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George rolled his eyes as he watched Daniel give the room an apologetic smile before pushing a very drunk, very argumentative Max up by the shoulders, ushering him out towards the doors of the (now) much quieter winery.
Jesus. The two of them could clear out an entire city with that red dirt and thunderstorm scent profile. George wasn’t a bigot or anything, but sometimes those two reminded him why alpha and alpha relationships were still taboo. Ugh. The smell was so strong it was making his eyes water.
It was getting late and most of the drivers and their partners were leaving. Lewis had picked up the bill, long since leaving his coworkers and their friends to finish up their drinks and head home. It had been a nice night, the winery was beautiful, and other than the overwhelming and frankly gross concoction of alpha pheromones, George had had fun. He liked these little preseason dinners. They gave him a chance to spend some time catching up with Alex and Lily, some time chatting with Lando, some time laughing with Pierre. All people he didn’t have time to see much of around the paddock these days, which was… yeah. Nice.
It’s just sort of always lonely, being the only unmated omega in a room of roughly 20 alphas, 5 betas and Charles, but George was pretty used to it by now. He had learned pretty quickly how to stay unaffected, control some of the more innate reactions his body wanted to have to situations like these, such as panic or a heat response. He was a professional athlete, he was more than capable of monitoring himself and his body, and was contented to just let it all wash over him so he could be here. Be included. Sit at his rightful place at this table without feeling less than. It was just particularly hard on nights like tonight, where there were several alpha and alpha relationships in one room plus alcohol and lowered inhibitions. The smell alone was making him feel sick.
Thankfully, Max and Daniel just had just gone, Nico and Gabi had left about 10 minutes ago, Isack and Liam had slipped out at some point and Lily and Alex were making moves towards the door now too. That cut the alpha population almost in half.
“Going home, or?”
George looked to his right, and was met with a very stoic looking Oscar Piastri, seated a few chairs down, one leg crossed over the other. George had actually forgotten he was here, he was so quiet all night and his blockers had masked his scent from the overwhelmingly pungent room.
“Ah, yeah. Just gotta wait for my stomach to settle a bit.”
Oscar nodded knowingly at the table. “That bad, huh?”
George huffed a laugh and took a sip from his still half full wine glass. “Yup.”
There were still a few stragglers around besides them. Fernando and Lance were chatting at the other end of the table, Valtteri was showing Checo something on his phone a few seats away, Carlos and Charles were talking on the balcony, but other than that the table had emptied considerably.
George couldn’t help but wonder what Oscar was still doing here. He wasn’t a chatty or social guy, really. George would have thought he’d have left the second it was socially acceptable. Now he thought about it, this was actually something of a rare opportunity. He’d always had a few questions on his mind about Oscar that it was difficult to find a good time to ask, such as why he was the only alpha in the paddock who seemed to regularly wear blockers. Since the guy was still here for some reason, and probably looser lipped than normal from the drinks, he might as well give it shot.
“If you uh, don’t mind me asking,” George put down his glass and turned to look Oscar over. “what’s with the…?” He gestured lightly at the space behind his ear where he would wear blockers if he needed them.
Oscar’s expression remained unchanged, but his eyebrows drew together ever so slightly.
“Just getting used to it again after the break.”
George nodded. “Right. Because you wear them all season, yeah?”
Oscar smiled a half smile and parroted George's one-word answer from before.
“Yup.”
Okay, so it clearly wasn’t something he was doing because he wanted to then. No one would choose that, not all year long. Interesting. George frowned to himself.
“It’s okay.” Oscar said. “You can ask me why.”
So he was a mind reader too then, apparently.
“Alright. Why?”
“Contract thing. With Lando as a teammate… it’s just- yeah. Easier.”
That was even more interesting. Maybe George could have understood that if Lando was an omega, but he wasn’t. Oscar’s beta teammate liked to make it very clear that he wasn’t an omega, something that George had always found a bit offensive, in truth.
“So, what? Team can’t have you making their champion look weak, then? Sounds a bit like discrimination to me, for both parties.”
The wine was opening George’s mouth more than he would normally let it, but it was a fair point. Forcing an alpha to wear blockers for the image of his beta teammate would imply one; that the team thought betas were weak and two; that they thought alphas had better optics. Both harmful opinions, in their own ways.
