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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“Mm, I’m not quite sure,” Lee muses, finding that it’s true. He just wants more of George all the time, and he’s not super particular on how he gets it right now. “When it comes to you, I’m not sure that craving will ever be totally sated.”
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"Well, I'm sure we can think of something," says George, nudging his plate away from him once it's empty and reaching for his beer. "Inspiration will...you know..." He makes a vague gesture with his free hand. "Strike."
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He twists in his seat, drawing one knee up until his heel is planted on the edge of it.
“I dunno,” he drawls out, cutting George an amused look. “I probably have bad breath now. Maybe we should just call it a night.”
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"We ate the same thing, so we have the same breath," points out George, smirking against the mouth of his bottle. "And if it bothers you that much, that toothbrush that you've used before is still in the cabinet."
He drinks the last swallow of his beer, lips lingering lewdly.
"You don't want that and you know it."
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Lee went from having no home at all, and now he has two.
“Slut,” Lee says fondly, resting his chin on his knee as he watches George’s face. “I see you fellating that bottle to get my attention. Don’t worry, baby. You already have it.”
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George does his best impression of innocence, setting the bottle down and reaching for Lee's empty plate and standing to carry them to the sink.
"I don't know what you mean," he says, but he's grinning when he says it.
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“Is there anything you’re craving?” Lee asks in a low murmur, slowly dragging the tip of his tongue up the back of George’s neck.
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George shivers at the swipe of Lee's tongue against his skin. He'll taste of sweat, he knows.
"Well," he says, turning in the space between the sink and the press of Lee's body against his back. "I did get carried away, there." He plucks at the key on the chain hanging around Lee's neck. "You could get your own back."
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“If you want to get bossed around,” he murmurs, nudging George’s nose with his own and then licking at the corner of his mouth, right over that infuriating beauty mark. “You can just say so.”
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"I didn't entirely mean it like that," says George, turning his head, looking for a kiss. They haven't repeated that first night yet, but he's thought about it a lot, every time he's caught a glimpse of the key against Lee's chest.
"It is a tempting thought though."
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With how he’s feeling now, and the night he’s had, the thought of George on his knees for him is a very appealing one. Earlier he would have said no, being too drunk for such responsibility and too hopped up on rage from the bar, but after good food and a better fuck, he’s feeling more centered.
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If he wants it, he needs to ask for it. That's the time, and he knows it. George closes his fist around the key and tugs it, lightly.
"Please, darling," he says. "That's what I want."
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He finds that he wants the collar, too. He wants George to be his.
“Please what, baby?” Lee asks in a low voice, reaching up to thumb at George’s chin. “Ask me nicely.”
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A little shiver goes down George's spine, a combination of the tone of Lee's voice and the small, proprietary touch. He swallows.
"I want you to put that collar on me," he says, dark eyes fixed on Lee's face. "Please."
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The collar and the rest of the toys are in a drawer in George’s bedroom, and Lee gives him a light slap on the ass as he heads in that direction.
George leaves the room and Lee smirks to himself, shaking his head in vague disbelief at what his life has become.
After drinking some more water, Lee brushes his hair back from his face and goes over to move the coffee table before sitting on the edge of the sofa, managing to look commanding even while sitting there in his underwear.
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Blushing at the slap to his arse, George goes to the drawer in his bedroom. He lingers over the other toys in the drawer, but leaves them where they are for now; if Lee wants them, he'll say. When he picks the collar up, it goes straight to his cock.
He walks back into the lounge with the collar in his hand, and comes to stand in front of Lee with it dangling from his hand.
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Lee takes the collar and tosses a pillow onto the floor between his feet, gesturing for George to get on his knees. He unlocks the collar with the key around his neck, jaw tensing at the sound it makes.
“What do you say if you want it off?” Lee asks, just to confirm, as thumbs at the end of the soft leather, watching George get settled.
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Still in his sweats, George sinks down onto his knees on the pillow in front of Lee. He doesn't want this all the time, but he does feel something like hunger flare up in him.
"Unlock," he says.
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He takes a deep breath and cups George’s face in his hands, happy to have him like this. Happy to own him, just for a little while.
“Who do you belong to?” He asks in a low, authoritative voice.
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The lock clicks shut and George drags in a shivering breath through his nose. He swallows, feels the bind of it across his throat.
"You," he says, finally. "Only you."
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He thumbs at the corner of George’s mouth and then slides two fingers into it, deep enough to touch the back of his tongue.
“Barely a gag reflex on you,” he murmurs, sounding a little in awe as he shoves his fingers deeper, making George’s pretty eyes water. “You’re a perfect slut, aren’t you?”
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With Lee's fingers in his mouth, it's difficult to know how to answer that question, or even if he's supposed to try. His eyelashes flutter and he settles for half a nod.
"Yes." The word comes out humiliatingly garbled.
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“What was that?” Lee asks once he pulls them free, letting go of George’s chin to give his cheek a light slap. “Say it loud and proud, baby.”
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George's eyes widen slightly as he watches Lee suck his spit off his fingers. After everything they've done, he's not sure why it's surprising.
"A perfect slut," he says. "All for you."
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“No one else can give you what you need,” Lee murmurs, breathing a little harder. When they’re like this, Lee can let out all the intrusive thoughts built up in his mind. He can let himself go a little wild.
“No one else would be able to handle a brat like you.” Lee slides his hands over George’s shoulders and up around his neck, just above the collar. He closes them there, squeezing tightly enough to just barely cut off his air while still stroking George’s jaw with his thumb almost reverently, looking him in the eye the whole time. “They wouldn’t be able to take care of you like I can.”
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