#max/GP

[dilfgp]

Max moves to Monaco at eighteen and realises he doesn’t know how to be an adult. The extractor in his kitchen smells funny and he doesn’t know why, and google says he needs to replace the filter. Max doesn’t know how to do that.

Luckily, a guy on YouTube called GP does.

new brainworm just dropped, btw

[maxz-b]

I could be Australian easily I could wrestle a crocodile in ways you wouldn't even believe part 40/???

[maxtism]

♡ Gianpiero Lambiase lifting Max Verstappen up after they won the World Driver Championship — Las Vegas, 2024 ♡

[nasobem]

GP is Not a Cat Person

The first time GP slips up and reaches over unthinkingly to rub between the kid's fuzzy, spotted cat ears, he knows he's lost.

The way Max melts into it, the soft purr and blissful expression, make something stir in GP's cold, dead heart.

You know when a Dad insists over and over that he does not like cats and certainly doesn't wasnt one in his house, and then within a week he's having regular armchair naps with said kitten? Basically that.

Rated Explicit, 9k Words, as always beta'd by Plethoriall

[lsunstreakerl]

okay 60+ votes in like an hour is good enough for me! have 1.6k of vampire smut. no plot. don't go looking, it's not there. GP pov!

pairings: GP/max

relevant heads up: they're vampires. blood kink, blood play, daddy kink, max shaming, power dynamic if you squint.

Gianpiero blinks awake as his covers move, a cold body wiggling right up next to him. He groans, hand flopping around until he can get his palm clasped across the back of Max's neck— not that it does any good.

He can feel tiny pinpricks in his skin as Max nibbles at his collarbone, pressing closer to him.

"Max. You're supposed to be in Monaco."

Max whines, unlatching from his neck.

"GP, I'm hungry, I didn't want to go upstairs and feed off of Daniel again. It makes me feel bad."

Gianpiero pulls him away from his skin by the back of his neck, gripping the skin in a firm scruff.

"Because he's happy, Max. Obviously he's not going to taste good. That doesn't explain why you felt the need to fly all the way over here,"

He shakes Max roughly, watching his head flop around even as his eyes stay locked with Gianpiero's, wide and wanting.

"Break into my house,"

Another harsh shake.

"And latch onto me like it's your first day dead."

Max frowns.

"You used to let me do that all the time."

"Yes, when you were a baby. It's been sixty years, you need to learn some patience."

Max blinks up at him from under his lashes, blue eyes wide as he swings a leg to straddle Gianpiero's thigh.

"But daddy—"

Gianpiero groans, head falling back as he catches the edge of Max's wicked grin.

"Don't 'daddy' me, you know better. I thought letting you use the sim for virtual tournaments was giving you enough?"

Max grinds down onto his leg, cold fingers skating up his side under his shirt.

"It was, and now it's not, and I'm hungry."

Gianpiero sighs, gripping Max's hips to hold him in place, glaring. Normally he'd have a cute little flush in his cheeks, but he's run through his blood supply faster than he was supposed to, again.

Gianpiero had been assigned Max because they were similar, in the sense that they both got additional nourishment from broken dreams. Gianpiero has easily sated that urge by working in a Formula 1 team, because someone is always losing. It's delicious.

Max is younger, irresponsible and still full of life, despite his status as undead. He'd been excited to be a racer instead, claiming that the broken dreams tasted sweeter when he was responsible for them.

It works well during the season, but...

It's times like now, in the middle of the offseason, that Gianpiero is reminded why Max still needs supervision.

"Christ, you're high maintenance."

He shoves Max back into the bed, determined to ignore the way he blinks up at him, lips parted as he arches his back.

"Come on, just a little, please, I'll be so good, I'll even let Checo get some points this year."

Gianpiero gathers his wrists above his head, forcing his eyes away from his splayed thighs, pale skin on display.

"Like you let Alex? Right, I'll believe it when I see it."

Max pouts up at him, pointed fangs peeking out over the curve of his bottom lip.

"That wasn't my fault, it was his fault, you can't get mad about it."

Gianpiero rolls his eyes, free hand skimming across Max's chest, tweaking at a nipple under his shirt, listening to his small gasp as he squirms.

"Because nothing is ever your fault, is it? Perfect little golden boy who does no wrong?"

There's a sharp gleam in Max's eyes when he grins up at him, predatory and hungry.

"I'm so good, daddy. I'm destroying them every time, I'm feeding us both, I do such a good job, tell me I'm good daddy, please—"

Gianpiero cuts him off, pinching one of his fangs between his index finger and thumb, watching Max's tongue dart out at lick at his fingers.

"You're gluttonous is what you are. You can't ration, you gorge during the season, and then you get all thirsty and desperate over break. Why should I help you, hmm? Don't you think I've done enough for you?"

Max licks at the pad of his thumb, hips canting up underneath him. He can't respond, not with Gianpiero's fingers in his mouth, but he pushes his hips up into Gianpiero, squirming where he's pinned at his wrists.

Gianpiero sighs, shaking Max's head with his tooth.

"You're pathetic, lad. Stay here."

Max nods, wide eyed as Gianpiero slides out of bed, padding into the kitchen. He has a blood bag in the fridge somewhere— and despite his attitude, he always keeps O+ stocked for Max.

He hears a quiet gasp from his room again, rolling his eyes as he makes his way back to the bedroom, blood bag in hand.