Oscar shook his head slightly, unphased by George’s small dig at his team.
“It’s not that. It’s just part of the equal footing thing we do.”
Ahh, okay. So papaya rules then. Can’t have Oscar gaining any sight or hearing advantages during a rut. Jeez. George should probably stop thinking about Oscar during a rut, that’s usually considered impolite for a coworker. He forced himself to think about the least hot thing imaginable instead.
“Yikes. You know, I think Toto would rather shoot himself in the head than try and get Kimi to wear blockers for my sake.”
Oscar just hummed at him. “But Kimi’s mated, so. Less of a worry, probably.”
“Oh yeah, I always forget you’re not actually mated because I can’t smell you. And you don’t really act like the other unmated divers.”
Oops. Foot in mouth moment. It was pretty rude to imply that an alpha doesn’t display their expected characteristics, no matter how true that might be in this case. Oscar just raised his eyebrows in light offence.
“Thanks, George.”
“No I just mean- ah. Shit. Sorry. Too much overpriced wine, I think.”
There was a moment of pause before Oscar smiled again, George’s social transgression seemingly forgiven.
“S’okay. I know I’m not, uh. Standard. It is what it is.”
“I hear you there.”
George could relate. He was too tall, too broad, too masculine smelling for an omega, if you’re inclined to go by traditional stereotypes. It wasn’t something that bothered him much, since his line of work was sport anyway, and in some ways he was actually grateful for it. Yeah, it probably meant he’d go unmated for well past his prime. And yeah, it did make him stick out like a sore thumb, but whatever. He was going to be world champion this year, so who cared about that?
He got up from his chair, picked up his drink and moved down the table so he could sit down next to Oscar, feeling confident and enjoying the thought that someone else was in his boat for once. When he’d settled again, he raised his glass in a toast, giving Oscar a joking smile.
“Cheers to us, hey? Freaks of the paddock.”
Oscar didn’t look surprised by the sudden closeness or the bluntness of the words, he just raised his own glass back at George and laughed gently.
“Yeah, alright. I’ll cheers to that.”
As they drank, George looked at him. All things considered, he was a good-looking guy. Young, rich, handsome. It was unusual that he wasn’t mated yet, even despite his peculiarities. Surely he should be out somewhere, like the afterparty Lando was headed to, or off on a date, not sitting here with George commiserating.
“So then. Why are you still here? The night is young, mate. Plenty of parties around, if company’s what you’re after.”
He watched as Oscar leant back and sighed a relaxed, tired sigh before he answered the question.
“Just wanted to say hi, really. We’ve never really spoken before. Been three years, figured it was about time.”
George felt himself flush slightly, or maybe that was just the wine. Oscar had seriously stayed here just to talk to him?
“Oh.” He pursed his lips, tipped his head to the side a little bit, looking at Oscar properly in the eyes. Pretty brown eyes. Huh.
“Well… hi.”
“Hi.”
The pretty brown eyes smiled at him.
Hm. This felt like flirting. Was George reading that wrong? He was usually pretty good on picking up on that stuff, you have to be when your job involves talking to so many people. He resolved to find out. What’s the harm in a little flirting between coworkers? This was a celebration, after all.
“So, three years and what? Couldn’t work up the courage to come say hello?”
Oscar gave him a short, incredulous laugh.
“Yeah, sorry. I was a little preoccupied with overtaking you on track every weekend.”
“Well if you would just stop qualifying behind me in a rocket ship, we wouldn’t have that problem.” George teased, faking bravado.
“Ahh. He insults my status as an alpha and my driving. Dream guy, you are.”
Okay. So, absolutely flirting then. Interesting. This had the potential to be very, very interesting. It also had the potential to be very, very horrible and go terribly. Luckily George always considered himself something a thrill seeker. He might as well play this out, see where it goes. Oscar was good looking and sharp minded, two things George always appreciated in a potential hook up.
“George, I’m going to leave. Are you okay here?”
Charles tapped him on the shoulder, eyes darting to Oscar briefly. He had that look on his face, the universal sign of ‘do you feel safe’ between omegas when they were about to leave their friends alone in a room with a bunch of alphas.
