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It had started as usual.
A kiss that lasted too long. A hand drifting under a shirt. A bitten lip. A small moan. A not so innocent shift of hips.
And then Max had dragged him onto the bed like a man possessed, mouth trailing down George’s neck, pushing his hoodie up with shaky, urgent fingers.
“Want you,” Max had whispered into his skin.
“Okay,” George had replied, already pink, already melting under him.
Max had him on his back, legs open, knees pulled in—
God, he was so beautiful.
Mouth glossy from kisses, eyes wide with anticipation, hair a bit flattened from the pillow.
And then—just as Max was about to slide in, just as he was holding himself up, hovering, seconds away from heaven—
George suddenly blurted, “Wait. They’re watching.”
Max blinked. “What?”
George frowned. “They’re watching.” He motioned vaguely behind Max’s shoulder.
Max turned.
Plushies.
Dozens of them.
Yes, after bambi, Max bought dozens more just because he loved to spoil his baby. And Max was just addicted and obsessed with the way how George reacted every time Max brought home a new plush.
And here there were. On the shelf. On the nightstand. Propped up beside the bed like a fucking fluffy audience. One massive bunny. Three pastel bears. A sleepy frog wearing a hoodie. One cursed homemade cat that looked like it had seen things. And of course bambi.
“They’re judging me,” George added with full sincerity.
Max stared.
Then looked back at him.
“You’re naked,” Max said slowly. “Moaning. Begging. And now you care?”
“They didn’t see anything before!” George huffed. “Now they’re looking. Look at Frogbert. He’s side eyeing me.”
“…Frogbert?”
George covered his face with one hand, utterly scandalised. “He’s my new favourite. I don’t want him to see me like this.”
Max was quiet for a second.
Then he broke. Laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bed.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re a pervert! Have some respect for my stuffed family!”
Max did what any sensible man would do.
He stood up. Stark naked. And started turning them all around. One by one.
Spinning the frog. The bears. Even hiding the bunny behind a cushion. And stuffing bambi somewhere not forgetting to choke it a little. Hah take it, homewrecker.
George watched with wide, stunned eyes.
“…you’re really doing it.”
“You said they were watching,” Max grumbled. “Now they’re not.”
“…that’s hot,” George whispered.
Max looked over his shoulder. “The hell?”
“I dunno, you just—listen to me. Like when I said I wanted more sprinkles on the pancakes.”
Max groaned. “George, I am seconds away from fucking you stupid and you’re thinking about sprinkles?”
“I’m nervous!” George squeaked.
Max was back on him in seconds.
“No need to be.” He leaned down, kissed his nose. “I’ve got you.”
When Max finally slid into him, slow and deep, George let out the softest, prettiest sound Max had ever heard. And every thought about plushies and frog dolls vanished from both their minds. The bed creaked. The sheets twisted.
Max held him like he was something sacred. Whispered praise into his neck. Told him he was beautiful.
Perfect. Warm. His.
Over and over again.
Afterwards, George lay across his chest, boneless and dazed, sighing into the sweaty skin above Max’s heart.
Frogbert peeked out from under the stash.
George squinted at him.
“…you little freak.”