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Most people spend their summer breaks going on vacation or spending time with their friends. Or maybe catching up with family, doing sim racing, forgetting about some stupid crush.
George Russell got a tramp stamp.
Not just any tramp stamp, but a beautiful piece of his own design, with the word ‘Princess’ sprawled in cursive in the middle of it. The nickname that people called him never bothered George, and he actually quite liked it.
It made him feel pretty: the nickname and the new tattoo. Not that he would tell anybody either of those facts, though. Most people spat the word princess at him like it was an insult, but George craved it to be whispered in his ear while someone fucked him from behind.
George was smart to do it once the break started, since the healing process was a bitch and a half. He had taken to wearing crop tops and low-rise sweatpants around his apartment, making sure his clothes wouldn’t irritate it as it healed. For a couple of days he genuinely thought the itching phase was going to be the death of him.
A whole two weeks later, and George was staring at the blank ink that stood so starkly in contrast to the rest of his skin in one of the various mirrors around his apartment. It was everything he wanted it to be.
For a while it was a great distraction. Having the daily maintenance of tattoo care did wonders to help him forget about a stupid Dutchman that liked to occupy his thoughts if he spent too much time alone.
It’s not his fault that Max was so nice to him. And had really pretty eyes. And went out of his way to include him in conversations. And sometimes gave him a ride on his private jet even if it was out of his way.
At the end of the day, George was just a man. A man who got butterflies at the thought of Max Verstappen. It was always a stupid thought, though. Max wouldn’t want to be with a man who shaves his legs and wears lingerie because he likes how soft it makes him feel.
It was a nice fantasy, though.
His apartment was the only place he really allowed himself to feel pretty. When he left, he had to be the tall, handsome, world championship contender. For now, though? George could light a vanilla candle, pour himself a glass of wine, and wear soft pink shorts and a tight cropped tank top.
The white lace underwear he was wearing under his shorts was also something that made George feel pretty. The little pink jeweled plug that was currently inside him was less about feeling pretty and was more about the fact that George liked being open and ready for him to fuck himself whenever he wanted.
It was something he wore so often at home that it was almost second nature. He loved the way it would shift inside of him whenever he moved around on the couch, and how it would press right up against his prostate with the tiniest of nudges.
Sometimes, he wished that he could just stay in his apartment forever. He loved feeling soft almost as much as he loved racing. George knew that he couldn’t have both all of the time, and made peace with that. He knew he couldn’t race forever, so there would always be more time for it later.
The perfect ambiance of George’s apartment was interrupted by a knock on the door.
It was easy to forget how he was dressed when he was used to the comfort of being alone, which is why George didn’t think twice before opening his front door to see who was on the other side.
Which led to a very stunned Max staring at him while he suddenly remembered that he was practically half-dressed. Max looked George up and down before pausing on his legs. “Do you shave your legs?”
I take it back, I don’t want to see you anymore. And why is that the first thing you notice?!
“The fuck is it to you? Why are you here?” George knew it came out defensive, but in his defense, he felt defensive. Max was never supposed to see him dressed like this, but it wasn’t socially acceptable to just slam the door in the face of a friend. His really hot friend.
“I’m in town for a few days and was gonna hang out with Lando and Oscar. They tried calling you to see if you wanted to join, but you didn’t answer. So now I’m here.” Max didn’t skip a beat as he began explaining himself, not pushing the comment on George’s appearance.
“Why did they send you?” George hadn’t been on his phone all day, opting to lounge around and watch TV. The only notifications that would push through his do not disturb were team emergencies.
“Oh, I offered. I figured you would say no, so I planned on just ditching after I asked you so I wouldn’t have to third wheel.” Max looked sheepish now, and George couldn’t blame him. The couple tended to forget they had company, which was fine in a group but not if there were only three of them.
“Well, you’re not wrong about me saying no. So, I’m sorry you came all this way.” George couldn’t help but awkwardly cross his arms. He felt so exposed under Max’s gaze.
