atehimrightup | (no subject)

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george

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Lee is well aware of George's love of horses, and knows that he goes to ride sometimes, but he's never seen it in action. He just has no experience with horses, and never had much of an interest in them.

But things are different now. After everything that's happened, Lee finds himself wanting to know more about the things that George cares about. Nothing would make him happier.

Lee agrees to meet George at the stables and shows up in his normal clothes, jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that might actually be George's, and his leather boots. He doesn't know if he'll actually be riding a horse or just watching. He kind of hopes it's the latter.

When he gets to the stables, someone points him in the right direction and he heads for a barn, pausing at the door when he hears all the horses moving around. They're large, powerful animals and Lee feels slightly uneasy around them, if only because it's so unfamiliar.

"George?" He calls out, peeking his head into the barn. "Are you in here?"

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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.

Lee trembles and sobs his way through his orgasm, and it's fucking beautiful. George fucks him through it, whispering soft nonsense under his breath. He keeps up the movement on his hips.

"I don't know whether I want to come inside you or whether I want to come on you so that I can have the pleasure of cleaning it off."

Lee is aware of very little else but the pleasure coursing through him, and the feeling of warm contentment draped over him like a heavy blanket. It’s safety and love and all these things that Lee never thought he would get to feel, all of them all at once, and he loses himself in it.

He becomes vaguely aware of George speaking and he nods before he even processes the words because it doesn’t matter what they are. If George wants it, he can have it.

“Anything,” Lee rasps out, sucking saliva from the corner of his mouth with an obscene noise. “Just don’t stop.”

For a moment, he can't decide -- he loves coming inside Lee, loves how close it makes him feel, but he also loves how his come looks on Lee's skin. He fucks him for another thrust instead and, in the end, he decides to stay right where he is, rocking his hips until everything comes to a crescendo and he comes, his cock buried as deep in Lee's body as he can get.

Even as out of it as he is, Lee can still tell when George is about to come. He’s so attuned to George’s body, which in itself feels like a gift. He goes tense, grunting as he shoves his hips forward, and Lee moans encouragingly as he shoves himself back, spine arched obscenely.

“Fuck, baby. Thank you,” he pants out, pressing his cheek to the bed and letting his wet hand fall to the sheets. “Feels so good.”

George trembles his way through it and, when he's spent, knowing Lee's preferences as well as he knows his own, he stays where he is, still inside Lee, hands still tight on his hips.

"I hope you don't think I'm going to be done with once," he says, bending low to press a kiss against Lee's back.

Lee shakes his head as best he can, because he certainly doesn’t want this to be over. George is still deep inside of him, pressing in on all the shivery, overstimulated parts of him and dragging out his pleasure until it feels like he’s sinking into a warm bath.

“I don’t,” he mumbles, whimpering softly when he feels George’s lips against his skin. “I want more.”

"Of course you do," says George, softly, like its the most obvious thing in the world. He shifts his hips, pulling out of Lee's body and stepping back from the bed. "On your back, darling. Let me look at you."

George pulls out of him and Lee whines at the loss, feeling his body clench around the sudden emptiness. Come leaks out of him, trailing down his thigh, and Lee feels so pleasantly used.

As much as he wants to comply, it seems to take a moment for Lee to remember how his limbs work. Finally he heaves a breath and shifts his body, twisting until he can roll over onto his back next to the wet spot he’s made, come all over his fingers and wrist as he throws his arms up over his head.

There are tear tracks on his cheeks on his face and drool over his chin, lips red where they’re stretched around the gag at the corners. His chest heaves with another breath and he lifts his knees and spreads his legs wide, heels digging into the bed as he stares at George’s face.

He looks so satisfied, so pleased, and it’s enough that Lee’s cock gives another weak twitch against his thigh.

George stands there, trousers worked down around his hips and his cock still half hard even though he's just come. Lee looks fucking beautiful, debauched and freshly fucked, spit and tears and come. It's perfect.

"Do you feel as gorgeous as you like?" he asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Lee laughs at that, low and breathless and happy. If he looks as gorgeous as he feels, it would explain the expression on George’s face. He feels bashful all of a sudden, which is stupid, and he turns his head to wipe his chin again the vivid blue of the healed tattoo on his shoulder.

Maybe it’s because he can’t really turn it into a joke, because he can’t say much more than a word or two. Eventually he just nods and turns his face back to stare at George in open awe.