Chapter Text
The thing was, Max had successfully defended his F1 World Champion title for the fifth time.
But this year felt different. Because his man, George William Russell, the top-tier supermodel, was part of it this time.
It was a warm and quiet Monday after the final race week. Max, bare-chested and casually dressed in sweatpants, was preparing brunch for both of them. The air in the kitchen was filled with the lazy sizzle of eggs in the pan and his humming whistle.
While plating the last of the fried eggs, he heard footsteps and looked up. George, still in his pajamas and clutching a laptop, strode straight into the living room.
“Schat, what are you doing?” Max raised a brow, set the spatula down, and walked toward him.
He stopped halfway when he saw George crouched by the TV, fumbling with the cables.
“Just a minute… alright…” George straightened up, hands on hips, checking that the screen displayed properly.
Then he turned, and the look on his boyfriend’s face was pure horror.
A blinding PowerPoint title flashed on the TV.
‘Operation: Shine Brighter Than The Trophy’
Grabbing Max’s wrist, George led him to the couch and began. Voice perfectly businesslike.
“Okay, Mr. Five-time World Champion. We only have four days left until the FIA Awards to make you look perfect and gorgeous on stage. The schedule’s tight, so I made this PowerPoint to keep us on track.”
Max leaned his head back, covered his face with both hands, and groaned loudly: “George, I’ve done this four times already. They know what my face looks like.”
George walked over and tugged Max upright. Sitting down beside him, he gently squished Max’s cheeks between his fingers.
“Babe, it doesn’t matter if it’s your first, fifth, or tenth time, it still deserves proper care. Don’t argue. And don’t need to worry. I’ve got you, okay?”
He puckered his lips playfully and planted a quick kiss on Max’s helpless pout.
Max’s hands slid to George’s hips, pulling him closer. Following the motion, George snuggled onto Max’s lap and looped his arms around the thick neck. The air quickly shifted as intimacy flooded the space.
Max’s voice dropped to a rough whisper against George’s ear. “When did you prepare all this? We didn’t even know I was champion until yesterday… and we spent all of last night together.” He pressed his nose against George’s cheek and inhaled deeply.
Last night had been… unforgettable. The marks still lingered on their skin.
“Hah! No matter where you finished, this slideshow was inevitable.”
Max looked at George with a tender, lovestruck smile, tracing every beautiful line of the man in front of him. Yet the joy faded as he remembered George wouldn’t be there.
Fuck that private show! The luxury event halfway across the city, stealing him away for the weekend.
“You’re giving me a PowerPoint just to miss the show,” He muttered, tucking a stray curl of George’s messy hair behind his ear.
George blinked, confused for a moment before his gaze melted: “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
Not satisfied with the chaste kiss left on his lips, Max pulled the younger man into a more passionate kiss.
The soft sounds of kissing, the quiet gasps, the low moans echoed in the room.
Just when the heat threatened to drag them back into last night, George’s sanity snapped back. He broke the kiss, braced hands against Max’s bare chest to push himself up, then straightened his shirt and tried to steady his breath.
“Don’t think you can distract me to get out of this,” he said, regaining his professional tone. “Now sit up properly, mister, and listen to the presentation.”
Max let out a weary but indulgent sigh. A tender smile tugged at his lips.
George smirked, clicking to the next slide. “You’ll thank me later. This,” he said, gesturing dramatically toward the TV, “is the privilege of having a boyfriend who’s a supermodel.”
And so, without giving Max any chance to escape, George’s skincare bootcamp officially began that very evening.
It started with a lineup of bottles and jars neatly arranged across the counter.
It wasn’t Max’s first time seeing George’s skincare collection. When they’d first moved in together, George had shyly claimed only half of the cabinet above the sink. But as time went on, the bottles multiplied like tribbles, creeping steadily into Max’s territory until his side shrank to a single, pitiful corner. Eventually, they’d had to install an entirely new cabinet just to serve George’s ever-expanding empire.
Still, Max had never paid much attention. Not until tonight, when a whole lineup of unfamiliar products stood gleaming under the soft golden light.
He picked up a bottle filled with faint purple liquid and gave it a little shake.
“What kind of chemical is this?” he asked flatly.
“That’s for anti-aging,” George replied, glancing up from his phone. “And it’s not for you. We’re already short on time, so you’ll only need these steps tonight.” He pushed a few bottles forward.
“So I don’t need the anti-aging stuff, huh?” Max asked, rubbing his chin with a smug smile.
George shot him a sideways glare. Ever since they’d moved in together, he often thanked the universe for granting him enough patience to train this man to at least wash his face with cleanser and apply moisturizer correctly.
Crossing his arms, George said evenly, already certain Max wouldn’t last through the next few days:
“If you can follow the simple routine I just listed until the Awards night, I might let you try anti-aging.”
He paused, then added with mock pity, “You haven’t touched anti-aging products in years. Even if you start now, you won’t look any younger by that night.”
Max huffed, tilting his chin higher.
“Easy. There’s nothing difficult about this.”
