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George was having a pleasant holidays off from driving. His routine was recovering from the constant state of travelling and his body from the challenge of driving. The winters had treated him well, he went to a skii, enjoyed spas and massages. He also climbed the snowy mountains of Switzerland, stayed in a small cozy cottage and managed to finish the whole thing without getting sick. He finished a few books, baked some pastries and pies, worked out from the comfort of his home and slept as much as he needed. He did some sponsorship related work as well, but that was also light work, nothing that would tax him too much.
He was doing completely fine.
That is, until he remembered his heat was near.
And that wasn't good. He was set to sign the divorce papers in a week. And that process is not one off done. It took months before he could even initiate the divorce, half of the reason being Max kept pushing it.
Now he's stuck in his home in Monaco that he bought. They got married here and they'll get divorced here as well. On top of that, they're stubborn enough to stay here, knowing the very high chance of seeing each other in the public.
Whatever.
He'll live. It's not the first time he has been living his in the same area as his ex.
Except, their time together cannot be simply labelled as "together", he was his husband. The man he legally married.
George sighed as he got out of bed, his body already tingling with the telltale of an upcoming heat. It an itching under his skin he can't get rid of.
For the last 4 months, he had kept his heat under control with the help of suppression therapy and various service Alphas. But the loneliness and being acutely self-aware left him emotionally exhausted.
Here, in his apartment, he's out of the flashing spotlights, out of the need of putting up a performance, a persona of a driver. There's no audience clapping for him or booing him, no bland favouritism and judgement to face just because he's an Omega.
There are no eyes on him.
That means he has nothing to occupy his mind with except for himself, and maybe his friends.
George spent his last heat with Alex, who was an Alpha, platonically worked for him Admittingly, it was the one his better heats since his separation from his husband. The cuddling and nuzzling helped to keep his hormones from going haywire. They've had done it before, George even helped Alex through his rut though that was riskier than a heat. But that was when they were younger and without a partner.
At the moment, George was alone in his cold apartment, staring at the hills of Monaco, thinking of asking someone for warmth.
Not today, he doesn't feel like it.
George moved automatically into the bathroom and took a long, much needed bath with steaming hot water. He sat in there till the water became lukewarm and his fingers became raisin-like. He wrapped a bathroom around himself and settled his steamed hair into curlers before staring to get to his morning routine. Cleanse, eye cream, moisture, sunscreen. He's felt too drained to do his usual 12 steps.
He gazed at himself in the mirror. His sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks stared back at him. Even under the bathroom's amazing lighting, he looked awfully like a sick Victorian child. He thought about putting make up to at least hide his dark under eye circles but opted otherwise in the last moment. After all, there was no one to see him here.
George prepared a simple breakfast of French toast for himself with some black coffee. He is usually the last person to even consider black coffee, but he feels too nerve wrecked to even recall his diet plan.
He sat around the kitchen island, the open window from his adjoined living letting in the cold breeze of the nearby sea into his room. The sparsely furnished living room looked quite... Methodic. Like it's a hospital, not a home. George liked it that way, everything being organised and in its place, but the mere sight of the blandness was irritating him now.
Ugh.
George brought out his phone to look up a hotel he can stay in for the next two weeks. He was not in the mood to be seen by the public and they all know where he lives. The hotel would provide him extra privacy, even if it is for few days.
And that's how George found himself in a hotel room with windows that overlooks the endless blue sea.
Whatever plans he had for the day was thrown out of the window.
George took in the hotel. He never stayed in a hotel in Monaco. The first time he stepped in, he bought the building he already had his eyes on and he immediately moved in. The hotel was nice. His room was huge with dark brown tones and luxurious wooden furniture. The bed was huge, he had sleep on it for days and he'll still have space. George was bothered by one thing only; the setting of the room. The bed was too close to the bathroom and took far away from the window
Well, it'll do.
George spent the next four days in and out of his zone. He alternated between doomscrolling and working out in the private gym of the hotel. His meals were delivered to him, curated to his diet and taste. He had his personal trainer sent them the recipes of what he's to eat during his stay. George made good use of the swimming pool at night, when everyone's asleep and unbothered to swim.
On his fifth day, George started missing his place, the reason of his change abandoning his mind.
