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If you asked Max, George was overreacting. With the conviction that George was ignoring him, you would think Max committed a crime against humanity but all he did was have his phone on DND. Which yeah, it wasn't great, but it shouldn't have been a problem at all. Except that George had called him and Max didn't have his contact on the allowed notifications list.
George worried when he called Max five times and got no answer, which led him to contact many of Max’s family and friends—the ones who knew about them. They all had called George back and reported the same thing to George.“He doesn't pick up but he is fine. Probably.”
But to his beautiful boyfriend that wasn't enough, his anxiety had probably been telling him all sorts of things. So George tried one more friend who has not been on the grid for a few years now, Daniel—Max's ex-teammate and the only ex Max told George about. It had been a long time since that happened; my first love, Max had said. To Max’s unlucky ass, Daniel had reported back to George a very different story from all his other friends and family. “He is alright mate, just practicing on the sim, you know how he is.”
And yeah. Max fucked up because to George that translated as: I still care about Daniel. Way more than I care about you.
Which honestly is ridiculous. So, yeah. It’s been three weeks of living like this. George has managed to live in Max's apartment without uttering a single word to him. He was hurt—that much was obvious—but George hadn't left to stay at his own apartment so he counted that as a win. George also let him sleep on the same bed, but not before making a barricade to separate their halves—no banter, no jokes, no whispered conversation, and most importantly: no sex.
Max missed him so much and the new season's testing had started so it was worse. Their teams had them in different hotels and the fucking RB22 was so stupidly complicated that his meetings ran way past midnight so he couldn't even see George walking around. Max was suffering, he wanted his boyfriend and he would do anything to get his attention back.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Today, he finally saw him. They were standing so close, but George hadn't acknowledged his presence. When Max arrived the Mercedes duo was already there and George, the social butterfly he was, said hi to Isack but not to him. Not even in front of the staff, the cameras. But apparently, he had plenty to say because he made sure to say hi to every single driver in the room except for Max.
And he hated it, he hated how George would smile softly at Alex, how he would let Oscar’s hand linger at the small of his back. The way Carlos was standing there—always helpful to George with his perfect smile and his stupid perfect hair. The tone in which Charles had said “Ciao, bello” like he had any right to call George beautiful in front of everyone—in front of Max. And Lewis who was always standing so fucking close to him when they talked and the way he always made George laugh made Max’s blood boil. Then there was Lando who was basically an eager puppy ready to do anything George asked of him, fucking following him around.
Max scoffed as he saw it all unfold before his eyes. He hated people touching what was his but he couldn’t do anything. After they started dating, he was the one who suggested they keep their relationship to themselves in the paddock. And now he regretted it, he regretted putting his phone on DND, he regretted picking up that call from Daniel.
He wanted to make his claim right in front of all these men. He wanted to put himself between all of them and George, hold him by his waist, and squeeze hard until he was sure his fingers left marks. And then he would pull George down and claim his mouth until he was a whimpering mess, lips bitten in a deep shade of red and wet with their mixed saliva. George would be so desperate, he would hump unconsciously against Max’s thigh and Max would pull him impossibly closer, hands squeezing his ass, and then George would start to beg with tears in his eyes and he would look so beautiful like that. And George would hate it so much, but Max would make him come in his race suit as everyone around them watched. As they all finally realized George was his.
But George wouldn’t even look at him. Not even for the cameras. But Max didn't win four championships by giving up. So, he waited until they finished the photo shoot session.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
This was his opportunity, he couldn’t do what he had fantasized about but he still hadn’t said hi to some people and that was a good enough excuse.
Max walked towards the group of men who were talking with George. “Hey, everyone,” he said as he clasped a hand over George’s hip from behind—for balance obviously—while the other was extended towards Alex. “I saw the news, Alex. Congrats on the engagement!”
Alex beamed at Max as he shook his hand. "Thank you, mate! It was nerve-wracking if I’m being honest but we're so happy!”
“That is nice to hear, Albon. I am happy for you guys.”
“Mate, are you hiding behind George?” Lando interrupted with a chuckle because of course, he would notice—with him being plastered on the other side of George and all.
But he wasn’t hiding himself, it was more about pressing himself against George so he could feel what three weeks without sex did to a man like him—a horny man in love. And if the way George was leaning against him were any indication, well, George would stop ignoring him as soon as they were alone. Not like he wanted everyone here to know George was gay, he didn’t trust them not to make a move on his boyfriend.
“Not hiding mate,” Max moved from behind George who wasn’t steady enough because most of his weight had been on Max. They must have looked ridiculous. “I was just saying hello but George here has been ignoring me and well I figured—”
“Please, don’t act like a victim, you know what you did,” George looked at him trying to be furious but all Max saw was how his pupils swallowed the blue from his eyes.
