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George knows Max far too well.
He knows Max is watching him from the old couch in the VIP area, eyes flicking up and down. He knows Max is chatting away with Franco and Lando, but is still paying attention to where Alex’s hands are firmly planted on George’s hips.
He knows Max is a bit worked up from seeing him and Alex dancing, bodies pressed together, barely upright to some Spanish banger.
“So you didn’t shag him after Spain, then?” Alex mutters, lips brushing his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.
“He’s still pissed,” George says, rolling his hips back just enough for his ass to brush against Alex’s groin. “It’s hot, if I’m honest.”
“You two are ridiculous,” Alex says, dropping a quick kiss on his ear, deafening George and moving away. “I need a drink.”
George pouts, but after elbowing a few people, he makes his way back to the old couch where Franco, Lando, and Max are sitting. He moves past Lando and Franco who are squeezed together, really close in order to be closer to Max and to touch each other.
Without saying anything, he sits on Max’s lap, stealing his drink and downing it.
"Really?" Max asks, his voice raspy from the alcohol, pupils wide as the moon.
“Yup,” George replies, a smile on his lips. For a moment, with their faces so close, he thinks about kissing Max, or at least teasing him, but Max just turns away to talk to Franco about Alpine’s disaster class in Spain.
Why are they still talking about F1?
"Can you even overtake with that car?" Max asks, still holding George to keep him from sliding off his lap.
"Nah. I mean, I did, but it’s like asking for a miracle," Franco says.
George watches him, and for the first time, he really sees how tired the kid looks with dark circles under his eyes, stubble a little too grown in. Lando’s hand rests gently on his back, steady, comforting.
Fuck. Alpine’s already getting to him.
“Franco,” George says, cutting in, dragging the ‘o’. The three of them look at him like the wall just spoke, eyes wide, waiting. “As an ex-Williams, I’m telling you now: the results will come. Keep working. You’re fast, you’re talented.”
He straightens up, a sudden wave of power hitting him like a second drink. Just then, Alex walks in and raises an eyebrow at the sight.
“I drove a car so bad I was stuck in P19 and P20. But if you give it everything, you’ll make it out. You’ll survive it.”
Franco looks confused, but he smiles and stands up to hug him. George is a little startled, but he wraps his arms around him anyway. Over Franco’s shoulder, he opens one eye and winks at Lando, who rolls his eyes and flips him off.
He sits back against Max’s chest and it surprises him when he feels Max’s lips against the fabric of his shirt.
"I miss you," Max whispers against his ear. If George hadn’t been hyper-focused on him, he would’ve missed it.
"I miss you," Max says again.
George gulps.
“Max,” George says, still perched on his lap.
Max looks up, eyes wide, surprised he’d actually been heard.
Their noses almost touch as George leans in, the scent of alcohol hanging between them. “C-Can I?” he asks, hands gently finding Max’s face.
“Of course, princess,” Max replies with a smirk.
George closes the small gap between them. The kiss is tender, full of feelings long left unsaid. I miss you too, George thinks.
He pulls back just enough to look at Max’s face: eyes closed, lips parted.
He doesn’t hesitate before diving in again.
Mid-kiss, Max murmurs, “You know, I’m still pissed off.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one annoyed? I-I got crashed into,” George says, fingers threading through Max’s hair.
“You hit me first,” Max counters, hands roaming over George’s back.
That’s enough to make George pull away.
He gets off Max’s lap without a word and walks across the room.
“Alex, dance?” he calls, gesturing toward his friend, who’s deep in conversation with Franco.
Alex takes one look at him and knows instantly. George is pissed.
He excuses himself and joins George on the dance floor, wrapping an arm around him from behind.
“What’s wrong?” he asks gently.
“He’s still saying nonsense,” George mutters, resting his arm around Alex as they sway together, chest to back. Alex's head on his chest and shoulder.
Only a few minutes pass before George feels a hand gripping his arm. It’s not painful or powerful, it's firm.
“Let's go home,” Max says to him, George looks at him. “You too Alex, do you want to?”
Alex opens his mouth like a fish underwater until the answer finally gets out: “Yes, sure?”
George looks between them like a tennis match, trying to comprehend what was happening.
“Okay, let's go,” Max says, elbowling a few people already.
As soon as they get to Max’s place, he drops onto one of the armchairs like he owns the place…which, well, he does. George and Alex end up on the same couch where Max first kissed him. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
“Mind if I watch?” Max asks, legs spread like he’s trying to prove a point, eyes a bit glazed over. George can see how turned on he is hardly subtle.
"Watch what, exactly?" Alex asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
"Us?" George says, not because he knows, but because he sees it written in Max’s eyes.
"Can you kiss for me, princess?" Max says, more command than question.
George, feeling that familiar warmth stir in his gut, glances at Alex with uncertain eyes.
"I-I guess," Alex replies, then adds, a bit firmer, "Do you want?"
