atehimrightup | happy birthday, george

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george

happy birthday, george

Lee has never put much stock into birthdays. His own never really mattered to him, because it never really mattered to anyone else. He would always try to get something for Kayla on her birthday, but that was about the extent of it.

All that is to say that Lee feels woefully prepared to plan a birthday for his-- whatever George is. Boyfriend? That feels so juvenile, like it isn't important enough.

He stresses about it more than he probably needs to, but he's never had the opportunity to celebrate something like this with someone he cares about. Which is already sort of a big deal, but George was the lover of a literal king and was undoubtedly showered with expensive gifts on a regular basis. Lee has no idea how to compete with that, even though he can hear George's voice in his head telling him that it isn't a competition. Which is good, because he'd probably lose.

The actual night isn't much of a problem. He comes up with a plan pretty easily, one that's simple but romantic, he thinks. It's the gift that's the problem. Because nothing in this whole goddamn city is good enough for George. Nothing that he can afford, anyway.

Just days before, he still hasn't found anything and he's getting sort of desperate. He distracts himself by going on a hunt because he really does need to eat, which sort of just makes him feel worse because of the guilt. But the guy is (was) a verified scumbag and women walking alone at night will be safer without him around, so he doesn't feel too bad.

In the guy's pocket is a receipt for a pawn shop that Lee has never heard of, so he goes to check it out the next day. It's in a terrible part of town and there isn't really even a sign. Inside it's dusty and unorganized and Lee just assumes it's some sort of front for something else. Still, he decides to look around while some guy comes out from the back and eyes him with wary suspicion, like he's surprised to see someone in the shop at all.

He finds a dusty jewelry display case and heads toward it hopefully, crouching down in front of it. Inside are mostly gold chains and tennis bracelets, all generic shit that wouldn't suit George at all, and he's about to give up when he spots a blue velvet box tucked back into a corner, half-hidden under a gaudy necklace. It looks like earrings and Lee rises to his feet and coolly asks to take a look at them, not wanting to show any excitement and inadvertently drive the price up. He knows how these places operate.

The guy takes them out of the case and Lee picks them up, doing his best to keep a placid expression even though he's pretty sure he just found what he's looking for. The box looks well-preserved but very old, as do the earrings themselves. He has no idea if the stones are real, but they look like it. There's a small piece of yellowed paper tucked inside, and when Lee discreetly unfolds it he finds elegant cursive scrawl and, most importantly, it's dated 1827. That confirms that they’re old, probably very old, and this guy doesn’t seem to really realize what he has. They're perfect.

Lee is prepared to use every trick in his arsenal to haggle a deal, but it's not even that hard. The guy seems wholly uninterested in this alleged business, and Lee is annoying and persistent, so he ends up getting them for a price that, while painful, won't leave him destitute. When he leaves the shop, earrings tucked carefully into his pocket, he feels lighter than he has in days.

George's birthday comes and they sleep in, then fuck a few times and sleep some more. Lee makes them a late lunch and then tells George that he needs to go run a few errands before they go to dinner, but there's an obvious twinkle in his eye. He leaves George's apartment and goes to his own where he's left all the supplies, and then goes and sets everything up before heading back toward George's building, texting him and telling him to come downstairs, even as he parks and gets out to go meet him by the elevators in the lobby.

He's nervous, but he thinks that this might actually go well. He might actually pull it off.

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Lee's crying so much that it gives him pause and George lifts his head.

"Was that too much?" he asks, pressing a gentler kiss against Lee's skin.

“Shit.” Lee shakes his head, feeling embarrassed in a different way, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “No, I’m okay. I just— I got these on the worst day of my life. I hate them.”

He turns his head and covers the scar on his cheek, sniffling a bit and blowing out a breath before glancing down at George almost cautiously, wondering if he meant it, but Lee soon realizes that he let himself get too wrapped up in it all.

“You were just saying things, weren’t you?” Lee asks quietly, and it feels like something in his chest sinks with the realization. “Fuck, sorry. Really, I’m okay. I am.”

George frowns, and he draws his fingers out of Lee for a moment because if feels weird to leave them there, right then. He strokes his hand along his flank instead and kisses his chest.

"I was," he says. "But I didn't realise how much it meant to you. I...how hard would I even have to bite?" He traces the scar with the pad of his thumb.

