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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"That's it," says George, that soft, soothing note from the stables back in his voice. "That's it, my love." He leans down, pressing kisses to Lee's chin, his jaw, the hollow of his throat. He kisses down his sternum and over his ribs, his biceps, the insides of his wrists, his fingers. He shifts so that he can trail kisses down over Lee's belly and the inside of his thighs.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he says, softly, reverently. "I want to ruin you."

George wants to ruin him, he says, like speaking to Lee in that tone isn’t already doing just that. He speaks to Lee like he’s worthy, like he’s important, and Lee can’t help the way that his eyes tear up again.

Each kiss feels like a brand, and all Lee can do is lie back and accept them. He can’t reciprocate, not really, and it’s a lot to take. He can feel how much George loves him, each kiss and brush of his fingers something worshipful. Lee’s fingers tremble as much as his thighs and tears leak freely from his eyes, rolling down his temples as he blinks up at the ceiling. His cock is hard, and leaking almost as much as his eyes.

If George is ruining him, it’s only to take him apart piece by piece and rebuild him into something better.

“Fixing me,” Lee says as best he can, lifting one hand to card it through George’s hair. His limbs feel too heavy, and his heart too light. It’s all too much, and somehow just right. “You’re fixing me.”

"I'm doing my best," says George and means it from the bottom of his heart. He's never said a truer thing in his life. "I want to make a mess of you," he says, in that same reverent tone. "Your come. Mine. And then clean it all off. Take care of you."

He remembers the look on Lee's face when he'd watches him rub Bramble down earlier. He suspects he knows exactly what Lee needs.

Lee nods before George is even done talking, whining around the bit and blinking stars out of his eyes.

“Yours,” Lee agrees easily. It’s all he can really manage to say, not only because of the bit. He’s just so worked up, trembling all over but calm at the same time, like he’s standing on the edge of something. “Please.”

"Not yours?" teases George gently, reaching down for graze his fingers along the length of Lee's hard cock, making it bob against the flat of his belly. "You'd rather it was my come on your skin?"

Lee makes a sound like a growl at that, biting down on the bit hard enough that the silicone squeaks between his molars. His jaw is starting to ache a little, and he can’t seem to stop drooling. But George doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’m yours,” he gets out as best he can, hissing and jerking his hips at that brief, teasing touch to his cock.

But the question is an intriguing one and Lee settles a little, eyes dark and wet as he looks at George, nodding almost sheepishly. “Both.”

George is delighted by the way Lee reacts, all of it. He swipes his thumb through the spit on Lee's chin before he reaches for the buckle on the gag.

"I think you've had enough of this," he says. "Beautiful as it looks on you."

The look on George’s face makes Lee feel like he’s molten, like he’s glowing, and he relaxes against the bed as George touches his face. It’s firm and tender all at once, and Lee stares up at George with liquid eyes, trusting and devoted.

The gag wasn’t bad, but it’s still a relief when George takes it off. He opens his mouth wide and stretches his jaw, licking his lips and letting his face relax into a smile. His lips feel raw and his cheeks tingle as blood rushes back to the places where the leather had been pressing into his skin.

“Hi,” he breathes out, pressing his tongue behind his front teeth as his smile widens, feeling almost drunk as his hands slide up George’s back.

"Hello," says George, his own smile sunny and genuine as he leans down to finally kiss Lee on the mouth, firm and hungry. He'd considered making him wait longer, but why torture them both? When he pulls back, he strokes the backs of curled fingers down the side of Lee's face.

"You look as cock struck as I've ever seen anyone," he teases.

George dips his head and Lee’s eyes darken when he realizes his intent, groaning as their mouths meet in a passionate kiss. It’s so satisfying after being denied so long, and he lifts his head to chase after George’s mouth when he pulls back.

He laughs breathlessly and lets his head fall back to the pillow, eyes crinkling at the corners as he nuzzles against George’s hand.

“Whose fault is that?” He breathes out, lifting one arm up to curl it over the top of his head.

"I don't know what you mean," says George, still grinning and boyish, sprawling his wrist across Lee's thighs to effectively pin him to the bed.

"Keep your hands up there," he says, as he reaches to graze his fingers against the shaft of Lee's cock again.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Lee says before he can help it, because maybe he is cock struck. Maybe this is just what it feels like to be in love without a dark cloud of guilt hanging over it. Maybe, in this moment, he’s just happy.

