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 grins at that, feeling his heart tripping over itself as George nudges their noses together and yawns. He is so fond of his man that his chest aches.

“I’ll get the truck ready,” Lee says, kissing George and then sitting up, rocking his hips a little just for one last moment of fullness before he pulls himself off of George’s cock. “I brought an air mattress.”

George stays sprawled naked on the blankets, listening to the sound of Lee moving around just out of his line of sight. Eventually he lifts his head.

"Can I help with anything?"

Lee pulls himself to his feet and stumbles a little, laughing to himself as he heads for the truck. He’s not sure that he’s ever felt so well-fucked. It’s not something that he ever felt before George.

“Not just yet,” Lee tells him, smiling over at the sight of George lying on the blankets, glistening with sweat in the glow of the firelight. God, he’s so lucky.

He fiddles with the air mattress, plugging the pump into the cigarette lighter and letting it inflate in the bed of the truck. He makes sure all the food is in the basket and puts out all the tiki torches except for one, carrying it with him as he makes his way back to George.

“I need you to get up, baby,” he says fondly, nudging George’s shapely thigh with his toes. “So I can put the blankets in the truck. Then you won’t have to move until morning.”

Half dozing, George makes a soft sound of complaint, but he also rolls onto his belly and pushes to his feet, starting to collect up blankets and pillows.

"It's been a while since I slept outside," he says.

“You said you liked it, right? You always sound sort of happy when you talk about being on the road,” Lee says as he sticks the tiki torch into the ground nearby and drags the thicker blankets into the truck. He spreads them out and then leans in through the open back window of the cab, where he’s stashed a clean top sheet and blanket, and a pack of wet wipes.

Once again, he’s proud of his planning. But then again, it wasn’t exactly hard to foresee that they’d destroy some linens and make a mess out here.

He steps over to the end of the cab and takes the pillows, tossing them down and then holding a hand out for George so he can help him up into the bed.

"I did. I do." He takes Lee's hand and steps up into the bed. It's clear how much thought Lee has put into all of this, and George smiles.

"I... Thank you. For all of this."

The smile on George’s face and the soft, grateful tone of his voice when he thanks Lee makes him blush harder than perhaps anything else they’ve done tonight. He did a good job. George is happy. It feels incredible.

“You’re welcome,” Lee says happily, sitting onto the air mattress and urging George to follow. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I thought this would be better than some fancy restaurant.”

George likes fancy things, to be sure, but it’s not all that matters to him. He likes when people pay attention to him, when they remember things, and that’s very easy for Lee to do when it comes to him.

The mattress shifts underneath him, somewhat disconcerting, and he lies down, which makes it less worrying. He holds an arm out to Lee.

"Come here?"

Lee has the wipes in his hand, intent on at least cleaning the scratches on George’s chest, but George reaches for him and Lee is absolutely helpless in the face of such a request.

He drops the wipes and moves to lay along George’s side, tucking himself under George’s arm and resting his head on George’s shoulder. Sighing happily, he curls an arm around George’s middle, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

Lee settles against him, and George can feel himself already drifting. He's never slept at deeply as he does with this boy in his arms. He makes a soft, contented sound, dropping a kiss into Lee's hair.

Once it becomes clear that George is about to sleep, Lee smiles to himself and reaches over to grab the wipes and pull one out, shifting to the side.

“This might sting a sec, sorry,” Lee tells him, pressing a kiss to his sleepy cheek before easing the wipe carefully over the scratches, wiping away dried blood. The rest of his torso gets a cursory wipe down, and then Lee takes out another wipe to quickly clean up the worst of the mess of come, both on his chest and between his legs, and then tosses the wipes aside.

Once he’s done, he shakes out the blanket and pulls it over them as he settles again, cozying up in George’s arms.

“Okay,” Lee murmurs, feeling his own eyelids get very heavy as he rests his head on George’s shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

He's quiet and content under Lee's gentle ministrations and, when Lee settles down beside him, he pulls him closer. "You too."

It’s not hard to do. Lee likes sleeping outside, and likes sleeping next to George even more. After such a good night, he’s exhausted.

