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The three things certain in his life; Oscar was not the crasher but the crashee at turn one in Spa, a sock's mate is always lost in laundry and Carlos is undeniably much better at one thing and that is not his job and dream. It's sucking dick. Carlos may even be the best. It has been personally verified and attested to by Oscar after having tested it on multiple occasions, even by deleted videos on social media where he had deep throated whipped cream like a champ. Oscar thinks it is a pity that his gifted throat has been limited just for Oscar but if Oscar's being really honest, he isn't that remorseful about it. In fact, he's pretty fucking smug.
But right now, Carlos is terrible at it, just mouthing and huffing with Oscar's dick in his mouth.
It's been a few minutes, a whole twenty minutes if Oscar really wants to be specific about it, and Carlos still hasn't made him come. It's a record, honestly, Oscar has never been in such close proximity to Carlos' warm, wet, tight throat for more than seven or ten minutes without coming. Carlos is truly off pace and just overall not on his game tonight.
Qualifying was decent–for Oscar. And somewhat for Carlos as well. Not pole–nothing that good for Carlos to reward him like this by barely waiting for a second after entering his room to push him onto the bed, stripping his shorts down and trying to swallow him down like he was rewarding Oscar. But what Carlos was currently doing isn't much better. Oscar's keyed up enough after this long to be on the precipice. Carlos just won't pick up the speed. He still sticks to sucking on the tip, pulling off to lick long stripes along the sides like he's trying to get Oscar hard.
News flash, Carlos. Oscar is already hard as rocks and he really really wants to come.
But Oscar also didn't have enough of a blunder of quali to not be feeling up for the privilege of having Carlos' lush lips wrapped midway around his dick.
Through the haze of fuck, really need to come, fuck fuck, Oscar tries recalling the starting grid for tomorrow. By Herculean and prize-deserving efforts, he remembers where Carlos is starting from. While sixteenth isn't dead last, it still has to smart. But Oscar knows Carlos is reasonable.
Looking down at Carlos, flushed and tightly screwed shut eyes, fingers digging into Oscar's thighs, not groaning loudly like he usually does when he has his mouth on Oscar–maybe Carlos isn't as alright as Oscar had assumed.
Oscar thumbs open his phone that he had tossed aside twenty minutes ago when he had gotten mauled down by Carlos. Twenty five, his phones corrects him. Oscar groans. He really really wants to come.
He pulls Carlos off by a hand in his hair, shivering when he feels Carlos' lips sliding off him.
"Stop teasing, Carlos."
Carlos instead focuses on the phone in his hand which mistakenly Oscar had forgotten to toss back aside and narrows his eyes.
"What, you're bored? Maybe go back to your phone and let me do what I'm doing right now if you can't come."
'"I'm not the one distracted. You can barely concentrate, just staring off somewhere–"
"I'm trying to congratulate you, Oscar. This is called being nice, maybe you should also try it and not use your phone when someone is sucking your–"
"Why the fuck would you be congratulating me?" Oscar stares at him with bewilderment.
Carlos gives him an exasperated are you being serious look. He cocks his head, rolling his eyes like Oscar is an idiot. Oscar's very wet cock, wet from Carlos' mouth, feels cold and exposed.
"Because you got honorary pole," Carlos says like it's obvious.
"Honorary pole."
Carlos tsks, waving his hand annoyedly at Oscar, because how dare Oscar not be on the same wavelength as him and not telepathically know what Carlos thinks about things.
"You have fast car in a season, if there are two strong ones with too much advantage, immediately the next is like pole. The best of the rest who are almost close by. You're pole, I'm trying to be nice about it, Oscar. You should also really try it." Carlos shrugs insufferably and it's an absurd sight, having an elaborate conversation with him while Oscar's dick is naked and wet beside Carlos' face.
Oscar laughs because of all of it, Carlos' logic, their situation right now, and when he looks down, Carlos also cracks a smile.
"Okay, I'm on pole." Oscar says softly, smile still lingering because of the spark of light in Carlos' otherwise closed off eyes that had been guarded and dull.
