atehimrightup | for george

Entry tags:

alex,
george

for george

When Lee first learns of the club, a plan starts to formulate. He thinks about how George sprung that little shopping trip on him, and decides that it's time for a little payback.

He does some research and makes an appointment, then texts George to tell him that they're going out for dinner, that he'll be picked up at 8pm, and that Lee would like it very much if he wore the plug.

The thought of going to a sex club is sort of nerve wracking and intriguing all at the same time. He doesn't know if he particularly wants to partake in anything, but he's curious. He wants to check it out, and he thinks that George will, too. Hell, with all that George has gotten up to, it might seem like child's play to him.

But to Lee, it's entirely new. For him, sex has always been this clandestine, hidden thing. It was animal behavior, biology to be taken care of and little else. But he's learning so much about all the other ways it can be, and this seems like a good way to further his education.

He's even snuck the collar away to keep in his pocket. He doesn't want to tell George to wear that, too. It's never been worn out of the safety of George's apartment before, and he wants that choice to be George's, so Lee will let him make it once he has all the information.

He decides to get a cab for the trip, not wanting to drive his beat up old truck when he may possibly be impaired. He's dressed in all black-- jeans and a silky button down and his boots, with his face shaved and his dark red curls actually combed and styled. He looks-- good. It's not often that he looks into the mirror and thinks that, but it's happening more often lately. That's George's influence, he's sure.

Once the car pulls up to George's building, Lee shoots him a text. Come downstairs.

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“Actually, I worked pretty hard to make it come,” Lee jokes, pressing kisses to his belly and licking into his navel, then lower down. He finds every drop, even lapping at the head of his softening cock.

He slides back up and props himself up on his hands, smiling with his mouth closed for a moment before opening it to show off the come gathered on his tongue. Smirking, he leans down to kiss George again, sharing the taste with him.

It’s absurdly intimate, and Lee groans as he settles on top of George again, cupping his face and sucking on his tongue.

Its filthy and fantastic and George groans at the taste of his own come on Lee's tongue, swallows it down like honey. Lee settles on top of him and George huma contentedly, one arm around Lee's waist, the other hand gliding up and down his spine.

"I don't even want to shower," he admits. "I just want to lie here."

“We don’t have to shower,” Lee tells him, nuzzling behind George’s ear with a content sigh. “You smell good. We can stay like this.”

He kisses along George’s neck and then pulls back to look at him, laughing softly.

“Or were you just trying to get me to clean you up between your legs, too?” Lee’s teasing, but be wouldn’t be against the idea. “How lazy of you.”

George bends one arm behind his head, raising both eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"That hadn't even occured to me as a possibility," he says, because it honestly hadn't. "But, now you mention it..."

He's teasing. He's perfectly content to lie how they are.

Lee laughs and rolls his eyes, shoving playfully at George’s chest before leaning in to kiss along the underside of his arm, following the line of his tricep. He allows himself a moment of shamelessness, pressing his face into George’s armpit just to smell him, then continues kissing over to his chest.

“I do that and everything will start up all over again,” he murmurs, nipping softly at George’s neck and kissing at his chin. “We have to sleep eventually.”

He squirms at the feeling of Lee's breath against his armpit and then smiles, broad and boyish, when Lee makes his point.

"You're probably right," he says. "Though, I would say -- we are relatively young and it is relatively early."

“Relatively young?” Lee asks dubiously, pulling back to look at him. “Oh, right. Life expectancy’s different where you’re from.”

He grins teasingly and tickles George’s side. “You’re like middle-aged.”

"People lived to be older than fifty two. Christ." George rolls his eyes. "Hell, James was about that age the last time I saw him." He sobers slightly, tracing the scar under his jaw with one thumbnail. "Though I never really expected to make old bones, somehow."

“Yeah, me neither,” Lee replies with a sigh, shifting to the side so he can prop his head up on his hand. His gaze falls to the faint scar on George’s neck and he frowns, filled with dread and sorrow just at the thought of him having a moment so dark.

