#britcedes rpf

[heliads]

kill your darlings - britcedes

Lewis is a world-class writer. George is the son of Lewis' publisher. Neither of them will get what they want from this, but that won't stop it from happening.

masterlist

Lewis is a famous author. World-class. The best of the best. Any work of his is guaranteed to go straight to the top of the charts, the reviews, the lists. Everything. He is universally adored, except by his rivals, and even they can admit, in quiet, backroom editor’s chambers, that Hamilton has the game locked down.

George is the son of the owner of Lewis’ publishing company. He likes to turn up to headquarters and sit in on some of the important meetings. This makes him feel like he’s really shaping up to take over the business, even though he knows his father is probably going to hand off the title to his vice president or something. Or maybe he would give it to George anyway. It would be the proper thing to do, and proper is what the Russells do best. He is not known by many, except his schoolmates and his blood, and their knowledge, embarrassingly, only feels skin-deep.

Lewis lives in the same apartment building as George. The complex itself is owned by George’s father; the elder Russell is a renaissance man like that, savvy in snapping up good deals the second they cross his path. George hopes he inherits the company, but most of all, he hopes he inherits that hunter’s instinct, the eye for blood and limping prey combined with the premonition of when to bite down hard on flesh and bone. Lewis was given the penthouse rooms of the Russell building at an inhumanely reduced price as an encouragement to stick with the company. George has the suite one floor below, and tries not to feel any particular way about it.

Lewis has a habit, when writing, of not just killing his darlings but brutally murdering them. When he finds a sentence he loves but cannot include, he writes it out on a piece of paper and flings it out of his apartment window. George, while walking his father’s dog in a great display of loyalty and maturity, kept finding the scraps of penmanship and saving them in his pocket. It took him about six months before he figured out that the abandoned words were Lewis’. He’s got them stuck up on a great big pinboard in his room, the literary fragments all shoved together like he’s some kind of serial killer. All he’s missing is the red thread connecting names and places, and maybe the bodies too.

The scrapped words look down on him now, always. When he sleeps. When he wakes. When he comes back from work, needlessly tired from doing relatively nothing, and sits perfectly rigid in his antique armchair, the one that isn’t particularly comfortable but is something that a man like him should have. It shows class, you know. It shows distinction. He’ll earn it someday, too. When George does something base, like clean mud off his trainers or think about Lewis before a cold shower, he turns his back on the crucified sentences. So Lewis can’t see. So Lewis won’t know.

Lewis looks down on George. Not intentionally. It’s rather easy to do with George. He simply has a way about him that makes it impossible for anyone like Lewis to be his equal. George believes it’s only due to his earnest quality, the fact that George won’t ever condescend to anyone. If he will not look down on someone, then they must look down on him, or else stare him straight in the face, which of course is not proper. He does look down on quite a lot of people, actually, or tries to, it just doesn’t work.

When Lewis caves and lets George bring him back to his place after leaving the publishing company’s end of year party early, he has George take him to bed only to find the glaring mass of his discarded darlings hanging over the queen size mattress. He cannot decide if he is disgusted or comforted by it. In the end, he tries not to look, and tells George to get on his knees so he has something to say. He comforts himself by believing that this was a one-night stand, and doesn’t everyone have horror stories about those?

It happens again, after that. Obviously. A story is only good if it bears repeating. Lewis does everything to not think about the twisted web of his abandoned words hanging above him as he does nameless things to George on that bed. He closes his eyes. He turns his back to it. One time, he tries having George blindfold him, but it occurs to Lewis about halfway through the affair that he does not entirely trust George to behave with him like that, not just naked but unwitting too, unaware of what George might do to him, maybe pin him up on that board along with the lines he didn’t need, so he immediately pulls it off and pretends as if nothing had happened. The words burn like tattoos against his exposed skin. It is heaven and hell but mostly nothing worth mentioning. 

Lewis leaves eventually, breaks up with George even though there wasn’t really anything to break up at all. Can you divorce a situationship? In a fit of rage, George pulls some strings and has his father restore Lewis’ rent back to full plus some extra. Lewis leaves the company and the apartment building. George tears down his wall of darlings and shoves them in the dumpster outside where they can rot along with the feelings that neither of them had about this. He finds one last scrap of paper with Lewis’ final word some months after he left. It’s a small piece, only big enough for one word:  George. George tries to think about what could have been written around it, if Lewis was bashing him or hating him or just letting go, and then throws up in the kitchen sink after turning it over too long in his head.