What brave words.
But the moment George began applying a thin layer of AHA on his skin, things changed fast.
At first, Max sat still. Then, seconds later, his eyes widened.
“It’s burning!”
“That’s your guilt for never exfoliating,” George said dryly, though his hand were gentle as he inspected Max’s skin. “You’re fine. I picked the mildest formula, even used a serum base beforehand. If it really burns, tell me.”
He reached for a sheet mask, tearing the packet open. This one for himself. But before he could apply it, Max perked up.
“Let me do that for you.”
George blinked in disbelief. “You want to put this on me?”
“You have to let me practice. How else will I manage when you’re not here?” Max reasoned, sounding as if he were making a lifelong commitment to this so-called skincare routine.
George stared like Max had just spoken Martian.
The man leaned in and pressed a dramatic kiss to his cheek. “C’mon. You have to trust your man.”
George narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced.
“Fine…” He handed over the mask but didn’t immediately let go until Max raised an eyebrow. Only then did George release it.
“I trust you, my man.”
It was, of course, a mistake.
The mask came in three separate pieces, for forehead, nose, and chin. To Max, a hopeless student in skincare class, this three-piece puzzle was an advanced exam.
Despite George’s calm instructions, Max insisted he “had it under control.”
When he finally pressed the last piece on, George’s lips were completely covered.
Well, at least George could still breathe and open his eyes.
Max leaned back, blinking. “You sure the designer didn’t mess this up?”
George tried to reply, voice muffled under the sheet. “No, they didn’t,” he managed between laughs.
Watching George adjust each piece back into place, Max looked on in awe like someone witnessing an entirely new world unfold before him.
“How?” He breathed.
George just shrugged, his expression saying piece of cake.
“Now, head here,” George said, patting his thigh.
Watching Max close his eyes, jaw tightening, George couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Relax, it’s just a mask”
“Ooh! It’s cold” Max muttered the moment the cool sheet touched his skin. His lashes fluttered, making George’s smile deepened.
As George smoothed the edges, Max cracked one eye open and caught that pleased grin. He mumbled carefully, afraid to move the mask.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m enjoying not seeing your skin beg for mercy,” George replied.
The mask worked like a spell, freezing every expression and movement of the Dutch man.
When George told him to sit up, Max refused.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’ll fall off. I can feel it sliding.”
“It won’t!” George tapped his shoulder. “Now sit up.”
Max sat up very slowly, back stiff, head tilted upward as if gravity might betray him at any second. He looked utterly ridiculous and adorable.
George took one look, then grabbed his phone and snapped a photo.
“Hey! No pictures,” Max protested.
“Oh please. It’s not your first unflattering photo.”
“You’re evil.”
“Smile for evil,” George quipped, tilting his phone like a paparazzo.
He slipped beside Max, cupped his face gently and eased his posture.
“See? It’s not falling off.”
Then George crawled into his lap and lifted the phone again.
“Okay, Mr. World Champion. Look at the camera.”
On screen, their reflections appeared side by side. Matching pajamas, matching cat-ear headbands, sheet masks pressed to their faces. George’s grin was bright and unguarded.
A wave of warmth bloomed in Max’s chest. He wrapped his arms around George’s waist, pulling him close until their cheeks touched.
And the photo clicked.
Day 2
Max eyed the black jar suspiciously. It looked ominous, thick and grainy.
“It’s body scrub,” George explained far too casually.
Max frowned. “George, it’s not like I’m gonna strip on stage halfway through the speech. Why do I need this?”
George planted his hands on his hips. “Hey! George’s skincare bootcamp doesn’t allow that kind of mindset. We aim for perfection. Every inch of the World Champion should be perfect.”
“We’re wearing tuxedos anyway,” Max countered. “Only my hands and neck show. I’ll scrub those and call it a day.”
He sniffed the jar. It actually smelled… nice. Still, he wasn’t convinced.
“Apply it everywhere, every inch, every corner!” Without giving his boyfriend a chance to protest, George seized Max by the elbow and dragged him toward the bathroom.
Max groaned. “That makes no sense, George.” He kept bargaining. “You have to give me a real reason, like you do with your fancy skincare products.”
“It’s to clean your skin, obviously! And it smells good too, right? Since you’re already doing it, might as well go full body today.”
“I don’t see what’s so convenient about that. It’s not like this naked body’s going to be on display for anyone—”
In the middle of his complaint, Max was abruptly silenced. George’s kiss cut off his words entirely.
When they finally pulled apart, just a breath between them, George muttered in exasperation, “I’ll look, okay? I’m the one who gets to look. Satisfied now, mister?”
For a heartbeat, Max only blinked, dumbstruck by the sudden attack. Then a slow, cheeky grin spread across his face. His strong arms looped around George’s narrow waist, pulling him in until not an inch of space remained.
“Well, well. Didn’t know my little Georgie had that in mind. You should’ve said that from the start. Would’ve saved us a lot of arguing.”
