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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“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.”

"You're a quick study," says George, a little pleasurable shudder sinking through him at the casual way Lee calls him names. He watches Lee doubtfully.

"I only vaguely know that that is," he admits. "And I survived, didn't I? Here, in the flesh."

“And I happen to get a lot of use out of that flesh, so I don’t want anything to delay the healing of these,” Lee says, unzipping the first aid kid and then reaching out to lightly tap one of his piercings with the tip of his finger.

It’s funny, because Lee doesn’t usually bother with stuff like this either, but it had occurred to him when he thought about bringing George here, so he tossed the kit into the bag along with the lube.

“This might sting,” Lee warns as he uncaps the antiseptic spray and lifts a leg to straddle George’s waist, rocking back to sit astride his hips. “But a slut like you? I get the feeling you’ll like it.”

George rolls his eyes fondly, skimming both hands up Lee's thighs as he settles across him, enjoying the friction on his still sensitive cock.

"Do your worst," he says.

Lee takes the cap off with his teeth and spits it aside to retrieve later, leaning over George and kissing his chin, then down his neck and across his chest. He touches his lips gently to each nipple, briefly letting his tongue flick across one before sitting up again.

He plants one hand in the center of George’s chest and gives each nipple a couple spritzes from various angles. He leans down to blow cool air onto each of them, then grabs a tissue from the first aid kit. He sprays it a few times and then slips it behind George’s neck, looking down at him as he carefully wipes it clean.

Once he’s done, Lee nudges their noses together and then finds George’s mouth in a soft, lingering kiss.

It does sting, just as Lee had said it would, but George isn't sure that anyone has ever been so gentle with him before, taken such care. When Lee kisses him, he lifts his head to press into it, his hands on Lee's thighs.

For a long time, they just lay there and swap kisses, with George’s hands on Lee’s legs and Lee’s hands cradling George’s jaw. It’s not for sex, but just because they want to.

“We can sleep out here if you want. I can build a fire,” Lee offers, finding himself hesitant to leave this spot, like it’ll break some magic spell. “But it probably wouldn’t be super comfortable so if you want your bed, that’s cool too.”

"It wouldn't be the first time I slept on the ground," says George, smiling. "I'm sure we'd be comfortable enough. But if you would prefer my bed, it's waiting for you."

He raises his eyebrows, putting the choice wholly in Lee's hands.

“Me neither,” Lee admits ruefully. “The back of that truck makes a hell of a bed when it needs to, though. Sometimes I’ll still take it somewhere to sleep under the stars even though I have a bed here.”

Lee realizes that he sounds almost wistful for homelessness. He does miss the freedom of it, and how every day could be something new. But Darrow gives him stability, and a place to actually lay his head. That has its upsides, too.

“I’ll show you someday,” Lee tells him, looking down at George and smiling in a way that make his eyes crinkle at the corners when he so casually invites Lee over.

“We’ll see. I want to stay here just a little longer,” Lee says, smiling almost shyly before heading to his bag again. He pulls out a large bottle of water and takes few thirsty gulps, then hands it over to George before picking a spot within a few feet to make a fire.

He’s had lots of practice, so he very quickly gets a small fire started with some dried brush as kindle. He arranges some branches over it and confirms that the breeze will take the smoke away from them and not toward them.

“Damn,” he says as he sits down next to George and looks at the fire. “I should have brought s’mores.”

George hadn't realised how thirsty he was until Lee hands him the water, but he takes a couple of long swallows, a trickle running down his chin and onto his chest.

"I have no idea what that is," he says.

“You really are just a shameless hussy,” Lee teases as he glances over to see water spilling over his chin.

“Right,” he laughs and shakes his head. “It’s sort of a classic campfire treat. Maybe just an American one.”

He brings a fresh joint to his lips and lights it, brows lifting as he turns to look at George. “Do you even know what a marshmallow is? You toast them until they’re nice and gooey and make a sandwich with some chocolate and graham crackers. They’re sticky and messy but so, so good.”

He imagines George licking marshmallow from his fingers and curses himself. “Damn, next time.”

"I don't know what you mean," says George, grinning as he sets aside the water bottle. He'd been about to reach for his shirt but, with the fire burning, it's warm enough to stay sitting naked.

He shakes his head at the mention of marshmallows.

"I've never heard of that," he admits. "I did try chocolate, once, before I came here, but it's very different now. Nicer."

“Wow,” Lee breathes out, watching George intently as he speaks. It’s impossible to think that someone could be in the same room as George and not look at him.

“Looks like we’ll just need to keep showing each other new things,” Lee says with a warm smile, taking another pull from the joint before handing it over to George. “You teach me about all the ways two men can fuck and I will buy you chocolate and marshmallows. Seems like a fair trade.”

George takes the joint and slips it between his lips. Smoking is another thing he learned from Lee.

"I've got plenty of experience," he says, not ashamed of that. "Women, too. Less relevant here, but..."

George smoking is the sort of things that could cause traffic accidents. Lee watches him, enthralled.

“I thought I did, but does it count as experience if it’s just the same every time?” Lee asks with a rueful smile. He pauses like he always does before saying something that he fears may expose too much.

“I never really had sex just to enjoy it. Not with guys, anyway,” Lee begins. “It always felt— I dunno, like an itch I had to scratch before I went crazy. And it was always the same.”

He takes him a slow, deep breath and stretches his legs out, unabashedly naked and illuminated by golden campfire light. “It never feels like that with you. I just— it’s nice.”

He takes the joint back and hits it again, holding the smoke in his lungs for a long moment before exhaling slowly, smirking a little. “Until one of us gets hit that fancy body swap magic.”

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