atehimrightup | for george

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george

for george

There's this swimming hole that Lee found on one of his long walks through the woods. It doesn't seem like many people know about it, hidden within a thick copse of trees. The water seems relatively clean, and Lee has spent more nights there as the weather gets warmer.

Nearby is an old cabin that looks as if it's been abandoned and Lee thinks about breaking a window to get inside, but something always stops him. Peering through the dusty window is like looking into a time capsule. Or a tomb. There's something about the place that sets his lizard brain on edge, like there's something bigger and scarier than a predator like him lurking nearby. Mostly, he leaves the place alone.

It's another balmy night and Lee pulls on a pair of cut off denim shorts and a tee, preparing to head out on his own. As he reaches for the doorknob, he pauses and pulls his phone out of his pocket to send a text to George. He feels a bit territorial over the spot and doesn't necessarily want to share, but George is exempt from that. George seems to be exempt from most of Lee's rules.

Do you want to go somewhere with me? I can be in front of your place in ten minutes.

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Lee smiles into the kiss, gripping the back of his neck firmly. George’s hips start to move like a piston, letting Lee feel the drag of every single inch of him both in and out. Lee gulps and nods, breathing unsteadily and closing his eyes as his back arches.

“It’ll do in a pinch,” he grits out, like he’s not writhing like a girl in a porno. “Fuck, George, yeah. Just like that.”

With his free hand, he gropes along Lee's thigh, tugging it higher on his hips, changing the angle slightly as they fuck. He kisses Lee again, unable to get as close as he wants in as many ways as he wants. It isn't going to take long to come, he knows that. He doesn't care. He wants everything all at once.

At this point, Lee doesn’t even care if he comes again. It just feels so good to have George inside him, to feel full and satiated without any of the bad parts.

George kisses him again and Lee yelps into his mouth as the angle changes, digging the back of his heel into George’s ass while clinging to him almost desperately. He’s sure he’s leaving claw marks on George’s back.

Somehow he doesn’t think George will mind, which just makes it even hotter.

"I can't," says George, the syllables sobbing out or him, smudging against Lee's lips. Every stroke of his cock feels like it's pulling him closer to an edge he feels like he's been skirting for a long time. He can't resist it for much longer. His hips stutter.

"Tell me I can come?"

Lee hadn’t realized that George was waiting for permission, but he supposes that makes sense. Or more likely, he just wants to be told.

“I told you what I wanted,” Lee growls out in a stern voice, biting George’s jaw hard enough to sting. “So do as you’re told. Come inside me.” Lee smiles against his cheek even while keeping his voice firm. “My little whore.”

It's enough -- the combination of the bite and the tone and the words, the name calling. His hips shivering, he slams his cock into Lee's arse and he comes as hard as he's ever come in his life, his head spinning with the force of it. He sees stars.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he mumbles, when there's nothing left but aftershocks.

Lee feels George’s orgasm as if it were his own. Like their bodies have become one. He cries out as George does, leaving a scratch across the back of his neck with the nail of his middle finger.

His body feels like it’s vibrating, hips twitching like they have a mind of their own, and Lee collapses flat on his back to blink dazedly up at the night sky.

“I don’t think he had anything to do with this,” Lee pants out after a moment, laughing breathlessly and digging both heels into George’s thighs even as the rest of his body goes lax. “Don’t you fucking dare pull out yet.”

George slumps his full weight across Lee, unwilling or unable to move himself. Lee had wanted him to stay inside him for as long as he could last time, and he's got no intention of going anywhere until he has to. The scrape on the back of his neck stings, but he doesn't have it in him to care.

"Your wish, my command," he murmurs.

“So eager to please,” Lee says with a warm chuckle, sliding his hand soothingly up and down George’s back. Everything feels so nice and warm, like he’s floating even George is so heavy on top of him. This must be the fabled afterglow.

“Hm, I wonder what else works on you,” he muses, turning his head to press a kiss to George’s temple. “Harlot? Jezebel?”