He huddled into the nest he didn't realised he made. It had his husband's old sweats, the ones he wore on extremely rare occasions, lots of fluffy pillows and layers of old, well-loved blankets that George still had from his childhood. Parental scents always soothed him when he was alone or travelling.
He cursed himself when he woke up to extreme cramping in his abdomens. He was sweating like he was driving a F1 car. His entire body was unresponsive to his mind.
The worst of it was his amplified scent. The eye-watering, nose itching smell. George's scent was potent; he knew that from a young age. It was one of the drawbacks of being a male Omega.
Of course, the room was completely insulated, with minimum possiblity of his smell going out. The people in his building wouldn't know what's going on. He literally finalized his decision of getting this apartment that reason.
George tried to sit up in his bed but was hit with an awful sense of nausea. He wanted to vomit all the over the floor but there was practically nothing in his stomach. His skin was burning an awful thing; he wanted to take it off of him and throw it away.
He opened his bleary eyes to search for his phone but didn't find it. Where did he keep it?
"FUCK!",
As much as George dislike the constantly changing pace of being a F1 driver, he loathes being alone. Out there, people smile at him, cheer his name, they make him forget how empty his apartment is. They make him forget how empty his heart is.
This heat is so much worse than the entire season, and George even drove while going through heat.
His body ripples in pain, forcing him into a foetus position. His jaw clenched to the point it his teeth began hurting him. His head was swimming around aimlessly.
"George?"
It was not his name that jolted him up in his bed, it was the person calling him. Mustering all of his dwindling strength and threw a pillow at him. Max, that smug bastard, caught the pillow.
"Go away, Verstappen", George said, flopping back on his bed.
"Oh, now I'm Verstappen", Max muttered under his breath as he walked over to the side of his bed, "Not a few months ago when you were congratulating me for the win",
"How did you get in?" George asked weakly.
"You didn't change your code",
Right.
"Why are you here?" They both know where this would end and still do the dance. But it wouldn't end with few stubbed toes and awkward short talks.
"You didn't show up", Max said as an off-handed comment.
"Well, I'm sure my lawyers weren't difficult to deal with", George had no particular reason to be present for the process. All he had to do was sign the papers, which wasn't due another 2 months. Max's lawyers tried their best to halt the divorce process as much as possible.
All in all, he has no reason to actually be here.
George opened an eye to look. His breath was caught by the proximity of his soon-to-be ex-husband; worry in his ice blue eyes, his angled eyebrows furrowed. His mere presence so close to George made his body ache even more, he wanted to give into the temptation that was his husband.
But George is nothing if not stubborn.
"Go home, Verstappen", George shoved his chest without moving him an inch.
"You're not well. I can't leave you like this",
George glared at him, his anger boiling over his pain, "Can't leave me like this? THAT'S PRACTICALLY WHY WE ARE GETTING DIVORCED, MAX!" He coughed as his voice cracked on his name.
"I know. I also know an apology wouldn't fix it for you",
"Yes, you know that, excellent, now, leave", George pointed at his door and pulled his comforter over his head.
"George. Look at me", Max's voice was muffled.
"No", George gritted his teeth.
Alphas may have some authority over their omegas but they're no way stronger than a feral omega and George feels himself becoming one because Max was so close at using his Alpha voice at him. And they both know what will happen if he dares to use it.
"George",
George heard a shuffle near him but kept his head under. He felt the weight of the mattress dip, not enough for Max's full body. Then he heard the dull thuds on knees hitting the floor.
"George. You're in your heat. You're not feeling well. Please",
George threw the comforter off of him, "What. Do. You. Want? Are here to rub salts on my wounds?"
"No, of course not", Max had the audacity to sound hurt.
George scoffed and flung his legs off the bed, "My last warning", he snarled, gripping the sides of his bed so hard
"Please?" Max was on his knees, looking up at him with those earnest eyes. In front of him, he wasn't Max Verstappen, the Dutch Lion, the 4 times world champion. He was Max, his husband, the man he fell in love with, the man he dreamt of building a future with.
At least momentarily.