Lee makes a distressed sound when George pulls his fingers out, worried that he’s messed up such a great night. He closes his eyes hard, swallowing back the disappointment he feels, but he’s not upset with George. He’s upset with himself for taking it so seriously.

He shakes his head at the question and reaches up to put a trembling hand over George’s on his chest, lifting it to press a kiss to his palm.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Lee assures him, smiling a little and nuzzling into George’s palm and looking at him pleadingly, hoping they can just move past it. The last thing Lee wants to do is make George feel like he needs to do something he isn’t comfortable with. “I liked what we were doing. I just— I got caught up for a minute. I’m sorry.”

"Don't be sorry," he says, smiling, swiping a tear from Lee's face with the pad of his thumb. "I...the one on your belly is definitely going to bruise. You still want more?" He wants, desperately, to give Lee what he wants, but there's a part of him that remembers just how much it had hurt to be bit hard enough to scar, and that part of him baulks at the thought of doing it to Lee. "I want to give you more."

Lee stares up at George, unsure of how to answer. It feels like he ruined the moment. Yes, he wants to be bitten, but he hesitates at the question.

You still want more? You still want more? You still want more? He doesn’t know how to take it, and he’s sure that George doesn’t mean anything by it, but it makes him feel greedy. It makes him feel put together wrong.

“I don’t know why I like it. I shouldn’t. Given—“ He gestures at the scars on his chest and face, turning his head away and feeling a little ashamed of himself. How can he crave something that also brought him such pain?

But that’s his whole life, isn’t it? Constantly craving something he shouldn’t want. He can’t push that onto George, too.

“You give me so much, George,” Lee assures him, swallowing hard and lifting his head until he can pull George in enough to give him a soft kiss. “I’m good.”

Sometimes, Lee makes him feel weirdly off balance. He'll say something, and he'll watch Lee react to it, and he won't quite understand why things have gone the way they have. It's a deeply frustrating experience. George makes a sound that's part sigh, part growl against Lee's mouth and then nips at his lip, hard.

"God knows why any of us want what we want," he says. "But you can certainly like back and take what I want to give you."

He can see George getting frustrated with him. It’s clear on his face and Lee feels a flutter of anxiety, wishing he could explain but he can’t. He feels like he’s about to panic but then George suddenly bites at his lip so hard that it surprises him into a strange sort of stillness, like a switch has been flipped.

He holds his breath and then lets it out in a shuddering whoosh, going limp against the blankets, nodding at what George says.

“That’s the thing, George,” he says in a low voice, calmer than he was before, reaching up to cradle the side of George’s head. “I want whatever you want to give me, and nothing more. I never, ever want you to feel like you have to push past your limits just to please me. That’s all I’m trying to do, okay?”

He realizes that maybe he was making a lot of assumptions about what George wants, and he gives him an apologetic kiss. “If you want to bite me some more, I’m happy to be bitten. If not, I’m good with that, too. I just want to be here with you.”

"Okay," says George, turning his head to press a kiss to the heel of Lee's hand. "Well, what I want to give you, right now, is several more bite marks. And my fingers back in your arse. What I want is you at my mercy for another fucking." He smiles. "Alright?"

Lee is so relieved that he grins, laughing softly as his nerves dissipate. These moments happen sometimes, and they always seem to navigate their way out of them so easily.

Sometimes it gives Lee hope that they can work through anything, but he knows that’s a dangerous thing to feel. He can’t expect miracles.

“That all sounds very good to me,” Lee says breathlessly, lifting his head to press another kiss to George’s mouth just to try and express a little of the intense rush of affection he feels. “Do with me what you will, baby. I’m all for it.”

George grins at that and then he traces the line of Lee's bottom lip with his thumb, before he presses it into his mouth, rubbing it over his tongue.

"I could hold you down," he says. "You could struggle, if you wanted. Knowing I'd still end up taking what I wanted, anyway?"

The mood seems to shift back quite easily, and Lee is relieved. Yes, he got caught up in the thought of George reclaiming his scars, but he knows it’s a lot. Maybe someday, if George decides it’s something he’d actually like to do. He’s well aware now of just how eagerly it would be received, so Lee is happy to let the idea exist as a hypothetical. Really, it means so much that the thought would even occur to George at all.

Right now, he focuses on the thumb in his mouth, sucking on it as he stares up at George’s face and lets his low voice wash over him, shivering at what he says.

Men had held Lee down and taken what they wanted before. Lee’s killed a few men for trying, once he got older. It’s not something he’s ever enjoyed.

