#it is also eve's BIRTHDAY so happy birthday to EVE you get JENDO

[vroombeams]

1. mirror sex for jendo

Lando isn't opposed to the whole mirror sex thing. He doesn't really get it, and he doesn't love the moments where he inevitably has to look at his own extremely dumb sex faces. But he likes that Jenson likes it.

He has Lando on his side, bared head-to-toe while Jenson spoons him. Between his own legs he can see Jenson's thighs, the tight shift of muscle as he rocks inside. Like this he can see it when Jenson's forearm tenses, fingers dug into the crook of Lando's knee, hauling his leg up and open. Like this he can see where Jenson's fucking into him. Hypnotic, in-out, a few inches of cock disappearing and reappearing deliciously.

It's a pretty good view. Lando can appreciate that, at least, while he avoids his own eyeline in the mirrors.

"Look at you," Jenson murmurs, head bent to kiss Lando's neck and his jaw and the tender space below his ear. "Beautiful boy."

When they'd first started sleeping together the shit Jenson said to him had been unimaginably mortifying. It's gotten better with time but surely Jenson's one of the only people on earth who can get away with talking like this, like he's learned all of his sex-talk from the absolute cheesiest of romance novels.

Still, it makes Lando flush. He can follow it with his eyes, the way his cheeks go darker and then the pink spreads in a wave down his throat and all the way to his chest. It's a pleased sort of embarrassment.

Jenson breathes out a laugh right where he's left a wet spot with his tongue.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," Jenson tells him. Sweetheart. God. Lando's never going to get used to it, the way what should be an incredibly cringe pet name sounds normal and smooth and maybe even good coming out of Jenson's mouth.

It's crazy how Jenson is so gentle with him, fucks him like Lando's precious or something. He probably calls it making love in his head.

To be fair, it does make Lando feel... loved, or whatever. Ugh.

Jenson tips his head up and back and Lando cranes his neck to meet him for a kiss, soft and wet and open-mouthed. This part is maybe what makes it the best—that if Lando peeks while they kiss he can watch it happen in the mirror. Can watch his lips part to let Jenson in, the wet pink shine of Jenson's tongue somehow more lewd than literally watching Jenson's dick fucking into him.

This time Jenson catches him doing it. Lando can't find it in himself to be all that embarrassed, even when Jenson smiles—smirks, maybe—into his mouth.

He kisses the taut corner of Lando's lips and now they're both looking, locking eyes with their reflections. Watching each other watch each other, taking in where Jenson's fingers curl around Lando's throat, where Lando's tongue comes out to lick absently at Jenson's stubble-rough cheek.

His rhythm never falters. Still fucking up in to Lando like it's muscle memory, lazily, unhurried. It always makes Lando think of some sort of big cat. A lion or something, how he's so fluid and powerful and easy in the way he moves.

"You like this," Jenson says, quiet, with the curl of his smile pressed to Lando's jaw.

Lando considers it. Watches where his thigh strains and trembles, where his stomach tenses tight and hard, where his dick is twitching and drooling against his belly.

He nods, eventually, because maybe he does like it. Just a bit. And this time when Jenson kisses him he doesn't bother to pretend he's not looking.

send kink(s) and ship(s) and maybe i will write more hell things