“I am a man of my word. Can I get a glass of water before I go?” Max gestured behind George to his kitchen, which was just barely in view.
“Yeah, sure.” There wasn’t any world where George could find himself saying no to Max. It was always so easy to get sucked into his orbit, and George was sure that he would circle Max forever if he let him.
George went to turn around to walk to the kitchen, but promptly froze in place.
I can’t turn around.
My tattoo is showing, and there is no way in hell that I’m letting Max Verstappen know that I got the word ‘princess’ tattooed on my lower back.
Fuck.
So, doing what any normal person would do in this situation, George walked backward into his apartment. The look Max threw him was weird, but that was still better than him laughing at his tattoo.
“I’ll be right back.” George kept walking backwards until he made it safely into his bedroom, pushing the door so it wasn’t wide open. He then tore into his closet, looking for a jacket, hoodie, hell even a longer shirt, but all of his more masculine clothes were still packed from his last trip.
George cursed himself for having two different wardrobes. This is exactly why he didn’t let people over to his apartment. Even kitchen decorations would be considered girly by his coworkers. His living room wasn’t that bad, but his bedroom was a completely different story.
He had just pulled out a plain white oversized hoodie when George heard something that made him rather actually be shot than turn around. He was no longer alone in his room.
“Holy shit.” Max wasn’t laughing, but that didn’t make it any better. It sounded like pure confusion, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and George couldn’t tell if that meant he saw his tattoo or if it was his reaction to just how his bedroom looked.
George felt his face heat up. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, he didn’t know. The room was dark save for a string of fairy lights that wrapped around the top of the walls, but it illuminated enough.
His light pink bedspread, with probably one too many fuzzy pillows. The various makeup products sitting on a desk in the corner, with a few different perfumes on a cute little tray he found at a boutique. Hell, even his dresser was a pale gray that matched the fuzzy carpet they were both currently standing on.
I’m going to walk into the ocean. I’m going to tell everyone it’s Max’s fault.
God, what did I do to deserve this?
I can’t just storm out of my own apartment, but I can make Max leave. I will force him if I have to.
With a deep breath, George threw his hoodie onto the ground - I’m sorry hoodie - and whirled around to face Max. The fact that Max’s face was completely neutral only made George angrier. “You need to leave.”
“What? Leave why?” Now Max looked confused, and George honestly just wanted to throw himself out of the window.
George launched himself at Max, trying to push him out of the room, but Max was an immovable object. He stood rooted in place while George pushed against his chest with all his strength.
“Hey, calm down. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Max grabbed George’s wrists and moved them off his chest, and without the barrier of his arms, their chests crashed together.
“No, it’s not. You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t for you.” It wasn’t for anyone but himself, and he was sure Max knew what he was talking about. George pulled against Max’s hold on his wrists, and he felt the beginning of tears burn in his eyes.
Max let go of George just long enough to wrap his arms around him, his hold just as strong, keeping him close enough to where he couldn’t keep pushing at him. “I’m sorry. If I had known, I would’ve asked before coming in. This is your space, but please stop trying to fight me.”
He apologised? To me?
The Max Verstappen just apologised to me. The same Max Verstappen that would rather crash into you than let you overtake him.
I’ve died, and this is heaven.
George let his body go limp in Max’s hold, while he blinked away what tears were threatening to fall. He didn’t want the answer to the question that sat on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t help whispering, “You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Weird? Of course not. Your room is just as pretty as you are-” Max touched his lower back, his fingertips ghosting along where George knew the ink stretched across his skin,“-and just as pretty as this. Is this new?”
George nodded. “I got it at the beginning of the break. Do you really think I’m pretty?” He fought back the goosebumps that came from Max’s fingers; the touch was so light it felt like it almost wasn’t there at all.
“I have always thought you were pretty. Everything about you is simply gorgeous.” Max’s hands settled on George’s hips, thumbs following the curve of the bones that stuck out just above the low waistband of his shorts.
