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For perhaps the first time in his life, Lee is looking forward to Christmas.

It was never really anything he paid much attention to before. If anything, all the garish decorations and twinkling lights annoyed him. Or maybe he told himself that's what it was, because seeing all the happy families and loving couples pressed in on some bruised part of his heart that ached with the desire to know what it felt like to be loved like that.

And now, by some miracle, he is.

This is the second Christmas that he's known George, but the first one doesn't really count. That was back when they were still pretending that their whole arrangement was casual, and fuckbuddies didn't really spend the holidays together. This year is different. Lee finds himself delighted to explain all the strange rituals of a modern Christmas to George, who seems fascinated and perturbed in equal measure.

They decorated a tree that Lee had determinedly gone out and chopped down, wanting to have the whole experience. The thing is kind of a mess of tinsel and twinkling lights, limbs weighed down with baubles he found at the thrift store. but it's also the best looking Christmas tree he's ever seen. Because it's theirs.

Now it's Christmas Eve and Lee has made a hearty roast for dinner, and a large batch of heavily spiked eggnog. They're curled up together on the sofa with an old Christmas movie playing on TV. George is a little tipsy, just enough for him to be loose-limbed and pink-cheeked, and Lee smiles as he presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

"So, are you ready for Santa to come down your chimney?" Lee teases, smiling at his own joke and pressing another kiss to George's hairline, one hand coming up to gently cradle his chin. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, sweetheart.”

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Lee blinks at that, stunned into silence by the offer. This is so much more than he ever would have expected to find in his life. He thought that he was destined to wander aimlessly forever, slugging through a life that he wasn’t even enjoying.

And then came George.

“I would like that very much,” he says with a wet chuckle, cheeks flushing as he leans in to press a firm kiss to George’s mouth. It lingers for a long moment and then he pulls away to press their foreheads together, laughing again. “Even if it makes me the wife.”

"I was teasing about that," he says, smudging his nose against the tip of Lee's, fingers pushed into his hair. "You don't have to be anything except just as you are. That's all I want. This life we already have."

“I know you were,” Lee says with another happy sound, eyes falling shut as George’s fingers drag across his scalp. He feels at home in a way he’s never known, like something he’s been searching for all his life has clicked into place.

“Say it again,” Lee says almost giddily, ducking his head to kiss along the side of George’s neck, nosing at the ticklish spot above his pulse as he wriggles his hips to get even closer.

His fingers stay pushed into Lee's hair, but he shifts, pulling back a little so that he can look Lee in the face when he says it.

"Lee Villiers? Or marry me?"

He pulls back and Lee almost chases after him, but instead blinks dazedly and looks him in the eye. The question makes him flush down past the collar of his shirt and he makes a sound almost like a whimper, low and animal.

“Both,” Lee gasps out, feeling warm all over, wriggling like an excited pup. He’s not sure that he’s ever been so happy, and it feels like he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “God, I love you.”

"I love you, too," he says, stroking his hand down Lee's back, her tipped back so that he can look at him properly. "More than anything. And i'm not sure I've heard anything I like as well as 'Lee Villiers', not in my entire life."

It's almost too much. There was a time, one not even all that long ago, where feeling so much of anything would have sent Lee running, but now that's the furthest thing from his mind. It's a lot, and it's fucking terrifying, but it's good.

Even after finding out the truth about Lee in the most horrific way, even after learning about all the terrible things he's done, George still wants him. He chose Lee on purpose. They're making a family all their own.

"It's a pretty good name," he admits with a watery chuckle, lifting a hand to sweep his fingers through George's soft hair. "Lee Villiers."

Saying it makes him feel almost giddy. He never gives his last name when introducing himself, never uses it unless he has to. He just feels no positive connection to it at all. It just reminds him of how bad everything was, and he's happy to be rid of it.

"Thank you," he says quietly, eyes shining as he leans in to kiss him again.

"Happy Christmas, my love," says George, smudging the tip of his nose against Lee's. He admires the ring on his index finger again. He's been given many gifts in his life but, it seems, nobody has ever given one so much thought. It might have been made for him.

"It really is perfect," he says, holding his hand up to the light. "And here's me, gifting you a hand me down."

It's not that. It's so much more than that.

It all feels like a dream. He’d be certain it was if not for all they went through to get here.

This feels like the first real Christmas he’s ever had. It feels like the beginning of forever and that’s so fucking terrifying, but only because he has so much to lose.

Their temples rest together as George admires his ring. Lee can feel the rise of George’s cheek as he smiles, and something loosens in his chest, warm and content. He scoffs playfully at the comment and reaches out to place his hand over George’s heart.

“You’ve given me the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” Lee assures him, lifting his hand to curl it under George’s chin so their eyes can meet, letting one side of his mouth lift into a warm smirk. “The ring is nice, too.”

He huffs a laugh at that, leaning in to kiss the corner of that smirk. The ring on his finger feels different from the one he used to wear, the one that's now on Lee's finger, but not bad because of it.