Max took care of not touching him. George is surprised he was able to hold himself back and actually be able to have a conversation with him. He knows the effect heats have on Alphas. Considering this one was his husband, he doesn't need to know how much he is resisting, he could already see it in his fully blown pupils and reddened cheeks and neck. He was talking through clenched jaw and fists.
Or maybe it's normal for him. Maybe he got too used to it, maybe he's bored of it. Maybe he can resist him easily now. Whatever they had— the marriage, meant nothing to him.
"You're overthinking again", Max tilted his head to the side to capture George's gaze, but he was stubborn enough to keep his eyes elsewhere.
"How about this, if you don't want me to comfort you, I can make you soup",
The prospect of Max making soup sounded good, especially if he was going make him erwtensoep. It has been almost a year since he last had it.
Max smiled slightly, his eyes narrowing in that joyful way, "Your silence is an answer enough",
He knew him too well.
"Of course I do, I'm your husband",
Did he said that out loud?
His heat was making him delirious, he noticed. Only Max's immediate presence seemed to soothe him. He wanted to feel Max on his burning skin so bad, he almost reached out to him when he stood up.
Max, of course he noticed, had the audacity to bent down and tower over him.
He was getting too close to George's comfort, almost nose to nose, "Max. Emilian. Verstappen", he gritted each word, leaning back and falling into his elbows.
"Hm?" The soft hum of his voice made George weak in the knee. His face was getting closer and closer, but he didn't have it in him to stop Max from placing an arm on either side of George. The silence was deafening. Even his uneven breathing was quieter than the thrumming of his heart. George felt like a trapped animal. Max was a little more than a predator playing with his prey.
He could tell Max was waiting for an invite.
No way in hell he would give him one.
"Get off me", George slapped his chest with the back of his hand.
"Okay", Max nodded and got off George.
Only then the Omega felt like he could breathe. His heat was simply intensifying with the presence of an Alpha, his Alpha.
No.
Max wasn't his anymore. He needs to stop thinking like that.
"I'll make you soup", with that, Max left the room, closing the door behind him.
George quickly climbed back into his nest and under his comforter. He radiated unnatural amount of heat, he can feel it even with the ice cold room. He was sweating as much as he does in his F1 car, which is saying something.
His senses were dulled and sensitive at the same time. He didn't feel the passage of time, he didn't know where he was except for the remaining scent of his husband. On the other hand, his clothes were too scratchy for him, the bed was too polyester, even though he uses only real silk. The gentle groan of the Central air conditioning was the only sound he could tolerate. George alternated between being slightly conscious and unconscious rest for however many hours he did. With his curtains and blind pulled tight and lamplights lows turned low, George didn't care what time it was. It might as well be in the dead of the night, and he couldn't care for it.
He is still bewildered about Max coming to him. Did he know he was in his heat? Max used to keep track of it so he can be there with him.
In his heat-induced haze, George can't remember why he demanded divorce. They were married for 3 years.
What brought the end to their marriage?
"George?"
Speak of the devil.
The smell of the pea soup broke him out of his thoughts.
"Took you long enough", George scoffed half-heartedly.
"It did. 'cause I made it from scratch. I made bread as well",
George's stomach growled at the sound of soup and bread.
What can he say? He's a simple Omega; he loves his husband's cooking.
Max placed the tray on the nightstand. The soup was in a large bowl with spoons and a fork on side. Plate of freshly cut bread with butter on the side caught his attention. George was oddly touched. Max, with all of his flaws, was also caring and attentive. He always noticed the little things about George and made sure to remember them for future use. He had surprised him on more than on occasion with things he mentioned in a fleeting moment.
"Hm?" Max dragged a chair from the other side of the room and placed it next to the bed. He didn't enter into his nest, even though he practically laid on top of him while back.
"Butter with bread",
Max glanced at the tray and back at him, "Ah, yes. I remember when you first made a fuzz about it. We were in Cherro",
"Why are you here, Max?"
Max opened his mouth to give him a dry or sarcastic response.
"Really?" George allowed himself to show him a moment of vulnerability. Max is a good man wouldn't use it against him, at least not when he's suffering in heat.
"I missed you", Max said simply, "I didn't want it to come to this",
As if George didn't miss him, as he George didn't stand there, cheering for him while he was crowned WDC for the 4th time.