“I explained and even changed it! But nothing I do would fix it and there is just one more thing I can try but you wouldn’t look at me.” Max wasn't screaming and neither was George but oh boy they definitely had the attention of everyone in the room. “You’re just surrounded by them,” Max gestured to the group around George. “And I am so done! I just—I just want… Please, George let me make it up to you.” Max finished almost in a whisper.
George scoffed, “You’re insufferable.”
Somewhere in the back they heard as Lando said, “What are they even fighting about? They haven’t even been on track together.”
“Well… Did anyone see any of them during the break?” Oscar asked, looking at the rest of the group while Max and George bickered in the back—something about how one of them always seemed to prioritize his work.
“What are you getting at, Oscar?” Charles walked closer. Now, the group of friends was just talking to each other, completely ignoring the other two men.
“They are together!” Alex shouted, but was quickly shushed by Carlos. “Listen to me guys, I know my best mate and he is definitely dating someone,” he paused and looked at Lewis who was looking at him.
“They might be… you know,” replied Oscar, gesturing vaguely as he spoke.
Alex’s gears were turning but still failed to connect certain dots. “I know my best mate, guys. I’ve been a bit off the loop lately but I can tell he’s been dating someone,” he paused and looked at Lewis who was looking at him.
“Well, it’s not me,” Lewis said defensively.
“Oh, we know,” Charles said bitterly.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Guys! Focus!” Lando squeaked and then looked at Oscar.
“What?”
“Well tell them something to see what they do!”
“What? No! You tell them something!”
“Oh God,” Lewis interrupted and sighed, and walked closer to George. “Get a room, guys,” said Lewis as he clapped George’s shoulder, who then tried to give the fellow Brit an offended look but failed. Completely uncalled for, Lewis thought it tried to convey but George looked more like a deer caught in headlights.
And Alex caught that.
Everything came together in his head and with the realization, all he managed was: “I am so confused right now,” though his face was already saying that out loud. Maybe he felt a bit betrayed, too.
If what Alex thought was happening before his eyes, was happening, he’d make sure George would regret not letting his best friend know.
Max turned back to face everyone again. An awkward smile on his face and then, “What’s confusing? We’re just fucking around, mate.”
“That did not sound like ‘fucking around’ mate,” said Charles, holding back a laugh.
Lando jumped in, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Georgie,” trying to get at least a reaction out of him. “Care to share with the class?” He manages to say right before Oscar elbows him, hard enough to make him double over.
Everyone can see that George’s face starts to blush when someone claps twice behind them, loudly. “We gotta get moving, guys,” said the Production Assistant, grabbing everyone’s attention. “We’ve been told the set has to be cleared by six. Thank you!”
As they started moving towards the exit Lando yelled, “Saved by the bell!” Then Alex said, “You owe me a chat, mate”, at which George grimaced—he knows he does.
But Max had already grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him towards his driver’s room, almost running through the paddock.
Once they make it to the Red Bull hospitality building and into Max’s room he slams the door and locks it. “Can you fucking drop it?”
George was having none of it. “How would you feel if I wasn’t picking up the phone for hours and then the only person who manages to get in touch with me is my one and only ex?” He could’ve stopped there, but he doesn’t. “Who had been referred to as ‘the only person I loved’.”
“Before you!” Max said, exasperated—he really was so tired of this push and pull. “I really want to make it up to you—”
“How about a proper apology?”
Oh, right. He should probably do that. He can be very bad at relationships sometimes.
Max sighs and moves in closer as he starts speaking, “I’m sorry I put my phone on DND,” he grabs George’s hand, and places a tender kiss on its back. “I’m sorry you weren’t on the allowed list,” another kiss, on his palm this time. “I’m sorry Daniel was on the allowed list,” he murmured as he placed a hand behind George’s neck and left a kiss on his cheekbone.
George doesn’t even know when he closed his eyes, but he feels like he could simmer in this for hours.
“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up for hours,” Max continues, laying a kiss on his nose. George can feel him tiptoeing to reach and breaks into a small laugh. “I’m sorry I made you feel this way,” Max says truthfully and seals it with their lips.
“George, I swear I won’t make you feel like this again,” Max keeps going, this time kissing his jaw softly. “You are my everything, schat,” he said as he then hummed happily against George’s neck, leaving a trail of small soft bites. “Please, would you forgive me? I won’t make you feel like a second choice ever again.”
George sighs contentedly and smiles softly at Max. “Fine. You are forgiven,” George said and Max pulled away a little, hands now moving to the familiar zipper of George’s race suit. The Brit puts a hand on top of his—stops Max on his tracks and they lock eyes. “If you ever make me feel like that again… we are done, understood?” He continued as he let go of his hand and Max pulled the fireproofs over his head.