Max has two fingers pushed inside himself, arching off the bed as his lashes flutter shut. He's long limbed, body stuck in time forever, all pale skin and corded muscle, legs spread wide on the bed.

"Max."

Gianpiero hears the edge to his voice, setting the blood bag on the bedside table.

Max's eyes blink back open, pupils blown. He knows what he looks like, stretched out with his fingers inside of him. He knows what it does to Gianpiero.

There's a smug curl in his lips, because he's getting exactly what he wants. Gianpiero is giving in again.

"Get your fingers out, you little brat. It's supposed to be a punishment, since you can't remember to behave."

He pulls them out, blue eyes tracking the way Gianpiero shivers at the sound.

"Hands on the headboard."

Max is still smug as his fingers curl into the headboard, sharp nails fitting perfectly into the dents that he'd left behind years ago. Gianpiero sheds his boxers, one hand stroking himself to hardness as he grabs the blood bag with the other.

There's lube in the drawer, just enough for him to slick up his own cock, although he doesn't spare any time for Max— and Max knows the rules, so he won't feel bad either. His little brat was perfectly aware of what he was doing.

Max's eyes are trained on the blood bag as Gianpiero hitches one leg up, thumb tracing at his rim before he slides in.

He's tight, a sensation that Gianpiero knows he should be used to by now, but never gets any less addictive, and the broken moan that rips out of him at the first snap of his hips is music to his ears.

"Daddy—"

Gianpiero snags the blood bag, hooking one nail into the corner as he rolls his hips, pushing deeper into Max. His face is twisted in discomfort, but he bucks up to meet his thrusts, tiny gasps falling from his lips.

"You can beg prettier than that, I've heard it."

Max pouts again, squirming as Gianpiero fucks into him, tightening impossibly further around him.

"Please, I'll be so good, I'll ration it, I'll suck your cock, whatever you want— daddy please give it to me, need it so bad—"

Gianpiero rips at the corner, pressing it into Max's mouth, past his perfect gleaming fangs. Max likes to be messy with it, moaning loudly as it flows into his mouth, rivulets of crimson spilling over his lips. Gianpiero leans down, licking at the mess as he snaps his hips in again, Max's ankles hooked behind his back.

It's intoxicating, watching the life return back to him— the flush building in his face, spreading up to his ears and down his chest, the slow increase of body heat between them.

Max desperately sucks at the remains in the bag, blood smeared down his chin and dripping down his neck, twisting his hips to meet Gianpiero's thrusts. He's dutifully kept his hands curled around the headboard, nails digging into the wood.

Gianpiero runs his fingers across the mess on his face, wrapping them around his cock as he leans in and kisses him, slick with spit and the copper tang of blood.

Max whines into his mouth as Gianpiero jerks him off, frantically bucking into his hand. He's trembling, muscles locking up, and he knows he's close, just needs a little more.

Gianpiero licks across the roof of his mouth, muffling his moaning as he fucks in hard, pressing Max into the mattress, fingers around his cock in a slippery ring as he thumbs at the head of it.

Max wails into his mouth as he comes, and Gianpiero can hear the familiar sound of wood splintering. He doesn't stop, keeping his harsh pace even as Max starts to squirm again, licking across his smaller fangs before pressing his own against Max's throat.

Their fangs get longer with age— Max has young fangs still, cute when they poke over his lip. Gianpiero's are longer, leaving faint indents in Max's skin. Max shudders, mouth falling open as tears build at his lashes.

"Daddy please—"

His voice is high and whiny, and he's so tight even after his orgasm, blue eyes watery where he's watching Gianpiero, cheeks flushed with fresh blood.

Gianpiero sinks his teeth into his neck when he comes, hips pressed flushed to Max's ass as he wails, legs kicking out, head tossed back into the pillows.

He's thrashing, pinned by Gianpiero's weight and hands, by his own obedience keeping his fingers curled tight in the headboard, even as the tears start to fall.

Gianpiero drinks in a large mouthful, pushing a thumb against the pinpricks of blood when he detaches, curling over Max's body to press their lips together.

He lets the blood spill from his mouth to Max's, grinning at the way Max desperately kisses him, frantically trying to catch every drop.

He leans back, satisfied with his work. Max is debauched underneath him, lashes clumped with tears, cum splattered across his stomach, dripping from between his legs. His knuckles are white around the headboard, muscles in his arms straining.

Gianpiero shakes his head, tutting softly.

"You're a mess, Max. Not sure how I could ever clear you to be on your own yet, not when you can't even feed neatly."

Wide blue eyes blink up at him.

"But I'm good, daddy?"

Gianpiero leans down, thumb brushing over Max's pouting bottom lip, licking at a stray drop of blood.

"You're perfect, baby."

[blorbocedes]

take what's mine, want what's yours

Max/GP, 15k COMPLETE, explicit, heist au, fake/pretend marriage, max is long suffering gp's child bride

Summary:

a heist that spans a weekend at the grand belayge hotel. a pretend marriage. a stolen laptop. seven million dollars.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Max and GP at Circuit de Monaco on May 23, 2025 by Mark Thompson

[maxtism]

max/gp genuinely MOVES me okay like they move me. theyve been together since 2016 and both have said they would quit if the other left 🥹 gp named his dog after max and has a painting of them in his house — max straight up said he’d go if gp went 😵‍💫 they are very much a pair 🙂‍↕️💗 gp picking max up after las vegas24 is so so special to me too like :(( thats his boy‼️‼️‼️ thats his boy‼️‼️‼️

[hulknussen]

“You good?” Gianpiero finally asks.

