atehimrightup | (no subject)

George shushes him like a spooked animal and it should be humiliating, but it’s just so good. He forces himself to take a breath, though it catches in his throat when George’s finger works into him.

He’s going slow, slower than he needs to, and Lee lets out a grunting sound but doesn’t plead for more just yet. His head hangs between his shoulders, spit dripping from his mouth, and he lets out a ragged moan.

George fucks Lee's arse with one finger for a moment, knowing that it's not enough, that it won't feel like nearly enough and then he draws it all of the way out of him. "Get your knees up on the bed," he says, keeping his voice low and level and calm.

“Yes, master,” he says as best he can around the gag, biting down on it instead of crying out in protest when George stops touching him. The instruction is a relief and Lee nods jerkily, climbing onto the bed in a way that’s agile and cat-like, shoulders and hips slinking as he arranges himself on all fours.

He wonders if that one finger is all he’ll get. The thought is sort of thrilling, and he swallows hard as he arches his spine down, ass tilting up in a way that makes him feel like a needy slut.

With George, most of the time, it feels like he is.

"I bet I could fuck you just like this," says George, pressing that one slick finger back into Lee's arse and fucking him a little rougher with it. "It would be tight and it might sting, but I don't think you'd mind that, would you?"

That lone finger presses into him again, quick and rough, and Lee lets out a muffled grunt. He feels like an animal again, but this time it’s not in a negative way. He just feels like a simpler creature, reduced to base desires.

Something seems to click for him then. He knows what it feels like to lose himself to primal instincts, but it’s always been hunger. Every time he’s given into that need and let himself be an animal, it came with guilt and shame and the knowledge that he’d just done something horrible.

But not here. Not with George, not now that he knows the truth. Lee can let himself give into it, sink into that animal desire, and know that nothing bad can happen. He’s safe— every single part of him. All of his broken parts and dark urges.

Lee lets out a needy whine at the question, suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel every single inch of George. He wants the burn of it, and he nods so hard that he gags around the bit in his mouth, drooling all over his chin as he shifts his tongue to let it resettle more comfortably.

He hadn't been expecting quite such an emphatic reaction from Lee, the grunts and the moans, the nodding and the rocking of his hips. It's more than clear what he wants, and the thought of giving it to him has him rock hard, the front of tight trousers straining uncomfortably.

"Good boy," he says, landing a warm slap on Lee's arse, squeezing. "That's what you want."

The slap is unexpected, but Lee knows that is isn’t meant to be a punishment. The sting of it feels good, pain fizzing away into pleasure just under the service of his skin. It makes him moan approvingly around the gag, nodding again as he tips his ass up into George’s hand.

“That’s what I need,” he says as best he can, licking spit from the corner of his mouth. His cock aches and he lets out another needy whine, turning to give George a pleading look over his shoulder.

"Far be it for me to deny you what you need," says George, pulling his finger out of Lee and reaching for the lube. He squeezes some directly onto Lee's hole, pressing it into him with the pad of his thumb. He opens his trousers, freeing his aching cock and coats it liberally. He positions himself and starts to work himself into Lee's arse, pressing just the head inside at first and then giving Lee a moment to adjust.

Lee’s hips squirm as he waits, fingers twisting in the bedding as his elbows shake. But then George is pressing into him and everything goes still.

It doesn’t hurt, not really. There’s pain but it’s good. It makes everything go quiet, drawing his focus until there isn’t anything else but this. Lee breathes in deep and bares down, groaning as he rocks himself back onto George’s cock, trying to urge him deeper.

Difficult as it is, George makes himself go slow. He smoothes his free hand against Lee's spine, making soft noises under his breath.

"Easy," he says, soft but firm. "Just take it. I'll give you all of it. Don't worry."

Easy, George says, and Lee whines but makes himself go still, only shifting down onto his elbows when his arms begin to shake too much. It means that there’s an even more obscene arch to his back, ass tipped up while George’s cock sinks into him so slowly.

But he was told not to worry, so he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath around the gag and nods, feeling his brain go fuzzy around the edges.

George shifts when Lee moves, making sure his cock stays inside him. He moves his hips forward, pressing another inch inside him.

"Get a hand to your cock," he says, with that firm, authoritative tone that he knows has such a beautiful effect on Lee. "Don't stroke. Just hold it." He wants Lee to feel the friction but he doesn't want him to get there too soon.

Lee shivers at the command, groaning softly and shifting all his weight to one elbow and rocking back the slightest bit, desperate to have more of George’s cock inside of him. It’s absurd how empty he feels, even half full.

“Yes, master,” he breathes out around the bit, wiping drool on his shoulder as he shifts a hand under his body. Just the brush of his fingers against his cock makes him yelp, hips jerking, but he takes a deep breath and curls his hand around it, holding firmly but keeping his hand still. The pressure provides some relief, but at the same time it’s agony.

