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Max cursed himself over and over again whenever he remembered what he’d done two hours ago. How foolish he’d been, probably under the influence of two glasses of gin and tonic to give such a careless, overly honest answer.
The elevator doors opened in front of him and he stepped inside immediately. There was no one else in the elevator but him, and that was a relief. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone right now.
He recalled the look on George’s face when the Englishman heard his answer, which indirectly implied that George was very beautiful in his opinion.
If Alex Albon or Lando Norris or Oscar Piastri had said that, no one would have been surprised because the three of them were good friends with George Russell. But he was Max Verstappen from Red Bull. He shouldn’t have said that George Russell from Mercedes was a very handsome man.
There were too many witnesses to how he and George didn’t get along. They almost never got along.
The whole world knows about the relationship between Max Verstappen and George Russell. It’s not just once or twice that they’ve “clashed” in public, with the media happily recording every second and every word that comes out of their mouths.
In truth, Max has never hated George, but somehow George always manages to get under his skin. George, with his good looking features, beautiful blue eyes, alluring--fluttering eyelashes, and pretty lips. George, with his high level of professionalism in public, is like a rock that’s impossible to crack.
Always polite, always handling situations perfectly, and never looking disheveled. Always neat and practical. It was as if he had memorized every expression, facial feature, gesture, and response that would be appropriate in front of reporters and the media.
The elevator stopped and opened its doors on the 25th floor, and Max was surprised to see George standing behind the elevator doors.
It was clear that George was also surprised to see Max inside the elevator.
The two exchanged glances.
“Are you getting in or not?” Max snapped, and without saying a word, George immediately stepped into the elevator.
Silence.
Max didn’t know why he felt he had to start the conversation. Or maybe apologize? But why should he apologize?
“I saw you and Yuki on stage.”
Oh.
Max turned toward George, wanting to see the Englishman’s expression.
A very, very bad decision because it turned out George was staring right at him. From this close distance, Max could once again see just how long and lentik George’s eyelashes were. Perfect eyebrows, a pair of beautiful eyes, eyelashes that gently brushed his cheeks every time he blinked, and those lips—damn it.
Stop.
"And you have a problem with that?" Max can feel the heat creeping his cheeks. Fuck.
“Why do you think I have a problem with that?” The beautiful blue eyes in front of him glared at him. “Why do you always think I’m looking for a fight with you?”
For a few moments, Max was silent, and he felt guilty.
“I don’t think that at all!” Max defended himself. "What I said on stage was true. I don’t always think badly of you. I’m not joking. About what I said on stage.” He whispered the last sentence. He refused to look at George’s expression and chose to look ahead instead.
He could feel George’s gaze on him, but he still wasn’t ready to look back at the Briton beside him.
“Am I really beautiful?” George asked in a serious tone.
Max snorted, but the blush on his ears and cheeks grew more obvious. He then heard George giggle.
"Am I really beautiful?" George asked again. Gently this time.
"You are fishing for compliments, aren't you?"
George laughed heartily.
Max turned his head and felt himself captivated. His chest felt full of warmth and something else he couldn’t name.
George’s white linen shirt revealed his collarbone, and Max could see it from the side. His head threw back and the sound of his loud, crisp laugh can be heard. His eyes forming a crescent like the moon at night.
Max clutched his chest, afraid that George might hear the pounding of his heart, which was racing and felt like it was about to leap out of his chest at any moment soon.
“So, this is what the terrifying and fierce Max Verstappen on the track looks like when he’s shy, huh?” George’s laughter had stopped and was replaced by a faint smile that warmed Max’s chest as they looked at each other. “Do you know that you’re really cute when you blush like this?” George brought his face closer and lowered his voice.
"I'm not shy. I'm not cute." Max glared. The red on his cheeks and ears were deepened.
George leaned in close to Max.
“Oh, really?” He challenged with a sweet smile. His eyelashes fluttered gently, brushing against his soft cheeks.
George stepped forward slowly. Max was still glaring at him, the intensity of his glare fading as he realized that George wasn’t stopping until he was cornering him against the elevator wall.
“Oh, you look even cuter like this. Under me.”
Max felt his heart drop into his stomach.
“Don’t think you’ve won just because you’re a few centimeters taller than me. I won’t back down just because you’re taller, Princess.”
George gave a faint smirk. “Glad to hear that, Max. Besides calling me beautiful, you also like to call me "princess" huh?” He whispered right into Max’s ear. “I’m very flattered. Looks like I’ll have to give you a reward for being such a good boy.”
Their eyes met once again.
"What do you think? Will you accept the reward?"
Max swallowed. George looked much more beautiful like this. Like a force to be reckoned with. Still look so proper, neat and organised, so perfect but not the perfect one he always shown to the public and media. He took a chance to look at George lips again and he knew the Briton catched that.
"Was that a yes?" George whispered.
"Fuck. Just kiss me, Princess."
Fire was lit up in George eyes. And Max wanted to feel how warm and how hot it is. He wanted to touch George.
And then he felt a soft kiss on his cheek.
"God, you look beautiful too like this, Max." George didn't let Max open his mouth to reply him because he leaned down his head again to Max jaw. He put a gentle kiss there.
Max gasped. His hands were brought up on George's neck.
"Not yet, Max." George continue with a few more kisses before he bites the skin there. He heard Max gasped and then moaned. The hold on his neck tighten a bit. He can also feel Max was trembling. "Sorry." His hands caressed the shorter man hips while he continue to suck on the spot where he bite before.
"You gave me a hickey?!" Max screamed at him after George let him go and they go back at standing with normal distance.
George didn't answer. He just laughed.
Ding!
The elevator opened. 50th floor.
"My room number is 510."
George was smiling at Max before he walked out of the elevator, humming a song.