Lee (
atehimrightup) wrote2025-07-14 11:59 am
Entry tags:
for george
There's a food truck festival in Petros Park that night, and Lee takes George mostly so he can see his face while trying new things, like squid balls and deep fried cheesecake. It's a good time and once they're full, neither of them are ready for the night to end so they wind up at a bar not far from George's place.
It's sort of mid-tier, not super nice but not a total dive, either. They get a few rounds at the bar, leaning against each other and laughing, and Lee realizes that he's drunk sort of all of a sudden, like it snuck up on him. It makes him more handsy, makes him bite at George's shoulder through the sleeve of his shirt. It makes him notice how many eyes are on George all the time.
The bartender brings them a round of tequila shots on a little tray complete with a salt shaker and lime wedges, and Lee looks up at him questioningly.
"We didn't order this," Lee tells him, and the bartender waves him off and tells him someone asked for them to be sent over. "Who?"
The bartender just shrugs and turns away to help a group of rowdy young women, and Lee glances at the shots before looking around the room a bit suspiciously. "Hm."
It's sort of mid-tier, not super nice but not a total dive, either. They get a few rounds at the bar, leaning against each other and laughing, and Lee realizes that he's drunk sort of all of a sudden, like it snuck up on him. It makes him more handsy, makes him bite at George's shoulder through the sleeve of his shirt. It makes him notice how many eyes are on George all the time.
The bartender brings them a round of tequila shots on a little tray complete with a salt shaker and lime wedges, and Lee looks up at him questioningly.
"We didn't order this," Lee tells him, and the bartender waves him off and tells him someone asked for them to be sent over. "Who?"
The bartender just shrugs and turns away to help a group of rowdy young women, and Lee glances at the shots before looking around the room a bit suspiciously. "Hm."

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"Okay, But you didn't have to be scared for me. I had him handled," Lee says a little glumly, letting George take his hand and lead him down the street, feeling a little bit like a child. Embarrassed, sullen. Like a problem that needs to be solved.
"From being nobility to playing nursemaid for a broke loser with anger issues," Lee jokes, suddenly feeling awful for foisting himself on George. Twice now, he's had to help clean up Lee's messes. "This place really threw you for a loop, huh?"
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"Oh, shut up," says George, fondly, as they walk down the empty street hand in hand. "What this place gave me was the choice of who I wanted to spend my time with, when I knew it wouldn't get me anything other than more of their company."
He squeezes Lee's hand. "I wouldn't even have been allowed to choose my own wife at home. But here I am." He looks across. "You don't end up in my bed as often as you do by accident, you know."
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"Well, that's very sweet," Lee says begrudgingly, as if he doesn't want to concede the point but has no other choice. "Even though I think you just called me your wife."
Thankfully, they had chosen a bar close to George's building, so it isn't long before they're in the lobby and Lee cuddles up to George from behind, kissing the side of his neck and smearing blood on his pale skin while they wait for the elevator. "Of course I'm in your bed all the time. Where else would your wife be?"
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"I was just making a point about personal freedoms," says George, grinning and tilting his head to one side to give Lee more room to kiss the side of his neck. "But my bed is exactly where you're supposed to be. So." The door opens and he drags Lee into the elevator with him.
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Lee tries to ignore the way that his drunk little heart seems to skip a beat, laughing as he's pulled into the elevator. He lets George hit the button for his floor while Lee crowds in front of him, reaching up to touch the side of his face and staring at him with no small amount of awe.
"I'd kill anyone who hurt you," he says in a low voice, stroking bloody fingertips along George's jaw. "I wouldn't even blink."
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"After tonight, I believe that," says George, taking Lee's chin in his hand so that he can take a kiss. "Alarming as it was." He takes another. "I can't say I'm not flattered."
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"You should be flattered," Lee murmurs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around George as if they have all the time in the world. He licks into George's mouth and tastes blood. It's his own, familiar enough of a taste by now, but it still makes him shiver. George knows that he's dangerous. Maybe not just how dangerous, but he knows enough. And he's still here, kissing Lee so nicely.
The elevator stops and the doors open while they're still kissing, and Lee's eyes pop open when he hears twin gasps coming from the hall. He slowly turns around to see two young women dressed like they're going out dancing, all skin tight clothes and too much makeup, and Lee clears his throat as he pulls away and crosses his wrists behind his back to keep from touching George for the next sixty seconds.
"Ladies," he says, nodding his head at them as he passes by with blood on his face, all over his lips and running down the side of his neck. They look alarmed and intrigued all at once, and Lee bursts into laughter as he rushes down the hall towards George's door.
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Lee rushes ahead and George smiles at the girls, sketching then a lazy bow as the elevator doors close. He rolls his eyes at he walks down the corridor towards Lee, rummaging in his pocket for his key.
"You're a terror," he did, with all the fondness that he ever calls Lee 'darling' with.
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Once they’re inside, Lee flicks on the flight and immediately slips out of his sneakers before turning to look at George, who is so beautiful that Lee can barely stand it. Lee’s blood is stark on his face, a heavy contrast against his pale skin and dark hair. He looks wild, and it makes Lee ache.
