Chapter Text
The first time it happened, Alex could barely process what was happening.
It was heady, it was rushed, it was George’s hands all over him. Making him feel good, making him feel alive. And god, Alex was so full of it, so busy drinking up the feeling of George, George, George- that he never truly stopped to think. Never thought about what he was doing, that it was wrong, that he was sick. It was good, it was great.
It was, until the guilt hit him like a freight train in his hotel room that night.
He was disgusting- he had hooked up with his best friend, with a man, with someone other than his girlfriend. Suddenly, the sticky sweat that clung to his skin made him feel like he was drowning. He was suffocating under the tan hotel walls, under the harsh LED lights, under his own guilt. He ended up losing his lunch and dinner, curled up on the tile bathroom floor, tears wetting his already damp shirt. The acidic taste of vomit hung in his mouth, the scent hung in the air, leaving Alex to rot in his own filth, in the shame of his actions.
No one could know about what he had done.
There were weeks until it happened again, for the second time. Weeks where Alex couldn’t look Lily in the eyes without forcing himself, couldn’t look George in the eyes at all. He found ways to distract himself, choosing to bury himself in work instead of having to think anymore than he had.
But George would force him to think about it eventually. A particularly mediocre race for both of them had sent the Brit flocking to Alex’s inbox at 9 PM.
George 💙✨⭐️😎
Wyd?
Better drivers should be partying at this hour.
watching paint dry
It wasn’t a lie, Alex had been doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, staying away from most messages and socials so he didn’t have to see whatever partying Max was getting up to. But maybe he should have lied. Maybe he wasn’t sitting alone in his hotel room. George could have just been told about some fake party. Or nothing at all.
Nothing at all would have saved Alex from this mess.
George 💙✨⭐️😎
U should come to my room ;)
509
It was so obvious what he wanted. What he had in mind. How he wanted to spend the night, just him and Alex, drowning their sorrows in each other.
It was so obvious, and so avoidable.
And yet Alex found himself in the hotel elevator, staring at the pair of flip flops he had put on in his haste to get out of his room, to get into the halls, to get into George’s room, into his arms, into his bed- Alex wanted in, in, in.
“You came quick, mate.”
How did he want it so badly, and yet not at all?
It becomes a thing, between them.
If George has a shitty race, Alex comes over. Helps his friend forget, helps him feel good. Alex lets George us him to forget.
It’s sort of a status quo, until it isn’t.
Sometimes, George invites him over after the good races. It’s good then. It’s great. It’s as if the points, the cheers, the trophies and podiums aren’t enough for George. It doesn’t matter how Alex finished the race, George makes it good.
If George finishes good, Alex gets it good too.
The bruises on him after some races are a reminder of what he is, what he does. He’s George’s trophy, the one he gets after all the celebrations, away from all the crowds.
Is he George’s favorite trophy? He doesn’t know.
It’s always worse right after it was done.
If Alex doesn’t immediately flee, running from George and his actions, he ends up even more sucked in.
Sitting on George’s bed, the atmosphere seems even more suffocating. He sits in a room that reeks of sex and sweat and George. And it’s awful. But he can’t run, because George is watching him and he’s watching George, and he can’t go.
Does he want to go?
He doesn’t know.
One part of him wants to run, to never come back, not talking to George about this again. He can’t forget what they did, but he could stop. Spare the pain, the risk, don’t break Lily’s heart anymore than he already did, than it would be if she found out.
But on the other hand…
”You were good, Alex. So good.”
Alex doesn’t reply, doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact the George makes him blush. All he does is stare at George’s back, watching him get redressed while Alex still sat nearly naked. It made him feel vulnerable, especially exposed as George turned to look at him.
”You know that, right?”
Alex doesn’t meet his eyes.
George thought he was good. So how could he feel so bad?
”I know.”
He didn’t want to talk to George at the paddock anymore. Interacting with George only made Alex think about what they did more. If he stayed away, he could go on with his day, not having to see, not having to face the man he spent too many nights with.
Alex stayed away from his best friend. It was for the greater good.
But still, he could never say no to George.
George 💙✨⭐️😎
You guys wanna get drinks later?
Mr Monacool
hell yeah!
Cloud city guy
Only if ur buying ;)
He had to- It would be weird if he said no. It would be so obvious what they did, if he said no.
Sure!
He was so fucked.
“C’mon, Alex! George is paying!”
He sighed, taking a sip of the mediocre champagne he had chosen to drink. It didn’t taste as good as he imagined podium champagne, and in a way, it kept him from drinking too much. Kept him from getting drunk, which kept him from slipping up.
He wished he could be like Lando and Charles, in times like these. So relaxed, so unbothered around George. Drinking with no concern, no worries that they’ll end up in the same place for the 100th time.
”Nope. I don’t wanna get stupid drunk like you two.”
Lando leaned across their table, giggling. “Awww, c’mon! Me and Charles are fineeeee!”
”Nope.”
Charles shrugged. “Your loss, Alex. Y’know George wouldn’t say no to you-“
He wished George would.
God, it was too much. Maybe a few drinks would be good. He wouldn’t have to think too much- wouldn’t have to think at all.