With a teasing drawl, Max leaned forward and caught those feminine lips between his teeth, giving them a playful bite.
George could tell that if this went on any longer, he might not make it out of the bathroom in one piece.
He pressed a hand over Max’s mouth, breathing slightly uneven.
“So? Are you going to scrub your body or not?” he warned. “Because if you don’t, you’re sleeping alone tonight.”
“Objection!” Max shot back instantly.
“Then move those hands and feet,” George ordered, giving him a playful smack on the butt for encouragement.
“But I don’t even know how to use this thing.”
“Just take a reasonable amount. Stop— don’t ask me what ‘reasonable’ means. If it’s not enough, take more. If it’s too much, spread it somewhere else. Rub it in like body wash, but a bit firmer, and rinse it off. That’s it.”
As he spoke, George was already arranging everything neatly by the shower.
“See? Easy.”
“No.”
George sighed, already certain that the innocent puppy look on Max’s face was pure mischief.
“Everything’s worth trying once. Just do it.”
He turned to leave but still listened carefully for any sound inside. When finally hearing the water running, he crossed one leg over the other, settling down and taking a call from the sponsor’s stylist about their outfits for the Awards.
He’d barely relaxed when noise erupted from the bathroom again.
“George! Help!”
“What now?”
“This thing’s scratching my skin!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your skin’s as thick as a rhino’s. You’ll survive.”
“George! I can’t reach my back!”
“And how have you washed your back for the past almost thirty years?”
“George!”
“Say my name one more time and I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
“Don’t!”
A few more complaints followed before the running water finally stopped.
Max stepped out of the bathroom with only a towel slung low around his hips. His skin flushed pink. Perhaps from enthusiasm more than exfoliation.
In the bedroom, what greeted him was a sight straight out of temptation itself. George, freshly showered, lying on his stomach across the bed, watching something on his iPad.
He’d changed into sleepwear, or rather, Max’s sleepwear this time: a loose T-shirt and a pair of shorts. There wasn’t much height difference between them, but Max, being an athlete, was built broader and more muscular, while George, bound by a model’s discipline, was lean and finely cut.
Wearing Max’s clothes always made him look smaller, the fabric slipping here and there, just enough to reveal tempting flashes of bare skin that Max found… devastatingly distracting.
Those blue eyes darkened as they took in the sight of his boyfriend sprawled out so carelessly. He moved soundlessly like a predator closing in on his prey.
But just as Max was one step from the foot of the bed, the faint scent of coffee scrub on his skin must have given him away. Or maybe it was simply the instinct of prey sensing danger.
The instant George turned sharply around, the big cat pounced.
“Max!” George shrieked, voice pitching higher than he’d like, as the overgrown cat of a man tackled him onto the bed.
Max’s broad hands caught both of George’s wrists, pinning them above his head. He showered the beautiful face beneath him with a rain of kisses, from the sweep of those long lashes, down the small curve of his nose, over the sharp line of his cheekbones.
“This one’s for daring to sleep alone. This is for abandoning me in the bathroom. And this—“
“Max!”
George twisted his head from side to side, laughing between shouts as Max’s kisses rained down without mercy.
“Max! Stop it! You’re licking off my skincare!”
“To hell with your skincare,” Max growled then caught those pink lips mid-protest in a deep, fervent kiss.
No one knew how many minutes passed. George’s lungs were starting to burn. With a burst of effort, he finally tore free from the hungry kiss, gasping.
“You brute! Max!”
Max couldn’t look away, completely spellbound.
George’s face was flushed red, glowing like sun-kissed fruit. His usual ocean-blue eyes, normally clear and endless, were now veiled by a soft, misty haze. His lips were swollen, parted as he struggled to catch his breath, the tip of his tongue peeking out unconsciously.
Bracing his palms on either side of George’s shoulders, Max didn’t move an inch, still caging him in.
Seeing no sign of retreat, George smacked his firm bicep with a sharp slap.
“You’re too heavy. Get off!”
Max raised an eyebrow, voice rough.
“You’re still breathing fine, aren’t you? Then we can continue.”
He slid one hand behind George’s head, fingers threading through his hair to hold him still.
But just as Max dipped his head again, George played his trump card.
“Sit up,” he coaxed softly, voice sweet and puppy eyes. “Let me look at you first.”
Hesitating for a moment, Max then leaned down and brushed his lips to the center of George’s forehead, “You really know how to play me, huh? Who could resist you looking like that?,” he murmured before slowly pulling back.
Max sat upright with both hands on his hips, muscles flexing like he was on display.
Watching the self-satisfied grin spread across his face, George could only think: He’s like a peacock showing off his feathers.
When George’s gaze wandered up and down his torso without moving, Max impatiently caught his hand and pressed it against his chest.
“Don’t just look,” he said teasingly. “Touch. You’ll appreciate the masterpiece better that way.”
“You shameless thing!”
Color flooded George’s cheeks, but his fingers still moved, tracing along the lines of muscle, feeling the heat and smoothness of his skin. Until the fire between them flared to life again.