George had never felt so seen before, and it felt a million times better that Max was the one looking at him. Max’s attention made him feel pretty too, the way his gaze would always soften the second they made eye contact. The way he always spoke so gently, unlike how he was with anyone else.
He wanted to cry again, but this time it wasn’t from shame. George wasn’t sure if this was just physical attraction on Max’s end, but whatever happened, he would do whatever it took to make sure Max kept looking at him like he was now.
Like George was the only person in the world.
“Will you let me show you how pretty I find you, princess?”
You can bend me over and fuck me til I forget my name if you keep calling me that.
George wasn’t about to say that out loud, though, so he settled on a breathless, “Please.”
As much as he didn’t want to move away from Max, George knew that he had to if they were going to use his bed. So he turned towards the bed and grabbed the decorative pillows that took up the upper half of the bed and began moving them onto the floor.
They would’ve ended up on the floor either way, but at least it gives them more space to work with. George peeled his tank top off and let it join the pillows on the floor before laying himself down on his duvet.
When he looked up, Max was standing shirtless in the middle of his room. Such a stark contrast compared to the style of the room. Max was all hard edges and fierceness, standing in what Pinterest would describe as a teenage girl’s room. Yet he looked like he belonged; it was a strange dichotomy.
Max stared at George like he was the gravity that held his body to the floor. Like George really was the princess that ruled over him. It was intoxicating.
On the off chance I ever get to do this again, I should make him stand right there and watch me prep myself. Just to see how well he could be patient for me.
George put his hands out towards Max, who was already moving towards the bed, and pulled him the rest of the way down on top of him. Max’s body was so firm under his hands as their lips met again.
There was nothing sweet about the way Max licked into his mouth. Or the way his hands greedily felt up every square inch of exposed skin, until both palms landed on George’s chest. They gripped the softness of his pecs, and George whined into the kiss.
“You have no idea how much I think about your tits.” Max broke away to trail his lips down George’s neck.
George felt his heart pounding under the heart that Max’s palms bore into his chest. “Yeah?”
“You fit so perfectly in my hand.” Max’s thumbs circled George’s nipples, watching them stiffen into small peaks.
George wanted to squirm, but Max’s thighs on either side of his own kept him firmly in place. No one had paid attention to his chest in such a long time, and it had always felt so good.
There was no stopping how hard George’s back arched as Max’s replaced one of his fingers while the other hand pinched harshly. He brought one of his hands to Max’s hair, pressing his face as far into his chest as it could go.
When Max switched sides, George thanked god that he wasn’t able to actually come from just having his tits played with. That would’ve been embarrassing.
His nipples had always been so sensitive, and Max didn’t stop until tears were prickling his eyes and the buds on his chest were red and puffy. George had long since been leaking into his panties, but he would have rather die than try to relieve the pressure on his dick.
“I want you in me. Now.” George didn’t want to wait, knowing he was already open and ready. The sooner Max got inside of him, the better. So he made the executive decision to force Max backwards on the bed so he could turn over onto his stomach, lifting his hips in a silent invitation.
“Can I take these off, baby?” Max didn’t seem to mind George’s neediness, seemingly ready to give George whatever he asked for.
“Just the shorts.” George didn’t want to say out loud that he wanted to keep his panties on, the same panties that Max had no idea about.
Well, he’s about to find out. If he laughs, I might actually have to kill him and then myself.
Max pulled down the soft cotton shorts and swore under his breath. The shorts were all but torn the rest of the way off as Max quickly got his hands on George’s ass, kneading the plushness of his cheeks still nestled in white lace.
“Do they have a bra that goes with it?” Forget being a princess, Max was acting like he was kneeling in front of the altar. Using his hands to worship something more ethereal than he could ever dream of.
George couldn’t say he had expected the question, but it filled him with excitement to know that Max would’ve liked it to have been a set. “Not with these, but I have other sets.”