“Y-yes,” George confirms.
"Perfect" Max says, his voice dropping lower.
George leans in, closing the gap between their lips.
It’s a little awkward at first, but they always find the rhythm. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth, wet and urgent. His fingers slide into his best friend’s hair, and he lets out a soft whine when Alex pulls back for air.
“You taste so good,” George says, it's true. Alex tastes like orange, watermelon and a bit of vodka. He leans in for a short kiss, fighting a bit with Alex's tongue and pulls away.
“Fuck ,” Max curses, his legs can't be more apart and his face looks redder. So worked up.
“Do you mind if Max touches himself, A?” George asks, innocence in his voice. Alex shifts in place, head moving from side to side, twitchy and restless, probably feeling the fire start to build in him too.
“No, I don’t,” Alex says, breathless.
Max, in a quick move, puts his hand inside his pants, eyes focused on them.
“Please, do whatever you want,” Max begs them with a raspy voice and eyes almost closed in pleasure. His cock twitches at the sheer look of Max, all needy and flushed.
Fuck fuck .
George looks at Alex who only nods, agreeing to whatever he must be thinking. He leans closer again, but this time, he puts his hands under his friend's t-shirt and gets it out of the way.
“Can I?” George asks, just in case.
“Like Max said, do whatever you want,” Alex repeats. George feels his cock twitching at that comment.
“Lie down, then,” George says, watching as Alex stretches out, shirtless, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
His tanned skin and messy hair catch the light just right.
“You look so hot,” he says, loud enough so Max can hear it. He hears a whine in response. He doesn't look, but he knows Max is pumping himself harder in response to that.
He takes off his own shirt and puts both of his legs next to Alex's hips. He can feel Alex on his ass.
He bounces a bit, just to see the reaction it gets from Alex and Max. Alex closes his eyes, throwing his head back in pleasure, and this time he turns to Max, still bouncing against Alex's clothed hard cock. Max's cock is out and hard, he is looking at him with fire behind his eyes.
Fuck, he whispers. When he turns back to Alex, his friend's hands are in his ass, feeling it.
He leans down to drop a kiss at Alex's sweet lips. They've kissed plenty of times, but George has never felt this vulnerable, shirtless bouncing and doing a show for his horny boyfriend's fantasy so he feels a bit overwhelmed at how good it feels. Teeth, tongue and hands on his ass.
“Fuck Max he's so good” , he says, not lying, it feels deliriously good. His hips involuntarily moving, thumping air, but creating friction with Alex's hard cock.
“Better than me?” Max answers, voice almost gone. George turns to him, chest to chest with Alex who moves his mouth to his neck.
“No one, but he's close,” Alex bites his neck and he can't help but to moan.
“Sorry,” Alex says against his skin, pretending he didn't do it on purpose.
George closes his eyes at Alex's mouth licking and playing with the sensitive skin on his neck. He can't help the sounds that come out of his mouth, but he's happy when he hears Max's own in the back.
“Max,” he asks, Alex's mouth again playing with his own. “C-Can I,” he asks, biting at Alex's upper lip, “Can I touch him?”
He feels Alex's cock twitch in interest under his jeans, and Alex looks at him with a drunk smile and black hair everywhere.
“Of-Of course, princess,” Max struggles to speak, the hand around himself tightly wrapped as he moves it up and down in a sweet rhythm and even sometimes touching the head.
“I will touch him too Max,” Alex announces and it doesn't look like he cares that much about Max's answer as he unzips his jeans.
“S-sure,” Max responds.
When they finally get rid of the jeans, he looks at his best friend and he knows Alex will always be there for him, but for a split of a second, he's scared by how much he wants him to fuck him and the consequences.
“A-are you okay with this?,” he whispers at him, sitting on his lap, their clothed hard cocks close.
“Yes, you?” Alex looks at him with puppy eyes and George's doubts go away at the speed of light.
He turns back to Max who's chasing his orgasm, hand around himself, head back and making sinful sounds.
“Babe, don't miss this,” George says as he finally frees his cock and does the same with Alex's.
He finally wraps one hand around both of their wet cocks and rubs them together. Alex's mouth open full of pleasure sounds mix with Max's and George's.
“Let's match the pace,” George says, his eyes focusing on Max's.
Max's hand moving up and down, wet and obscene. George does the same with their cocks, moving up and down, now with hands. He knows Max's closer than him so he sneaks a finger in their heads, adding a special sweetness.
“G-georgie,” Alex struggles, his hips moving up and down, getting wetter.
“What, A?” he asks, getting closer, noses touching each other, cocks impossibly closer.
“I-I want to c-ome,” he says. George closes the gap, a hand still rubbing them together.
He gives his friend a kiss, like the ones they share. Never chaste, full of tongue.
“Come then,” he says, stocking them and finally, he feels his legs shaking and the warmth inside him exploding.