Some of the anger that’s been brewing in Max gets washed away by those words. “Yeah,” he says. “Sorry, Dad.”

or: gp/max fauxcest written for @f1raceengineerfest. explicit oneshot, 1.6k words. full tags on ao3

[fast-burn]

aliens with any pairing but maybe... max/GP and max is an alien?! or vice versa?

this makes me sooooo so happy, xeno stuff is my happy place 🥰🥰🥰 science fiction + erotica my beloved

in fact this made me so happy that it's 4.4k long, so you can read the fic here if you prefer it on ao3 😵‍💫

kink list here

XXX

Mx.V.33-1 was their longest-lasting subject at RB Research Labs Milton Keynes. He had large, wide set eyes and a plush mouth, a neat row of pointy teeth, webbed fingers tipped with tiny talons, and gills along the side of his neck. He had grayish skin that was blue in the right light; it was soft to the touch. When extremely inebriated, GP could be pressed into admitting that he found Mx.V.33-1 somewhat cute, though it was certainly his bias as the lead scientist on the project. He called Mx.V.33-1 Max, for short, and it had stuck with everyone else in the lab.

Because he was extremely sapient—had mastered four languages and was working on Latin, was good at chess, even better at FIFA, loathed coursework but put up with it for the sake of science—Max had free reign of the RB compound. It wasn't safe to let him wander far alone, but he could spend hours out of his deep, salt-water tank. He liked wearing white t-shirts and jeans. He liked going for rides around the countryside in GP's Mini, and more often than not got his way when he asked to get behind the wheel and turn donuts in farmers' fields. He liked dogs and cats equally. He liked raw beef, and chocolate, and tomato soup. For the most part, he liked the research team.

GP was fully aware that his reciprocal fondness for Max was far from professional, but it didn't stop him from feeling that way. In his heart, Max was his ward, not an experiment. That's why he was at the lab on a Saturday, happily covering for a junior assistant who wanted to go visit her mum in hospital.

He'd brought a whole tray of Kinder Eggs for Max, hoping they could while away some of the day by combining the toy parts to make some new mechanical monstrosity. Max's creativity was endlessly fascinating. GP could put the results in the daily report, but mostly he just wanted to watch Max have some fun, and make chocolate disappear faster than GP could unwrap the foil.

The lights were already on when GP beeped past the locked double-doors, set on a timer to mimic the sunrise and set outside. Max was nowhere to be seen from this side of the tank.

"You are not supposed to be here," Max's voice crackled through the lab speakers—a clever bit of engineering that could parse speech through the water. "You don't come on weekends."

"Well spotted, Max," GP said, rolling his eyes as he took off his sodden coat. It was raining to beat the band out there, but that was England for you.

"Why are you here?"

GP shuffled the computer mouse to wake up the screen, and started typing in his epic-length password. "Don't you want to see the present I've brought you?"

Max swam out of his privacy enclosure and up to the front of the tank. "Yes please," he said.

Something was very wrong.

"You're pink," GP remarked. Mostly pink, but in some places purple, and in others a coral-orange. He glanced at Max's basic vitals on the computer screen. His dual heartbeat was elevated, though nothing beyond standard range. "Do you feel alright?"

"Fine," Max said, except he shrank back from GP a fraction, body curling in on itself. "Don't worry."

If Max was just another alien plant or sponge or fungus in the lab, GP would be merely curious, or maybe downright intrigued, but Max meant so much more than that. Of course GP was worried. "I'll need to take a fluid sample."

Max grimaced. "Ugh, no. It's okay, this is normal."

"You have an established normal. It doesn't include pink."

"It's just...my time," Max said, cheeks blooming spotty shades of purple. He was embarrassed. Several things clicked for GP at once.

"You're in estrus," GP concluded, and Max retreated from the front of the tank entirely in a flurry of bubbles.

They hadn't done much experimentation into Max's reproductive system. Obviously Max had one, but all his gonads were internal and seemed somewhat inert, and so they didn't poke at it much. They were far more interested in Max's DNA and its ability to adapt, crucial data being generated in stem cell research. And there was, of course, the opportunity to observe a humanoid member of an alien species learn to communicate, and thrive.

Max always glommed on to the profane and inappropriate first in any language he learned, and was a delightfully naughty encyclopedia for dirty jokes—something that especially pleased the linguists in the lab. Other than that, Max hadn't displayed much in the way of reproductive attributes. He didn't even use his computer login to look at pornography, just watched a lot of late night Twitch streams. They each had their theories about it: lack of an appropriate partner, or impracticality of breeding in capture, or complex and ephemeral alien sexuality. It hadn’t really been relevant, and now GP was floundering.

"You're not supposed to be here," Max whined again, voice just as clear from wherever he'd hidden himself.

"Well, I am," GP replied. "Let's just get you sorted out. What can I do to make you comfortable?"

"Nothing," said Max, but he was a bad liar, tone going suspiciously flat. "You can go home."

"I'd appreciate it if you came out to the auxiliary tank and I could give you a check-up. After that, if you want me to leave, I will." GP sat down at the desk and loaded up the daily report. He typed the date. Mx.V.33-1 showing signs of he started, but then paused. He minimized the window.

When Max had been brought to RB, nearly a decade ago, Dr. Marko had rolled him into the lab in a tangled fishing net, with several hunks of debris trapped alongside him. Max was frightened, skin flaking and eyes darting about. Where there's one, there's a pair, Marko had said, and Horner next to him had actually rubbed his hands together with glee.