He huffs a laugh at that, turning his head to burrow closer, his face tucked into Lee's neck.

"Not those," he says. "Too biblical." He presses a kiss against Lee's skin, tastes sweat. "You'll have to keep trying."

“Good point,” he says with a laugh, tipping his head back to make more room for George’s kisses. He can’t seem to stop smiling.

“Tart,” he says fondly. “I like that one.”

He slides his hand up to touch the back of George’s neck, brow furrowing when his fingers skitter over raised skin and the stickiness of drying blood. It’s not a lot, not by far, but it still makes Lee go tense, tugging his hand away from George’s neck.

“I hurt you,” he says in a wounded voice. He hurts George during sex all the time, but that’s different. He’s never drawn blood before, and his nostrils flare as guilt floods him. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

"Had that one before. Don't mind it," murmurs George, still kissing. "There's probably not much I haven't heard at least once."

All of a sudden, Lee is pulling away from him, and he's in such a dreamy haze that it takes him a moment to realise what's happening. He lifts his hand, covering the scratch on the back of his neck. "It's nothing," he says. "It barely stings. And, anyway, I don't mind it. Being, you know..." He lifts his head so that he can look Lee in the face. "Marked."

“No, I know. I just—“ George pulls back to look at him but Lee’s wide eyes are locked on his own fingertips, trembling slightly. It’s barely a spot of blood, and Lee hears a rushing between his ears for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to make you bleed,” he says quietly, still looking at the blood on his fingertips. George has no way of knowing what is going on in Lee’s head right now, or just how close he is to danger. Lee tells himself to just wipe his hand on the blanket, but he can’t seem to make himself do it.

Instead he quickly brings his fingertips to his mouth and sucks them clean, catching George’s eyes briefly and flushing red, turning his head away before forcing his hand out of his mouth, feeling his belly clench with hunger and shame. “But good, we’re good. It’s okay.”

George is not entirely sure what's going on in that moment. His cock almost soft, he slips to the side, staying pressed in against Lee, watching as he sucks the smear of blood from his fingers. He seems so deeply ashamed of it but, given some of the other things they've done, George isn't sure he sees the problem.

"Given all the come that I've not long swallows, I'm not sure we should be concerned about a tiny smear of blood," he says. He bends his head, kissing Lee's chest.

“Right,” Lee replies, swallowing hard. He’s relieved by the reaction, but his heart is still pounding in his chest, and he can still smell George’s blood. It’s such a small amount of it but it smells like George’s lust and arousal and Lee wants to taste more of it so, so badly.

He won’t. He can’t, and he knows he isn’t going to lose control, but he’s ashamed enough just by the desire.

“Right,” he says again as George kisses him, a little more clearly. Lee hadn’t batted an eye when George methodically licked every drop of come from his skin. He’d been horribly aroused by it, even. It does put things a little into perspective. “I guess maybe it isn’t that different.”

"Not that different at all from where I'm lying," says George, planting one last kiss to Lee's ribs before sprawling back on the blanket with one arm pillowed under his head. "I've had worse, anyway. I wouldn't worry about it, sweetheart." He turns his head. "Are you done with me for the night, or is this just respite?"

He knows the answer he would prefer, anyway. It seems like Lee could do with being distracted from whatever was is raging in his own head right then.

The nonchalance takes Lee by surprise, and he stares at George like he’s something of a marvel. George doesn’t have all the information, and perhaps just thinks this is a quirk of Lee’s, but he’s fine with him thinking that. It’s not entirely incorrect, anyway.

George eases his mind so easily, reassuring him and calling him pet names, and Lee just stares at him with liquid eyes, like he’s the best thing Lee has ever seen. That’s not entirely incorrect, either.

“I am never done with you,” Lee says as he seems to come back to himself, rolling onto his side and reaching out to put his hand on George’s chest, thumbing idly near one of his pierced nipples. He is awash with fondness that he leans in to press a soft kiss to George’s shoulder. “I am only ever resting.”