“Yes, sir,” he says with a dutiful nod, lifting both arms up over his head and crossing his wrists above the pillow, fingertips curling under the headboard. George teases him, just barely touching him, and Lee has to bite back a whine.

"You don't look so bad yourself," he says, loosely curling his fingers around Lee's cock and starting to stroke, his eyes on Lee's face. He bends his head to graze a lighter, softer kiss against his mouth. "I could do this to you all day, I swear."

Normally, Lee might make a joke out of a comment like that. Right now, he’s too dazed, too pleased, so he just smiles up at George. His touch becomes more purposeful, grip tightening around his cock, and Lee moans softly and squeezes at the headboard, unable to rock up into it due to George’s weight on him.

“Is that the plan?” Lee asks huskily, smiling into the kiss.

"Maybe," says George, not rushing the movement of his hand, enjoying the soft sound that Lee makes, the way his hands tense on the headboard. "Depends how long this takes. I might need a nap in there, too."

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he says with a fond laugh that turns into a groan. The pressure of George’s hand feels amazing, but it’s not quite enough to bring him over the edge, and George knows that.

He knows so much about Lee, more than any other person ever has or ever well.

"You can take it," says George, swiping his thumb over the slick head of Lee's cock, circling, teasing. He takes his hand away then, so that he can swipe a slick smear across Lee's bottom lip before he goes right back to stroking his cock. "I know you can. And you want to, too."

“I can take it,” Lee agrees, brow furrowing as George takes his hand away. But it’s only so he can paint Lee’s lip with his own pre-come, and his tongue shamelessly darts out to taste it.

And then George’s hand is back, returning to that same rhythm, with a grip that’s just slightly too loose. It’s maddening. He loves it and it’s frustrating all at the same time.

“Are you going to fuck me again?” Lee asks, trying to look enticing as possible. “I’ll be good.”

"Maybe eventually," says George, and Lee does look incredibly enticing, sprawled there in rumpled sheets, his hair dark against the pillow, his pale skin, the flush on his cheeks and down to his chest. "But first, I want to see you smeared in come. Mine. Yours." He grins. "It'll be delicious."

Lee makes a sound like a growl and pouts at the same time, clutching so hard at the headboard that the muscles in his arms and shoulders stand out. The more he whines and complains, the longer that George will draw this out, so he forces himself to take a steadying breath, toes curling.

“Is this how you intend to get me off?” Lee asks in a breathless voice, trying and failing to rock his hips up. He could buck George off if he really wanted to, probably. But he doesn’t want to, not at all. “Might take a while.”

"I've got time," says George, and he's definitely admiring the muscles of Lee's arms and shoulders, the beautiful line of his neck and the squirm of his hips. George shifts his weight, still stroking Lee's cock as slowly as he can bring himself to. He's hard, but he doesn't feel any partciular sense of urgency -- he loves being with Lee like this. "You're not nearly flustered enough."

Lee grunts and closes his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He focuses on the light grasp of George’s fist, huffing as he rocks his hips as best he can with George’s weight on them.

“You know how I feel about begging,” Lee tells him, but he’s mostly teasing. He doesn’t want to be made to beg, but he usually ends up doing it anyway.

“How are you gonna come?” He asks suddenly, opening his eyes as he decides to try a different tactic. His tongue traces his own lips and then he lets his mouth fall open for a moment, soft and enticing. “You could fuck my mouth.”

"I'm not asking you to beg," says George, a little smug. "I'm making you wait. It's not the same thing." He does stare when Lee opens his mouth like that, though. "You know, that's not a bad thought."

“It’s not?” Lee asks after some of his insecurity cuts through the haze of lust, sounding almost hopeful. Since everything happened, their sex has been mostly needy, with George on top fucking him like their lives depend on it, and Lee is happy with that. It feels like what he needs.

They’ve kissed, obviously. They’ve done a whole lot of kissing, but Lee has mostly kept his mouth to himself. George came back to him, and everything is going to be okay, but Lee still finds himself nervous, thinking about what George had said about having parts of him in Lee’s mouth. Near his teeth.

“I want it,” Lee says in a more serious tone, eyes shining as he grips hard at the headboard. “If you want it.”

It's not, at it's core, that he doesn't trust Lee. He does. Absolutely. He knows that Lee would rather die then hurt him. The guilt of what he'd said still lingers, cold and greasy, especially when he can see the stain of it in Lee's eyes.

Very deliberately, he reaches out and smudges his thumb along Lee's mouth, hooks it into the corner and tugs lightly.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been thinking about it," he says.