He turns back to Max who's just about to come.
George pushes as much as he can.
330 km/h.
He hears the cheers from the grandstands as he sees a group of his mechanics hanging from the pitlane fence.
“P1 buddy,” Marcus announces, a smile audible in his voice if that’s even possible.
“Woohoo!” he screams, sounding just like a fire truck. A few laughs crackle through his radio.
“Max P3,” Marcus says as Max himself appears next to him, a short wave and a flying kiss directed to him.
He smiles inside his helmet.
“The rest?,” he asks.
“You, Norris, Max, Leclerc, Piastri, Alex, Lewis, Gasly, Colapinto, Hadjar,” Marcus recounts for him.
Alex, P6.
He laughs. They need to celebrate it.
“What are the Alpine doing there?” he asks, laughing.
“They got lucky, good strategy,” Marcus says before Toto cuts in.
“George, let's see you on the podium, first double podium of the season,” Toto says, filled with excitement. He even finds it a bit cute, he sounds like a child.
He sees Alex's Williams passing through as he waves at him and George waves back. Happy things are still the same since that.
He parks between Max and Lando, jumping out of the car, fist into the air and a scream of victory erupts. He quickly runs into his team's arms, even Mary from PR is there.
As he untangles himself from the sea of team hugs, George turns to Lando, pulls him into a quick one, and then finally faces Max, who runs to him and gets both hands on his helmet, giving it a little shake.
“Congrats!” Max says, voice bright and bloody hell, actually genuine.
George pulls him into a quick hug before he can think too much about it.
“Thanks babe,” he whispers. They wrap up the interviews quicker than usual and head into the cool-down room.
“Good race,” Lando says, peeling off his fireproofs on the spot. “Too fucking hot, sorry.”
Max chuckles as he towels off his face. “I was absolutely…toasted.”
“You two are starting to sound alike, mate,” Lando teases, plopping down on the couch, race suit hanging low on his hips, chest bare.
“Teammates!” George blurts, a bit too fast, laughing nervously as he sinks down next to Lando.
The cameraman follows every movement.
“Flavio or JV?” Franco asks, tequila shot in hand.
“In what sense?,” Alex asks, a smile already tugging his lips.
“Fuck,” Franco responds, moving the drink around, part of the Latino way of speaking, hands everywhere.
“I won't say I'd fuck my team principal,” Alex says, fingers already hugging the lemon.
“YOU WOULD FUCK FLAVIO FUCKING BRIATORE?” Franco yells, full of excitement, already throwing salt into Lando's collarbone.
Alex denies quickly with his head, but it's too late.
“I wouldn't, I wouldn't,” he tries, a smile still on his lips.
Franco, whipping his mouth after downing a tequila shot, “I mean,” he says, shrugging, “if things don’t work out with whoever I’m seeing… I’ll give it a thought.”
Lando laughs out loud, like he wasn't the Whoever™ Franco is talking about.
“FRANCO!,” Pierre yells from his spot, a hand in Kika’s knee. “I heard you!”
“La puta madre, I forgot we have spies here,” Franco jokes, Alex laughs, but still strolls away, a bit dizzy already.
“I'm not playing any more games with Franco or Lando,” he announces as he sits on the couch next to George.
“Feeling funny already?” George says, an arm over his shoulders already.
“Yes, the world is definitely spinning,” Alex mumbles, eyes shut as he drops his head onto George’s shoulder.
“Well, well,” Alex hears Max’s voice, he feels physically incapable of getting his head off George’s shoulder so he chooses to only open his eyes. “It’s my boyfriend with his boyfriend or whatever the meme said.”
Alex is a bit surprised at Max actually knowing a meme format.
“This is my boyfriend Derek, and this is Derek’s boyfriend, Ben,” Alex quotes, head still on his best friend’s shoulder, eyes almost closed again.
They clink glasses, and George pops the olive into his mouth in one go, grinning as he chews.
“Is he well?” Max asks, pointing at Alex.
“Just drunk,” George says, shifting just enough for his lips to brush lightly against his hair—a quick kiss. “He gets a bit cuddly, touchy-feely”
“Loved it, y’know?” Max says, voice dipping low, far too close to how he sounded that night a few weeks back.
Alex fights to keep his eyes shut, though he’s definitely sobering up.
George takes a slow sip of his margarita, lets the salt hit his lips before speaking.
“Still can’t quite believe it, if I’m honest,” George says, the margarita on his lips. “I loved it, a new side of you, ” he says with a small huff of a laugh.
“Did you love that new side of me or fucking him, princess?” Max says.
Alex feels a growing panic in his chest, weird.
George lets out a dry laugh, a bit ironic.
“We didn't fuck, but I can't deny it, fantazing with that situation since I was a teenager,” George says.
He's not lying, Alex's been his best friend since forever, but he remembers the nights after their firsts make out sessions as teens.