Some time later, years maybe or just months, Lewis and George cross paths again. They go back to George’s place. Lewis braces himself to walk into George’s bedroom but finds that the board of cut sentences is gone completely. He’s harder than he ever has been.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[umflowers]

that did not take long to write lol stripper george/canon lewis, pwp but with feelings-ish, respect for sex work, etc <3 squick warning for mild foot fetish, also there’s one tiny mention of weed

[chamberkat]

cigarettes after sex

(you can point out the exact moment George falls in love)

[jusst-you-race]

the condominium community committee

chat fic, multi-chapter, (37/?)

George Hello, welcome to a group chat we have for the Formula apartment building! There are only 18 (20 now) of us so we like to keep in contact about the building maintenance and other neighbourly orders of business. I’m George, and I liaise with the building manager on behalf of all of us when there is a building specific issue rather than an apartment issue. Welcome to the building! Lando do u copy and paste that from ur notes every time Alex I bet he has it memorised

alternatively, the ridiculous chat fic where the f1 grid all live in the same apartment building

[lyslsstuff]

Mercedes's hunters, or rather, it's "Angels".

Weapons au by @roosterhouse !! had so much fun rendering this!!

[makegeorgealesbian63]

also I have to say george might be The Most Shippable man. I might have to do up a chart to confirm, but i genuinely think he has the best potential with the most drivers.

Obviously he and Alex work, i think the other two twitch quartet members work too. Britcedes is fun. and then you get into the fun, less expected ones.

Gax is obviously written about fairly frenquently. I could see a very talented writer genuinely making me ship russass (bottell?) (valeorge??), i have already seen a very talented writer make me ship gance with one phenomenal long fic. I have also seen riccrussell which I don't fully understand but i can get behind as two of my favourite drivers.

I need someone to do something with seb and the fact that they were gpda directors together. If being teammates is enough for people to ship some pairings in this sport, so should being co directors of a union.

I don't like the power dynamic of toto/ george but even i can admit it could be compelling if well written and I do quite like a fic with rancid vibes, and toto is obviously the most fuckable TP (I actually want to fuck Susie but, you know). Speaking of rancid vibes, I can absolutely picture a Nico/George fic that is so incredibly toxic and deals with the interplay of brocedes and britcedes in a world where lewis doesn't want either of them.

In conclusion george is the most shippable driver.

[nearmike]

Teacher's pet || 4463

Part 1 out tomorrow ⏳⏳

Snippet ⬇️⬇️⬇️

-What's your name?- he asked once they pulled away to catch their breath.

-Is it important?- replied Lewis, eager to pick up where they left off.

It was a strange thing for him, he usually never kissed anyone he took to the bathroom, the car or the house but with Blue Eyes it was different. When he found him in front of him, he felt an almost vital need to place his lips on those of the other, he wanted to taste them, to feel their smoothness, he wanted to make sure that the attractive boy didn't feel them anymore from too many kisses. Blue Eyes didn't respond, he just knelt in front of Lewis and unzipped his trousers

[gr63wdc]

🤎 gewis pls?

send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet! ↳ 🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss trying to force myself to deal with lewrarri by making him win his 8th wdc 🙂‍↕️ (also tbh i kind of hate this, but ig it'll have to do)

The screams of the crowd are deafening, a fever pitch rising until he can barely hear his own breath. The crowd is a sea of rosso corsa and fluro yellow, a horrid mix in George’s opinion; Lewis’s chosen neon shade doesn’t match quite as nicely as it did with his own blue or Mercedes’s teal.

The podium ceremony is a blur, exuberant and overwhelming. He tries to linger, watching Lewis on the stage as he is doused in champagne, how he is meant to be, but the media pen would wait for no one.

It feels like a dream that Lewis won his eighth championship in São Paulo. It’s their place, Lewis’s honorary home, the track where George took his first win. And despite the shit Ferrari put him through this season, the inconsistent car, the confusing strategy calls, the indecisive priorities, the attitudes of certain fans, he had won it.