He doesn’t know the details, but he never asked. Maybe because it’s too personal. Maybe because he didn’t want the question turned back on him.

They’re quiet for a moment and then Lee leans in to press a kiss to the scar, nuzzling at the skin and then reaching up to gently take George’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning his head until they’re looking each other in the eye.

“Never again, okay? Promise me,” Lee says quietly. He pauses for a moment. “And I’ll promise you the same.”

A muscle tics in George's jaw. He remembers his mother's disdain, the realisation that she'd left him to hang as a lesson. The yawning desperation he'd felt at the thought of being sent to France. It might as well have been another world.

"I'm not sure I really meant it," he admits. "But I promise." He kisses Lee's palm to seal it.

“Drama queen,” Lee teases warmly. He rolls his eyes but the expression on his face is endlessly fond. He smiles as George kisses his palm, nodding happily and leaning in to kiss him on the mouth again.

“I don’t know how that old man possibly satisfied you,” he teases with a sigh, rolling to flop onto his back. He’s joking, but he’s always a little insecure when the subject of James arises. He knows it’s stupid. He’s not in the picture anymore, but it’s hard knowing that Lee’s following a literal king who could shower George with jewels and land and the attention of an entire nation.

"I wasn't only in his bed," says George, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. "There were always others." He bends to kiss Lee's shoulder. "I didn't..." He frowns. "I cared for him, but it was about more than that. For me. For my mother."

There were always others.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, for some reason.

His expression sobers and he feels stupid for even making the joke, but he can’t quite help the way the corner of his mouth quirks up when George kisses his shoulder.

“You were trying to make a good life for yourself and your family,” Lee says with a nod. “I get it.”

Lee manages to make it sound noble, and George isn't sure that it was, but it's also not something he particularly wants to talk about, to pick holes in. He wasn't always proud of himself.

"This is different," he admits. "You and me. I can't say ice ever had anything quite like this with anyone."

“Of course it is. I have nothing to give you,” Lee jokes, but then he sees the expression on George’s face and swallows hard, turning onto his side so that they’re mirroring each other, bodies curved inward like parenthesis.

“I’ve had nothing like this,” Lee says resolutely, then swallows hard and hesitates. He’s kept Maren all to himself, protecting that wound, but now he finds himself wanting to talk about it.

“There was this girl. Maren,” he begins, swallowing hard and closing his eyes for a long moment. It’s hard to explain the situation with Maren without revealing too much, and navigating it just makes him feel guilty.

She left him because she saw too much of him, and George will do the same.

“She was on her own and went on the road with me for a bit. I thought we—“ He cuts himself off and clears his throat. “We started to get close, but she— she saw too much of me, I think. And she didn’t like it. One day I woke up and she was just… gone. Not even a goodbye.”

His chin wobbles a little and he looks down, afraid to see George’s face in that moment. “That was the closest I ever came to having something before you.”

He doesn't know much about Lee's past because there are some parts of Lee that feel like they're behind a closed door, kept tight by locks that George has got no idea how to pick. When Lee starts talking, George listens quietly, his eyes on the other man's face.

When Lee's chin wobbles, George touches him lightly with one curled finger so that he can look him in the eye.

"You have me," he says, because he might not know quite what this is, but he knows that much. "I meant it, earlier. When you asked to keep that for us. I can do that. I...want to do that."

He leans in, pressing a long kiss to Lee's forehead.

Lee flushes when George lifts his chin, embarrassed, but he doesn’t pull away. His eyes sting and he wrinkles his nose a little, trying very hard not to cry.

“You don’t have to. It was messed up of me to ask for it like that,” Lee assures him, shaking his head a little. “It just sort of came out.”

George kisses his forehead and Lee lets out a shuddering breath, feeling vaguely pathetic. “Can you just— if you ever decide that you’ve had enough of me, can you please say goodbye?”