“You are doing a face,” Max says, not surprised but amused.
“What face?” George responds, Alex moves a bit and he hugs him closer.
“The face I’d make if I wanted to fuck my best friend,” Max says, his beet almost empty.
Alex can’t fight anymore so he opens his eyes, sitting straight on the couch.
“I need the loo,” he announces, getting up and walking erratically away from them.
Max and George look at him, then between themselves.
“He probably heard everything we said,” Max says, sipping from his beer.
“Probably,” George says, finishing his margarita.
He attempts to get up, but gravity and the alcohol in his veins sit him down back.
“I’ll text him, maybe he feels sick,” George says.
Georgie
Are you okie? 🙁
albono
u used and emjiii
im ok tho
“Do you remember when we bumped on the yacht last year?,” Max asks out of the blue.
“Ajam,” George responded, locking his phone. “In the bathroom.”
“Yeah, I asked if you were gay for Albon,” Max says, edging closer, while Lando and Franco scream song lyrics at each other like teenagers.
“You did,” George chuckles, spotting Alex heading back over from the corner of his eye. “And I told you it was none of your bloody business.”
Max leans in, eyes locked. “Now that we’re together, d’you reckon it is my business?”
George meets his gaze, unflinching. He’s not backing down.
“Maybe.”
Alex arrives, sitting down, acting and looking a lot more sober. George inches closer, sneaking a hand on his hair.
“Are you okay?,” he asks. Alex looks at him with tired eyes, but nods.
“I-I think I need to go home,” Alex explains, “I’ve the Pirelli testing tomorrow with Kimi,” he smiles at him.
“D-do you need me to call an Uber for you?” George asks, attentive eyes.
“I think I'll just walk, I need a bit of fresh air to sober up completely,” Alex says. Getting up again.
“All right, just, but text me when you’re home, yeah?” George says as Alex gives them a wave.
“Russell,” Max calls him and George turns to look at him fast, why the last name?
“What?” George asks, an eyebrow raised.
“Yes or no?”, Max asks again, leaning closer again.
“Yes,” George answers, a bit of guilt building up, exploring Max's face, searching for any trace of disappointment, but he's welcomed with something else.
Desire .
“Fuck,” Max mutters, stepping out of his space. “Now I won’t be able to stop imagining things, fuck.”
After three weeks with no races, Belgium is torture.
It’s 2 a.m. when they finally get to do some working out.
The humidity and heat are so brutal, it’s a miracle they manage to peel themselves out of bed before Thursday, when they’re forced to show up for media day.
“Bloody hell!” George exclaims as a dumbbell falls to the floor. Max glances over from the chest press machine, mildly alarmed.
“You all right?” he asks, concerned, but clearly not enough to actually get up.
“Yeah, my phone buzzed and threw me off,” he mutters, pulling it from his pocket and opening the chat.
albono
cant sleep ugh
George
I'm working out with Max
He looks up at Max who's huffing and deeply concentrated still in the chest press machine.
George
Come over
albono
why r u working out at 2 am???
George
[address attached]
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he tells Max on his way past. Max barely looks up, just gives him a lazy thumbs up and then, without warning, lands a quick slap on George’s ass as he walks past.
By the time George is back, hair damp, shirt clinging slightly to his skin, barely fifteen minutes have passed and that’s when he spots his best friend walking into the gym.
He glances over at Max to see if he’s noticed too, but Max is fully absorbed with the leg press now with headphones in, laser-focused.
George heads straight for the door and practically launches himself into Alex’s arms, wrapping his arms around his neck like it’s been weeks.
“Hi, Georgie,” Alex says, voice all soft and sweet.
“Hello,” George replies, smiling into the hug. He nuzzles his nose gently against the warm skin of Alex’s neck when he hears Max’s voice.
“We’ve a kitten now?,” Max asks, ironically. He turns to look at his boyfriend, sweaty and reddened by the exercise, walking towards them. He puts a hand on George’s hair petting him like he’s an actual kitten before briefly greeting Alex.
“I'm going to take a shower,” Max says, tugging at his shirt. “Don’t have fun without me,” he adds with a wink. “Well… not too much.”
George tries to ignore the warmth growing inside him, from his belly and taking over his chest. The words clearly affect him because he looks at Alex whom he still has an arm wrapped around his shoulders and damn his lips are really close and his eyes hide a fire behind.
Fuck , fuck .
Max isn’t here, and they haven’t exactly set any ground rules for… whatever this is.
And then there’s Alex.
He hasn’t had a proper conversation with him either, which is probably mad considering they must have crossed a line in their friendship.
Alex would probably say yes, knowing him. But then what?
“How do you want to have fun?” Alex asks, voice dripping with fake innocence, and that’s all it takes. Like flicking a switch, fuck his internal struggles.
Max would enjoy it. He even said that they should have fun.
George leans in, close enough that their foreheads almost touch, shamelessly in his space now.