George knows he won’t see Lewis for hours still, everyone wanting a piece of the record-breaking champion. He heads back to the hotel, prepares for bed, and waits.

The click of the room’s door opening rouses George, unaware that he even fell asleep at all. Lewis is still sticky, slightly damp with champagne, but at least he is not wearing any garishly red team gear.

“Congratulations, Mr. World Champion,” George says, his voice a little hoarse from his unintentional nap. Lewis grabs his face, squishing his cheek, and peppers kisses anywhere he can. He’s electric, giddy and vibrating like he’s about to explode.

Soon, Lewis’s hands and mouth start shifting, moving further and further down his body, dropping kisses and caresses wherever there’s an inch of skin. George should probably convince him to shower the sticky champagne off him first, but he doesn’t have the self-control or the desire to do so.

They can stand to celebrate tonight.

[formulaocean]

Just out of nowhere the crack ship that is Gax comes for you before it disappears for a while only to return and hit you across the face.

Personally, the funniest possible explanation for that Max & Lewis dinner date comment is that it was the manifestation of George unwillingly finding the both of them attractive yet being unable to process that information. He wants to be them and beat them and be with them but until then he's a 4433 truther 🥰

[chamberkat]

no matter what, there's still a future together

[crimsonicarus]

GR RPF FIC REC MASTERLIST!!

Long post!

Big shoutout to @arsenalgbt for suggesting i made a list, here are my fave GR fics, im a multishipper so it will be a couple or ships here, anyway, enjoy!

I wanted to also thank all the authors here listed for their awesome contributions to this lovely fandom, im really grateful for all your work <3333333

If any of the authors here listed would rather have their work taken down from this list please let me know .

new year's resolution by @wormeo-and-juliette

Pairing: OT3 Fernando Alonso/George Russell/Lance Stroll

Lance gets the text from Fernando well into the afternoon on the first day of the year: I slept with George.

Um. What?

eagle eyed by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: OT3 Alex Albon/George Russell/Logan Sargeant

“He’s watching, you know,” Alex says, voice level and conversational, like Logan being in the room is a normal part of this experience, “he’s hard.”

i’m your number one (it’s so obvious) by @63historian

Pairing: OT3 Lewis Hamilton/George Russell/Max Verstappen

“Tell him what you want, Georgie.”

He clenches his hole just as he starts begging, “I need you to come inside me, please, Max, please, I want it so bad.”

And who is Max not to obey such beautiful cries?

positive negatives by @ctimenefic

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

George doesn’t regret that shoot, exactly.

He had for a long time. After the first high of seeing the rushes wore off; after overhearing a murmured warning in general casting, days too late; after he woke up at three am to reread the release he’d blithely signed without thinking, and spent the next four hours staring at the ceiling hoping to wake up. He’d regretted it then.

For years after, the memory of it could hit like an ice cube sliding down his spine. Always, of course, at the most inconvenient moments. When he was working, or networking, when he needed his wits about him, couldn’t afford to stutter over his words. They’d put him in white silk, or offer him wine, or he’d walk into a room with slow, warm jazz playing, and the whole excruciating mess of it all would come back. He’d learnt how to smile through it, then how not to blink at all.

June is the coldest month of the year by @beabnormal24

Pairing: Max Verstappen/ George Russell

“Just don’t be a stranger, yeah?” It doesn’t sound as empty as George would’ve expected.

Max disappears in Monaco’s breeze with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and his head turned to the side to look at the coast following him, or it’s him who follows the coast. It’s not that simple to guess when George feels the way he does about him.

He stares at the broad expanse of his back until he’s nothing more than a distant figure just like any other person around and he can pretend that he’s no one in the middle of the world.

The blessing of anonymity, he muses, gripping at the hems of his sleeves.

All of a sudden, his chest feels quiet.

nobody else by ginnydear

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

The Mercedes garage is almost overwhelmingly busy when Alex walks through the crowds of officials there.

or... what if the world was suddenly plunged into omegaverse and everyone started presenting at once... pt two.

 table in the back by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

“Okay, here’s the offer." Alex says. "I’m going to make you something and if you don’t like it, you don’t pay. How does that sound?”

“So I get a good meal or a free meal?” George asks. “Sounds like a no-lose scenario.”

