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Would Max even want to see him?
Unsure thoughts filled George's mind as he wandered down the hotel room hallway. He'd left Kimi's celebrations early, the younger one much too drunk to notice anything (did anyone even notice?).
His race hadn't been great either, but he wasn't going to start lamenting himself when Max hadn't even be able to start.
George remembered the stinging feeling from Montreal, where he'd felt so close to success… and then everything went to shit. What Max had experienced, it must have been close to that. George wasn't sure if it was better or worse that it had been the first lap, since Max hadn't even had the chance to touch the possibility of a win —not counting before the race—.
If he did want to visit Max, George would have to make up his mind soon. He was quickly approaching the hotel room door and he didn't think it would be a great look if he was caught lingering outside his rival's room by anyone else.
Just as he was about to reach the door, George faltered.
He wanted to comfort Max. He needed it. But scenarios of rejection filled his mind and he sighed. If Max wanted George, he'd have texted him something.
As he took the last step he needed to reach his goal, George went to turn. Then, he froze at the distinct sound of a door being pushed opened. Right behind him.
"…George?"
Max… didn't sound upset. Or annoyed. A bit of surprise laced his voice but it mostly rang of exhaustion, which made George's heart pause. Fuck, he rarely heard Max sound like that and when he did, it broke him.
George slowly whipped around. The first thing he saw were Max's eyes. They looked so unlike the champion, seeming so tired and lost.
"Sorry- I shouldn't have shown up without a warning, I'll- I'll go." George stammered out, brain not working in front of such a different version of Max. He took a step back, the only thing he could hear in his mind being 'leave, leave, leave'. Then, a hand grasped his wrist.
"Stay." Max whispered, catching George's gaze with wide and pleading eyes. "Please."
And what the fuck was George ever meant to say to that? He gave a nod after a second, letting Max lead him into the room without a word.
"Uh- I'm not here to hook up. I mean, unless you want to, but I don't expect you to be in the mood at all after what happened. I just wanted to make sure you were, you know, okay. Which is stupid, obviously after what happened you wouldn't be okay, so- I'm sorry, this is dumb-"
Gentle lips shut him up, the next words he wanted to say dying quickly. Max's mouth lingered of gin, though it didn't overwhelm George's senses which meant Max had likely not been drinking much.
Max didn't push, or pull, or anything other then holding George's face, tilting it downwards.
"Fucking… shit race." Max sighed, burying his face into the taller man's neck. "Didn't even get to race. What's the fucking point of any of this?"
It wasn't often that George was the one leading between them but he couldn't find himself minding it. Comforting Max felt natural. His hand trailed up and down the other's back, breathing in the smell of slight sweat and lingering cologne.
George silently led them towards the bed, sitting down on the edge. Max took the spot on his right before grabbing George's arm again, pulling softly. George understood the message, making his way to slot himself right onto Max's lap. Rough hands met his jaw, petting the smooth skin.
"Pretty." Max said, blue eyes tracing sensually over George's skin. "I thought you'd just go to bed after the celebrations. I'm so happy you're here."
"You could have send me a message." George said, tilting his head in confusion. "I would have come."
"I didn't want to be clingy." Max said. He shrugged as if to make his words seem unbothered, but George could see the relief and hope in the other's eyes.
"I'm clingy." George said bluntly. "You've never complained."
"That's different." Max argued, eyebrows furrowing.
"Why? Because I'm the feminine one?" George said, raising an eyebrow. "I know it's hard for you, I'm not trying to accuse you of some horrible things. I just mean to say, it doesn't make you any less masculine to want me around, especially when you're sad. Or mad. Or just generally feeling like shit."
"I'm sorry." Max said, deflating on George's chest. "I know I should've texted you but I hate the thought of annoying you because of something dumb like this."
"It isn't dumb." George said without missing a beat. "Just like it wasn't dumb when I was upset last race. I know I've told you that it's different for you because you've already got 4 championships, but that doesn't mean you can't be upset. Especially when something shitty like this happens."
"Ik hou van je." Max whispered the words into his neck, making George curious.
"Insulting me in Dutch now?" He teased softly, not meaning his words at all. He had no idea what Max had said but he knew it wasn't mean.
"Mhm. Telling you what a sappy princess you are." Max said, clearly trying to sound deadpan though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed him. George didn't comment on it. There was no point.