“I’m sorry I didn’t just hang back and let you verbally eviscerate that asshole,” Lee says as he closes the distance between them, reaching out to put his hands on George’s hips. “I’m sure it would have been way hotter than me punching him.”
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"I don't know," says George, lifting one hand to hold Lee's chin, head slightly tilted. "You punching him was pretty hot." The modern parlance sounds odd coming out of his mouth. He takes another kiss.
"What do you want to eat?" He asks, his thumb stroking against Lee's skin. "You wash up, and I'll order something?"
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But then George asks him what he wants to eat and there’s only one real answer. It brings Lee back down to earth a little bit, but he’s also drunk enough that it makes him laugh. What a complicated question!
“Literally whatever you want,” Lee tells him, because he honestly doesn’t care as long as it’s food and George is there. He kisses the corner of George’s mouth, lapping at the blood there and biting softly at his bottom lip, more of a playful nip that anything. “You need to wash up, too. Even though you look very pretty like this.”
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He's aware that he has blood on him wherever Lee has touched him -- mostly his face and his neck -- and, probably, it should bother him more but, mostly, it makes him think of that day at the hunt when James smeared his face with deer blood and the whole trajectory of his life shifted.
"Indian, maybe," he says. "I can wash my face after I order."
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He pulls away and turns to head toward the bathroom, and then stops and soon as he remembers something, turning around to point at George with both hands.
“Oh, I do still wanna do body shots,” he says with an eager nod. “I did not forget about the body shots.”
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"Of course you didn't," says George, fondly. He heads I go his bedroom, stripping off his bloodied shirt and grabbing a t-shirt from a drawer. He pulls up the app on his phone and orders some things they'll both like.
"Help yourself to any clothes you want," he calls as he pads past the bathroom. He's always enjoyed the infrequent occasions when Lee's ended up wearing something of his.
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He strips out of his clothes and rinses himself off, scrubbing away blood and washing it away in the sink. After drying off, he finds a butterfly bandage in the cabinet and puts it on the wound. The cut on his knuckle isn’t bad enough to need one, so at least there’s that.
Only in his underwear, he walks into the bedroom and looks through George’s clothes. Most of them are too nice for lounging, but he finds a cornflower blue tee and pulls it on before heading out toward the living room to find George.
“There. I am clean,” Lee declares, dragging a hand through his messy hair. He stops short when he sees George looking down at his phone, so casual even with streaks of blood on his face. It drives Lee a little insane.
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"And...ordered," says George, looking up with a smile than blooms brighter when he sees Lee standing there in his shirt. "That colour suits you. I suppose I should go and wash my face."
He sets his phone down on the counter and walks closer.
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It’s a good kiss, hungry and passionate with lots of tongue, and Lee backs up until his ass hits the edge of the kitchen table, practically growling.
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Lee kisses him like he's hungry, and George is content to give himself over to it completely, one hand cradling the side of Lee's face. When Lee's arse hits the edge of the table, George reaches down, hooking one of Lee's long legs higher against his thigh, hitching their hips closer together.
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“You look so good like this,” he rasps out, kissing his way along George’s jaw and down the side of his neck, smelling the copper tang of his own blood. It’s easier to deal with, being his own, but it still makes him a little crazy. “God, I wanted to kill him.”
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He's seen Lee's reaction to blood before, but this is something new. He tips his head back, giving Lee's mouth more room to work.
"Maybe I don't need to wash my face right away," he says, teasing. "I could stay like this."
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“You could,” Lee murmurs, dragging his teeth lightly over George’s pulse. It’s such a dangerous thing that George is indulging in right now, and if Lee were a better man he might tell him to stop. But he’s not.
He kisses his way down to the open collar of George’s shirt and then takes his hand, fingertips still smeared with Lee’s blood. He leans back a little and brings George’s hand to his mouth, making eye contact as takes two fingers past his lips, cheeks hollowing as he sucks on them.
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He loves his fingers in Lee's mouth, love the way it looks, the way it feels -- hot and liquid in a way that goes right to his cock. That said, it's never been quite like this, with that dark and dizzying look in Lee's eyes. The hand still on Lee's thigh tightens, fingers on the other hand crooking slightly to fuck Lee's mouth shallowly.
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He lets go of George to lean back a little, planting his palms against the table as his cock starts to tent his underwear. Once there’s no hint of blood left, Lee pulls back to take in a deep breath.
“You taste sweeter than me,” Lee rasps out, licking his lips before pulling George’s ring and pinky fingers into his mouth to give them the same treatment.
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"I don't know about that," says George, his eyes dark as he watches Lee suck his fingers. His eyes track down Lee's wiry frame to his cock, undeniable proof of just how much Lee is enjoying this.
He doesn't touch it, though. Not yet.
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His hands ball into fists on the table and he pulls back only so he can capture George’s thumb in his mouth instead, suckling at it while looking him in the eye.
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