him in by the waist, pressing their bodies together.
“Now I want your memory from the trip… but it doesn’t need to be ink.”
Lando bit his lip and melted into the kiss — warm and slow — while the snow kept falling outside.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
The switch-up felt almost unreal. One minute they were in the snow, and the next, they were stepping onto this quiet beach — golden sand, deep blue water stretching as far as the eye could see. The bungalow Lando had rented sat up on a hill with a killer view and an outdoor hot tub, which Oscar made sure to break in on the first night — completely naked, with Lando between his legs and a glass of wine in hand.
The next morning, Lando woke up to the sound of waves and sunlight warming his skin. Oscar was still asleep, wrapped around him, already getting that subtle sun-kissed glow.
“You look ridiculously hot like this,” Lando mumbled, fingers lazily tracing the muscles along Oscar’s back.
Oscar chuckled, eyes still closed.
“You’re not looking too bad yourself… but if you keep hyping me up like that, you’re gonna start something.”
“That’s the point.”
Lando slipped out of bed, grabbed his sketchbook, and settled into the hammock on the porch, eyes on the ocean. A few minutes later, Oscar showed up in nothing but swim trunks, hair a mess, skin still warm from sleep.
“You drawing?”
“Yep. Thinking about your next tattoo.”
“Where at?”
Lando looked up at him over the top of his notebook.
“Maybe… near your hip. Or your thigh. Or somewhere only I get to see when you’re naked.”
Oscar walked over slowly, kneeling in front of him and resting his hands on Lando’s knees, eyes locked on his.
“Then keep that drawing safe. ‘Cause that one’s just for you.”
And the rest of the morning disappeared in salty kisses, sand sticking to skin, and laughter muffled by white sheets.
The sun was starting to dip when Oscar showed up in the living room, still just in swim trunks, beer in hand, skin glowing golden from a whole day under the sun. Lando, who was prepping everything with his usual carefulness, looked up and had to swallow hard. This tattoo felt different. Intimate. Personal. Just theirs.
“Lie down for me, big guy,” Lando said with that lazy, teasing smile, nodding toward the wide couch he’d lined with clean towels and set up the lighting around.
Oscar didn’t question it, just laid down on his side, the waistband of his trunks already tugged down a bit, showing the curve of his hip — the chosen spot.
Lando pulled on his gloves slowly, sat beside him, and started cleaning the skin with gentle strokes, fingers so soft Oscar closed his eyes.
“It’s just gonna be our initials. Yours and mine,” Lando murmured. “And the number four — my lucky number — and eighty-one, yours. You’ll carry it with you… just for me.”
Oscar smirked, eyes glinting.
“Already know this one’s gonna be my favorite.”
Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss right where the lines would start. Then came the hum of the needle, cutting through the quiet. He worked carefully, fine and clean lines — the L and O intertwined like they were hugging each other, followed by a small, subtle 481 woven into the design.
Oscar let out quiet sighs — not from pain, not really — but from the way Lando was so close, so focused, so his.
When it was done, Lando wiped it gently, eyes locked on the way the ink settled into the warmth of Oscar’s skin. Then he pulled off the gloves and leaned down again, kissing the fresh tattoo with more pressure this time.
“You’re officially mine now.”
Oscar turned over, pulling Lando onto his lap like it was the easiest thing in the world, eyes locked on his.
“I’ve always been yours, tattoo boy.”
The kiss that followed was slow and hot, tasting like salt and silent promises. That night, they fell asleep wrapped around each other, the ocean breeze drifting in through the windows — and the quiet certainty that no matter where life took them, Lando and Oscar would always find their way back to each other.
⋆ ✦ ⋆
Lando’s apartment welcomed them with the same cozy vibe as always — like the place was made just for the two of them. The suitcases were still dumped in a corner of the living room, totally forgotten, because the moment they walked through the door, Lando jumped on Oscar’s back, laughing, arms wrapped around his neck as they stumbled across the room, both cracking up.
“Carry me to the couch, big guy. I’m tired,” he whined, dragging out the big guy part in that playful tone that always made Oscar melt.
Oscar grabbed Lando’s thighs and, right before dropping him on the couch, gave his ass a firm squeeze.