“We can do whatever you want,” he murmurs, lips hovering just by Alex’s cheek.
“We can…” Alex pauses, George's lips lowering to his neck, “play Among Us,” Alex says, a smirk on his lips.
His lips linger, then wander, slow and teasing, across the curve of his throat, up along his jaw, until he’s right there at the corner of Alex’s mouth.
“I’m going to ignore that…joke,” George says.
“G-George,” Alex tries to warn him, to stop him.
“What?” he asks, surprised a bit.
“Should we be doing this ?,” Alex says.
George just shrugs.
“We could welcome Max back with a bit of a show,” he says, voice low, before leaning in and catching Alex’s lip between his own.
His hand cups Alex’s face, steadying him, and Alex shifts closer to turn the kiss deeper, wetter, more tongue. George tries to match it, fumbling slightly but determined.
He takes a step forward, causing them to walk backwards, chests pressed together and breath coming quicker now.
After a few bites on his lower lip, George pushes for the perfect rhythm, hungry but almost lazy, like they can make out for hours like this.
Alex's hands cup his ass like they were made to squeeze it.
“I-Is this okay?” Alex asks, his voice quiet as he pulls back, just a breath between them.
George doesn’t answer right away. His smirk lingers, but it’s laced with hesitation, his usual confidence giving way to something gentler.
He nods, barely, eyes still fixed somewhere around Alex’s collarbone.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”
As Alex leans in to keep kissing, Max's voice interrupts them.
“Well, well,” Max says. Alex moves away a bit, but George just gives in and he lets his forehead fall over Alex's shoulder. “I told you not to have that much fun without me,” he smiles.
“M-Max” Alex stutters, his voice catching mid-word.
Before he can finish, George calmly puts a finger over his mouth.
“Right. Shall we go?” he says, far too casually, already striding off toward his gym bag like nothing at all just happened.
Alex is still frozen, lips parted, eyes wide.
Max stands a few feet away, towel around his neck, hair wet, observing them with a look that’s hard to read, somewhere between amusement and something warmer.
“I said not too much fun,” Max says, stopping in front of them, voice low but not sharp.
George keeps his forehead on Alex’s shoulder for a beat longer, then lifts his head. “We were just having fun, not too much fun.”
Max shrugs. He turns slightly toward Alex. “You all right?”
Alex nods slowly. “I…yeah. Are you all right?”
Max’s smile turns a little more real. George lets out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were doing it to surprise you,” George says.
“You are lying, if I hadn't walked into the room…” Max moves one of the machines, casually talking like they're talking about the weather.
“We were going to stop,” George pauses, “eventually.”
Max raises an eyebrow. “I believe Albon would've, but were you?”
George considers. “Maybe not.”
That earns a quiet laugh from all three.
Max steps in closer, placing a steady hand on the small of George’s back, fingers brushing lightly.
George meets his eyes. “You’re really okay?”
Max nods. “More than. Look, I don’t know what we’re doing yet. But if this is part of it…” He looks between the two of them. “Then I want to be in it.”
Alex breathes out like he’s been holding it for minutes. “Okay. Okay.”
George leans into Max slightly, the contact grounding him. “We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we?”
“You bring your sim to races?” Alex says, no judgement, just surprised that he carries the console with its chair and steering wheel around places.
“Only to the European leg,” Max confirms, crouching down to turn it on. He sits on the chair so Alex stands behind it, to observe.
A yawn pulls Alex's attention toward the bed, where George has flopped down onto the king-sized mattress, lazily stretching and absently slipping a hand beneath his shirt to rub at his stomach.
“Babe,” Max says, “don't fall asleep just yet.”
George yawns louder and gives them a thumbs up, still watching his phone so both turn back to Max's console.
Alex watches Max play for a few minutes in silence, he even turns down his offer to play for a bit. He likes to watch the way Max takes the kerbs and crashes into other drivers when they're feeling too brave against Max Verstappen.
He doesn’t hear George come closer, just feels him. The quiet press of a body at his back, the soft weight of a chin resting on his shoulder.
Arms slip around his waist, easy and familiar. Alex exhales, steady. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he brings his hands up, resting them lightly over George’s. Fingers lacing through his like they’ve done it a hundred times before.
“Hi,” George whispers, “did I tell you that I love you?”
Alex smiles at George's words.
“A couple of times throughout our lives,” Alex whispers too, not like a secret, but for intimacy even if Max's probably listening to their conversation.
George shifts behind him slightly, hands still resting against Alex’s stomach, rubbing slow, absent circles.
“I was thinking,” he murmurs, voice low and warm. “It’s been a while since I told you... but you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. You know that, don’t you?”
“I love you too,” Alex says, turning his face just enough for him to be able to drop a kiss at the side of George's neck. Alex lets his head fall back, eyes fluttering closed, just drifting between George’s arms, until he feels one of his friend's going lower.