Still, he stays awake until George is asleep, then listens hard for a bit just to make sure they’re all alone, and then lets him drift off alongside George.

George stirs in the very early morning, the light weak and silvery. Lee is so sprawled on his belly, the blanket slipped down to his waist. Even in the dim light, the bruises on Lee's back are lurid and dark. George's stomach lurches. He hooks his fingers into the blanket and tugs it lower so that he can see the marks and bruises on Lee's arse. He makes a soft sound, tracing one with the tip of his finger.

Lee sleeps harder than he expects to. That’s always the case when it comes to George, and he feels especially worn out after their athletic night. Awareness comes to him slowly, and at first he isn’t sure why.

But then he feels it again, and realizes that George is touching him, making him shiver, and Lee lets out a soft hum as he shifts his weight.

"I didn't mean to bruise you like that," he says, quietly, his fingers still tracing the marks on Lee's skin. He leans in, pressing a kiss to Lee's bare shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Lee’s eyes open at the sound of George’s voice and his brows furrow slightly at what he says, and the concern in it. It takes Lee a moment to even put together what he’s talking about, and he makes a sleepy noise and he tries to twist and look over his shoulder.

“Oh, did they bruise?” He asks in a low rasp. He feels a little sore all over, more so when he shifts his hips, but it’s not bad. He turns onto his side and looks up at George with a soft smile, reaching out to touch his face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lee assures him sincerely, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You gave me exactly what I wanted.”

"I just...I've never .." He smiles when Lee smiles. "It's a kind of bruising." He pushes the blanket a little lower, rubbing his thumb over the bruise just above the crease under Lee's arse. "I like how it looks."

“Think about how you’ve felt whenever I’ve worried that I hurt you,” Lee murmurs fondly, thumbing at his chin. “I’m sure that’s how I’m feeling right now.”

He watches George’s face as his gaze drifts to Lee’s ass again, brows lifting slightly at the wonder in George’s eyes. Lee gets it. He’s been there.

George tugs the blanket down further and Lee rolls onto his belly again, shivering as George touches one of the bites. It’s tender, kind of achey, but he likes it.

“Yeah?” He hums and shifts his weight, letting his thighs fall open. “What does it look like?”

That goes a long way to mollifying George, and he nods, palming Lee's arse, wondering how it feels when he squeezes the bruises lightly.

"Where's your phone?" he asks. "I'll take a picture."

Lee is still a little foggy with sleep and he groans softly when George puts pressure on the tender spots. They really do feel like they’re all over, like George gnawed on him like a chew toy. It’s amazing.

“Fuck.” Lee shoots an arm out and fumbles around for his phone, tucked safely in the corner of the bed with George’s. He picks it up and hands it to George over his shoulder. “Yeah, I wanna see.”

George shifts, sitting up and tugging the blanket down low enough that Lee is naked from shoulders to knee. He frames a shot and takes the photo, making sure that all of the bruises and lurid bite marks on Lee's pale skin are clear, and then he lies back down, holding the phone where Lee can see it.

George drops down next to him and Lee turns his head to look at the phone, going still as he takes in the photo. He’s littered with bite marks and bruises, even more than he suspected, and he swallows hard as he reaches out to zoom in on the bite the base of his neck, where the skin is broken slightly.

“Fuck, you really did a number on me,” he says in a low voice, almost a growl. He blushes slightly, glancing up at George’s face. “I like it.”

"Yes?" asks George, his dark eyes studying his face as he studies the photo on the phone's screen. He tilts his head, fingers idly brushing the already scabbed scrapes on his chest. "How much?"

“More than I know how to put into words,” he admits with a vulnerable expression, staring into George’s eyes. The whole scene feels almost surreal, waking up next to George in the cool dawn light, sore and covered in marks, sated and content. How is this his life?

Eventually his gaze drifts to where George is touching the scratches on his chest. Lee’s heart seems to stall for a moment and he shifts his hips almost subconsciously, hips pressed down against the air mattress.

“How much do you like those?” Lee counters, reaching out to curl his fingers around George’s wrist. “They aren’t as pretty as bites, but fuck. I love seeing my marks on you.”

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