atehimrightup | for george

for george

After spending some time in the club, Lee ducks outside for some air. It isn't exactly fresh, smelling like old beer and stale piss, but there's a light breeze and outside he can at least smoke a cigarette.

He leans against the chipped red brick, the sole of one tattered Converse shoe pressed against it as he tips his head back. The ends of his hair are currently dark violet, and the longer curls stick to his pale, sweaty neck as his cheeks hollow around the filter of the cigarette.

From this vantage point, he can still feel the bass from inside thumping in his chest, sending a pleasant tingle throughout his entire body, and he takes a deep breath as his eyes fall shut, cigarette dangling from his hand as he lingers in the peaceful moment.

It's easier to feel less alone out here, away from all the people that he has no idea how to relate to.

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He's loved it, since he sucked his first cock in France. He loves the weight of it, the pressure and the slide against his tongue. Lee tastes good, like clean skin and George groans softly, the sound obscenely muffled, as he starts to bob his head, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he sucks. His gag reflex is a carefully trained thing, and he takes Lee deeper with every slide of his mouth.

For a few moments, Lee simply gives into it. He breathes out a sigh and closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the pockmarked brick wall as his fingers card through George’s soft hair.

He sucks cock like he was born for it and Lee’s breath catches, mouth falling open on a silent moan. An obscene slurping sound makes him lift his head again, watching as his cock sinks into George’s plush mouth again and again.

“Breathe in,” Lee commands quietly, and once George inhales, Lee grabs the back of his head and pushes forward, sinking into the impossible tightness of George’s throat. He lets out a low groan and keeps one hand at the back of George’s skull while the other thumbs at the stretched-wide corner of his mouth. Lee rocks his hips a few times without pulling out, keeping his cock buried in the man’s throat, and when his hand brushes George’s hair back from his forehead to better see his glassy eyes, it’s almost tender.

“Tell me when you need to breathe,” Lee murmurs roughly, relishing in the feeling of George’s throat tightening around him. “Only when you have to.”

He drags a breath in through his nose and then Lee's cock fills his throat like it was meant to be there and all that George can do is swallow around it and force his urge to gag down. He's done this once or twice before and, every time, he's felt any control he had of the situation slip away and felt the boneless relief of it.

His eyes slip closed like he's being kissed.

He holds it for as long as he can, until his head swims a little, and then he taps Lee's thigh with the flat of one hand, the other hand against the wall, ready to push back if he has to.

It’s stunning to watch. George melts into it like he’s just had an intense craving satisfied, like there’s nowhere else he would rather be, Lee murmurs nonsense praise and thumbs at George’s strong jaw, toes clenching in his boots at how good it feels. It seems to go on and on and Lee is almost concerned, but then he feels a tap on his leg so he cups his hand under George’s chin and pulls him back, letting his cock slide out of his mouth.

“Fuck, man,” Lee breathes out, dragging his thumb roughly over George’s red, swollen mouth. George looks a little dazed and Lee’s cock twitches, mind racing with possibilities. “Oh, we’re gonna have a good time, aren’t we?”

Lee grins wolfishly and waits for George to take another breath before sliding his cock back into the man’s mouth with a low, approving groan. “Come on, handsome. Show me what you can do with this pretty mouth.”

The way that Lee touches him is filthy, somehow, in it's possessiveness and George doesn't need to be told twice. He leans back in, takes Lee's cock back into his mouth almost to the root and starts to suck in long, hungry strokes, letting the head nudge against the back of his throat. He hasn't been told to use his hands so he doesn't; he keeps his fingers loosely clasped behind his back instead.

His own cock aches and twitches. It feels like the least important thing in the world in that moment.

Not to be crass, but Lee has gotten a lot of head in his day. He’s been blown by men and women, and even by some who were neither. He’s of the opinion that there’s no bad head (unless teeth are involved, which is kind of funny given his darker proclivities), but there are a few standouts. There are certain hookups that he looks back on when it’s just him and his hand, and he knows one thing for certain— George blows them all out of the water. Pun very much intended.