"I think marriages need to be consummated," he says, tilting his head as he studies Lee's face. "Bed?"

“Mm, you put a ring on it so technically I don’t have to put out anymore,” Lee jokes, as if there were any universe where he would say no to that question if George is the one asking.

“Bed,” he agrees in a more serious tone, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “You gonna carry me over the threshold?”

That earns him a look, amused and skeptical and deeply, deeply in love. Sex is a more complicated thing for Lee than it's ever been for George, but George knows that Lee wants it, wants him, just as much as he ever has.

"Absolutely. Won't make ti look as easy as you always do, though."

“I suppose there are some perks to being a monster,” Lee replies with a soft huff of laughter, sliding off of the sofa to get to his feet. He looks down at George with a hopelessly fond expression.

He knows what Lee is, and chose him anyway. On purpose.

“I need you to take me to bed right now,” Lee says, suddenly urgent as he reaches out for George, wanting nothing more than to have those broad shoulders on top of him, pressing him down.

"Don't call yourself that," says George, absent and fond. He stands up and pulls Lee in against him, both hands on his arse to lift him and, once he has him, sliding under his thighs to support him. It's probably not as romantic as a bridal carry, but he's more sure of not dropping him.

It’s a gentle thing, more of a reminder than an admonishment, and it sets Lee’s heart ablaze. He stares as George crowds in closer, eagerly curling his arms around George’s shoulders and lifting his knees to hook them over George’s hips. He takes George’s face in his hands and kisses him as George carries him down the hall, feeling a little like a heroine in all those classic romances he pretends he’s never read.

Just like he used to pretend that he didn’t need this, when it’s really all he’s ever wanted.

“I love you,” he whines against George’s mouth, dragging the back of his shirt up to get his hands on bare skin. “I need you to fuck me.”

"I love you too," says George, and he's not sure he's ever meant it so much in his life. He's almost fervent with it. When they get to their bedroom, he lays Lee down reverently on the mattress, pausing to peel his shirt off over his head and shuck his sweats. He needs to be naked, needs skin on skin.

While George undresses, Lee wriggles out of his own clothes and reaches for George as he climbs over him. His thighs spill open to make room for George’s hips and Lee presses up on one elbow to kiss him, free hand sinking into his hair.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Lee murmurs, kissing his way down George’s jaw, tongue pressing in against his jugular. “You smell so happy.”

They press together everywhere they can and George groans softly, rolling his hips down against Lee's just to feel the friction. He needs to be inside him, but he also doesn't see any reason to rush. They've got all of the tie in the world.

"What does happy smell like?"

George drags their hips together and Lee moans, tipping his head back and arching up. Their cocks slide together and they both get so damn wet with each other that soon enough the hot friction is replaced with an easy glide.

“You,” Lee pants out at the question, laughing as he lifts his head and looks up at George’s face, reaching up to tangle a hand in his hair. “It’s hard to explain. Comfort and home. Like sunlight and cinnamon bread still baking in the oven.”

George rolls his hips again and Lee whimpers, heart thudding in his chest, pounding just below the scar there. “Like safety. I’m safe here.”

"Always," says George, because he doesn't know much for certain, but he does know that he'd die before he let anything happen to Lee. He grins, kissing Lee and then leaning across him, stretching so that he doesn't have to move too much to reach the lube on his nightstand. "You make me sound delicious."

“You are delicious,” Lee replies, feeling pleased that George can make such jokes around him. George trusts him, even knowing all that he does, and Lee would sooner set himself on fire than ever do anything to break that trust.

George leans over him and Lee lifts his head to kiss his chest, biting softly at his pec and licking at his nipple, tasting metal and something so uniquely him. His hands slide up George’s flanks then down to his ass, grabbing greedy handfuls.

He loves the way that Lee touches him, like he's hungry for him, every inch of him. He grins at Lee, sitting back on his knees and squirting lube on his fingers. "Roll over, love. Let me open you up." He loves looking at Lee like this, when they're both wrapped up in how much they want each other.

Lee watches as George sits up, putting his hands on his thick thighs and squeezing. He’s so fucking beautiful, every single bit of him, and Lee flushes at the warm command. Sitting up, he steals another kiss and then twists onto his belly underneath George, tucking his knees underneath him and turning his head to press his cheek into the pillow, ass tipped up with shameless eagerness.

It should feel vulnerable, being in this position. But it doesn’t. Not with George.

“Please, baby,” he murmurs, twisting to look over his shoulder. “You do it so well.”

He loves how much Lee trusts him, and how easy it is. He rubs the tips of two slick fingers against him, knowing that he'll only complain if he goes too slowly. Still, he wants to be careful so, when he starts to press two fingers into Lee's arse, he doesn't rush.

George starts with two fingers and Lee groans at the blunt pressure, the slight burn that only seems to enhance the rush of sensation. He bites his bottom lip and wills himself not to thrust back impatiently. He wants George to set the pace, so he takes a breath and nuzzles his cheek into the pillow, reaching back until he can put one hand on the outside of George’s knee where it’s pressed into the bed.