Maybe it was better if GP consulted his team on Monday, in person. He opened the software for the lab's cameras, and changed the settings to encrypt the day's recording to his thumbprint.

Max was a beautiful creature. This was far too private for the likes of the RB upper brass. 

GP heard the telltale thumping as Max swam into the smaller side tank. It was wide enough to hold four Maxes, but only as deep as a bathtub, designed to be comfortable for both subject and scientist. He grabbed the med kit and a laptop from the storage trolley, and rolled his chair over.

"I am only putting up with this so you'll leave," Max said, arms folded on the edge of the tub, his hair slicked back from his forehead and sticking up at all angles. His voice was softer in the open air, rather than the tinny recreation of the speaker. He smelled different than usual, too. More musky, but also more sweet, like burnt sugar. "Go ahead and run your experiments, if you must."

"Fuck the experiments," GP said with more feeling than he intended, and the expletive made Max quirk a smile.

Max unfolded one of his arms, and GP started attaching sensors. He was a dusty-rose colour all over, slippery because of the salt and the protective film Max's body started generating if he hadn't been out of the tank for a couple days. GP had to use special wipes so that the sensors would actually hold. Usually, Max was a very good sport and held perfectly still. Now when GP touched him, he jolted, just slightly.

"Tell me about what you're feeling," GP asked as the data started rolling in on the laptop.

Max's gills finally sealed shut and he started breathing through his nose. "Restless. Irritated. Sensitive, also."

GP looked up at Max, blushing purple again. "Sensitive where?"

"You know," Max said as he squirmed. GP had no idea where. He could make an educated guess, but that only went as far as extrapolating from human experience. Unless, of course, he could touch Max and find out that way.

He changed tactics. "Is this the first you've had your—your time?"

Max snorted. "I have of course been alive for many years. This is my fourth," he said, "but I have not had one for a while."

"When was the last time?"

"Right before I was," Max looked down, and then at the wall. "Before I came here."

Ah. That told GP a lot. Max ordinarily went into an estrus phase more frequently than every eight years, and it made him very vulnerable, especially as he was recovering. He should be in his sexual prime, but something about being at the lab prevented that. And, just as notably, something recently had pushed him back into his regular hormonal cycle. GP didn't know how far in the data he had to review, but he made a mental note to look back three months, at least.

He broke a fresh tab out of its package and held the receptive end up to Max. "Lick, please," he said, and Max's tongue flashed out dutifully to wet it with his saliva. GP placed it into the scanner which whirred to life as it started calculating hormone levels. "Do you usually spend your time with a group, or a partner, or alone?"

Max scowled, and his heart rate ticked up on the laptop screen. "Are you asking if I have wild orgies or if I just jerk off by myself?"

"Something like that," GP said. He knew Max preferred him to be straight-forward with his questions, but it didn't stop Max from giving rude answers. "If you like, you can just tell me the standard. I don't have to know your personal sexual history."

"My personal—" Max balked and sank deeper into the water. "It is supposed to be with a partner."

"Sorry I can't help with that," GP said, thinking of how little interest Max had shown to anyone else in the lab, at least in that sense. It would be an incredible breach in decorum to ask anyone to help Max through estrus, but he knew any of them would still be happy to help.

Max's plum flush spread to the seashell curves of his ears. "I did not expect you to."

GP changed the subject. "Can we go back to the sensitivity?"

"I'd rather you just guess."

"Well," GP went on, "for example with the human species, we tend to feel—"

"Yes, I know all about it," Max snapped, popping back up with a soft splash. "It is the same for me, but slightly different. Go on and write it in the report. That's all you need to say."

"I'm not making a report," GP said slowly.

Max looked at the laptop screen for the first time. "You're not? But you're asking me questions like you are."

"That's because I want to help you. Max," he said, holding back the urge to make him look GP in the eyes, "fuck the experiments."

Finally, Max seemed to relax. He tugged at his ear, rubbed his thumb across his lips, the beauty mark there. "Okay, well if it's just you who wants to know, maybe it is better if I show you."

Max tugged on the zippered front of his navy wetsuit—clothing he insisted upon more for cultural adaptation than any real modesty. The base of his throat was pinker than his arms, legs, and face. His chest was a little swollen. And then Max tugged the zip over a bulge on his abdomen.

It was convex, like a wide bowl, or...like a baby bump, such a pale pink that it was almost white, the skin stretched taut over Max's distended stomach. GP refrained from reaching out; they had assured Max that he was welcome to scratch up anyone who didn't get permission to touch. But he wanted to , so desperately. He wanted to palpate it and soothe the ache, or maybe make it worse. The desire was so sudden and unexpected that GP was nauseous.

He sat with his fists curled on his knees, lips pressed together, and watched as Max leaned back and kept unzipping his suit.

The slit between Max's legs was gently parted and swollen, the tip of something bright pink peeking out from inside. That had to be Max's penis, or some kind of clitoral tissue. Maybe an ovipositor. It was hard to tell with the distortion of the water.

"This is where I am most sensitive," Max said, hands going to frame his slit, and spreading—

A blip came from the laptop, and GP turned his head instinctively to see the hormonal report load on screen. They had it set to display the standards along with new results so that they could see the differences, and a gradient map to show extremes. Several bars were deep red.

"GP."

He looked back at Max.