“Don’t complain, babe. I took you to the moon and back — now deal with the weight of my love.”
Lando burst out laughing, flopping onto the couch and pulling Oscar down with him.
“How poetic,” he teased, burying his face between Oscar’s pecs like he was trying to hide there. “You’re my favorite pillow.”
“More like your addiction,” Oscar muttered, fingers weaving through Lando’s messy curls as the other snuggled in with a satisfied sigh.
The rest of the day was slow and easy. Lazy touches, kisses dropped on any bit of skin left uncovered. Oscar had developed this habit: every time Lando passed by distracted, there was always that little grab — sometimes not so little — on his ass. Lando didn’t even complain anymore. He’d just glance over his shoulder and say:
“You’re addicted, big guy. You’ve lost all self-control.”
And Oscar would hit him with that crooked smile:
“Like you don’t know what you do to me.”
That night, Lando insisted on taking care of Oscar’s tattoo with all the patience and gentleness in the world. The fresh ink on his hip was healing nicely. Lando peeled the bandage off with steady hands, applied ointment with slow, careful movements, fingertips tracing over the skin.
“You takin’ care of me or trying to drive me crazy?” Oscar asked, voice raspy, eyes half-lidded.
“Little bit of both,” Lando replied, then placed three soft kisses right on the tattoo. “It’s gorgeous… just like the guy wearing it.”
Oscar let out a soft sigh, pulling Lando onto his lap.
“You never get tired of complimenting me, huh?”
“Never. You give me way too much to work with.”
They stayed like that, tangled up, trading soft touches like time didn’t matter. Life might’ve gone back to normal, but their little world was still perfectly in sync — light teasing, slow kisses, and looks that said everything without needing a word.
And by the end of the night, with Lando asleep on Oscar’s chest, arms wrapped tight around his waist, Oscar just lay there for a bit, watching him. Fingers slowly brushing through curls, eyes locked on the freckles dotting Lando’s shoulder.
“My beautiful boy,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut with a soft smile.
Oscar’s Birthday — April 6th
The sun was already setting when Oscar opened the door to the apartment — his apartment now — and was hit with a scene that made his heart do that stupid happy thing.
There were little yellow string lights hanging between the kitchen and living room, casting this warm, cozy glow all around. On the table, his favorite dinner — cooked by Lando (with help from YouTube tutorials and a solid amount of kitchen stress). And playing softly in the background was a chill R&B playlist, just vibing in the air.
Lando appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing an apron, curls a little messy, and a nervous little smile on his face.
“Happy birthday, big guy.”
Oscar dropped his bag and crossed the room in two steps, pulling Lando in by the waist and kissing him. Slow and sweet, full of that kind of closeness that only years together can bring. When they pulled apart, Oscar was smiling all soft.
“I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
“You give me a reason to spoil you every damn day,” Lando said, guiding him to the table. “And… today’s more special than you think.”
Dinner was filled with their usual flirting, playful teasing, and that lovesick look Lando got sometimes — the one that said he was definitely up to something.
After the last sip of wine, with Oscar still chewing the final bite of chocolate pie (from his favorite bakery, of course), Lando stood up.
“Wait here.”
Oscar watched him disappear down the hall, and when he came back, Lando was holding a little velvet box. His smile was shy, his hands just slightly shaking. He dropped to one knee, eyes shining.
“I know we already live like we’re married. You’re here all the time, your stuff’s mixed in with mine, you steal my blankets and take up half the closet with sneakers. But… I still wanna ask you the right way.”
Oscar’s eyes widened, heart pounding.
“Lando…”
“Let me be yours forever, big guy. Marry me?”
Oscar laughed, eyes getting watery as his hand went straight for those curls, pulling him in for a quick, intense kiss before answering, voice a little shaky:
“Of course I will, babe. You’ve been mine — now it’s just official.”
Lando slid the ring onto his finger carefully, still trembling a little. Oscar cupped his face in both hands and whispered before kissing him again:
“This was the best birthday of my life.”
And in that moment — surrounded by soft light, slow kisses, and a silence full of promises — nothing else mattered. They didn’t need anything more.
Just each other.