“Yeah, Charles. Thanks mate, we’re good. See you in Bahrain.” He squeezed Charles’s hand on his shoulder in thanks, and Charles nodded before turning to make his way out of the room with Carlos in tow.
“Speaking of,” he turned back to Oscar. “Lando said you guys are launching in Bahrain this year. Should be fun, yeah? The BSC will probably put on a quite show for their reining champs, I’d say.”
Oscar blew a breath out and crossed his arms. “I fucking hope not. Never really know what to do with my hands when they bring out the LN1 sparklers and start singing.”
George laughed, maybe a little louder than he normally would have.
“You’re the just exact opposite of him, aren’t you? That can’t make things easy.”
Oscar shrugged at him. “S’not so bad. He’s a good guy. Talks a lot, which means I don’t have to. At least we’re the same weight and height. What’s Kimi got on you? Like seven kilos?”
“Oi! Four, thank you very much.”
“Still, he is lighter than you. So theatrically he should be outperforming you.”
“He’s a rookie.”
“Not anymore. But yeah, let’s be honest, you’re lightening. What’s the kid supposed to do?”
George almost giggled hearing that. Sharp minded and apparently, quite the smooth talker. Oscar was maybe more his type than he’d realised.
“Did you seriously just compliment my driving?”
Oscar all but winked at him, his half smile making a welcome return.
“Dream guy, me.”
Okay, fuck it. Why not? Free knot is free knot. George hadn’t been laid in a while, and as far as safe options go, Oscar was a good choice. He wasn’t likely to go around telling people, and he didn’t seem like the type to brag to the other alphas that he’d managed to get the paddocks only unmated omega into bed with him. He was nice. Smart. All dry humour and charm. Fuck it.
George leant into Oscar’s shoulder a little, brushing his arm and letting the wine talk for him.
“Since you’re clearly not busy tonight, how would you feel about wasting a bit of time at mine?”
Oscar adopted a very convincing look of concerned thoughtfulness.
“I dunno George. Sounds dangerous, two freaks left alone for the night. Whatever will we get up to?”
Perfect. George leant back again and grinned.
“I have a few ideas.”
-
The unfortunate thing was, while free knot is free knot, Oscar was really, surprisingly fucking good at this. Jesus. If he didn’t stop soon George wasn’t even going to make it to the bedroom, let alone have enough time to a get a dick inside him.
“Wait- I- mm-"
George’s thought got cut off when Oscar’s thumb swiped over his tip in a ridiculous, insane way that made his hips stutter and his breath catch.
“Fuck, that’s…”
They were still pressed against the door to George’s apartment. The ride over had only taken a few minutes, Monaco is small, and they’d spend it verbally sparing until the keycard buzzed them into George’s living room. Before it could even click closed behind them, he quickly found himself pushed against the wall with Oscar’s lips on his neck and his hands on his waist.
It had been a while since George had done this with anyone, but still. It was pretty insane how quickly this was working him up. He’d slept with his fair share of sent blocked alphas, even a few betas, but this felt… well. It was pretty obvious how it felt. George’s jeans were soaked. Embarrassingly soaked.
“Yeah?” Oscar asked him, biting a kiss to his shoulder and twisting his hand again that that stupid way. George had to stifle one most embarrassing moans of his life.
“You sound good like this...” Oscar managed between nips to his throat. “Can I suck you off?”
Christ. Was it possible to blush with your dick? Probably. George just did.
“Not unless you want me to come before I’ve even had a chance to touch y-fuck, Oscar.”
Oscar smiled into his shoulder, clearly enjoying inflicting this torcher. “Maybe I do. Be good for blackmail, I reckon.”
George rolled his eyes gently and pushed back against Oscar’s shoulders.
“Come on. Bedroom’s through the hall.”
He pushed himself off the door, grabbing Oscar by the hand. The smaller man groaned when the movement forced him to let go of George and move back, but he allowed himself to be lead anyway.
George dragged himself and the playfully reluctant alpha through his apartment, pausing at the door to his bedroom to bend down and press a small kiss to the side of Oscar’s mouth, wrapping his hands in the back of his hair.
“You clean?”
“Why?” Oscar asked him, grabbing his ass firmly and making George gasp against his mouth. “You trying for puppies tonight, Mr. Russell?”
“Fuck off, I’m on control.” George bit his bottom lip in retaliation.