"You're not paying attention," he complained. "This is very intimate, and you are looking at the computer."

"Intimate?" GP choked.

Max grasped GP's wrist and dragged him forward. "Here," he said as GP's fingers splayed over Max's belly. "Feel how full. Push down on it."

The skin was coolish compared to the tight grip of Max's hand. GP pushed gently, and Max groaned, an uninhibited sound bouncing off every surface in the room. There was a shift in Max's abdomen, and something squirted out of Max's slit. "Max—"

"Oh, yes," Max sighed, eyes fluttering. "Yes, thank you, GP."

GP looked down and pushed again, and watched a bright orange object shoot out of Max. It was slightly bigger than a marble.

"Is that an egg?" he asked, tongue buzzing in his mouth.

Max nodded and let go of GP. "I have more than usual. It is supposed to be less than twelve. You can't even see them from the outside, normally, but it has been so long."

The two eggs that Max had released rested on the bottom of the tub. "So you're a...carrier, then?"

"I can do both," Max said. "When I have my time, I produce the eggs of course, but I can be the other half whenever. It is very lucky, for us. Not everyone can be two in one."

Max was special; GP could have told anyone that. "That's wonderful. Well done," he said, and Max practically glowed with the compliment.

"Will you help me lay them?"

GP's fingers twitched on Max's stomach. "I can keep pushing."

"No," Max said. "There's a better way."

Desire stirred in GP, making his cock swell in his pants. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

Max pulled off his suit and tossed it on the edge of the tub with a wet slap. "I want you to fuck me."

GP swallowed. He'd never—he wouldn't. Max was his responsibility to care for. There were whole documents on ensuring that Max wasn't ever abused in his capture, and it all came down to what Max wanted. If what Max felt like doing all day was to play video games, that's exactly what happened. If Max stayed in his privacy enclosure for a week, they didn't drag him out.

Palpating Max's abdomen to induce spawning was one thing, but fucking him was—

Max pushed up against the edge of the tub and pressed his mouth to GP’s.

"What," GP started to say against Max's lips, but Max just kissed him harder. He was firm, and his nose dug into GP’s cheekbone.

"That's how humans start when they want to fuck, right?" Max said when he released him a moment later. "I saw two of them doing it in the corner over there when they thought no one was looking."

Part of GP wanted to ask which two because he had about a hundred quid on various office romance pools. "That's similar to what we do, for sure."

Max groaned, fisting his talons in GP's lab coat. "Then show me how."

GP tilted his head and kissed Max properly. Max's mouth was salty, of course, but also slick and soft. He learned quickly, like he did everything else, lapping at GP's tongue and then sucking on it. He nibbled on GP's lower lip with his triangular teeth, little blades that he was so, so careful with.

"That is weird," Max proclaimed when he pulled away, "but nice. Can we fuck now? You are wearing too many clothes."

"This isn't the most precious place for it," GP admitted. He couldn't easily take Max to bed, though the thought of having Max under him at his flat was deliciously tempting. Max, home with GP on the weekends, raiding his fridge and demanding sex at all hours of the day. Insatiable, bratty, gorgeous Max.

"It doesn't matter," said Max, climbing out of the tub. "Just get naked."

"Don't the eggs have to be in water?"

Max rolled his eyes and started tugging on GP's clothes, clearly annoyed at how GP wasn't dropping trou fast enough. "They are of course not fertilized. I just want them out."

GP's lab coat was a lost cause, huge holes shredded through the fabric already, so he took over for his jumper before Max could attack that too. Max sat back against the lip of the tub, apparently pleased to watch now. It was just after Christmas and GP wasn't too thrilled with his physique after gobbling down a whole roast he'd bought just for himself, but he did alright at the company gym. Max's body was sleek and chubby in places, like a seal, to keep warm in the water.

As soon as GP shucked his trousers to his ankles, Max was in his lap. The chair squeaked dangerously beneath them.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Max asked. That was another part of the care-and-keeping of Max: he had a right to his own internal life. If Max wanted to tell any of them a secret, it would stay between just those two.

"Of course you can," GP replied.

Max rocked in his lap, leaving a puddle of tank water and protective fluid. "I was thinking about you," he said, grinding his wet slit against GP's briefs and his erection. "Like this. I wanted to have you just like this. That's why all the eggs came." He leaned forward and spoke right in GP's ear, a soft murmur that none of the microphones around the lab would catch, "You knocked me up."

GP groaned, dizzy from the rush of blood down south. He clutched Max's hips without asking, but Max just pressed himself deeper into GP's lap. His pregnant little belly pressed against GP's stomach and a fresh splurt of wetness soaked them both.

He wrestled his dick out, hand already slippery from whatever secretion Max's slit was producing. "Put it where you want it," GP said, because he didn't know where Max's vaginal entrance was mapped compared to a human's.

Max wrapped his hot, webbed hand around GP's length and guided it until the tip was in the right place. Then he sank down on it, a perfect slick slide. The muscles he had inside rippled around GP's cock. "Fuck, fuck, that feels so good," Max said, swiveling his hips, getting used to the space. "Oh, GP, you're so big, you're so warm. And hard."

"What do you—" GP started to say, and Max took GP's hand to guide it to the front of his slit.

"Here, feel," he said, making GP press against the pink flushed member that GP had only glimpsed in the tub. It was slim, maybe five or six centimeters long, tapered at the end, coated in fluid. "Be gentle with me."

"Alright," GP agreed, stroking up and down the length with two fingers.