If I had known you were going to end up in my bed, I would’ve worn my red babydoll set.
“Do you want to keep them on?” It would be a little hard to maneuver with them pulled to the side, but Max offered, and there was nothing that George wanted more in that moment than to say yes.
George nodded frantically.
Max ran a teasing finger between George’s cheeks, but it stopped when it hit the jewel from the plug through the fabric. “What is this, baby girl?”
“I- fuck!” George barely got a word out before Max was pushing the plug, and it dragged across his prostate just right. “I like being open.”
Max pulled the fabric to the side, and George was sad that he wasn’t able to see his reaction. “Fuck, you’re already so wet and loose for me, such a good girl.”
George moaned helplessly at his words. It was everything he wanted, and still he felt greedy for more. He pushed his hips back against Max’s grip, hoping to spur him into action.
Max gripped the base of the plug and pulled, but instead of taking it all the way out, he pushed it back into George. Then he repeated the action, fucking the metal in and out of his hole, watching the way it swallowed it back up greedily.
“I’m ready, please.” George could come from Max fucking him with the plug, but he would’ve much rather cum on his cock.
“Condom?” Max pulled the plug out completely, and George felt it land somewhere in the sheets. A problem for later.
“Raw, please. I want you to fill me up.” George made it this far, and they both had to be clean to race. He wanted Max’s cum even if he had to beg for it.
“You are trying to put me in the grave early, I swear.” There was the sound of shuffling fabric, and George saw Max’s clothes join his shirt on the floor out of the corner of his eye. Then one of Max’s hands gripped his hip tightly, and he forced his body to relax through the excitement.
Max met absolutely zero resistance when he pushed in. George felt lube trickling down his thighs as Max bottomed out, reaching deeper than any of the toys owned. He couldn’t help arching his back to change the angle, forcing Max as deep as he could go.
“Such a pretty princess, taking my cock so well.” Max groaned as George purposefully clenched around him. The sharp thrust he gave in response had George letting out a broken moan that barely sounded like himself.
After the first thrust, it was like a dam had broken. Max thrust into George with wild abandon, with a grip so tight that he was sure there would be bruises on his hips the next day. George didn’t care, not with how deep Max was reaching inside of him.
George didn’t know how long he would be able to last. It had been such a long time since something other than a dildo had stuffed him whole, and Max’s cock felt infinitely better than silicone.
He knew he was getting closer, but he didn’t care about cumming. All he wanted was to feel Max’s cum painting the inside of his walls, to be filled and claimed completely.
“Harder, please.” The plea left his mouth in between moans so loud that he knew his neighbors would complain to the landlord about it. Max listened to the request and began pulling George’s hips back in time with his thrusts.
I wonder if my neighbors think that I brought a girl home and that it’s me who’s fucking her right now instead of Max impaling me on his cock.
That was enough to have George cumming inside of his underwear as his body tightened almost painfully around Max’s cock. Max kept fucking into him through his orgasm until his body was shaking from overstimulation.
“don’t stop - cum in me, I want, please.” George didn’t care that tears started falling down his face, every nerve feeling like a live wire. This was what he wanted, and he wanted every drop that Max would give him.
“Who do you belong to, princess?” Max sounded just as gone as George felt, his thrusts becoming more erratic with every passing second. He chased his own pleasure, using George in the way that he often dreamed about.
“Please please I'm your princess, fill me up.” George knew Max was close, and he didn’t bother trying to hide the sob that tore its way out of his chest. Every thrust that still hit his prostate felt so good, no matter how badly it hurt.
“Here you go, babygirl, take it all.” Max pushed in as deep as his body would allow before finally cumming inside of George. He made a small broken sound as George felt his own hole milking every last drop of Max’s cum from his cock.
George felt Max go to pull out and reached out blindly behind him to stop him. He didn’t want to waste the cum Max just given him, and he wanted to keep it until the next morning. “Wait- can you put my plug back in?”
Max managed to somehow still sound awestruck, “You want to keep me inside you, baby?”
