atehimrightup | (no subject)

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george

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Lee is very unused to getting cars to go places. He's always just driven himself if he could, or walked if he couldn't. Hitchhiked, sometimes.

But now he's in a place where he can summon a stranger to drive him somewhere by tapping the tiny computer in his hand. The technological advancement in this place stuns him every single day. He can't even imagine how George deals with it.

He looks over at George next to him in the backseat of their current ride, watching him as he watches a touristy horse drawn carriage go by them with a big dopey grin on his face and, well, George is probably doing just fine.

He keeps staring, letting his gaze drop to the thin silver chain around George's neck. His going out collar, they've called it. Tonight is its first night in play, and Lee is eager to see how it goes.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Lee thanks the driver and slides out of the car, holding the door open and reaching out to take George's hand. "Come along, darling."

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"Le Bete," murmurs George, though he's still not sure he sees the comparison with Lee. Still, he doesn't interrupt the story further, idly trailing his fingers across the bare skin across Lee's ribs. He does smile when Lee says the beauty fell in love, remembering what he's confessed earlier when Lee didn't understand a word.

"Then what?"

The deeper that Lee goes into the story, the more his flippant little joke from earlier seems a little more real. George is Beauty, and Lee is a beast. Not on the outside, but the inside. Where it really matters.

He clears his throat and shakes his head a little, continuing with the story as his hands slowly travel over whatever parts of George he can reach.

“Belle found out that her father was in trouble and the Beast granted her freedom and freed her from their deal,” Lee says, fingers tightening slightly in George’s hair. “Even though it would mean terrible things for the Beast. So she left the castle and went to help her father, and the Beast was alone again.”

Lee lets him stew for a moment, then continues.

“But she came back! She was free but came back because she loved him. And because she came of her own free will and her love was true, it broke the spell.”

He wishes it were that simple.

“It turns out that the Beast was actually a prince, and he’d been cursed years earlier by a witch for having an ugly heart. She turned him into a Beast and made it so that only true love given freely would break the spell.”

Lee takes in a deep breath and lets out through his nose, kissing the crown of George’s head. “He was restored to his normal handsome human form and they got married.”

He smiles to himself, mouth pressed to George’s head. “And they lived happily ever after.” There’s a lump in his throat suddenly, and he swallows it back. “That’s how fairytales always end.”

"I like that," he says, a little dreamily, lulled by Lee's voice and the warmth of his skin, the softness of the bed beneath them. "Happily ever after." It doesn't seem entirely plausible, but none of this does. He kisses Lee's skin. "You're good at that."

“At what? Tellin’ stories? That’s good.” Lee smiles as George kisses him, reaching over to grab the blanket and flip it over their bodies.

“There’s a lot of fairytales out there.” He’s pretty sure that George is actively fucking one of them, but they don’t need to get into that one right now. “Most of them involve someone being too beautiful for their own good. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

His voice is warm and fond and he gives George a squeeze, fingertips gliding up and down his arm.”

"Oh, shut up," says George fondly, pinching Lee's side lightly. He'd come back from France fully aware of how beautiful he was and how far that could get him. It's different here. It doesn't matter at much. Lee's told him that much.

"I like the idea of this being our bed, as much as it's mine."

The pinch makes him laugh, but he sobers a little at what George says next. It hits him like a punch to the gut. He wants to let himself just be happy that George feels this way.

But everything George doesn’t know is getting heavier and heavier. The closer he gets, the more deceitful Lee feels. He feels stuck. Helpless.

“It feels like it to me, too,” Lee says thickly, resting his hand on top of George’s head and gently tipping it back enough for him to press a kiss to George’s forehead.

“I used to dream of having a big bed that was all mine,” he admits quietly. “Now all I ever want to do is crawl into yours.”

"You can crawl into mine any time you like," says George. He's always had the habit of kissing foreheads but, God, he likes it so much when it's done to him. He turns his head, pressing a trail of light kissed against Lee's bare skin.

“It can be ours,” Lee tells him, even though he shouldn’t. Every string that gets tied between them will only make it so much harder when they get cut. It’ll hurt more for the both of them.

But Lee is weak. That’s always been his problem. George has become another thing he can’t resist.

George’s plush mouth moves across his skin and Lee lets out a content sigh, gently tucking his fingers under George’s chin so Lee can see his face, looking into his soulful eyes.

“I want to make you happy,” he says after a moment, smiling softly and stroking his thumb back and forth over George’s chin.

Lee doesn’t know what’s going to happen or when. But he does know one thing for sure.

He’s so fucked.

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