Apart from Oscar being extremely skilled with his hands, something else about this whole interaction was really doing it for George. He felt weirdly respected, matched. The lightness of it was… fun. Oscar clearly thought he was attractive, otherwise there wouldn’t be a surprisingly large outline of an erection pressed to his thigh right now, but beyond that this was the first time he’d been with an alpha who hadn’t tried to just completely take over in bed.
This felt like a push and pull, not the standard attempts at domination George had gotten so used to. He hated it when alpha’s did that, mostly because it felt silly. He was almost always bigger than his partners, almost always stronger too. Trying to ignore that, pretend that George was some pretty little perfect omega like Charles, was just awkward. They’d always just end up frustrated that they couldn’t truly be in control, and George would end up feeling kind of shameful about it.
“Yeah, I’m clean.” Oscar slid a hand up George’s shirt, tugging at the fabric until George got the message and pulled it over his head. “I can knot you, if you want me to.”
George tugged at the button of Oscar’s jeans in return. “Not with your pants on you can’t.”
Oscar looked up at him while George undid the button and the zip, something so calm and confidant in his expression. It was almost weird, how little Oscar seemed to care about leaning into their height difference, and as George reached a hand below the elastic of Oscar’s underwear, he got the feeling he knew why that might be. Holy shit, the guy was actually massive.
“Jesus.” George bit his own lip, running a hand along Oscar’s length, hearing him groan in the back of his throat. “How do you get that in your suit?”
Oscar laughed at him, breathless, and shook himself free of the remaining clothing on his legs. Pulled his shirt off. George’s mouth actually watered at the sight of the newly exposed skin. His chest was all lean muscle and visible ribs, raw strength that still managed to come off delicate, and his dick… the damn thing was beautiful. About as long as George’s hand but slender, pretty.
“Same way I-” George gave him an experimental tug, feeling Oscar twitch in his palm. “Same way I get past you on track. Carefully.”
“You calling me dangerous?” George mouthed at the spot just behind his ear, tasting the salt of sex on his skin and the faintly cleaning product flavoured tang of the blockers.
“I’ll call you anything you want, as long as you let me-"
George cut off the undoubtably vulgar sentence by replicating Oscar’s hand twist maneuver from earlier. It worked. Oscar dropped his head to George’s chest and moaned a pretty curse against his collarbone. He looked back up again once he’d recovered. His eyes teasing as spoke, placing a hand over George’s where he was still getting him off, stilling the movement.
“Will you please just lay on the bed and let me fuck you?”
Christ.
“Yes, alpha." George mocked, but secretly he wondered if it would get him a reaction. It did, just not the one he might have expected.
“Hmm,” Oscar pushed against his chest playfully, forcing George back until his shins hit the side of the bed and he was forced to fall backwards onto it. He used his elbows to keep himself propped up while he watched Oscar climb down onto the bed between his thighs. “tease all you want, but you’re still soaking wet.”
He pressed a hand to the damp denim still clinging to George’s thighs, lifting it to show him how wet his hand was after only one touch. The slick made his fingers shine in the dim lighting, and George turned his head to avoid seeing the smug look on Oscar’s face.
That was a mistake, because he missed it when Oscar’s tongue darted out so he could lick his own hand clean. George only realised he’d done that when he heard the unmistakably deep vibrations of an aroused alpha growl.
“Fuck. George…”
Hot as that was, he wished they could stop talking now. He undid his pants himself and pushed the wet fabric down. Tried to ignore how it dripped embarrassingly onto his sheets before he discarding it over the side of the bed.
“Yeah yeah, I know. It’s been a while. Hurry up. Please.”
He spread his legs again as quickly as he could, shifting down and closer, trying to make his urgency obvious.
Oscar lent down and immediately licked a strip along the inside of his thigh. He moved so quick that George didn’t even think Oscar had heard his request. He’d just done it because he wanted to.
“You taste insane, man.” He said quietly, and George watched the pretty brown eyes turn black as his pupils blew to the size of saucers.
“I- really?”
No one had ever complimented George on his taste before. He wasn’t sure why, he’d never tried to taste his own slick (gross), so he’d just assumed it was nothing to write home about.