George kissed Max's forehead, blowing the blond strands of hair out of the way. "Mm, you'll be okay. My champion. Doesn't matter if you got 0 points this season, you'd still be the best driver on the grid."
"And you wonder why I'm arrogant?" Max huffed, hand going up to the back of George's head.
"It's only okay if I'm the one being arrogant for you." George grinned, laughing. "We can be arrogant for the other, how about that?"
"Horrible idea." Max said, pulling away from George's shoulder to press their lips together.
"Never happy with anything I say." George said, accenting his words with an exaggerated pout. "Sounds like unnecessary anger and borderline violence to me-"
George squeaked as he was thrown onto the bed out of nowhere, bursting out in laughter as fingers attacked his ribs. George squirmed, trying to half-hardheartedly escape the grip, whining as he got dragged right back by his ankle.
"How about that for unnecessary anger and borderline violence, huh?"
"I didn't- I didn't mean it, I'm sorryyy-" George got out through giggles, kicking aimlessly. Max finally pulled away with a shit-eating grin.
"I'm not sure if I believe your words… should I really believe you?" Max hummed.
"Well, I think I know how I can make it up to you." George said, putting on the most seductive of voices he could manage. Thankfully, Max wasn't exactly hard to well, get hard, so the man's eyes went dark at the suggestiveness.
"Yeah? I do need some stress relief anyways, don't I?" Max said, observing George with the look of a lion hunting it's prey.
"Of course." George agreed without hesitation, hands reaching down. It didn't take much time to get Max's shorts off, meeting an already half-hard bulge.
George switched them around so that he was on top, finding his spot right on Max's thighs. He passed his hands up and down Max's chest, pushing the man's shirt up. George bent down, mouth finding a nipple easily. His tongue circled it, letting his drool drip down all over the area.
Max let out a deep groan, arching his back and pushing the bud further into George's wet mouth.
"Fuck, schats." Max huffed, George determined to working him up more and more.
Kissing every inch of skin as he made his way down, George lavished in the feeling of the short hair that ran against his face. He hated hair on himself but fuck, it turned him on so much when it was on Max.
George licked at his balls, the grimy taste of Max's sweaty pubs taking over his mouth. He shouldn't have enjoyed it, but he really, really did.
He took one in his mouth, sucking on it gently like a lollipop, enjoying the sounds coming from the man above him. George took his time, finally pulling back after a few long seconds. Max's eyes were shut, fingers tightly gripping at the sheets.
And if that didn't give George an ego boost, then what would?
Taking Max into his mouth was second nature by now, despite the girth and length. Max might have been big but George was determined and that was plenty enough.
Letting his jaw go loose, he pushed forward. A breathless moan left him as hands gripped his hair, taking control. George had no qualms in letting Max dominate the pace, going along easily. His throat closed nicely around the intrusion as he breathed through the nose.
Max slammed him up and down, not holding back. He used George's throat like a fleshlight and George let him without a single ounce of resistance.
"Fuck, George, I'm gonna-" His throat and mouth were filled up with cum the next second, Max's climax hitting him hard. George arched back, taking in every drop like he was made for it.
When he felt Max had rode it out, George pulled back with a 'pop' and a soft smile. Max looked up at him through tired eyelashes and was it wrong of George to feel loved in that moment? It didn't matter. George would allow himself to feel it, climbing up to drop his head right against Max's heart.
He was half hard, but he didn't want to go further then they had. George was perfectly satisfied.
"My princess." Max whispered softly against brown locks. "My beautiful and perfect princess."
George's cheeks flushed, but not in embarrassment. It was just quiet shyness at the praise. It didn't matter that Toto was disappointed in his performances. It didn't matter that everyone preferred his teammate over him, because Max didn't.
Max was here, with him. Not with Kimi or with another hot thing that he definitely could have found.
"I think I'm in love with you." George mumbled sleepily, not even registering the words he spoke in his exhaustion.
Max did. His chest drew tight and his eyes glazed over with tears. He stared down at the tired man splayed across him, clinging to his chest. He debated saying it back, saying anything, but he decided against it.
George was falling asleep, and Max didn't want to ruin his peace by making him panic over what he had admitted.
Instead, Max mumbled a gentle dutch lullaby, one his mom used to sing every night before bed.
George wasn't going anywhere, and neither was Max.