atehimrightup | for george

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george

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."

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"I've been bitten hard enough to draw blood before, and I agree," he says, not pulling away from Lee's touch. "I don't want you to hurt me like that, either." He thinks about it for a long moment, reaching out to trail his fingers against Lee's bare arm. "I...wouldn't be adverse, though. To bleeding."

“What?” Lee’s voice is low and dangerous, jaw tensing as he looks over at George. He knows how hard one has to bitten to bleed like that. The evidence of it is etched into his skin.

The thought of someone doing that to George enrages him. But there’s another, much more darker thought: he’s jealous that it wasn’t him.

Before he can get too worked up, George says something that stuns him into silence. Lee glances down at George’s hand on his arm and then back at his face, brow furrowed slightly even as his eyes go dark. “What do you mean?”

"James, once. While I was sleeping." He extends his right arm, tracing the barely there silvery marks that teeth had left in his forearm. He remembers telling his mother about it; like a lover at play? she'd asked him, and he'd told her that it was more like a terrier at the hunt.

"I mean," he says. "That, if that's something you want, I wouldn't mind it."

“Why? I thought you said he was good to you,” Lee says, a little distressed as he takes George’s wrist. He’d noticed a smooth bit of scar tissue there, but apparently never examined it closely enough to realize it was in the faint shape of teeth. Seeing the scar makes Lee’s lip curl and he swallows hard, swiping his thumb over it. There’s a voice inside him telling him to bite down, to cover the scar with one of his own, and he ignores it.

He’s feeling so much all at once, and he blinks rapidly as he tries to process it all, still holding onto George’s wrist while staring over at him.

“I’ve never— I don’t—“ He’s practically stammering, so he cuts himself off and takes a breath, staring at George like he can’t make sense of him, eyes wide and awed. “I don’t even know what that would look like. I— I don’t want to hurt you like that.”

"He was," says George because that much, at least, is true. "But also mercurial. Ruled, on occasion, by his whims."

He feels utterly safe here, lying on the couch with Lee in a bubble of golden light.

"You've said you don't want to bite me that hard," says George, and he admits to being relieved by that. "But biting is not the only way one might draw blood."

He’s right about that. There are plenty of ways to draw blood. Lee thinks of the pinwheel in the drawer in George’s bedroom, and how a sharp enough knife can cut through skin so cleanly that you barely even feel it at first.

For a long moment, he doesn’t know what to say. He has to swallow a lump that rises into his throat and then looks over at George with helplessly confused expression.

“You’d do that to yourself,” Lee begins, hating the way his voice trembles slightly. “Just to indulge some weird urge of mine?”

"I like giving you what you want," says George, like it's the simplest thing in the world. Right then, it feels like it might be. "Small enough cuts or nicks wouldn't scar. It wouldn't need to be gallons of the stuff, right?"

He sits up, reaching for Lee with his free hand, wanting to settle him.

Lee stares at George as if he’s speaking a foreign language. He is, without doubt, the first person to ever try to give Lee what he wants. In most situations, honestly, but especially this one. George thinks about him, really considers him, and Lee doesn’t have words for how that makes him feel.

He’s still staring when George sits up and reaches for him, and Lee has to blink and shake his head a little and he takes George’s hand in his own.

He should tell George no. It would be the right thing to do, because George doesn’t have all the information, doesn’t know what exactly it is that he’s offering up. Lee feels like he would be even more of a monster for accepting.

But.

The way that George is looking at him makes Lee want to sink into it. George looks at him like there’s nothing wrong with him, and Lee wants so badly for that to be true.

“No, I- I’ve never done anything like that before, but— no.” Lee’s face goes red, chin quivering slightly as he leans in closer, feeling ashamed and hopeful and a little like he might explode all at once.

“I just want to taste you,” he admits in a quiet voice, squeezing his eyes shut and lowering his chin.

Lee leans in, face flushed and, for a moment, George genuinely thinks he's going to burst into tears. Instinctively, he shifts until he can gather Lee in against him.

"I've said it before, but I don't really see why it's different from come," he says. "We can try it, at least?"

George envelopes him into his arms and Lee goes willingly, clutching at him and letting out a breath. And then he laughs at what George says, but not unkindly. More out of disbelief.

“It’s just—“ He paused to try and consider exactly what to say. For a wild moment he wants to confess all of it, because there are times when he thinks that it might all end up okay, but then he comes to his senses. George is understanding, and even indulgent. But there is very big difference between what he’s offering and what Lee has to do to survive.

“It’s something I’ve always been ashamed of,” he admits. “I’ve always felt like I was built wrong. Like I was put together as a joke. I crave men and— and blood and pain. I’ve always wanted all the wrong things but I never asked for that. I just—“

He cuts himself off and breathes in deeply, turning his face in against George’s neck. “You make me feel like I’m not as fucked up as I’ve always thought I was. It’s a lot to process.”

Lee curls in against him and George wraps both arms around him, one around his waist, the other around his shoulders, fingers idly stroking through the curls at the nape of Lee's neck.