Oscar gripped both his thighs and forced them apart. He bent his head, then slid his tongue all the way from the back of George’s thigh, slowly around his hole, up across his perineum, into the crease of his abdomen and then back along the entire length of his dick, wetting his mouth obscenely. George couldn’t stop it that time, he actually whimpered. Loudly.
“Yes. Has no one ever told you that?”
And exactly how was he supposed to react to that? George felt himself leak another heavy gush of slick into the mattress. That caught Oscar’s attention, and he reached down to press two fingers against George’s entrance with something close to awe on his face.
This was all- just- it was starting to become a lot. George needed something inside him now, before the heat of this interaction tripped him into proper omega mode and he started acting pathetic for it. He rolled his hips down on Oscar’s fingers to show him what he wanted.
Oscar took the cue and immediately pushed his fingers inside. The effect was instant, George threw his head back and arched his spine, moaning louder than he would have liked as the sound got mixed together with the soft obscene squelches that his body was making. If he’d thought Oscar was skilled with his hands before, god. This was something else entirely.
“Sound so pretty.” Oscar muttered to himself as he fingered George open with the kind of perfect precision he’d only ever read about in smut books. There wasn’t much of him to open, if he was being honest. He felt loose. Every single molecule of every single nerve ending in his body was screaming to be filled. He couldn’t even really remember the last time he’d felt like this. Maybe that one time him and his friend had shared a rut/heat cycle? But that had been planned. He’d been expecting it. He hadn’t been expecting to be almost brought to tears tonight just by some particularly dexterous fingers that belonged to an alpha he couldn’t even smell.
“Oscar…”
Oscar pressed a kiss to his tip in response, making his hips jolt.
“Yeah, okay. I got you.”
Oscar was demonstrating a ridiculous amount of restraint. Even with the blockers, George’s arousal pheromones were so thick right now they could send a beta into rut. he could feel it in the way Oscar pulled his fingers out and used his hands to push George’s thighs up instead. The grip was bruising, he was holding back so hard it was making him shake.
“You- can-"
He wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to say. There was already the press of a tip at his entrance, he wasn’t being made to wait, he wasn’t being forced to beg. But a hand came up to his jaw, lifting his chin and holding it until they were able to make steady eye contact again. So Oscar could read his mind again, apparently.
“You don’t want me to be gentle?”
No, he didn’t. He was strong, he could take just about anything. He wanted Oscar to fuck him so hard he saw stars. Wanted to feel it in his chest, in his brain, wanted to come on a knot that was too big and show Oscar that it didn’t matter and he could take it anyway.
He gave a small nod in response, and that seemed to work enough as permission.
Oscar didn’t break their eye contact when he pushed in. Hard. Quickly. One huge push forward that saw him bottoming out in less than a second.
Yeah, okay. Hook ups aren’t supposed to feel like this. George choked on the pleasure as it hit his system, so vibrant he could almost see it. His hands flew into Oscar’s hair as he gasped, pulling the strands tight as his body jumped with the jolt. It filled him so completely, just on the edge of what might be considered painful, but Oscar had listened to the request he hadn't finished making. He wasn’t gentle about the way he pulled back and slammed back in, he wasn’t gentle when he put George’s leg over his shoulder so he could push in deeper, and he absolutely wasn’t gentle when he bent down and bit into George’s neck, skillfully avoiding his scent glands, talking soft next to his ear.
“Shit- you feel as good as you smell.”
And what a crazy thing to hear. George knew it wasn’t true, he was all vetiver and leather-bound books and wool, he didn’t smell good. There was no sugar to him, he lacked a single hint of that classic omega sweetness. But when Oscar said it like that, like it was just a fact, wrapped in pleasure and more to himself than to George, he could almost make himself believe it.
The intimacy of this was getting to him. George started to feel the pull of his omega begging him for something, making him want to present his neck, ask Oscar to take off his blockers so he could smell his arousal, but no. Absolutely not. This was supposed to be a causal hook up between coworkers. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to make eye contact with Oscar ever again if he let himself be reduced to a whiny mess over nothing but a few nice words.