“George,” he warms him, but not moving just in case.
“Sh,” George's lips brush his ear then he feels a light tug in his ear.
George’s hands are drifting lower, fingers teasing along Alex’s waistband. Just as he’s about to pop the button on his jeans, a voice cuts through the haze.
“Having fun already?”
Alex’s eyes snap open. He straightens instinctively at the sound of Max’s voice.
George doesn’t move, still wrapped around him, still smirking. “Jealous?”
Max turns in his chair, gaze steady, unbothered. “Quite the opposite.”
He stands and makes his way over, dropping onto the edge of the bed with casual ease. His tone is low, gentle, inviting. “Go on. Keep doing whatever you were about to do.”
Alex hesitates, only for a moment, George in contrast, he challenges him.
“Yeah, I was about to,” George says, rolling his eyes.
Max has a smirk on his face as he spreads his legs.
“Are you fine with that?” George asks Alex, still hugging him. The tone in his voice is soft and almost innocent.
He looks at Max, and when their eyes meet, it’s electric.
There’s something burning behind Max’s gaze. There’s curiosity, hunger, approval, and Alex realises this might be new territory, but it’s something Max wants. And, surprisingly, it’s something he wants too.
Not only George’s touch, something he’s tasted over and over through teenage years and adulthood, deep down both have known that they were always meant to end up like this. They were bound to be like this, but the idea of Max there, observing and enjoying it.
So no, he doesn’t say no. He could , and that matters.
But he doesn’t want to.
Not even a little bit.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he breathes. It’s barely more than a whisper, but enough.
That’s all George needs. His fingers finally work the belt loose, smooth and sure, before slipping into Alex’s jeans, warm against skin.
“Fuck,” Alex gasps, his head falling back onto George’s shoulder, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as his body arches into the touch.
“Have you noticed it?,” Max says, flipping the pan.
“What?,” George asks, looking up from his phone.
“We haven't fucked for a while,” Max takes one of the pancakes out of the pan into a plate. “Not complaining, but just saying.”
“O-oh,” George didn't notice it. “I-I mean, we did things.”
He locks his phone to get a bite from the oat meat in front of him.
“Ja, what do you think about it?” Max says as he finishes the pancakes. He squeezes some honey on top and sits down across from him.
“I don’t really know where to start,” George says, pushing the bowl away with both hands. “But I think we need to talk. About... rules. Feelings. Thoughts. All of it.”
“Let's do that then,” Max says, biting the corner of the last pancake on his plate.
“I love you, you know that,” George's leg bounces under the table, “but I love Alex and every day the line between friendship and something else is getting blurry.”
“I assumed that,” Max says, mouth full of pancake. “I heard you telling him I love you the other day.”
George gulps, he's starting to sweat. Yes, I love him. What’s wrong with that?
“Are you okay with me…” George pauses, eyes flicking down. “With me saying that?”
He fidgets, fingers tugging at the edge of his sleeve, clearly nervous.
Max puts a hand to stop him from tugging at his sleeve.
“George,” Max says, voice steady, deliberate. “I know you love him. And I know he loves you too.”
He holds George’s gaze. There’s no hesitation. Just quiet certainty.
“If whatever this is, whatever we’re doing, ever comes close to damaging that, I’ll walk away. No hesitation.”
“Maybe you two need to sit down and talk about this,” Max says, his thumb drawing circles in George's hands.
“How do you feel about Alex?,” George says, tilting his head.
“He's a good guy who loves my boyfriend and,” Max pauses, a small smirk growing on his face, “he's hot, so I'm okay with him and whatever relationship you want to have with him.”
“Your last-year self would probably be terrified of you,” George says with a laugh, the sound light, like something heavy’s just been lifted off his shoulders.
George's smart watch flashes an incoming message. He takes a peak: toto.
“Toto, probably checking if we're getting ready for the Adidas event,” George says, tapping the message away, “Toto stop interrupting our love life conversation.”
Max laughs before getting up to put their plates into the dishwasher. George observes him with a smile.
“Max,” he says, “I love you.”
Max closes the dishwasher and leans down to drop a chaste kiss on his lips.
“I love you too, princess.”
George rolls his eyes.
Max drives him to a hotel in Amsterdam.
“This city is a puzzle,” George says, already getting out of the car. “Are you sure you don't want to join us?”
“Mega sure, I'll have lunch with my mom,” Max says, “I'll see you later, hopefully, both of you.”
“See you,” George closes the door and runs into the hotel lobby where Alex is already waiting for him.
“Hello,” George greets him, a smile on his face. Alex looks cute , beige pants with a dark green hoodie from his brand, hair a bit messy and dark shades.
“Hi,” he smiles at him, and George melts. “Max?”
“He's having lunch with his mom,” he tells him as they walk into the restaurant area where quickly a waitress approaches them.
“What a shame,” Alex says to him before looking at the restaurant employee, “Hi, we have a table, under Alexander Albon.”