"I like spending time with you," murmurs George, though 'like' doesn't really do justice to the way it actually feels. "And, from what I've seen, most people are fucked up, one way or another. I'm happy I can give you something that makes that a little easier." He turns his head, kissing Lee's forehead. "My whole life, for years, has been a transaction. I like that you don't want anything from me I wouldn't willingly give."

“You give me so much,” Lee says quietly, letting out a shaky breath as George kisses his forehead so tenderly. “How could I possibly ask for more?”

He pulls back enough to be able to lift his head and kiss George on the mouth, letting it linger as he reaches up to cradle the side of his face.

“I like spending time with you, too. And— yeah, we can try it if you want,” Lee says against his mouth, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “But believe me, baby. I’m already more satisfied with you than I ever thought I could be.”

George smiles, that unguarded look that seems to be on his face more and more these days. He catches the heel of Lee's hand with a kiss.

"You're not asking, darling," he says. "I'm offering."

A warm smile spreads across George’s face and Lee can’t help but to return it, thumbing at the beauty mark at the corner of George’s mouth.

“You are a miracle,” Lee tells him, leaning in to nudge their noses together before giving him another kiss, this one almost chaste.

Every time Lee calls him that, it makes him think of Somerset, and how good it has felt to fuck him as a form of revenge taking. Still, he doesn't linger on the thought, returning Lee's kiss.

"I need that shower," he says, still smiling.

“Right,” Lee replies, kissing him again and knuckling at his eye before sliding away to give George room to get up. “I can clean up out here and come join you in a few? Or take one after. Up to you.”

He says it in a way that makes it clear that he’s fine with whatever George wants. It’s been long enough since the sex ended, and they’ve talked. George taking some time for himself won’t hit him quite so hard this time, because this time Lee isn’t afraid that he’s pulling away, or has any regrets.

He chuckles a little and pushes playfully at George’s thigh. “Assuming that I’m invited to stay over.”

George rolls his eyes and nudges Lee in the ribs with his elbow.

"I'd assumed you would," he says. "But I can issue a formal invitation if you prefer." He takes a kiss. "And I don't mind if you join. Give me a few minutes though?"

“I have a hard time just assuming when it’s your space,” Lee admits, because it’s true. Even if the invitation is implied, he still likes to confirm.

“Of course,” he says with a nod, giving George a brief kiss before sliding off of the sofa. He can’t help but laugh as he looks around at the mess they made, all the toys and clothes scattered about. “Go on. I’ll take care of things out here.”

George isn't sure when it happened, but he's started almost thinking of it as theirs. He just assumes Lee will be there and, if he isn't, he assumes that he's coming back.

He shucks off the blanket and stands, naked as the day he was born, body splashed with red marks and welts. He stretches both arms over his head and then pads in the direction of the bathroom.

George stands up and Lee watches him, gaze traveling across his body. It’s littered with marks, most of which will fade by morning and some that will linger on a bit longer, and Lee feels a little like his heart might explode.

He watches George go and then turns to clean up, laughing to himself as he washes the butt plug in the kitchen sink. He gathers the collar and leash with a certain sort of reverence, placing everything back in the drawer in George’s room.

After drinking some more water and downing a quick sandwich, he thinks maybe enough time has passed so he goes to lean in the doorway of the bathroom, watching George through the frosted glass.

“All good?” Lee asks softly, willing to give him more time if he needs.

"Mmmm," says George, stood leaning with both hands against the tile, hot water sluicing over his shoulders. "Come in here... But don't get any ideas. I don't even have the energy to wash my hair."

He's grinning when he says it.

“Wore you out, did I?” Lee grins and slips into the shower, stepping in behind George and shutting the door. His eyes fall to the bite mark on George’s shoulder and he leans in to press a tender, reverent kiss to the spot before reaching for the shampoo.

“It’s a good thing I like to spoil you,” he teases as he lathers up his hands and scrubs the shampoo into George’s dark hair, nails scratching along his scalp.

There has always been something of a caretaker in Lee. It was clear with his little sister, and even with Maren. He likes being useful, and making someone’s life a little better just by being around.

"Something like that," says George, his eyes drifting closed as Lee starts to work the shampoo into his hair. At court, towards the end, he'd gotten used to having people to do for him, but this is different. This is a tenderness that he's rarely, if ever, felt in his life.

Lee only smiles, then detaches the shower head and gently tips George’s head back to rinse the shampoo away. Once the shower head is back in place, Lee soaps up a washcloth and works it over George’s skin, taking care to be extra gentle in the places where it’s red and tender.

He turns George around and does the same to his front, soaping up his chest and belly and then letting his hand drift down to his soft cock and his balls, gently lathering and smiling playfully at him. “Just being thorough.”

Leaning back against the tiles, George makes a soft sound as Lee handles him with soapy hands. He'd meant it when he's said he was exhausted but that doesn't stop his cock starting to stir.

"Oh, I'm sure," he says.

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