“Please.”
Max grabbed the plug from where it landed in the sheets earlier and made quick work of pulling his cock out and replacing it with the plug. George whined at the feeling, but the feeling of still being filled was enough to get over what little overstimulation it gave him.
If I were a girl, there would be no way I wouldn’t end up pregnant.
George whined at the thought, and Max must have thought it was from the smear of lube and his own release that coated the inside of his painties because he was up and moving, “Let me get something to clean you up with.”
Max disappeared through the door to the ensuite bathroom, and George had a feeling that Max was going to end up grabbing one of the towels that he used during his skin care routine.
He knew he was right when he saw Max come back with a small teal towel, but he was too physically tired to explain the difference to Max, so another one of his items had become a casualty of the night. If Max ever comes back, George figures he could show Max all of his things so he would know what to and not to use.
If he comes back. I hope he does. I want him to.
Max was gentle as he eased George’s underwear down and off his legs, using the towel to clean whatever cum still painted his soft skin. It was nice to be taken care of like this, without even having to ask. It was something George wanted to get used to.
“Is there something you want me to get you to change into?” Max was so sweet, and it made George want to eat him whole.
Or at least choke on his dick.
“Top drawer of my dresser, there's a cherry pajama set, pretty please.” It was one of George’s favorites because the silk always felt so soft against his skin. It felt so freeing to have Max see the thing he liked and have him not shy away.
Max pressed another kiss to George’s forehead before getting up and putting his own boxers back on. “As you wish.”
George waited until Max had grabbed the clothes before dimming the fairy lights; he didn’t like sleeping in the dark. He would turn them off if Max asked, but he had a feeling that Max wouldn’t.
“I would offer you clothes to borrow, but I haven't unpacked my other clothes so this is the only kind of stuff I have right now.” George reached for the clothes once Max brought them over, but Max batted his hands away. Max manhandled George into his pajamas, taking the princess treatment very seriously, apparently.
Who knew Max took orders so well. Also, I am definitely lying to him. There are sweatpants around here somewhere that might be a little long on him, but would still fit. But then he wouldn’t be in just his boxers, which is such a better view.
Only once he was done did Max respond, having been too focused on dressing George. “I will be fine in boxers. You okay with me staying?”
George didn’t respond right away, verbally at least, but he did get under his covers and lifted the blanket for Max to join him. It wasn’t cold, but the warmth Max brought with him felt so comfortable.
“Sorry, you're not allowed to leave now. I don't make the rules.” George didn’t ask before draping his body over Max’s. He was confident that Max knew what he was signing up for with staying.
“Oh no, I'm stuck exactly where I want to be.” Max’s laugh reverberated through his chest, jostling George’s head from where it lay against his shoulder.
“Was this just a one-time thing?” Another question that George was scared to know the answer to, but there was no way he could fall asleep without knowing. He wanted Max to stay tonight, and every night after.
“Well, I'd love for you to be my boyfriend if you'll have me.” Max sounded almost sheepish, but not unsure.
“Are you serious?” George sat up almost immediately, looking at Max with wide eyes. He hadn’t dared to hope that Max liked him in that way. If Max wanted to be friends with benefits or something like that, then he would’ve ignored his own feelings just to keep Max close like this.
“100% serious. My team already knew that I liked you, so they’ve been preparing various PR statements should anything happen.”
This absolute buffoon. Who the hell just prepares for a relationship and then waits until after you fuck them to ask them out?
Honestly, now that I think about it. That’s literally the most Max thing he could have done.
“You planned out our relationship with everyone except for me, is what I’m hearing. You’re unbelievable.” George was smiling so hard it hurt.
“We’re about to show Oscar and Lando just how annoying a couple can get, that’s for sure.” Max pulled George into a slow kiss that didn’t last as long as he wanted to.
There was always tomorrow for more kissing, at least. Among some other things.
“Goodnight, Max.”
“Goodnight, princess.”