“Keen eye, George,” Alex grins. “Figured out my terrible business sense on the first try. Alright, take it or leave it.”

 all green lights

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Sorry mate I think you've got the wrong number

chrome wheeled, fuel injected, and steppin' out over the line

Pairing: OT3 George Russell/Lance Stroll/Fernando Alonso

Lance and Fernando have been together for over two years and it is great. It is great apart from one minor detail. They are both dominant tops and the irritation is starting to grind them down. Enter Lance's ex-whatever, George Russell.

But George is not going to be as easy to get on board as Lance and Fernando think. He will give his whole heart but you have to open it up first.

DISCLAIMER: THE FIC IS NOW ON PERMANENT HIATUS

Very common crisis (series) by crimandclove

Pairing: George Russell/ Lance Stroll

January 2024 - George finds himself single, stressed, with a set of tits & one Lance Stroll in his home.

Calls and Cats by @raewritesf1

Pairing: George Russell/Max Verstappen

Things go awry when George’s video call with the quartet is interrupted by the form of a familiar half-naked Dutch driver wielding a Bengal cat in the background.

spread before you like a picnic by @janinaduszejko

Pairing: Alex Albon/ George Russell

Now, weeks later, he thinks that was probably the reason he’d said it, why when he came back to himself and noticed that Alex had manhandled him on his stomach and was in the process of peeling George’s jeans down, his first instinct was to say, panicky: “You can’t fuck me.”

it's not about having someone to love me anymore by linearity

Pairings: Alexander Albon/George Russell, George Russell/Toto wolff

George is an omega. He kind of hates himself for it.

Brake Balance by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

"Why don’t you come dance?” With me goes unspoken, and George is eyeing him with a familiar look, like he’s sure Lewis will brush him off again, but he still wants to try.

Maybe it’s the buzz of alcohol. Maybe it’s the shiny skin of a tanned collarbone showing through George’s three open shirt buttons. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of the whole day in general, but for once, Lewis thinks that sounds like a pretty good idea.

Stop overthinking, just go with it.

Bono’s words echo pointedly around his mind. Fuck it

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat by @prettydangrotten

Pairing: Alex Albon/George Russell

They’d agreed on friends when Alex had come to collect the last of his things from George’s flat. George had been adamant about it, all uncomplicated smiles, like they hadn’t just spent six months living in each other’s pockets and having some of the most bizarrely intimate sex of Alex’s life.

And friends is a noble intention, but. Alex still only has one friend who’s sucked him off in their driver’s room.

Allow yourself this happiness by Sonnenscheintraum

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

i can barely breathe (when you're here loving me)

When Lewis wakes up he knows he's going into rut. He will be able to get through the rainy and cold race in Spa if he takes enough suppressants.

But what if George by his side is actually making it worse for him to keep the rut in check?

How is he supposed to keep himself under control when George looks and smells like the most delicious way and makes him want to claim him?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

Lewis Hamilton may be the sweetest person who ever stepped on earth and choose not to see the truth, but he deserves so much more than a broken, thirteen years younger college student.

So George does what is best for him.

 See my Vision (tell ‘em) by @russilton

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton/George Russell

“Feeling a little desperate, sweetheart?” It’s clearly rhetorical, but George nods anyway, and bites his lip at the conflicted emotions he sees cross Lewis’ face.

He knows it’s late, closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, but it’s been so long since they’ve had freedom to do whatever they want. He loves racing with his entirety, he even loves the intensive training and strict schedules, but he doesn’t love how the need to keep his body in perfect function for a race keeps him from Lewis.

George and Lewis have three weeks break between Monza and Singapore, and they just can’t wait anymore.

[brittany-and-lewis]

F1 SHIP RECS NEEDED!!

literally any ship, ANY it doesn’t matter-ignore my blog and the pairings i usually post, any ship. i tend to stay away from omegaverse and mpreg, but thats mainly it. throw your best fics at me please 🙏 in my ask box (if it works) reblogs replies ANYTHING

[starlightiing]

Information purposes only! Lewis was requested to me in an ask and I grabbed some ships I saw were popular, and some that were suggested to me in the comments of that post.

Please reblog for a larger sample size! <3 I will go into a deep dive of the results once the poll is over. As always, if you want me to do a poll for a driver, send me a message and some ships! (I will redo polls as well once they're a few months old!)