He used his superior height to trap Oscar between his legs and flip them, then braced for a reprimand. Alphas don’t usually enjoy being forcefully overpowered, and he’d expected Oscar to put up a fight. Surprisingly though, he didn’t growl. When his head hit the sheets, Oscar just moaned behind a clothed mouth and put his hands on George’s hips, pushing them, encouraging him to move again. He looked pinned, but he didn’t look even slightly worried or annoyed about it. His eyes were fixed to George’s erection, watching the way it bobbed against his stomach, the way he was riding. All with this expression of hungry concentration in his eyes.
He seemed to notice that George was watching his face after a moment, because he looked up, expression unchanged, and wrapped a hand around George’s dick to stroke him in time with the push of his hips.
Oh, fuck. George hung his head. That felt amazing. Usually by this point, his partner had forgotten there were two points of pleasure on his body, and focused solely on just fucking him. Then they’d act surprised when George would touch himself, get himself off, like it was an insult to their abilities. But Oscar wasn’t even looking at what his hand was doing, like it was the obvious thing to do, like it was nothing, which it absolutely was not. Fuck, those hands. Stupidly talented. George had to rest his palms on Oscar’s chest so he didn’t collapse at the feeling or come prematurely.
“Hey George?” Oscar asked from under him.
How did he sound so calm? George’s world was falling apart and Oscar sounded calm.
“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for four years. So don’t come too quick, yeah?”
What the hell?
First of all, he was the one making George need to come so badly so quickly in the first place. Secondly, how did he even know that’s what was happening? George had thought he was doing a pretty good job of not sounding too pathetic. And thirdly, four years?! Four years. The implications of that… Oscar had only been in F1 for three years. What the hell.
“Yeah? How’d-" George tried to form a teasing tone as fucked himself on Oscar and felt his dick jump in the alpha's hands. “How’d Alpine feel about you wanted to fuck their competition.”
Oscar laughed. Like actually, genuinely. While fully buried inside him. Like a psychopath.
He moved both his hands back to George’s hips and pushed him sideways, leveraging his legs to off-balance him and cause him to fall. The world spun for a moment as George’s back got pressed hard into the bed again, and by the time he realised what had happened, his eyes had refocused and Oscar was on top of him, looking down at him, lining himself back up and pushing in, one hand on George’s shoulder to keep him steady and the other between their bodies.
Hot. Oh god, stupid hot. He hadn’t even needed to be rough to make that happen, it was literally just physics.
“Please. They were never competition. Your only competition is me.”
Oof. George would have normally argued against that, but Oscar pushed forwards and into him while he spoke, angled himself inside George so perfectly that his head went a bit empty and no words would have come out even if he wanted them to.
Plus, there was something indescribably pleasing about how certain he’d been when he said that.
Fuck Max, fuck Lando, fuck Charles, fuck Fernando- it might as well have just been the two of them out there. That’s how it sounded, when he said it like that. George’s mind blanked. His body was leaking. He was so turned on he couldn’t think. Fuck. He was going to come.
“Os-car.”
Oscar snapped his hips forwards hard in response, watching as George scrambled to take him.
“You gonna come?”
George’s eyes were rolled so far back in his head that he couldn’t even look at Oscar while he nodded.
“Yeah, shit. Okay.”
“Alpha.” George pleaded before he could stop himself, and it absolutely was not a joke that time.
“S’okay. Hold on until I knot you, yeah?”
He wasn’t sure if that was going to be possible. Oscar was so big he swore he could feel it in his stomach, and he’d started absentmindedly rolling his hips up to meet each thrust, legs wrapping themselves around Oscar’s wait, wanting to get it impossibly deeper.
Kind hands came up to hold his face, gentle and completely at odds with how hard he was being pushed into. George’s omega screamed behind the jail of his head as he felt his walls begin to be stretched with the force of the knot forming inside him, Oscar panting hard and fast above him, fucking him like he owned him.
Knot me. Claim me. Let me smell what does to you.
George’s mind chanted at him, but the words only came out in a mishmash of jumbled nonsense. He registered how stupid it sounded, but couldn’t bring himself to care anymore, he was so close, so desperate to come, nails digging red lines into Oscar’s back as he tried to ground himself. One of his hands lifted, subconsciously tugging at the tab of Oscar’s blocker. He was trying so hard not to come that his body was just doing whatever it wanted despite him, defying his efforts.
“After.” Oscar said to him, pulling George’s hand away and pinning his wrist above his head. Answering his pleading like it made any sense at all. “I’ll take them off after. Wait.”