Something ugly stirred in George's chest. His vindication, his frustration at the simplicity of the man in front of him, the man he agreed to marry, swore to each other and their god to protect and love in sickness and health. His hormones were definitely unbalanced but George couldn't care for it.
"You left me, Max. What was I supposed to think?" George's vision suddenly turned cloudy.
"I didn't leave",
Here we go again, George thought bitterly.
"Right", George took a deep breath and sat up in his nest, "Say you didn't leave, then why couldn't I contact you for 3 months? Even between the races, I couldn't contact you",
Silence.
"You weren't being fair, and you know it! You pushed me away, especially when you were losing in Baku and Singapore", finally, Max was saying something back.
"Yes, I was. I was so, so tired and agitated by it. You were winning. I wasn't. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"George you're not being fair",
George knew he wasn't being fair. Max was right. It was George's fault. It wasn't Max's fault when George threatened him even though he was just trying to help him. It wasn't his fault the media painted George the overtly emotional Omega in the sports. It wasn't Max's fault for having such a goddamn stubborn husband. Max tried his best to keep things professional while racing. They received a lot of backlash when they announced their relationship, but they both swallowed their anger and stayed, both in the sports and in the relationship.
"I'm sorry", George's throat was tightening up, from both the tears stuck and his heat irritating him further.
"I'm also sorry", Max picked up the tray and placed it in George's lap.
"Eat, please?", Max didn't order him, he pleaded him to.
"Okay", George nodded.
He scooped the green soup and brought the spoon to his lips. It was hot enough to sting him but also relieved the lump in his throat.
"It's good",
"Only good?" Max was teasing him but George could hear the strain in his voice. He was still on fence about how this would go.
"Do you... Want to reconcile?" George asked him straightforwardly. Max was not a man of twisted, pretty words. George may or may not have picked the habit from him.
"If you want to. I didn't want to let you go", Max shook his head, his eyes fixated on George. There was something soft in them. The icy blue that blazes with fire in the race now hold warmth in them.
For George.
He was fool to let him go. He was a fool to get a divorce.
"I might regret it tomorrow", George chuckled weakly, trying to lighten the dense atmosphere around them.
"But not now?" Max treaded carefully.
"No. Not now. The soup is too good", George sipped more of the said soup. It was an earthy mixture of freshly grounded spices and peas. The not too thin texture went down his throat smoothly.
Max nodded, "It is Nan's recipe after all",
George recalled his family, "Oh, yeah. Speaking of her, how is she? Missed her cooking" Max's grandmother was the first one to openly greet George into the family even though he didn't fit the mould of typical Male Omegas. Or Omegas for that matter. She was a bit hesitant about him, but after they spent a dinner together, exchanging stories about Max, they got along on good terms.
"Visited her yesterday and she refused to make me apple pie because I didn't bring you",
That got a giggle out of George, which descend into a cough when the soup got into the wrong pipe.
Max, bless his heart, jumped to bring the water to him and slap his back gently.
"I-I'm fine", his eyes were teary, totally due to heat related reasons.
Max's warm hand on his back was the first physical contact they had for the past 4 months. Other than the occasional podium pat on the back, they ignored each other's existence pretty easily.
His touch didn't burn like he expected. As a matter of fact, it felt cool. Maybe it was his feverish state talking, maybe it's his delusions.
George finished the soup in silence, feeling Max's eyes on the side of his face. George is aware of his beauty, but he also knew it wasn't his beauty Max was staring at. It was the hollowness of his cheeks and eyes, his pale skin and laboured breathing.
"Don't look at me", George titled his face away.
"Why?"
George can't give him a good reason. Max had already seen him in the worst of his heat. He had seen him feral and out of his mind. He was the only one who could calm him. Max saw the worst of him, the true him— beyond the flashy smiles and practiced answers, and still married him.
"George?"
George's breath was caught in his throat at the delicacy by which Max called his name. It wasn't a plead, not that fickle but desperate enough, it wasn't a prayer, not that heavy but solemn enough. No, it was a wish. A simple wish of being faced.
"Hm?"
The stiflingly still air of room was slowly but surely suffocating George. If this goes on for another minute, he might bolt out of the room or throw Max out of his apartment.