“Jesus Christ,” Lee gasps out, heaving in a breath as his fingers tighten in George’s hair. It feels so good that he lets out a manic sort of chuckle and has to tip his head back and close his eyes for a second just so he doesn’t come too soon.

Dazedly, he realizes that it’s only George’s mouth on him. Lee’s hands are everywhere, pulling at George’s hair, pressing into the hollows of his cheeks, but George’s are tucked neatly behind his back. Lee quirks a brow and palms the back of George’s skull to hold him place while Lee rolls his hips, fucking into George’s mouth.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” Lee rasps out, smirking as he tugs George’s hair enough to tilt his head back until their eyes meet. “Put your hands on me.”

Lee fucks into his mouth for a few strokes and he isn't quite prepared, his breath catching in a gag that he quickly gets under control. Both hands come up, one between Lee's legs to fondle his balls, squeezing, and the other down the back of his trousers, palming warm skin, pulling him in closer as George sucks.

He groans encouragement, the sound vibrating around the length in his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Lee pants out, gripping the back of George’s neck as his hands settle on Lee’s body with the same eager fervor of his mouth. George sucks cock like he was born for it, so good that Lee feels a bit dizzy.

White hot pleasure builds at the base of his spine, sending tingles throughout his body, and he knows he’s close. Honestly, he’s surprised that he’s lasted this long with this beautiful porn star on his knees sucking the life out of him through his cock. It’s fucking exquisite.

“I’m close,” he growls out, roughly grabbing George’s chin again and lifting until their eyes meet once more. George looks blissed out, like Lee’s cock is a drug, and that alone is almost enough to set him off. “Do you want me to come in your mouth? Or should I do it all over this pretty face?”

It's not up to him. He doesn't want it to be up to him, anyway. Eyes fixed on Lee's, he pulls back just a little, his fist sliding over spit slick skin to stroke as he rolls one shoulder in a shrug, squeezes firm muscle in encouragement.

He's got the feeling that he's going to give Lee the chance to come wherever he wants.

“Ah, I see,” Lee says with a rough chuckle, nodding to himself after George’s passive response. “You’re gonna do whatever I say, let me use you up until there’s nothing left.”

And to think that he almost didn’t come out tonight.

“Breathe,” Lee says, giving George only a second or two to do so before his fingers twist in George’s hair, holding him in place as Lee sinks into his throat again. It’s as close to heaven that Lee will ever reach, and he groans as his other hand slides down to curl around George’s throat and squeeze. He can feel himself there, taking up space inside this man’s body, and he lets out a pleased hum as he holds onto George’s head with both hands and begins to fuck his throat in earnest, snapping his hips forward as his orgasm builds.

He comes with a rough grunt, sending the first pulse down George’s throat, and then another on his tongue as Lee pulls out. He wraps his fist around his cock and strokes himself through the rest of it, holding George by the hair as he paints those obscene lips with his come.

“So fucking pretty,” Lee pants out once he’s spent, grabbing George’s chin again and smearing Lee’s come across his mouth with a rough swipe of his thumb. “Fucking hell.”

Between Lee's cock, his hand around George's throat, there's a moment of panic, but George rides it out and, a moment later, there's the salt bitterness of come in his throat, on his tongue, and then it's splashing hot and filthy across his lips. Lee smears it with his thumb and then George's tongue darts out.

Still on his knees, he looks up and smiles.

"Maybe for tonight," he says.

Lee laughs at that, more amused than unkind, and reaches down to grab George under the armpits and haul him up with a strength that may be surprising from his wiry frame. He pulls George in for a wet, filthy kiss, tasting himself on George’s tongue.

“For tonight,” Lee agrees breathlessly, kissing George again while reaching down to cup the impressive bulge in his jeans, giving him an encouraging squeeze as he licks at George’s mouth and chin. “Come home with me. I’ll give you what you need.”

He pulls back to give George a charming grin, mouth shining wet with his own come and George’s saliva. “We did have a deal and I plan on seeing it through.”

The kiss is both filthy and delicious and George crowds into it eagerly, pushing Kee back against the wall for a moment.