He wants more, but he knows that he just has to be patient.

He smiles when Lee shifts immediately, when he wraps his hand around his cock. George hears the way his breath hitches. He keeps up the steady movement of his hips; without much preparation, Lee's arse is almost impossibly tight, and he doesn't want to slip into a bad kind of hurting. He keeps one hand firm on Lee's back, smoothing against his skin, his cock pressing deeper. "You feel so fucking good. Perfect."

Lee whimpers at the praise, chest expanding as his fingers twitch around his cock. He wants so badly to fuck into his fist, or shove himself back on George’s cock. He’s going so slow and Lee knows he could take it. He’s taken so much worse, taken it with only spit, and—

And, what? Those times didn’t feel good. They aren’t something he wants to remember. George is doing this because he doesn’t want to hurt Lee, not even if it’s what he wants in the moment, and Lee feels his eyes gloss over as he whimpers again.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, and he’s not even sure what for. All of it, maybe.

"You're welcome," says George, his voice still low, still warm, as he keeps up the steady press of his cock until he's pressed all the way into Lee's arse. He pauses, both hands on Lee's hips to hold him there. "You feel so good, sweetheart," he murmurs. "It's never felt like this with anyone else."

They're just words, really, but, God, he means every single one of them.

Finally, after what feels like hours but could have barely been minutes, George is snug against him. Lee can feel the soft hang of his balls resting against his own, all of their parts slotting together so perfectly that Lee chokes on an inhale.

“Never”,” Lee says emphatically. There’s more that he wants to say, but he feels fuzzy all over and the bit in his mouth makes it hard. He wants to say that he’s still so amazed that it can feel like this. Every single time is a revelation, a gift.

He can’t find the words, so he moans and rocks himself back against George, clenching down around him like he wants to keep him deep inside, and hopes it says enough.

The clench of Lee's body around him makes him so tight that George's head spins for a moment. He tips his head back and just sits with the sensation for a moment and then, hands on Lee's hips to hold him steady, he starts to move, slowly at first, but finding his rhythm.

When George starts to move, Lee has to concentrate on rocking back onto George’s cock without stroking his own at the same time. His entire focus seems to narrow to that point of contact, making sure he obeys. Doing so only seems to double his pleasure and Lee lets out a broken groan, head hanging down until his forehead brushes the blankets, muscles flexing in his back.

George’s hands are firm on his hips, holding him so tightly that Lee hopes there are bruises left behind. He’d love nothing more.

The slide of the muscles in Lee's back, and the tension in him, is gorgeous and George's eyes linger as they fuck. He scrapes his nails against Lee's skin, lightly at first.

"Good boy," he says, a little breathless. "You're so fucking good."

The praise feels almost as good as George’s cock sinks into him again and again, drawing out whimpers and moans as he drools all over himself. His arm shakes from the effort of holding his fist still and not stroking himself, and his cock is drooling everywhere too.

His eyes fall shut and he rests his forehead against the back of his hand where it’s pressed into the bed, ass tipped up. It feels like every nerve ending in his body is on alert, like there’s a buzzing under his skin. He loves every second of it.

George almost tells Lee that he can move his hand, that he can stroke himself, but he also can't tell if Lee's quite deep enough yet, if he's gotten to that place where conscious thought doesn't really exist. He makes him wait a little longer, fucking him harder, now, hands still gripping his hips.

"Tell me what you are," says George. "Tell me you're my good boy."

George starts moving faster, fucking him harder, and Lee yelps as each thrust nudges up against his prostate. It’s relentless pressure and Lee’s shoulders jerk, spine arching as lets out a stuttering cry.

The command makes him whimper, sucking in a deep breath as his chest seizes. It feels like too much and Lee whimpers, opening his mouth and choking on the words. It feels almost wrong to say it, because he doesn’t feel like he is.

But George does. He believes it entirely, not just here but always, and tears spill out of Lee’s eyes before he even realizes that he’s about to cry.

“I-I’m your good boy,” he sobs out around the bit, face burning as a flush runs down neck. “I’m all yours, George. Always.”

It comes out a little garbled, because of the gag.and the tears, but that only makes it better. George moans, scraping his nails against Lee's skin.

"Stroke your cock," he instructs. "Get yourself off. I want to feel how tight you get when you come."

Lee knows that George enjoys him like this, embarrassing as he might normally find it. Right now, it only makes it better. It makes everything burn even hotter.

He can feel George’s approval in the bite of his nails and Lee practically keens, shoving himself back onto George’s cock. When he speaks again, Lee sobs with relief.

“Thank you,” he gets out, voice thick with tears as his fist tightens. He drags it up his cock and the friction nearly makes him black out. With George’s ongoing assault on his prostate, it only takes a few pumps of his fist before he’s taking a deep breath and tipping headlong into an orgasm that makes his entire body seize up before he’s dragged under the cresting wave, sobbing his way through it.