At least not until George. With him, Lee feels safe.

“You could try,” Lee murmurs around the tip of his thumb, giving him a coy, playful smirk.

"We both know you wouldn't actually fight me that hard," says George. "Are you ready for lube now, or do you still want it to sting?" While he loves the convenience of the lube, he's finding that he loves the filthiness of having Lee spit into his palm. His hand shifts to Lee's throat, squeezing just lightly.

“Probably not,” Lee replies, knowing he would fight just enough to make it fun for both of them.

The question is hot enough, but then George’s big hand wraps around his neck and applies the barest amount of pressure, and Lee swallows just so he can feel it, eyes darkening as he stares up at George.

“I want to still feel you there tomorrow,” Lee says in a low rasp of a voice, pressing his throat up against George’s palm. He had prepped himself with a messy amount of lube and he assumes some of that will still be there, even after a swim. He doesn’t really feel the need for more.

"I think," says George, his fingers still around Lee's throat. "That I should fuck you first -- to remind you who you belong to, really remind you. And then I'll give you a few more marks to really drive the point home." He leans in, and takes a kiss. "Unless you'd like to play the innocent again." He grins. "I'll happily defile you."

“I don’t think I have the patience for that right now,” Lee admits with a laugh. “As much as I want to circle back to that.”

“I want to belong to you,” he says almost desperately, hoping that it isn’t just another thing George is saying. Sometimes, when he’s this worked up, it’s harder for him to tell. “Please show me.”

"That''s fair," says George, nodding. "But we are definitely circling back to it." He holds out his hand, palm up. "Spit. And then get on your back. Legs spread wide."

“Yes, sir,” Lee says with a smile, and then for the third time that night, Lee gathers saliva on his tongue and spits into George’s palm, licking his lips.

He’s relieved when George tells him to stay on his back, falling down onto it and spreading his legs wide, drawing his knees up and putting his hands up over his head.

"That's it," says George, appreciating the picture for a moment, and then using Lee's spit to slick the length of his aching cock. "Keep your hands above your head." He shifts, guiding one of Lee's legs up to rest against his thigh, rubbing the head of his cock along the cleft of his arse before he starts to push into him. "You're mine. Say it."

Lee nods at the instruction, breath hitching as George positions himself. And then he’s pushing in and it stings a little, but in a good way. Like a bite.

He moans softly and arches back, staring up at George with wonder in his eyes, nodding along before George even tells him to repeat it.

“I’m yours,” he says emphatically, whimpering softly as George’s big cock sinks in deeper, with just enough drag to make him shiver. “Fuck, baby. Nothing has ever been more true for me.”

Lee looks beautiful like this, spread open and held, and George finds himself staring as he keeps up the slow slide of his cock into Lee's arse. He holds his thigh, fingers digging into the muscle.

"That's right," he says. "You belong to me."

Lee breathes out and shivers again, eyes rolling back in his head. Maybe if he weren’t so deep in it, he might be a little embarrassed at the effect those words have on him.

But he isn’t. Not at all.

“All I’ve ever wanted is a place to belong,” Lee admits, which is maybe one of the most revealing things he’s ever said. It’s probably more than he needs to say, but he wants George to know. “Thank you for giving me that.”

As deep as he can get, he gives Lee a moment to adjust before he starts to fuck him in earnest, keeping that leg up against his chest. His eyes are drawn to the purpling bite mark on Lee's belly and a wave of arousal hits him.

"You feel so good like this," he admits. "Not quite slick enough."

George holds him by the thigh, keeping him spread open, and Lee arches up with a loud moan as George really starts to fuck him. It feels so good to be filled like this, and he can’t believe that he went so long thinking he didn’t like it.

And it would have stayed that way forever, if not for George.

“I like it,” Lee agrees, nodding dumbly and grabbing at the blankets over his head as he lifts his head to look down at where their bodies meet, watching his own bobbing cock and then letting his gaze linger on the pair of crescent marks on his stomach, eyes darkening as he stares. “I can really feel you. Every little bit.”

His gaze finally lifts to George’s face and he puts on his best innocent, doe-eyed expression. “If you come inside me, I’ll be slicker next time.”

"That's true," says George, grinning, all artifice slipping away as it so often does with Lee. "After this, give me a moment to catch my breath and I'll flip you over so that I can mark you and fuck you all over again."

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