atehimrightup | for george

Lee goes still for a moment, unsure of how to take that. It feels like he’s being too much, like he’s overstepping, maybe reading too much into all of this. He pulls back to look at George with a vaguely confused expression, swallowing hard as he looks away for a moment, nodding jerkily.

If George wants him to make better use of his mouth, he can do that.

“Well, you’ll have to back up then,” Lee says as he pulls away and puts his hands on George’s shoulders to urge him backward, looking at his chin rather than his eyes. “I can’t breathe underwater.”

Often, Lee guards his feelings -- George recognises it because it's something that he's good at himself -- but he watches hurt confusion play out across Lee's features as clearly as if it was written on a page.

"Don't do that," he says, his voice still soft even though they might as well be alone on the face of the Earth. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant..." He smiles. "I like it when you tell me what you think about doing to me. I like hearing you talk."

“I was talking,” he points out, but maybe he was saying too many of the wrong things. Too many feelings, maybe. “But I get it.”

At least he thinks he does. It brings him back to reality and in a way, he supposes he should be thankful.

“I did think about fucking you,” he amends, grateful for the darkness that disguises the flush on his cheeks when he realizes that he misunderstood George’s earlier question.

Like he's stepped on the wrong stone and slipped, George has the familiar sense of being on unsure ground. He'd felt it a lot with James but, somehow, didn't expect to feel it, here. He'd thought he'd known what was happening here but, for a moment, he feels all at sea.

"Good," he says, finally. "That's... Yes. I think about that too."

Lee closes his eyes for a moment, feeling like an idiot. It's only now that he's realizing how deep he'd gotten, how he'd twisted the situation all up in his head. It was probably a mistake to bring George here. He isn't sure what he was thinking. Truth is, he probably wasn't.

"Okay, let's fuck then," Lee says as he pulls away and heads back toward the blanket on the shore, his back to George as he slowly emerges from the water. "I want you on your hands and knees."

He can fuck George, but he can't look him in the eye. Not right now.

It's like a door slammed in his face, the sudden change in Lee's expression, the way he speaks. For a moment, George stands, still in the water, just watching Lee walk away from him and he's struck, suddenly, by how desperately he doesn't want that to happen.

"Wait," he says, still in the water. "I...I don't..." He frowns. "What did I do wrong?"

Because he has. He did. "Come back?"

Lee stops in ankle deep water, a little surprised by the confusion in George's voice. Lee had thought he was giving George what he wanted, but it seems like maybe he isn't doing anything right. A very big part of him just wants to keep walking and not stop, but he can't very well leave George out here in the woods.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Lee says as he turns around, reaching up to push his wet hair out of his face. "I was confused and you set me straight. We came out here to fuck, right? Not for me to ramble on about-- whatever the fuck I was doing."

Now he's irritated on top of being confused, but mostly he just feels stupid. George is standing there looking like a puppy someone just kicked in the face and Lee has no idea what he wants. He looks genuinely confused and Lee blinks, putting his hands on his hips and deciding that maybe he should just be blunt. "I brought you out here and I thought we were having like, a fucking moment or something but you cut me off to tell me you just wanted to hear me talk dirty. I'm fucking embarrassed, okay?"

A long moment of silence stretches out between them, and George stands there, water lapping around his waist.

"I..." He swallows around the feeling of panic clawing at his throat because he honestly doesn't know what to do, in that moment. Absurdly, he wishes his mother was there. "Firstly, I sincerely thought that you had bought me our here to fuck me." He swallows again. "I didn't...Nobody's ever talked to me the way you talk to me. I'm...a thing. I've been a thing." It's been easier that way, anyway. "I don't know what we're doing here, Lee. I... Thought I knew but I fucking don't and will you please come back here? Please?"

"Obviously I brought you out here to fuck you!" Lee calls out, exasperated. "But it's not the only reason. I can want more than one thing at a time."

His irritation melts away as George continues, and Lee starts shaking his head and splashing back into the water before George is even finished asking him to. He's angry now for an entirely different reason, and he reaches out to grab George by the shoulders and shake him a little, finally looking him in the eye once more.

"You are not a fucking thing," Lee says adamantly, enraged at anyone who has ever made George feel like that is something he can state so plainly. "I'm here, okay? You're not a thing. I don't want to hear you say that shit ever again."

