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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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.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Lee replies, lifting his head into George’s hand like a touch starved house cat. “It’s settled, then. On the off chance this happens to us, we’ll be each other’s first call.”

George would be his first call for a lot of things, he realizes. Most things.

He ducks his head to press more kisses to the inside of George’s thigh and then flops onto his back, staring up at George with a besotted expression that he would blame on the weed.

“You look good out here,” Lee declares suddenly. “Away from all the fancy shit.”

"Oh, do I?" says George, still smiling, tilting his head as he looks down at Lee. This suits Lee too, he realises...or maybe it's just that he's never known him look so relaxed and open before. "And what fancy shit is that?"

“You know. All the training. I can see you working it out in your head sometimes, what you want to do and what you think you should do,” Lee muses, and there is no judgment in his tone. It’s just something he’s noticed because he watches George more than anyone else. Everyone does it. It’s part of what makes humans so different from other creatures.

“Away from the burden of expectation,” Lee amends, eyes searching George’s face as his gestures vaguely around him. “Me and the trees, we don’t want anything from you except you.”

He'd misunderstood -- he'd assumed that Lee meant things, clothes and jewels, that sort of thing. The clarification makes sense, though. He doesn't have to think things through with Lee, can just be himself, whoever that is. There's freedom in it. He can't remember the last time he met someone who knew him for himself. His mother, maybe? Kit?

"I'm glad you like it," he says.

“I do seem to enjoy myself when you’re around,” Lee says dryly. “Mystery of mysteries.”

George looks so good in the firelight that Lee finds his phone again, aiming the camera at George to take a photo. He does enjoy the ability to instantly capture a memory and keep it in your pocket.

“You liked when I brought the camera out earlier,” he says casually, still looking at his phone screen as he snaps a few more photos. And then he glances at George over the top of the phone and gives him a knowing smirk. “Do you want to watch the video?”

"Will they never cease?" he says. When Lee picks up his phone, taking pictures, George has no impulse to try and hide or disguise his nakedness. He'd been sketched before, at home, so he's used to it. He makes eye contact with the camera, head tilted slightly to one side, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I did," he says, his own tone casual to match Lee's. He'd never experienced any such thing, and he'd been taken aback by the rush of shame and arousal he'd felt, at the idea of there being a permenant record of his debasement, more tangible than gossip. He bites his lip for a moment. "I don't know the answer to that question." He raises an eyebrow. "Do you want me to watch it?"

“It’s not a trick question. There’s no right answer,” Lee replies, raising an eyebrow in response to George. “You might like getting filmed but don’t necessarily want to watch it.”

George turns the question on him and Lee lets out a soft chuckle.

“More like I want to watch your face while you watch it,” he says with a grin, and then lets his expression relax a bit, rolling up onto one elbow and shrugging. “But mostly I’m just genuinely curious how you feel.”

"I don't know," he says. "I've never watched myself, so I don't know how it'll make me feel." He frowns, thinking about it for a moment. "I...think I like the idea of you watching, though? That definitely appeals."

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