"Will you look at me, schat?"
George is a fool who's still in love to make Max's wish come true. George turned his head to look at him.
Max was beautiful.
As beautiful as he is fierce, like the dancing fire that captivates you and calls to you but burns you if you get too close. The Omega took him fully in, the arch of his brow, the tilt of his pressed lips, the shadow of his nodded eyes, the lion like mane he had grown out.
"Can I kiss you?"
George swallowed down his instinct of saying yes. He was doing a good job of repressing his heat so far. He didn't need his physicality to cloud his judgement. George's an athlete in one of the most physically demanding sports, for fucks sake. He works out regularly, can withstand G forces half his body mass.
But his body still aches.
His arms and legs still spasm in pain, his bones still feel too mellow.
"Yes",
Max, to his credit, was gentle with it. He climbed into the bed one knee after the other, slowly sitting diagonal to George.
"Are you sure?"
Again, the silence filled the room.
This time, it was intimate, private. It wasn't between two drivers; it was between lovers.
"You never looked more beautiful than now", Max looked like a predator circling his prey, his eyes shadowed.
"When I'm in pain and withering?" George asked drily.
The crease between his brows eased as he huffed a smile, "You always look beautiful. Happy?"
"Very much so", George leaned forward and captured Max's plush lips with his own. They were dry, as his lips tend to be, but they are soft, "And you look better smiling",
Max cupped his jaw with one hand and his other hand slid under his shirt. George tried his best to swallow the whimper escaping his lips but couldn't hold back when Max hook a finger on his pajamas.
"So bothered", Max commented in between the kisses.
Max pushed George onto his back tenderly.
George dug his nails into his shoulder, "Take care of me, then. Isn't that your job?" George panted.
"It is", Max brought his lips to George's neck. His teeth were too close to his gland.
He buried his hand in the base of the Alpha's scalp, "Max, please",
"Do you want it?"
"Yes. Please. Bite", George was out of his mind, his heat took over him. It wanted George to succumb to Max. It's not like his mind would make a different decision to that.
Max nibbled the skin between his should and neck, just below his gland, "Max", George wanted to say so much but the press of Max's body on top of him, his thigh between his legs left him without proper words.
Max, the stubborn bull of a husband he is, took his sweet time in biting George. He kissed his lips, face, jaw, collarbones, anywhere but his gland where he needed it the most. Each kiss Max left on him felt ablaze on his skin, which is saying something, considering how feverish George was feeling.
"Max", he pleaded his name one more time.
"I love it when you call my name like that", Max murmured right into his ear. A shiver ran down George's spine, "I smell others on you",
"You were nowhere to be found", with each second, George found it more and more difficult to speak coherent sentences, "If you want to do something-",
Just when George felt like he was going to melt into the bed, Max bit him, right below his ear. The bite itself didn't hurt much, as Max has pretty straight teeth, but the two canines would leave bruises for now. His entire body jolted as Max deepened the bite.
George's whine went for few seconds before he could calm down. He's not better than a bitch after all.
And he's in heat.
George huffed a weak laugh causing Max to give him a questioning look, blood on his lips.
"Nothing", George extended his hand to wipe off the blood.
"Hm. Didn't sound like nothing", Max was warm above him and George didn't want to think of anything else except for that.
"Just.... Don't leave", George wrapped his arms around Max's middle.
"I don't intend to", Max kissed the top of his head.
"Good", George nodded, placing his head onto Max's chest.
George laid there, Max's arms around his waist and shoulder, his legs thrown over. Their bodies flushed from the make out session and Max biting him.
George still refused to have sex with Max when he's controlled by his instincts rather than his clear conscious.
Max, the man he is, agreed to it and held George in his arms, even when his entire being was demanding he give into it. Max held him through the worst of grief and was the first person George went to for good news. Those three years, under the scrutiny of the media when their questions were deafening and flashlights blinding, Max took his hand and led him to quietness.
Somewhere out there, sometime back he couldn't point out, George forgot the warmth only given by a living person in his bed. He filled the void Max left with whoever, but they didn't hold him, they had sex and left.
Most importantly, they didn't make them soup.
He can get used to Max making him soup again.