The command did something irreparable to George’s subconscious. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on any longer, Oscar needed to hurry up and finish now. His insides expanded again. It felt like his alpha was close. Wait- not his alpha. Fuck, what was happening to his brain?
“Aw, George. Cute.” He said that like he was petting a damn cat. He'd never been called cute before, and it should not have had the effect it did. Oscar’s thrusts were getting shallower as the knot began preventing him from pulling out properly. Every small movement pulled at George's insides, but it was what he said next that threw him over the edge.
“Can you say; please Oscar, knot me?”
The request came out not exactly condescending, but slightly teasing, and that was it. Game over.
George’s entire sense of self got thrown out the window. He came so hard he felt it crawl into his fingers, making his toes curl up in the sheets, trying not to scream as his vision blurred and the room was soaked in vetiver. Every muscle he had constricted at once, and Oscar must have felt it because he swore loud, growled deep, pinned George’s hips down so he could lean back and watch him spill come onto his own stomach.
Oscar stopped thrusting into him, and an uncertain amount of time later, George felt Oscar come inside him. He felt the wet in against his walls, he felt the knot expand and lock it in, felt the body on top of him collapse until they were chest to chest. It was hard to concentrate on that though, when his own orgasm was still, somehow, happening to him. He was still leaking onto himself and sheets, still digging his nails into Oscar’s back, still moaning, shockwaves of pleasuring ricocheting through his nerves, tingling at his sent glands.
Trying to shake the last of it out himself, he rutted his hips back and forth until he could feel the pull of the knot and show his omega it had gotten what it wanted. His erection gave a final twitch and release before finally, mercifully beginning to soften.
His head felt like cotton wool. Oscar’s hair was soft where it pressed against his jaw. He stopped digging his nails in, and tried to get a handle back on his breathing.
It took a good few minutes, but eventually, he managed it.
“That was…”
The best sex of his life? Inexplicably the most turned on he’d ever been? Not nearly long enough? George wasn’t sure.
Oscar just hummed his agreement next to his ear, and when George turned his head, going to bury his nose on Oscar’s scent, he remembered. There was nothing there for him.
He tried to control the feeling of rejection that brought up in him. He knew it was illogical, it was just his biological response to the missing satisfaction pheromones. Chemical. But still, a small whine vibrated in his chest. Oscar must have heard it, because he pushed himself up.
“You okay?” His voice was still raspy with pleasure.
“Yeah.”
No way he was going to admit what he wanted. Not with Oscar still stuck inside him. If he didn’t want to take off the blockers, that would make this very awkward.
“Oh. Sorry. Here.”
Oscar pulled at the little purple tabs under his earlobes, slowly working them loose.
Fucking mind reader.
He tucked himself back between George’s neck and shoulder once he’d taken them both off, but the scent hit George like a freight train well before that.
Salt water. Fruit. Cacao beans, summer air. Fuck. George’s eyes fluttered closed.
He was so sweet, but it was so earthy. George had never smelt something so light and so dominant at the same time. The arousal and the satisfaction was so strong it was like he was standing on a beach somewhere. Was this what Oscar’s home smelt like? He’d been to Melbourne many times before, mostly it just smelt like rain and city smog. Where had he gotten this profile? So strikingly gentle and masculine at the same time, so unusually sweet for an alpha, so intoxicatingly relaxing.
Every bone in Georges body went loose. He sighed and inhaled deep. Let himself bask in the warmth of summer. He was going to shoot Andrea Stella next time they saw one another, for the crime of keeping this smell from him. The paddock was stuffed full of overbearingly masculine scents, but this… George thought it could have made that all bearable. It would have cut through even Max’s petrichor and thunderstorm. Even Fernando’s whisky and lime. Beautiful. So so strikingly beautiful.
George heard himself purr.
Shit. His eyes flew open and his face went bright right.
Shit shit. Hopefully Oscar didn’t catch that. Purring is decidedly not casual. What if he realised how affected George was feeling? What if it freaked Oscar out and they never spoke again? What he never lets you have this again, George’s unhelpful brain supplied him.
“I can smell you panicking." He heard, muffled from his neck. "Relax. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”
Without his blockers on, George forgot that Oscar didn’t need to hear to be able to grasp his emotions. Whoops.