Edited 2025-07-02 23:05 (UTC)

Now it's George's turn to be embarrassed. Never before has he stayed, quite so plainly, how his mother made him feel. He'd gotten used to it and, yes, he'd turned it to his advantage, but it had always been there, in the back of his head. A thing, more than a person. A weapon, at best.

He wraps his arm around Lee's neck and pulls him in close, burying his face in his shoulder for a second. "When I was little more than a child, my mother told me that if she was a man, and looked like me, she'd rule the fucking planet. Not long after that, she sent me off to try to fuck the king."

George pulls him so fiercely that Lee is a little surprised by it, arms hanging at his sides for a moment before he curls them around George’s waist. His brow furrows at the admission and he rolls his lips into his mouth, feeling so fiery with rage that he shakes with it.

“Jesus,” he breathes out, lifting one hand to grip the back of George’s neck, squeezing in a way that he hopes is comforting.

He can see why someone would try to use George as a tool, is the thing. His beauty is astounding, almost ethereal, and could so easily be wielded as a weapon. It doesn’t make it right, though. And for it to be wielded by his own mother, well— Lee knows what it’s like to be betrayed by a parent on a fundamental level.

“Is that what you meant when you said you were trained?” Lee asks in a low voice. At the time, he hadn’t given it too much thought. Now, it’s horrifying.

“Jesus,” he says again, at a loss for words and nearly incandescent with rage. But anger will help nothing right now, so he takes a breath and turns his head to press his mouth to George’s temple.

He'll consider the implications later, but right then, it feels good to cling to Lee, to accept the kisses, the arms around him.

"When I was twenty, she packed me off to France for a year. I learned to dance, to fence, fluent French." A smile twitches the corner of his mouth. "To fuck men. I'd always looked, obviously, but it wasn't until I met Jean that I realised that I was allowed to do more." He shifts, resting his forehead against Lee's again. "And, when I came home, she set her cap at the King. He was well known to...care more for men than women."

For a long time, Lee isn't sure what to say. He does his best to process it all, but it's a hard thing to imagine for a kid who grew up dirt poor in rural Kentucky. It's a different life, a different world entirely, but the fact of the matter is that the people in Geroge's life failed him.

"The first time I fucked you, it was because of how you looked," Lee begins quietly, rubbing a hand up and down George's back. "And hell, probably the second time, too. But it's not why I kept seeking you out."

He pulls back enough to look at George's face, cradling it in his hands. He opens his mouth and closes it again, trying to fight against the instinct telling him to keep everything to himself and not expose his tender underbelly. "I've been with you more times than I've ever been with anyone else in my entire life, George. But it's not your beauty or all your stupid training that makes me keep coming back. It's you, okay? It's just you."

He smiles at that, his eyes drifting closed at the sensation of Lee's hand stroking over his skin, the water lapping around his waist.

"Same," he murmurs. "I remember thinking I'd never seen anyone who looked quite like you."

When Lee pulls back and takes his face in his hands, it feels almost unbearably intimate, and George has to fight the urge to squirm away and hide. Instead, he wraps his hands around Lee's biceps, squeezing gently.

"I keep coming back too," he says, softly. "For no reason other than I'm happier when you're there."

It isn't just the sex. He's known that for a long while.

Lee smiles and it's a hesitant, shaky thing. He strokes his thumb across George's cheekbone, and then the corner of his eye.

"So you don't just want me around for my filthy mouth?" He asks quietly, and he means for it to come out as a joke, but he wants reassurance. He doesn't want to want it, but he does. He wants to be important to someone, and he stares at George with big, wet eyes, hating how vulnerable he feels.

"I? Am a fucking idiot," says George, turning his head to press a kiss to the heel of Lee's hand, his words edged with laughter. He looks back at Lee, his dark and watchful eyes, the scatter of frecklesl like a constellation across the bridge of his nose. He leans in and brushes his lips against Lee's. "A fucking idiot who is very, very sorry." This time, it's a proper kiss, deep and soft, his hand curling around the back of Lee's neck to hold him to it. "Of course I want you for more than that."

George's initial response makes him chuckle softly and he shakes his head a little, but George kisses him before he can say anything. It's a good kiss, with Geroge's hand firm at the back of his neck, and Lee melts into it with a soft whimper of a sound, putting his hands on George's hips as he returns it.