Max shuddered, his passage clenching around GP. "See? Very different. I'll tell you another secret: it's small."

"It's just the right size."

Max shook his head. He braced his hands against GP's shoulders, talons pricking slightly. "I am just stating the comparison. I don't have the standard length. But that is fine, because this is what I want," he said, pushing up and sliding down, riding GP's cock.

GP turned his head and kissed Max's neck, over the seal of his gills. He could feel the slight difference in texture, like a stretchmark or an old scar. Max whimpered and his passage clenched. He leaked more slick. GP rocked up into him, unable to help himself.

"Do humans kiss everywhere?" Max asked.

"Yes," GP admitted, lips moving across Max's gills again, making him pulse. "Everywhere."

Max got impossibly wetter. "Would you kiss my pussy?"

GP's mouth dropped open, shocked dumb enough that only an ugly grunt came out of him, and Max laughed.

"I am of course just messing with you. I know all about cunnilingus and oral sex," Max leaned back and smiled with his sharp teeth. "We can try it another time. Right now I need you to fuck me as hard as you can, or the eggs won't come out."

"You're really giving me a rough time, teasing me like that," GP said, and snapped his hips up.

Max moaned, liquid around him for a moment before he squeezed. "Is it working?"

GP thrust in again, using his hands on Max's hips to bring their bodies together.

"Harder than that, come on," said Max, and GP did. "Harder. Really hard, I won't break. Can't you feel how wet I am for you?"

It was a challenge in the rolling chair, but GP spread his knees for leverage and really thrust—a pace that he would have considered brutal otherwise, but Max just gasped and grinned. So GP kept going, a mindless, animalistic fuck, surely bruising. Max moaned like a pornstar, high and whining.

"Feel so good," GP said.

"Tell me," gasped Max. "I want it. Tell me a secret, tell me, tell me."

"Wet, slutty little cunt," he grunted, dragging up the nastiest parts of himself as he fucked into Max. "Gonna make you heat all the time. Look at you, you're so desperate. Can't do anything 'cause you just want my cock so deep in you, making you take it."

Max's belly tensed, his walls fluttering rhythmically around GP's cock. "Yes, I want that," he said. "Always."

"Tiny baby dick because you just want to be bred, don't you? That's all you're good for?"

"Please," Max whimpered. "So close. Harder, GP, please."

"Any harder and I'll fuck right through you." GP's legs were burning, back aching, but he kept going, driving himself closer to the edge. He rubbed Max's slim, short cock between his fingers. Max cried out, urgent. "That's it, go on. Come for me."

"I will, I will," Max chanted, his head tilting back and the base of his throat fuchsia, trembling with the rest of him. Suddenly, GP's cock slipped out of him on a thrust, and Max burst, eggs squirting out of him and splattering the floor as he screamed. GP pressed on Max's belly, helping it along, and felt it decompress under his palm, everything squeezing out in an orgasmic rush.

When it was done, Max's entrance drooled as he gasped, perched over GP's lap as he caught his breath. There must have been a hundred eggs on the floor, most of them orange, but a few more yellowish or more red. They were wet, and a couple rolled away, leaving shiny snail trails in their wake.

"Wow," GP said, which was an understatement. He pushed again on Max's stomach, but it was empty now, and Max just whimpered.

"If we were going to have a baby," Max panted, "you would have to come on the eggs."

GP's cock bounced, the crown smearing against Max's used hole. "I don't think it will work."

"Too bad." Max spread his slit open with his hands, just like he had earlier in the tub. "I guess you'll just have to do it on me instead."

It was only a matter of a dozen or so strokes, everything still so lubricated, absolutely sopping, and then GP aimed himself right at the soft, secret core of Max and climaxed, painting the folds with pearly release.

Max was a welcome weight in GP's lap afterward, and there was no scientific way to explain how they just rested and snuggled for the better part of ten minutes. It wasn't unusual for Max to be affectionate, but he was selective about it, and rarely did he want to endure it for long.

It was when GP's knees started shaking that Max finally got up. "I knew you would be good at that," Max said, smiling like GP was the experiment, gone perfectly to plan. "I might make eggs again, soon. This was so many at once, so I think next time will be a little different. But you will help me again." There was no room in his tone for GP to argue, but he wouldn't dream of it.

"I'm glad it won't be so messy next time." GP surveyed the general disaster zone around the chair and was already dreading the cleanup.

Max slipped back into the tub, and dove down for a moment before popping back up with the two eggs that he'd released in the water. He put one of them in his mouth and bit down, the squelch in his mouth like a cherry tomato.

GP must have given Max some sort of look, because he offered the second egg in his open palm. "Want one?"

"Absolutely not."

"They are an excellent source of nutrients. A waste if you don't eat them unfertilized, but I am not picking them up off the floor," he said. When GP still didn't take the offered egg, he shrugged and popped it in his mouth too.

GP felt his gut roll uncomfortably. "You don’t have to eat those. I brought you Kinder Eggs."

"What!" Max exclaimed. "GP, you did not say! How many? Can I have them now?"

"If you help me with mopping," he said, and Max hummed, considering.

"Just give me a minute," Max replied. "I can still feel your come on me. I should clean that first. And I want to see how it tastes."

GP sat down hard in the chair, and when it skidded backwards on the slick floor, another handful of eggs went racing jauntily away across the lab.

