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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"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.”

George leans over his knees, watching Lee, taking in the way he looks, all gilded and edged in firelight. He turns his face away, exhaling smoke.

"I can definitely do better the nice," he says, teasing. "And...wait. What?"

“Oh, shit. Have you not encountered any of that?” Lee takes another quick drag and holds the joint out in offering.

“Sometimes people will wake up the opposite gender or at a different age and stay like for like a week and then fhey change back,” Lee explains. “I don’t know how but I don’t know how they do it but I have no idea how Darrow any of the shit they do.”

His head is swimming a little from the weed, but he takes the joint slipping it back between his lips.

"Shit," he murmurs, a grin spreading across his face as his eyes skim down Lee's naked body. "Well, as long as everything ends up back where it started, I suppose."

He can't help but think of James' terror of witches, his very sincere belief in the supernatural. What a strange place this modern world is. How wonderful.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Lee muses, taking another drag. George looks all pink cheeked and sleepy eyed, lids heavy from the weed, and it makes him look more obscene than usual. The thought almost makes him feel bad, given what he now knows, but he doesn’t. George’s absurd beauty isn’t why he’s here.

That said— damn, he sure is nice to look at.

“Knowing it’s temporary, it might be nice to see how the other half lives.” He carefully puts out the joint and looks over at George with a fond smirk. “You could be a slut in whole new ways.”

Lee scoots a bit closer to George and away from the intense heat of the fire, leaning in to press kisses to George’s knee and thigh.

“If it does happen to you, come to me first,” Lee demands suddenly, biting gently at George’s thigh. They’re not exclusive and Lee doesn’t feel any need to try change that, but the thought of being the first person to touch some new part of George makes him feel a little feral. “I want to be the one to break you in.”

"Sounds like you're wishing it on me," says George, how voice soft and dreamy, his knees drifting apart as Lee kisses and bites at his skin. "I'm sure you could think of plenty of ways to debauch me, if I suddenly had three holes instead of two." He rolls his eyes fondly. "I'll come to you first."

It has the tone of a promise.

“I wouldn’t hate it,” he admits casually, smirking up at George as he sits with his legs out in front of him. Lee lays on his side, then turns onto his belly so he can get in closer, nuzzling his nose into the soft hair framing George’s cock.

“Good,” he breathes out, feeling a little dizzy from weed and the promise in George’s voice. “What if it happens to me? Do you wanna pop my cherry, too?”

Even though he’s teasing, the question immediately makes him feel a little needy. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he just can’t imagine letting anyone else fuck him. Not in this body or any other. It’s not out of loyalty or anything. He just trusts George enough to be vulnerable with his body in a way he can’t with others.

"Every filthy way that I can," he says, fondly, combing his fingers through the bright strands of Lee's hair. "I promise that, if that happens to you, I'll make you feel so good."

He feels fiercely possessive, suddenly. He can't imagine being with only one person forever, but he also finds himself hating the idea of anyone else coming inside Lee the way that he has.

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