The thumb is a tease, and George shifts against the blanket, smiling softly. Sex might have been currency, but it's also been his favourite thing for years, and he's rarely been with anyone who makes him feel so good as Lee manages to.

"Simple is often best," he says, returning to s previous conversation, fingers stroking gently against Lee's skin. "Slut is the most obvious, but the King was fond of 'cunt', and that was effective in the moment, too."

“I called my sister a cunt and she punched me in the face,” Lee says almost absentmindedly. “I don’t care what the king liked. But if you truly like it, I’ll work it into the rotation.

Lee kisses along the top of George’s shoulder and then breathes against the side of his neck for moment before touching his nose to it, gently nudging to try and get him to turn so he can reach the back of his neck, almost nuzzling him.

“Is it— can I?” Lee asks quietly, even though he knows he shouldn’t. There is a line blurring somewhere, maybe even several, but Lee can’t bring himself to care right now.

George is quiet for a moment, shifting as Lee directs him until he's lying on his side with his back to Lee.

"I like it," he says. "If the mood takes you. I promise not to punch you in the face." He closes his eyes as Lee brushes against his skin. "Can you what?"

“Just being called a cunt in general, or like oh, your tight little cunt feels so good around my cock?” Lee replies in a low voice against George’s ear, maybe laying it on a little thick to reward him for being receptive to Lee’s own weirdness.

George rolls onto his side and Lee spoons in behind him, reaching up to slide George’s hair from the back of his neck, staring at the tiny gouge in his skin. His cheeks go hot when George asks a question he must know the answer to. He wonders if it’s to embarrass him, but quickly shakes the thought away. George wouldn’t do that to him.

There’s a long pause where Lee rests his forehead against his own wrist, breathing hotly against George’s neck, until he finally speaks. “Can I taste you?”

"Definitely the first one," says George, turning his face into the blanket slightly. "I've been many things, but I've never once felt like anything other than a man, even while getting my arse thoroughly fucked." He reaches back with one hand, squeezing Lee's bare him. "Of course. Do it."

“Mm, noted,” Lee replies, and then finds himself a little stunned by George’s easy encouragement. It doesn’t seem like it’s something it’s something he’s willing to endure for Lee’s sake. It seems like he genuinely doesn’t mind, and Lee stupidly feels a little like he might cry.

George can’t know what this means and Lee knows that he’s probably coming across as a fucking weirdo, but still. Even this is something that he thought was so outside the realm of possibility.

Lee drags his tongue over the wound, letting his eyes close as he suckles gently at the split skin. He puts one trembling hand on George’s shoulder and squeezes, lapping at the spot until the bleeding stops. He pulls back and grits his teeth, fighting that monster inside of him back. It seems even easier now.

George has already given him this. How could he ask for more?

Lee hooks his chin over George’s shoulder once he’s done, curling an arm around his chest and hugging him in close.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, smiling widely against George’s cheek, feeling overwhelmed and giddy all at once. “You cunt.”

"You're welcome," says George, drifting a little from the feeling of Lee's mouth on his skin. "And I'm not sure that quite worked, but good try." He laughs. "Something like, 'get on your knees for me, cunt ' might work better."

He laughs because, suddenly, the absurdity of how easy this is hits him.

“Ah, okay. I’m learning,” Lee says with a grin, squeezing George more tightly as the other man starts to life. It’s incredible. This monumental thing just happened, something that might send another person running away, but George just rolls with it like it’s nothing.

“Okay, well. Be a good little cunt and stay still,” Lee teases, kissing the top of George’s shoulder before sliding away from him to get up and rummage through his duffel. He unearths the first aid kit from his bathroom.

“You see, my lovely little whore,” Lee continues, reaching out to urge George onto his back again. “I know back in your day, you guys just let bacteria do its thing, but here we have antiseptic.”

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