George honestly can't see that happening. He traces the pad of his thumb over the bridge of Lee's nose, smoothing the wrinkles and then leans in to kiss between his eyebrows.

"I promise," he says. "On both fronts."

George doesn’t try to placate him, doesn’t try to say he isn’t going anywhere, and that hurts and reassures Lee at the same time. He isn’t quick to make a promise, especially one he isn’t sure he can keep.

Even if he hates Lee by the end of it all, which he’s sure will happen if he finds out the truth, he’ll still tell Lee that it’s over to his face. And that’s more than he’s ever gotten before.

As for the second promise, Lee looks up at him hopefully and doesn’t argue. He already gave George an out and he didn’t take it, so he must actually want it, too.

That makes Lee smile, and he chuckles softly as George kisses his face. Another intense moment, but he can shake it off.

“Yeah? Okay. Me too,” he says with another soft laugh. “Less of a hardship for me. You’re the first person I’ve let do that to me in years. There isn’t going to be another.”

"It hasn't been years for me, admittedly, but I was more often hammer than anvil." He smirks, remembering that man on the road who'd propositioned him so plainly before he ever even set eyes on James. He kisses the bridge of Lee's nose.

"I prefer how things are with you." He likes that they switch places so often. That sometimes there's the collar and sometimes there isn't.

“A very charming metaphor,” Lee drawls out, distracted from his melancholy by George’s kisses, his face, his everything. He lifts his head to give George a soft kiss on the mouth and then pulls back suddenly, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Wait, even with the king?” He’s surprised by this, for some reason. Stereotypes, maybe. Plenty of powerful people like to take it in the ass. He laughs. Cackles, really. “Well, look at you.”

His expression softens and he nods, reaching out to curl a hand around the back of George’s neck. “Me, too. I’m sorry it was so unbalanced in the beginning. Thanks for being patient with me.”

George wouldn’t have kept coming back if he had a problem with it, but still. Lee leans in closer and stage whispers as if he’s sharing some mind blowing secret. “I kind of have trust issues.”

"Especially with the King, actually. The first time was after I came off my horse during a hunt. He came to my tent in the middle of the night. He used to like having his cock sucked, but he vastly preferred being fucked for fucking. Even with the weight of all the sin of it."

George rolls his eyes. He was nominally Protestant, still is, but would never have thought of himself as especially religious.

His eyes go mock wide at Lee's confession, but he can't sustain it and laughs.

"Really?" He says. "You hide it well, love."

Here in this moment, Lee can’t bring himself to feel insecure of James. The stories make him feel like more of a real person, and that makes it better. Lee chuckles at the story, sliding his hand up and down George’s arm as he talks.

“The sin makes it hotter,” Lee says with an edge of sarcasm in his voice. He is very much not religious. Not in the slightest. Either God’s not real, or he has a sick sense of humor. Either way, Lee isn’t interested.

“I do my best,” he says with a grin, and he swears his heart skips a beat at the pet name. He really does try not to read too much into it, because he knows it’s just something people say as easy as darling or sweetheart.

But Lee has never gotten any of those. He never thought he’d come to be so fond of hearing them now.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re still young,” Lee says as he pushes George onto his back and climbs astride him, a playful edge to the grin on his face. “Because now I’ve gotta out bottom the king of England.”

He makes a big show of sitting up and stretching out his arms, tilting his head from side to side like he’s limbering up.

George snorts at that, sliding his hands along Lee's bare thighs as he settles on top of him.

"I thought we had to sleep sometime?" he says, grinning. "Or was that an excuse because you didn't want to lick your own come out of me?"

He rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yes, because I’ve always been known to hate having my tongue in your ass,” Lee says in a flat voice, sliding back until their cocks are near each other. He licks both his palms and wraps a hand around each of them, feeling them each get hotter as they fill with blood.

“It’s a horrid thing, going down on you,” Lee continues, stroking himself and George in slow unison, grinning lazily down at him. “Your ass is so flat and unsightly.”

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