[blorbocedes]

Why is there such intense sexual tension between gp and max

I really think the meat of the dynamic is max can trust him to be honest with him, and in turn max can be his most unfiltered honest self.

the driver and race engineer dynamic is a very intimate one. if you think of the car and the driver as the horse, the raw power that wins the races, then your race engineer is your rider -- calm and firm in guiding you to victory. f1 is a huge team production, each driver has a whole factory of people behind him making sure everything goes smoothly. but during the race the driver's only direct connection to the team is the voice in his ear, relaying strategy, warning them of other cars and track limits, encouraging them and even admonishing. this is the man you trust with your life, literally, coming out of blind spots like out of the monaco tunnel and trusting your engineer to tell you whose behind you.

with max and GP, GP's been his race engineer since 2016. that's a very long time and a very long relationship. max is obviously redbulls golden boy and literally everyone's job in the team is to keep him happy, from his tp to helmut it's all praise (and he's doing an outstanding job to get it), but GP in a way is the only person who isn't and by the function of his job can't be a yes man to max. he has to relay him the truth. you'll see GP isn't often impressed by max, and even bets against him making pole. The guy who knows your data and braking points and how you keep crossing over track limits isn't gonna be too impressed by you even if you're god's gift to racing. He makes max earn his post race praise. He's even curt, and outright direct when max is whining on radio. Likewise, max knows he can be aggressive in high pressure situations, yelling at him to not talk to him in the braking zone and that GP can take handle him. There's trust in that too. And if he feels he went too far, he will sheepishly get GP ice cream post race. Their dynamic on radio is one that makes us the viewers we're witnessing a couple having a domestic tiff. that's because GP gives back as good as he gets. He doesn't coddle max, if max makes the wrong call then GP will call him out on it. my favourite radio is when max was yapping why didn't we do etc etc and GP was straight up do you want to switch jobs? how about you do your own next lap.

this is the man you can be your worst self in high stress situations to and he will take you as you are. that's basically a marriage.

obviously despite all the headache max causes, GP loves working with him. he literally said max is the driver he wants to retire with. he has a photo with max in his living room, instead of his wife 😭 likewise, max literally has a clause in his contract that he gets GP. max is someone who is loyal to a fault and GP's been with him since his very first f1 win. that's his emotional regulator baldie.

the sexual tension comes from the fact that GP is 17 years older than him and max wants to get rawed by him 🧑🏻‍🦲❤️😋

[lost-in-fandoms]

Max and GP at Miami International Autodrome on May 02, 2025 by Zak Mauger

[maxtism]

Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase in their shared car after Max became World Driver Champion ♡ Las Vegas Grand Prix, 2024

[bitingdrivers]

bones au! it's time for GP to appear (very briefly) - maxiel, max/gp (off-screen), 1.5k - read on ao3

“Come on, Bones, don't you see?” Daniel grins, holding up a takeout box. 

Max rolls his eyes. “Daniel, this is of course just a piece of chicken. It does not look like…” He waves his hand around. 

“Abraham Lincoln!” Daniel exclaims, gesturing at the chicken nugget. “He looks exactly like the 5 dollar bill!”

Max looks up at him with sceptic eyes. “Seeing things that aren't there is not good, Daniel,” Max explains flatly. “Maybe you should talk to Lando about this.”

There's a sound behind and then Charles walks into Max’s office with a wrapped up box in his hands. Daniel gives him a small smile in greeting. 

“I don’t need a shrink. Listen, didn't you watch the clouds when you were little? Looking up and imagining– I don't know–rabbits and sheep in the clouds?” Daniel asks, exasperated. 

Max opens his mouth to reply, but Charles speaks first. 

“Sorry to interrupt. There's a man here, he said to give you this.” Charles hands Max the box.

“What man?” Daniel asks, watching Max unwrap the paper. 

“I don't know, but he’s handsome,” Charles drawls.

Max finally opens the box, but Daniel doesn't get to ask what's inside because Max immediately jumps from his chair and all but runs out of the office. 

Charles and Daniel share a look and go after him. 

They don't go too far – as soon as they walk out of the doors Daniel sees the man Charles was talking about. 

“GP!” Max beams and throws himself into the man’s arms. 

The man is bald, dressed in a blue jumper and black jeans. He readily scoops up Max in a hug and even twirls both of them around. 

Daniel rarely sees Max this excited. Only when he talks about mummies or archeological breakthroughs or other scientific things. Never when it's about another, alive, human being. 

“Ooh,” Charles sing-songs. “Now I understand.” 

Daniel tears his eyes away from the pair and looks at Charles. “What? Do you know him?”

“What's going on?” Oscar asks from behind. Daniel didn't even notice him coming up, busy with observing Max with his…friend? 

“This is Gianpiero Lambiase,” Chalres nods toward the pair. “Or GP, as Max calls him. He was Max’s professor.”

“They look…close,” Oscar notes, eyeing how GP is still hugging Max while they quietly talk to each other. 

“Yeah, Max told me they had a thing while he was GP’s grad student,” Charles says conspiratorially. 

“A thing?” Daniel asks, confused.

“A thing,” Charles smirks. 

Since Daniel learned that Max likes men, it's been… unusual, seeing him with them. He tries to not think about it, but more often than not Daniel finds himself assessing every man Max interacts with. 

He's not proud of it, and he definitely won't ever tell that to Max, but once or twice Daniel had to give shovel talk to the guys who wanted to take Max out, reminding them that Max is a very important figure in the science world and that Daniel is a trained sniper. 