Carlos hums in agreement, obviously. He needs to have the last word.
"Yeah? Wanna get back to it now? If I don't come in a few minutes, I think I will live with a boner for the rest of my life." Oscar says, jerking Carlos' head towards his exposed dick by Carlos' thick stupid hair. Carlos shakes Oscar's hand off and looks down. Takes a deep breath.
"Today wasn't good. I don't want to keep thinking about it." Carlos blinks his eyes at Oscar. "I'm thinking you also don't want to keep thinking about tomorrow–"
Oscar is quick to stop him there. He really can't think about it. After all, there's nothing to think about. Quite literally.
"No, I'm fine. I'm not thinking about anything. You probably need me to–"
Carlos cuts him off with a unimpressed swift tug on his dick which sends a blinding spark of electricity through Oscar's spine. It felt so good, it almost felt bad.
Carlos' tone is sharp and no nonsense.
"Oscar, I know you are joking to media but don't lie." Carlos' eyes are hard and unflinching on him. Oscar swallows. Oscar definitely doesn't like how they both don't need words anymore to know what's wrong with each other.
Carlos knows his silences just as well.
"So you will?" Carlos probes further. Yeah, Oscar will. Oscar will take Carlos' mind off things.
Oscar nods. He runs a thumb over Carlos' lips, registers their softness, briefly dips a thumb to test Carlos' warmth. Carlos is already setting himself in position. Oscar tugs his wet thumb out and reaches up to course through the mess of Carlos' soft hair, up to that spot where Oscar knows Carlos wants to be gripped. Oscar grips, hard and unrelenting and Carlos responds. His moan, which was uncharacteristically missing for what he was doing, loud and resounding, splits through the room and Oscar pushes Carlos onto his cock, not stopping until he feels the relaxed clutch of his throat and Carlos' nose bumping his groin. Despite having his eyes shut and moaning for Oscar, Carlos does his part, already getting his fingers slick enough to push two into Oscar's hole. With a memory that comes only from having done this before, many times even, Carlos presses the tips of his fingers into his prostate, not sliding them in and out, just pressing and pressing until Oscar's hips jerk up into Carlos' throat. Oscar can feel it, again within his reach, the overwhelming wave of pleasure threatening to topple him but before he can really reach there, he needs to make sure Carlos is with him too. He forces his eyes open and cranes his neck to make sure– Carlos has definitely planned this out, because he does have a pillow under him, draped over Oscar's leg that he's rutting against. There are no words, both of them too out of bounds for coherence. With a particularly firm press of his fingers, Carlos moves them in a circle and Oscar thrashes upwards, cock pulsing on Carlos' perfect wet tongue. Oscar tightens his grip in Carlos' hair and Carlos follows the cue, tossing the pillow away to fuck against Oscar's bare leg. Oscar looks down at him and Carlos looks up at him at same time, his eyes and his million eyelashes wet. Oscar comes with a moan and Carlos follows suit, hips stuttering and slowing against Oscar. Oscar shivers when Carlos groans, the vibrations causing pricks of pleasure all over his body, making him shiver.
When Oscar feels human again, he gently relaxes his hand, massaging Carlos' scalp which has probably gone sore by now. Carlos' lips are shiny, glistening, it's almost vulgar and impossible to look at him when he looks like this which was insane when Oscar's dick was almost lodged in his pharynx.
Carlos is, expectedly, shaking. Tiny shivers that he knows Carlos gets when he comes this hard. Slowly, Carlos climbs up and twists them around. Oscar knows. Carlos can't stay upright, needs to let himself fall back right and Oscar lets him. Carlos angles his face, too tired to really do anything right and Oscar situates himself right to lie over Carlos, cover the length of his body and bends down to press small kisses over his mouth, jaw, anywhere over his face until Carlos gets limp and still. Carlos' thumb is rubbing gentle random shapes on Oscar's back. Oscar taps his jaw to get Carlos to open his eyes.
"Good?" Oscar knows, but still has to make sure. Carlos shuts his eyes again, shuffling Oscar to his side, and buries his nose in Oscar's neck and rasps out a single word.
"Good."