The waitress guides them to their table and leaves.
“Should we order room service? it says we can,” Alex suggests, and a funny feeling floods George.
“No funny business,” George points at him.
“I should be the one saying that,” Alex laughs as he gestures to their waitress to get closer. “Can we ask for salmon pasta for two to room 450?”
“Can you add a champagne and three cups?,” George adds.
“And,” Alex thinks, scanning the menu, “two lemon pies.”
George smiles at him, nodding as if it was needed.
The suite is gigantic. 3 rooms and a big piano in the middle. There's two sofas and a big big TV screen.
“Really Williams got so much better since I left,” George says, walking towards the floor to ceiling windows. “What a beauty,” he observes the city. Under them in one of those not so tiny houses, Max is having dinner with his mom.
Alex flops down onto one of the sofas and follows him, George parting his legs to sit on his lap.
“We said no funny business,” Alex says, a smile on his lips.
“No funny business, I want to talk about something,” George pauses, searching for the word, “more serious.”
“I won't tell you which strategies we plan to do during the race,” Alex says, George laughs, but still places a hand over his mouth, just enough for Alex to shut up.
“I suppose I’d quite like to know your thoughts on… the recent entanglements,” George says, his tone measured, almost diplomatic, though his eyes betray a flicker of nerves.
“Entanglements?,” Alex laughs, his hands caressing his thighs mindlessly. “To be honest, I-I’m surprised.”
“I'm surprised and I'm figuring out if you're doing it as a game between you and Max like you've done or what's happening,” Alex's smile drops a bit, “I know. It feels right to touch or to kiss you, but sometimes at night I-I don't know what's going on.”
“Me neither,” George says, his voice low but steady. He covers Alex’s hands with his own. “But I can assure you, I’m not playing with anyone, I'm not using anyone.”
He swallows, then lets it out in a rush:
“I love you, and I agree, it feels more than okay to touch you or kiss you,” He looks at Alex properly now.
“You…and Max. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” George says.
Alex smiles at him, sweet and warm.
“Max,” Alex repeats, “I feel a bit embarrassed of saying this,” his face turning red, “I like whatever works him up about this, I like the way he is genuinely enjoying it. I can't say no to him, but I don't want to say it either,” Alex finally stops to breathe. “Besides, he's hot when he jerks off.”
George laughs, nodding. “He's fucking hot.”
They stay in silence, Alex stares at the ceiling, his back against the sofa, George still sitting on his lap as.
“So do you like it?” Alex breaks the ice as his hands caress George's inner thighs. “Me touching you.”
George can't stop his body from swaying in his lap. He nods, eyes closed, he needs to focus.
“Here?” He applies a bit of pressure with his thumb into George's inner thighs. He rocks his body again seeking for friction which Alex takes as a win.
“Everywhere,” George breathes, the words slipping out in a desperate whine. His body’s no longer his own: back arched, mouth parted, eyes shut tight with pleasure.
The bell rings.
“Room service!,” the employee announces from behind the door.
With a pout George gets off Alex's lap and waits on the sofa until the guy comes with all the food and champagne.
Max V.
everything ok??
Russell
Everything's greaaat, come to room 450 whenever you finish.
Max V.
thx should I knock?
George looks up from his phone, mind already a bit foggy.
Alex is eating, legs casually spread, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. His hoodie’s been tossed aside, leaving him in an Adidas running shirt that clings to his body in all the right places.
Russell
Max…
Don't knock, we'll leave the door unlocked.
Max V.
ill be there in 15 mins
“Max will be here in 15 minutes,” he announces. Alex nods and gives a thumbs up as he sucks on a noodle.
“So I wanted to make it clear again, I'm not using you to make him jealous or anything I've done in the past,” George now feels like an asshole.
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself.
“Alex,” George says, quietly at first, softer than he means to. Then, with a small, nervous laugh, he takes a bite of noodles.
“You’re kind in a way most people aren’t,” he adds, eyes flicking up to meet Alex’s. “You’re hot, obviously, and you’re an incredible kisser,” another bite, muffled voice, “and I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you. Not exactly subtle, was it?”
Alex giggles, dropping his fork into the now-empty plate.
“James used to ask me what was going on between us,” he says, smiling with a small shrug. “I had a massive crush on you too.”
He shifts a little closer, eyes gentler now. “Apparently, I wasn’t exactly subtle either.”
George laughs, quieter this time, softer around the edges.
"The truth is... I don’t think I even realised this," he gestures between them, "was something I wanted. Not until now," Alex continues, his voice careful but honest.
George pushes his plate away, and finally leans in close enough so their noses almost touch.
“Indeed,” George says, “I really want this.”
Their mouths meet, slow at first, searching. George tilts his head, and one hand finds its way to the back of Alex’s head, fingers slipping gently into his hair to better control the kiss. It feels like a power game, and George is winning. His tongue slips into Alex’s mouth, and Alex feels like he’s floating, his body lighter from how good it feels.