Thank you!

[nearmike]

Teacher's pet || 4463

It's thereeeeeee, teacher/student AU pt. 1 is out

Let me know what you think <3

My Kofi -> Nearmike

[nicbutnasty]

💛 gewis!!

Hello, thank you! And apologies for how long it took me to write ths one, but we got there in the end.

💛 reunion kiss/relief for George/Lewis | G | ~1K words

note: contains brief description of a fictional crash. George is mostly unharmed

It wasn’t a bad crash, all things considered. But still, Lewis can’t deny that his heart was in his mouth when the message came through on the radio. Car 63 in the barriers, DNF. George. That was over an hour ago now.

He would have been checked over by the medics and debriefed since then—nothing more than a few bruises and feeling a bit shaken up, supposedly—but Lewis needs to see for himself. Being a supportive teammate means offering comfort where he can, but maybe selfishly he needs to prove to himself that George is unharmed, to stop the way his heart kicks in his chest every time he thinks about it.

George would have done his own post-race interviews whilst the rest of them were still on track—Lewis knows how these things work by now—so as soon as he can extract himself from his own media duties, he finds himself standing outside George’s driver’s room. 

The door is slightly ajar, so Lewis knocks once and tentatively pushes it open. George is perched awkwardly there on the black vinyl sofa, as if a stranger in his own room. He looks so much smaller than he did in front of the crowds earlier that day, his lithe frame contorted into a protective curl, all elbows and knees, head in his hands. Something in Lewis’ heart clenches in sympathy at the sight. 

“Hey, George?” Lewis calls softly.

Wordlessly, George looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and watery.

Lewis crosses the room in a few strides, carefully sits next to him on the sofa. Now he’s closer, he can see George is trembling slightly, hear his breath coming out in quiet shudders. He gently wraps an arm around George, hoping for comfort rather than scaring him off.

He shouldn’t have worried, because George immediately leans into it, turning his head so his face is buried in Lewis’ shoulder. His fireproofs are probably all damp and sweaty, but George doesn’t seem to mind, just clings to Lewis like  a lifeline as his shuddering breaths turn to sharp, choking gasps. Lewis clutches him tightly, all the worry he’d pushed down in order to complete the race now bubbling up with the relief of having George here in his arms. 

Lewis rubs calming circles on George’s back, bringing his other hand to the nape of George’s neck to run his fingers through the soft hair there. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, “It’s okay Georgie, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Slowly George’s breathing begins to even out. Lewis continues to hold him, stroking his back and murmuring soft nothings to him, until George suddenly pulls away with a jolt.

“I’m– I’m sorry,” he stammers out, scrubbing his face with his hands, “You shouldn’t have to–”

Lewis catches his hands and gently pulls them into George’s lap, where they flutter momentarily like a captive bird before stilling. George keeps his eyes lowered, body hunched over, as if ashamed.

“But I want to,” Lewis interrupts softly. He absently brushes his thumbs over the inside of George’s wrists, where the delicate veins show in blues and greens through the skin, a tangible reminder that George is alive and unharmed. Lewis takes a steadying breath. “Oh George,” he sighs fondly, “when I heard, I was so worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay, see if I could help.”

George finally looks up at him with his big wet eyes, lashes clumped together with tears. Lewis thinks he’s never looked so beautiful. “But why?” he asks.

“Because I care about you, man.” George doesn’t look convinced, so Lewis continues, “I do, I swear. Not just because we’re teammates or whatever, but because you’re you. You’re incredible, man, and every day I swear to god I’m thankful I know you. You’re talented, you’re kind-hearted, and you’re beautiful, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you in my life, but I–” He feels a lump in his own throat, huffs out a wet sort of laugh, “Well, I’m not questioning it.”

Lewis releases George’s wrists to cradle his face in his hands, thumbing away an errant tear. George’s eyes have gone wide and glassy now, cheeks flushed and mouth parted slightly, as if stunned Lewis could even think about him that way. Well, he can’t have that, can he?

Lewis leans in slightly, hoping he’s not crossing a line. But George, sweet George, always there to meet him where he’s at, follows his lead, his eyelids fluttering shut.