"I think we're both kind of stupid," Lee admits, but his expression softens at the reassurance. It floods his belly with warmth, and that makes Lee feel a little stupid, too. Of course he would get turned on by sweet talk.

"I am glad that you enjoy my filthy mouth, for the record," he says with a grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He gives George another kiss and then hugs him, voice quiet as he hooks his chin over George's shoulder. "But I'm glad you like other parts of me, too."

Not all of him, though. The realization makes his stomach sink like a stone and the guilt nearly brings him to his knees, but he vows to never let that dark part of him touch George's life in any way.

"I wouldn't spend this much time with you, if I didn't," says George, skimming his hand from the base of Lee's neck all the way down to his tailbone and back. He says it flippantly, but there's a lot of truth in it -- here, he has complete choice, and yet he seeks out Lee again and again, for more than a year now. He still doesn't know exactly what they're doing here, knows that it doesn't necessarily need a name, but it feels good to sink into, all the same.

"Now what?" he says. "After I came so close to derailing everything."

"Mm, well," Lee breathes out with a smile, telling himself to focus on this present moment and nothing else, because it's such a good one. "I could slap you in the face again. That might make me feel better."

He's obviously teasing, laughing as he takes George's chin between his thumb and forefinger, urging him back toward the shore. "Come on. I want you to make me feel good." He stops to kiss George, one hand sliding into his damp hair to pull at the roots of it. "You can show me how much you like me." His other hand slides up George's stomach and chest, pausing to thumb oh so gently at one of his pierced nipples, knowing how much George likes it when pleasure and pain merge into one heady sensation. "You could put your tongue inside me. Maybe your fingers if you're lucky."

"You can slap me anywhere you like. I..." His breath catches when Lee teases the pad of his thumb over the piercing in his nipple, pain spiking through him, making his cock twitch. "Sounds like you've got a lot of ideas. Plenty of ways for me to make myself useful." He grins. "Good. I like to be useful."

“I’m counting down the days until I can make good use of these,” Lee tells him, dragging his thumb over the piercing with just a little more pressure before dropping his hand. “I will reduce you to rubble.”

He kisses George again, more eagerly this time, feet slipping over wet rocks until they’re back on dry land. He keeps moving backward, kissing George more and more fervently until they reach the blanket and Lee lies down on his back, eyes dark as he stares up at George. “Get down here.”

"Oh, I'm sure you will," says George, and, honestly, Lee might as well be leading him by the cock, he follows so smoothly. Lee lies back on the blanket, and George just stands and looks at him for a moment, cock half hard, eyes heavy lidded. "For the record," he says, as he sinks down onto his knees. "I didn't love the context, but the tone of voice you told me to get on my hands and knees before? I definitely wouldn't mind hearing it again."

“What, me pissed off?” Lee jokes, knowing exactly what George means. “Noted.”

Given what he’s learned about George, it’s not unreasonable to worry that he might not actually enjoy sex, especially rough sex, as much as he claims. It could have been conditioned into him, but Lee doesn’t think so. George genuinely loves it, and Lee loves the content, spacey look that he gets on his face when he’s horribly turned on.

Lee stares up at him, making a show of spreading himself out and lifting his arms to put his hands behind his head. His cock is starting to fill against his thigh and he studies George for a moment, smiling placidly before he clears his throat.

“Get on your hands and knees now then,” he says in a low growl of a command, jerking his chin a little to motion toward his crotch. “Get me hard with just your mouth.”

"I don't want to be the reason that you're pissed off," says George, sinking down to sit on his heels. "But I Like the tone of voice." He watches as Lee arranges himself and then, when Lee gives the order, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He makes a point of arranging himself first, on all fours, arse in the air.

"Your wish, my command," he murmurs, before he bends his head and licks a stripe along the length of Lee's filling cock.

“I’m not pissed off at all now,” Lee assures him, watching as George arranges himself so beautifully. The glow of the moon makes him look unreal, so beautiful that it nearly takes Lee’s breath away, and that’s even before he watches that clever pink tongue drag up the length of his cock.

“There’s a good little slut,” Lee breathes out, resisting the urge to reach down and touch him. “Put it in your mouth, all of it.”

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