“Uh. Yeah. Okay.”
He tried his best to relax again. Oscar shifted his head sideways until he could speak, unmuffled by George’s shoulder or the bed.
“So you don’t hate it, then?”
Hate it? What? It was close to making George hard again. What was wrong with this guy?
“No, fuck. I really don’t.”
“Okay. Good.” He sounded genuinely relieved. “I'm sorry I didn’t take them off earlier, it’s just… a lot of omegas don’t like it. Too sweet. I didn’t want to turn you off.”
George pushed his shoulder lightly, then grimaced when the movement caused the knot to jolt inside him.
“Well, I'm not a lot of omegas. Next time, just take them off.”
Oscar lifted his head, surprise on his face.
“Next time?”
“Yeah.” George tried very hard to sound blasé when he responded. “Next time. If that’s…”
Something you want. If you still want me. Please still want me.
Oscar just shook his head, an incredulous smile starting to form on his lips.
“Four years, George. Four. Whole. Years. Remember?”
George relaxed fully hearing that, and ran a hand through Oscar's hair.
“Ha. Okay.”
-
“What?!”
Lando was finally listening. He’d been half paying attention to George over the phone and half using his attention to game, but it seemed like that did the trick.
“What do you mean you went home with him?! In what conceivable universe is Oscar Piastri taking you home?”
“Ouch, Lando. Thanks mate. And technically, I took him home.”
He left out the fact that he’d continued to take Oscar home, almost every night since the winery, for a full week now.
“No I don’t mean he’s out of your league, he’s not, but man. I’ve never even seen him look at an omega sideways before. Was starting to think he wasn’t into your lot, to be honest.”
“Yeah, well. That’s why I’m telling you about it. I wondered if you’d ever seen him, like- with someone. Ever.”
“You mean you want to know if he’s only into you because you don’t look like an omega? You think he’s alpha4alpha?”
“No! Ouch again, dude. But also... yeah… a bit.”
And then there was the other reason he wanted to know what Lando thought of Oscar’s dating life. After a full week of falling asleep with the guy inside him, George was starting to think this might actually be something. It felt like something. But Oscar was hard to read, and he hadn’t said anything yet that implied he wanted more out of their something than just sex, so George had called Lando, trying to bring in a second opinion. Maybe learn a secret that would help him figure out what was happening. If Oscar was just... like this, with everyone - sweet and caring and funny and flattering - then he should probably stop getting his hopes up.
“I honestly would have no fucking clue. Guy's a closed book then it comes to that stuff… although…”
There was the sound of fake gun shots, followed by Lando swearing.
“Spit it out, mate. Please.”
“I dunno. I guess like, maybe I’ve seen him smile more around you. I thought it was just that he thought you were funny, you both have a weird as hell sense of humour, but now I think about it…”
There was a brief moment of silence, then George heard Lando pause his game and groan as he stretched.
“Yeah, actually. He smiles around you more than anyone else. And he looks at you all the time. He watches your onboards more than anyone else’s as well, including mine.”
George pinched his nose.
“How are you only just telling me this now?”
“Hey! I don’t make a habit of trying to understand the cryptic shit he does. I’ve got a life.”
Exasperated, George sighed. Of course Lando hadn’t thought to mention that. God bless him, he had the social awareness of a puppy.
“…Are you asking because you like him?”
“Oh my god Lando, we’re not five. I don’t like him.”
“So you love him?”
“What? No!”
“Kay. Then I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“Just-" George took a breath in. “Never mind. I’m hanging up now.”
“Cool. You should just ask him though. He’s a pretty straight forward guy. Just ask him if he wants to hold hands on the playground with you.”
“Goodbye Lando.”
“Write him one of those ‘yes or no’ notes, that’d be cute."
“Bye Lando!”
“Hey, tell me what he smells like. I’ve never-"
George hung up.
Annoying as it was to admit, Lando was probably right. Maybe he should just ask. Then, who knows… maybe they could have what everyone else had. Maybe he wouldn’t have to feel so lonely at events and dinners anymore, maybe they wouldn’t both have to go unmated for their whole careers just because of some dumb stereotypes.
They could be happy, maybe. Normal. Or, better yet, they could be freaks together.