The kiss is tentative at first, George yielding easily. Lewis can taste the salt of shed tears on his lips, licks at the seam of them and George opens easily, malleable under Lewis’ careful attention. He gasps into the kiss as Lewis sucks at his lower lip, one hand coming up to fist in Lewis’ shirt. Lewis likes George like this, he thinks. Open, expressive, not afraid to show what he needs. 

Lewis pulls back slightly and George automatically chases him, swaying towards Lewis, lips parted. His eyes flutter open in momentary confusion and Lewis can feel him tense slightly, as if preparing for rejection.

Whatever he sees in Lewis’ face must reassure him though, as George settles back into his arms. 

“Hello,” Lewis murmurs.

“Hi,” George breathes. His lips are kiss-swollen and he’s flushed pink from cheeks down below the neckline of his shirt. Lewis idly wonders how far that flush extends.

A loud thunk from outside breaks the moment, followed by laughter and good-natured jeers of the pit crew. Beyond the room, the whole paddock is packing up and shipping out for the next race. As lovely as it is right here together on George’s tiny vinyl sofa, they can’t stay. 

Lewis pushes himself up off the sofa with a soft groan, extending a hand to George. “Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel and in your pyjamas.”

George takes his hand but remains sitting for a moment, looking up at Lewis with something akin to hope in his eyes. “Will you– will you stay?” he asks.

Lewis laughs softly. “Yes, of course I will,” he reassures, giving George’s hand a tug for good measure. 

This time, George goes willingly, keeping Lewis’ hand clutched tightly in his, whilst he reaches for his bag with the other. 

There’s the early morning flight back home tomorrow, a couple days to rest, then straight back on the plane to the hustle and bustle of the next race, the next country. But tonight, in the comfort of George’s clean hotel sheets, they’ve got all the time in the world.

[gr63wdc]

if you’re still taking requests for the headcannon ficlet

Gewis where lewis is possessively jealous of George

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons a short ficlet about it possessive lewis is soooooo important to me. idk if i really hit the jealousy part, but i hope you enjoy this anon :D (also they fuck nasty after this btw)

the club is crowded and loud, bass pounding against george’s skull. trying to get from their table in the back to the bar has been awful, people bumping and pushing into him, trying not to trip on feet. when he gets to the bar, elbowing in between other patrons, trying to get the bartender’s attention, he notices the guy on his right checking him out.

“hey, beautiful, you come here often?” he asks. george glances at him quickly before trying to flag the bartender down again. the guy is tall, but not taller than george, bulky and sweaty under the bright, strobing lights; he’s not unattractive, per se, but george has no interest in anything he has to say.

“let me buy you a drink,” he continues. despite george angling himself completely away, the guy can’t seem to catch the hint, leaning closer. the bartender has finally acknowledged george, so he’s just hoping he can get their drinks quickly and go.

“no, thank you,” george says, polite but firm. he shifts a bit further away and is extremely grateful for the interruption of the bartender asking for his order. now all he has to do is hold on a few more moments for the drinks to be made.

again, the guy moves closer to george, forcing him to bump into the couple on his left side. george sends them a quick smile in apology, but he doesn’t know how much more obvious he can make his disinterest towards this guy. what, does he need a bright neon sign above his head, stating “not interested. please go away”?

right as the bartender passes the drinks across the bar top, george feels an arm snake around his waist and slip into his shirt. he’s ready to deck the guy, before he feels the comforting cool of lewis’s rings against his skin.

“is there a problem here?” he asks. george can hear the steel underlying lewis’s soft voice, cutting through the heavy bass despite not being all that loud. the guy, finally, gets the hint that george is decidedly not interested and leaves, and george slumps back against lewis.

“we’re leaving,” lewis says.

“what? but i just got alex his drink.”

“he’s fine. we’re going home.”

george can recognize the tone of lewis’s voice, the slight waver that betrays his anger. he knows how lewis gets when someone else touches what belongs to him. lewis is always deeply apologetic and embarrassed in the aftermath, but george likes belonging to lewis, he always has. and he can see how the rest of the night will play out pretty clearly, a future of vibrant bruises and bite marks on any bit of unblemished skin.

“alright,” george says, letting lewis drag him through the crowd towards the exit. he’s sure the rest of the group won’t mind having to close out his tab.