It's not like Daniel thinks Max can't look after himself – more than once Daniel was a witness to Max defending himself. But a punch to the solar plexus or an elbow strike can't defend you from a broken heart and Daniel was raised to protect his friends. Even if it means using his gun to intimidate an electrical engineer or an underwater welder.

Daniel looks up in time to see Max and GP approaching. Daniel supposes they look…okay together. GP has a calm presence to him and Max looks happy, almost shy.

“Everyone, meet GP. He was my professor while I was a grad student,” Max says, gesturing to the man. “Just like you and me, Oscar.”

“No,” Oscar utters, making a face. “Not like you and me.”

Max doesn't seem to notice Oscar's disapproving look and introduces Daniel and Charles next.

“It's nice to meet you, man,” Daniel smiles and subtly shifts so his jacket uncovers the gun sitting in the holster at his hip. 

Charles nods at the introduction and Max turns back to GP. 

“You should see the lab.” Max beams again and starts to tug GP towards the platform.

Daniel doesn't miss the way GP puts his hand on the small of Max's back. 

“I'm sorry, Max. I can't stay, I have a meeting with the head of the museum,” GP explains calmly. “But, we can meet for dinner later?”

Max excitedly nods. “Yes, of course. You will pick me up at 7,” he states. 

“Of course,” GP chuckles. “I should go. It was nice seeing you.” He looks at all of them, then ruffles Max’s hair and walks away. 

***

Max is late. Max is never late. 

They agreed to meet at the FBI building to talk to the suspects on their recent case. Daniel's been waiting for 20 minutes now, pacing in his office and trying not to worry. He contemplates giving Max a call when he hears a soft knock. 

He looks up and sees Max standing at the doors. He looks relaxed, gently smiling. 

“Hello Daniel” Max greets, coming closer. “I'm sorry I'm late, I got…distracted.”

Daniel suddenly remembers that yesterday Max was planning to have dinner with GP and feels stupid for worrying. 

He did a little digging after he got to the office that day and decided that GP is nothing to worry about when his search came up clean. Apparently that resulted in Daniel completely forgetting about the man's existence. 

“No, problem,” Daniel waves away. “How was dinner?” 

Max glances away. “We ended up staying in. Should we go now?”

Max jerks his head back at the door and the movement jostles the collar of the blue jumper he's wearing. 

Daniel's eyes immediately land on a hickey above Max’s clavicle. He tries to keep his mind carefully blank. 

After their conversation that evening about both of them liking men, they haven’t talked about it anymore and Daniel is grateful. They both seem to understand that bringing your personal life into work is unnecessary. But it still feels like they’ve gotten closer, even if it's entirely on Max’s part. Daniel would never notice how private Max was before – now he mentions going on dates once in a while and he definitely wouldn’t show up with a hickey to work. 

Daniel expected Max to be more interested in his love life, but ever since that evening Max hasn't once asked him about the men Daniel has been with. And Daniel is grateful for that. Not because he’s ashamed, but because it’s not very interesting – he experimented when he was younger, fumbled through a few quickies when he was in the army, but nothing serious or committed, like with women. 

Max seems like he doesn’t care and it’s enough for Daniel, even if sometimes it feels a little unfair to him, like he’s keeping something from Max. 

“Daniel?” Max asks, bringing Daniel back to the present. He is standing by the doors, an expecting look on his face.

“Right, yeah. Let's go, Bones.” Daniel says, shaking his head a little. 

They leave the office and go to the interrogation rooms.

***

The next day Daniel comes into the lab and sees Max standing on the forensic platform, talking on his phone. Daniel scans his card and climbs up the short set of stairs. 

“Good. Have a safe flight,” Max says into the phone, a somber smile playing on his lips. “Goodbye,” he ends the call.

Max turns around and startles, noticing Daniel. 

“Good morning,” he smiles, coming closer. 

Max recovers and looks down at the skeleton on the table. “You are late,” he notes. 

Daniel thought Max would be late today too, so he decided to use the opportunity to grab a little more sleep. 

He explains this to Max, but that results in a confused look. 

“You know… so you could spend more time with GP?” Daniel explains.

“GP went back to England this morning,” Max says and gives him a flat look like Daniel was supposed to know this. 

“Oh. I'm sorry?” 

Max furrows his brows. “Why? He was here only for a couple of days, to settle some business with the head of the museum,” he explains.

“Did you break up?” Daniel asks, a surprise even for himself. They don't do this – discussing their love life. But Daniel had liked GP, his calm and confident demeanor and Max looked really happy next to him too. 

“Break up?” Max echoes and makes a face. “I don't date.”

“We just haven't seen each other in a while, that's all,” Max explains like Daniel should've known this too. “Our relationship is casual.” 

“What about those other guys? Like…” Daniel pretends to recall the name, “Mike, the engineer? Or that welder Alex?” 

Max goes back to examining the bones. “I don't engage in romantic relationships,” he says. “But I do find it nicer, going on a date before having intercourse.”

“Right,” Daniel answers weakly. 

This is too much information and the day barely even started. 

“Now, do you want to know what I've found?” he asks, gesturing to the remains on the table. 

Daniel takes a deep breath. “Sure.”

[fast-burn]

ovuliparity 🥚

a gp/max fic (explicit, alien biology, 4.4k)

GP was fully aware that his reciprocal fondness for Max was far from professional, but it didn't stop him from feeling that way. In his heart, Max was his ward, not an experiment.