George climbs into Alex’s lap, but Alex just chuckles and pushes him back onto the sofa, taking control without hesitation.
"Can I?" he asks, almost innocently, but his pink lips, his messy hair, the way he’s looking at him... it’s enough to make George’s cock twitch in interest.
And really, George can’t bring himself to say no. He nods, and as Alex sits on his lap, George’s hands move instinctively. First to his thighs, then sliding up to cup his ass.
"Firm," George jokes, a relaxed smile on his face.
Alex rolls his eyes and leans down to press his lips against his again. He cups George’s face and smiles as their eyes meet. Alex looks like he’s about to say something, but instead he just shrugs and leans in, closing the gap between them. Their mouths meet again, tongues tangling in a kiss that’s messy, warm, and far too easy to fall into.
Max doesn’t knock.
He opens the door quietly, almost sneaking in as he walks into the living room of the suite.
Alex is kissing George deeply, tilting his face for a good angle as his boyfriend's hips grind down in a steady rhythm. Their expensive t-shirts are on the floor, and Max has to step carefully to avoid stepping on George’s.
He moves closer, like a ghost. He hesitates. Should I say something or get closer? Luckily, George opens his eyes just as Alex bites into his neck.
He looks at Max with eyes full of pleasure and happiness.
"M-Max," George says, his voice deep and shaky as Alex visibly licks the fresh hickey. He smiles at his boyfriend as Alex turns his face from George’s neck.
"Hello," Alex says, then turns back to bite into George’s earlobe.
Max kneels at the edge of the bed and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to George’s lips slow, grounding. As he starts to pull away, George grips his arm.
"M-Max," he stammers, while Alex continues kissing the length of his neck like his life depends on it. "C-come here," he pleads.
Max obeys, leaning closer again. That’s when George places a hand behind his head and guides his mouth to his clavicle.
Sinful noises escape George’s mouth as Alex keeps going, biting and licking.
Max attempts to kiss George’s neck, but George pushes their heads together. "Can you, please?" George asks, his voice soft, almost innocent.
"What? Kiss?" Max replies, one eyebrow raised, already glancing toward Alex.
Alex parts his lips, eyes heavy-lidded and dazed. He doesn’t pull back. He just blinks, unsure, hesitant, but not unwilling.
"Please," George says, an innocent pout on his face.
Alex turns to Max. Those blue eyes, usually sharp, are darker now, glassy with heat. Max is already in his space, close enough for Alex to smell him, warm cologne and something more, something undeniably him.
It makes Alex’s head swim.
"What do you think?" Max asks, closer than they’ve ever been.
"Maybe I like it?" Alex replies, trying to sound casual, pushing away the memory of shared teammate moments.
"Oh, sure you will," Max says. He can already feel their breath mixing, so Alex leans in, closing the distance.
He drops a quick, soft kiss, but when he pulls away, Max brings him back with a hand behind his neck. The second kiss is slower, more relaxed, and eventually turns heated.
Tongue, teeth, and saliva.
"Fuck," George mutters, and Alex feels him twitch beneath him, humping the air for friction.
Max bites his lower lip, hard enough that Alex feels a sharp sting, the good kind, the kind that makes his toes curl.
"Woah," Max says, lips wet, hair wild. "You good, Albon?"
Alex smiles because yes, it was good. But as he turns, George’s mouth is already on his again, kissing him breathless, desperate.
"You can keep kissing," Max says, already heading to the minibar. "I’ll pour champagne. You want some?"
Like George isn’t currently stealing the air from Alex’s lungs. Like Alex isn’t grinding on him like he’s starving for it.
"Yes, please," George says, only pulling away long enough to respond.
When Max returns, three cups in hand, he’s surprised to see George spill a bit on his bare chest.
"Sorry," George says with a smile.
Max leans down and licks the champagne from George’s belly to his neck, kissing him as he goes.
George does it again, spilling more deliberately this time. Max knows he wants Alex to do the same. He stares at him, encouraging.
George opens his mouth and lets out a noise so sinful it makes Max’s cock twitch in interest.
Alex doesn’t need more than a look.
He leans in and kisses George’s stomach, licking the champagne that’s dripped down his skin. His mouth travels up, slow and warm, until he’s kissing across George’s chest. George gasps, fingers curling in Alex’s hair, his other hand reaching blindly for Max.
“Jesus,” he mumbles, “you’re both insane.”
Max laughs and sits beside him, brushing their legs together. He passes Alex his glass, then leans in to kiss George again, soft at first, then deeper, more focused. George moans into it as Alex starts to kiss his neck again, biting gently.
Everything’s tangled: arms, mouths, hips. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
George feels drunk on it. On them.
Alex lifts his head. His lips are shiny, his cheeks pink. "I have condoms."