“Yes, schat. I swear I won't.” Max said happily.
George had finally let Max reach him. They had talked and he had been forgiven. He knew it seemed like a stupid argument but now he knew how it might have affected George.
“Wait. Max, what are you doing?” George said as Max pushed him towards the small bed.
“Well now it’s time for me to teach you a lesson,” Max whispered against his ear when he finally settled over George’s form on the bed.
“What did I even do?”
“Oh, I don’t know? Leave me blue balled for three weeks?” Max grunted as he aligned their erections, still trapped on their race suits.
“Maxie, I just—oh fuck! I just needed you to understand.”
“Now I will take whatever I want,” Max grunted as he kept rutting against George—transfixed by his bratty pouty lips. “Once I’m done with you, you’ll be thanking me.”
“Yeah, just—Max, please.”
Max moved quickly and methodically—he pulled away and helped George out of his race suit, doing the same with his own afterwards. Then he settled between George’s legs, forcing them open.
“You are awfully quiet, you okay?”
“Yes. No. I just—” George stopped suddenly as did Max’s movements, giving him time. “I know it might sound dramatic and maybe I’m just overthinking but I was so scared, Max. You are you, funny, handsome; a champion,” and I’m not, he didn’t say. “And I am just me—dramatic, goody two-shoes, anxious. Two-faced if necessary,” he joked, trying to take some weight off his words, “but it scares me. That one day you could wake up and realize how much better you are, that you deserve someone less … complicated.”
Max was genuinely confused because what? George was perfect in his eyes, everything he had mentioned were little things that made George, George. And he was everything.
“Oh, George…” Max lowered himself closer to George’s face. “Schatje, you are everything. You are so much more than you imagine. I love you, dramatics and all.” Max kissed him, softly, reassuringly. George smiled into the kiss and placed his hands on each side of the Dutchman’s face.
Max pulls apart just enough to speak. “Do you want to stop? I don’t mind waiting, princess.”
“No!” George said, wrapping his legs around Max’s hips. “Please don’t go.”
“Yeah. Okay, baby. I will take care of you then.” George visibly relaxed at the words and smiled, pulling down his underwear. “Now be a good boy and get these wet for me.”
George blinks at him slowly and opens his mouth. Three of his fingers press against George’s tongue, getting them messy and wet. Then he pushes the hand between their bodies Max presses his middle finger against George’s entrance. Teasing.
“Max…”
“Shh, let me enjoy it, yeah? You’ll like it I swear. What do you say, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Just make sure I’ll remember.”
Max smiles at him fondly, getting lost in his expression as he inserts his finger. He moves it slowly as if exploring, even though the truth is: Max already knows him inside out; knows when to push, when to pull, and where. George’s expression is open, he looks content, relaxing into the rhythm Max sets when he puts another finger alongside the first one.
They move almost lazily, like they have all the time in the world. When George is loose enough for it to be safe but still sting, Max pulls his fingers out and finally slips his cock into George.
“Good?” Max asks even though he already knows the answer. He always takes pleasure in seeing his ever-so eloquent boyfriend struggling to find words.
“Fu—It’s fine. Good.” George lets out with a strain on his voice. “More.”
“Beg me, princess. Tell me how much you missed me.”
“Max,” George whined but quickly complied. “Please…please I swear I won’t ignore you. Please just let me come.”
Max put his face closer to George’s and pushed his nose against George’s. “Fuck, George. You are so sweet like this, begging for my cock.” George was a mess of little noises he tried to silence, eyes pressed shut, completely lost in the feeling and all Max could do was quicken his pace to try to break his resolve. “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” and so he did. “There you go.”
“Max…”
“You can come now, show me how much you missed me, princess.”
George lasted a couple of seconds more. Then he was arching his back, head hitting the wall softly as thick strikes of cum landed between their bodies, sticky and warm. Max, as always caught in the image George made, all grace and poise even when he came. God, he was ethereal, just beautiful and all his, his, his—
Max came buried deep in George. Afterwards, once they stopped chasing the last of their pleasures, Max pampered his face with loving kisses and stayed on top of him. He wasn't ready to pull out and by the way George was hugging him, it was okay for now.
“Princess?”
“Yeah?” George responded in a whisper, hands caressing Max’s scalp.
Max pulled away a little so he could commit the image to memory. “Next time talk to me,” Max said and pushed their lips together.
Underneath him, George nodded and smiled softly at him, eyes crinkling. He looked glorious—skin flushed a soft pink, curls messy from all the wriggling and lips kiss swollen. Pretty. Perfect. His.