”Y’know what, what the hell. Alright, I’ll have a shot or two.
Lando and Charles cheered. George just grinned.
The night went well, most of it. Alcohol coursed through his veins, the taste of champagne lingered on his tongue, and the best of some club song thumped in his chest. It was a nice change of night, definitely better than what he could have done instead. It was a good night.
Good, except for what he could have done sitting right beside him.
Fuck George. Fuck him so much.
Fuck his smile, and his laugh, and his stupid boy-toy face. George was so effortlessly casual. Laughing at jokes, sipping a beer, smiling at Alex like they had done nothing.
Best friends drinking together- as if they didn’t have sex almost every week.
At some point, George had swung his arm around Alex, pulling him closer. Which, should be fine. A perfectly friendly thing to do. Even after drinking, most drivers still had enough sense to avoid things that would have them in a tabloid article the next morning.
But under George’s arms, Alex flushed in ways that weren’t just the alcohol. He felt so warm, and he liked it. He shouldn’t- George is a guy, and Alex was sure he was straight, not to mention he has a girlfriend. And yet George gave him butterflies in his stomach, made him blush like he was still a teen who had just talked to a cute girl. George leaned closer, head resting just by Alex’s ear.
George Russell and Alexander Albon, the paddock’s best bromance.
”Do you wanna come back to my room after this?”
Alex was done for the night as soon as George got his hands on him.
”Sounds like a great idea.”
”Does Lily know?”
Alex shoots up from where he was sprawled across George’s bed. He looked too casual, leaned against the headboard, barely looking up from his phone.
This was the only time he had ever brought up Lily.
No, Lily didn’t know. Alex never planned for her to know. Breaking it off with her was something Alex couldn’t manage- he would have to tell her why. And then what?
”Hey Lily, really sorry but I’ve been hooking up with George for months.” Yeah, no.
But he was in too deep to quit with George. One sudden stop would tell the Brit everything he needed to know- Alex hadn’t told, was a coward who couldn’t cope with the consequences of his own actions.
So, clearly it was a little stupid to up and tell George that no, Lily didn’t know. No, she would not allow this. So... George didn’t have to know. No one had to know.
”Yeah, she knows.”
Liar.
”And she’s chill about it?”
”Yeah, duh.”
Such a fucking liar.
”Hm. Cool.”
And George gave it no question. He gives Alex a dopey smile before going back to his phone, trusting Alex’s word.
Alex isn’t a good person, and he realized it long ago.
“You look hot when you cry, ‘Lex.”
Well, that wasn’t his intention.
Not his intention to look hot while crying- wasn’t his intention to cry at all.
It just happens, sometimes.
George doesn’t seem to mind. At least, he never questions it. Alex doesn’t quite know why he does it either. He guesses it’s some weird mix of emotions and regret. Maybe some dread.
Which is mildly embarrassing, at least in Alex’s eyes. Nothing could be more of a turn off than him bursting into tears while George is balls deep in him.
Well, apparently it wasn’t a turn off to George, who was staring him down hungrily as Alex tried to wipe the crusty residue of tears and other things off of his face with a discarded, unfortunate Williams team shirt.
”You think so?”
”Mm, yeah.”
Alex fiddled with the strings of his sweatpants. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.
”What… what made it hot?”
”You look good when you’re a mess.”
Well.
Alex wondered why. Maybe it was because Alex was always a mess. Or maybe George knew why Alex cried. Knew that Alex hated it and yet loved it too. Either option made Alex feel nauseous when he thought about them.
”… Would you like it more, if I cried more?”
George considered, something predatory flashing in his eyes, before he shook his head.
”I don’t want to make you cry…”
Oh George, you already do.
”But if you do start crying, I won’t… object.”
Alex nodded, more to no one than as an agreement. He could stop holding back the tears, if that was George wanted.
Did George want Alex normally, or did he just want the version of Alex that he had broken?
Did Alex even care?
He had given himself to George, he allowed George to have him. If George chose to break him, that was what he did, and only Alex was to blame for letting him.
He was to blame for all of this, huh?
”Oh- oh fuck Alex- fuck, I love you, shit-“
Alex feels his blood run cold. I love you?
He can’t do this.
Before he can think, he’s shoving at George, pushing him away. George jolts and pulls away, and he used the opportunity and scrambles up off the bed. He scans the floor panicked, trying to find his clothes. He needs to get out of here.
”Shit- Alex? What’s wrong- Alex?”
He doesn’t respond, only shaking his head rapidly as he struggled with his boxers. George goes to get off the bed, and Alex swears, grabbing his shorts and stumbling to the corner of the room, away from George.
”Alex, please, what’s wrong? What happened?”
”I- George, no- I have to go. I need to go, George.”
He scoops up a shirt from the floor- he isn’t sure if it’s his or George’s. He doesn’t care enough at this point, he can feel disgusted about George’s shirt later if it turns out it’s the wrong one.
He barely has the shirt on before he’s scrambling to the door, scooping up his sandals as he goes. He doesn’t want to stop to put them on.
“Alex! Please- was it something I did?”
He slams the door on George. He hopes George won’t chase after him.