Work Text:
While Oscar climbed the professional ladder, working long, demanding hours to provide a stable future for their family, Lando found himself anchored to the domestic sphere. His life, once defined by gaming marathons and late night Discord chats, had shifted into a rhythm of lullabies, diaper changes, and the soft, constant needs of their tiny child.
Being a stay at home parent was a role Lando embraced with a quiet, fierce devotion, though it often left him feeling physically and emotionally drained. The baby, a beautiful, tiny thing that looked so much like Oscar, was a constant source of joy, but the demands of parenthood were relentless. And, as it turned out, his body's unique "condition" hadn't disappeared with fatherhood; if anything, it had intensified. He would spend long, quiet afternoons in the nursery, the soft light of the sun filtering through the curtains, as he cradled their child against his skin.
As the baby finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep in the crib, Lando would retreat to the living room, sinking into the sofa with a weary sigh. He’d wait for the sound of Oscar’s keys in the lock, his heart fluttering with a familiar, submissive anticipation.
When Oscar finally stepped through the door, looking tired and worn from the day's battles, Lando would offer him a soft, welcoming smile. "You're home!" Lando would murmur, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet house.
He wouldn't even have to ask; he knew the routine. Oscar would drop his bag, offer a tired but loving kiss to Lando's forehead with "How are you, sweetie? What have you been up to?".
Lando leans into the kiss, his eyes fluttering closed as he basks in the warmth of Oscar's affection. The scent of the outside world a mix of cool air and the faint, masculine scent of Oscar's cologne wraps around him like a familiar blanket. He feels a wave of profound gratitude wash over him; despite the exhaustion of the day, this moment, this connection, makes every diaper change and every sleepless night worth it.
"Mmm, hi..." Lando murmurs, his voice soft and slightly sleepy. He reaches out, his fingers curling around Oscar's hand to pull him closer, wanting to feel the solid, grounding presence of his husband.
"It's been... a lot," he admits with a tired but happy little huff, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. He gestures vaguely toward the nursery where their baby is sleeping peacefully.
"The little one was a bit fussy this afternoon, so we spent a lot of time playing with his blocks and reading. He's finally down, though. He's such a good boy when he sleeps."
Oscar sits down next to his husband and smiles, “I’m so proud of you, you’re a great parent.”
Lando feels a warm, prickling sensation behind his eyes at the praise. For all his confidence and the secret, playful side of him that loves to be pampered, hearing Oscar say those words so sincerely, so without a hint of irony makes him feel truly seen.
"You really think so?" Lando asks, his voice small and genuinely touched.
He leans his head against Oscar’s shoulder, letting out a long, contented sigh. The weight of the day seems to melt away just by being in Oscar's orbit. He feels so incredibly safe here, tucked into the corner of their sofa, surrounded by the quiet hum of their home. But as he settles against him, the physical reality of his body makes itself known. The heavy, throbbing ache in his chest intensifies, a dull pulse that makes him wince slightly. He feels the familiar, damp sensation of his shirt beginning to cling to his skin as the milk begins to well up again, driven by the sheer emotion and the physical exhaustion of the day. He shifts, turning his body slightly toward Oscar, his movements becoming a little more tentative, a little more feline. He looks up at his husband through his lashes, his green eyes lidding with a sleepy, heavy look, a mix of adoration. He lets out a soft, shaky breath, his hand moving almost instinctively to the center of his chest, pressing against the growing dampness of his shirt.
"Thank you, Oscar... that means everything," he whispers, his voice dropping into a soft, melodic whine. "But... since you're home..." Lando pauses, biting his lip as he looks up at Oscar with wide, pleading eyes. He lets his hand slide down from his chest to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it just enough to hint at the discomfort beneath.
"The baby was a bit of a handful today, and it's... it's been a very long afternoon." He lets out a tiny, broken whimper, his hips giving a small, involuntary twitch against the sofa cushions.
He is completely surrendered to the moment, his eyes lidding as he waits for his husband to fulfill his duty, his heart thudding with the beautiful, familiar anticipation of being tended to by the man he loves most. As the cool air hits his skin, Lando lets out a long, shuddering gasp, his head falling back against the cushions. When Oscar’s lips finally make contact, not with his skin but through the thin fabric of his shirt to draw out the excess, Lando lets out a high, broken whimper. The sensation of the suction pulling at the swollen, sensitive tissue is an instant, overwhelming relief. It’s as if the heavy, aching pressure is being vacuumed out of his very bones, replaced by a spreading warmth that makes his toes curl and his vision blur.
"Oscar... just like that," Lando murmurs, his voice a wrecked, melodic thread of sound. His fingers find their way into Oscar’s hair, his touch gentle and grounding. He strokes the strands with a rhythmic, soothing motion, his eyes lidding heavily as he watches his husband work. There is something so deeply intimate about this the quiet of the house, the sleeping baby in the next room, and the man he loves most in the world tending to him. He feels a profound sense of peace, a quiet stillness that settles over his soul even as his body continues to react to the intense, rhythmic pull of Oscar's mouth. The heavy, pulsing ache is slowly being replaced by a delicious, light sensation, a lightness that makes him feel like he's floating on a cloud of pure contentment.
"You're so good to me," Lando breathes, his voice barely a whisper, a soft, shaky sound that carries the weight of his entire heart. He watches the way Oscar's jaw moves, the way his eyes remain focused on his task with such unwavering devotion, and he feels a surge of love so powerful it almost brings him to tears. As the last of the pressure ebbs away, leaving him feeling wonderfully empty and relaxed, Lando lets his hand slip from Oscar's hair to rest gently on the man's shoulder. He pulls him up slightly, wanting to feel the warmth of his body against his own, to be held close in the quiet aftermath of their ritual. He is tired, yes, but it is a good, satisfied kind of exhaustion, the kind that comes from being truly, deeply cared for by the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world.