He nods, his eyes still a little dazed when he pulls back, his hips rising forward into Lee's hand.

"We did, at that," he says. "Your place sounds...Yes."

Lee could get George off right here. It wouldn’t be hard. He looks so wound up that a few quick strokes in a spit-slick palm would get him there. Yeah, Lee could get him off and they could still go for another round after.

But what’s the fun in that?

“Good,” Lee says with a lazy grin, pushing George back with a hand on his chest so he can tuck himself back into his jeans. He smooths his hands down the front of his shirt and then takes George’s face in his hands, thumbing at his ridiculous cheekbones. His eyes are wet and glassy, cheeks pink and lips swollen, and it makes some predatory, hungry part of his brain feel sated and calm. It won’t last, but it’s nice.

“C’mon, handsome,” Lee says with a smirk, curling his fingers around George’s wrist as he leads them deeper into the alley and into the small parking lot behind the club. “My truck’s over here.”

The curl of Lee's fingers around his wrist is possessive, proprietary, and George feels some small part of that -- the part of him that had worked so hard for the power and influence that he had begun to accrue back home -- bristle. Still, Darrow is not England, for better or worse, so perhaps there's no harm in being something else here, too?

He hesitates just as they come to Lee's truck.

"I have not...ridden in one of these before," he admits.

“Wait, really?” Lee asks, still a little come dumb and dazed. Soon he remembers that he just got the best head of his life from someone who up until recently had never seen a lightbulb. He laughs. What a weird fucking place.

“Your carriage awaits,” Lee says as he opens the passenger door with a flourish, gesturing for George to get inside. He looks sort of hesitant and it’s at odds with the come still shining on his chin. “Come on. It’s just like a carriage, except all the horse power is under the hood.”

Lee climbs up into the cab from the open passenger door and settles in the driver’s seat, leaning over to pat the bench next to him, smirking wolfishly. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

George is many things, but a coward he is not, and he hauls himself up into the cab, slamming the heavy door behind him. He's hardly ridden in carriages at home since he was a child, always preferring reins in his fist and horse flesh beneath him, but...

Well. A day for newness, then.

“Atta boy,” Lee says happily, clapping his hand down onto George’s thigh before starting the engine. The old truck roars to life and Lee smirks over at George when the bench seat starts to rumble beneath their thighs. He twists to look behind him as he reverses out of the spot, waving amiably at a guy crossing the street before pulling out onto it.

“Are you still hard?” Lee asks as they pull up to a red light, pressing down on the brake as he turns to glance over at George. Instead of waiting for an answer, Lee reaches over to palm George’s crotch. There’s a small damp spot at the front and Lee swallows hard, rubbing his thumb against that spot as they pull away from the light.

The combination of the vibration between him and Lee's roving hands is distracting and it takes him a moment to answer. He arches his back slightly against the bench seat, pressing into Lee's hand.

"As a rock," he says.

“So it seems,” Lee says casually, keeping his eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel while the other feels George up— palming his cock and squeezing at his inner thigh. He only lets go when he has to turn into the parking lot and park the truck.

“I’m just on the second floor,” Lee says once they’re out of the truck, but George looks so debauched that Lee can’t help but to push him roughly up against the side of the truck and kiss him thoroughly, grinding their hips together so George can feel that Lee is already hard again, too.

He could, he knows, stop this -- remove Lee's hands, return to some semblance of moral behaviour -- but the fact remains that he just doesn't want to. He wants to be handled like this. To be debased.

When Lee kisses him, he matches the other man's fervour, one arm curling around his neck to keep him close.

Lee likes it when it’s easy. He doesn’t know a thing about his man other than he has an old’s man name and gives spectacular head. They aren’t here for each other’s minds, anyway. Their bodies can do all the talking, and Lee can have a break from his goddamn head for a bit.

Lee breaks the kiss to mouth along George’s jaw and to the side of his neck, biting down just hard enough to sting. George smells amazing, sweet and earthy, and Lee knows his skin would give like a peach’s if he bit down hard enough. But he won’t. The hunger is there but it’s always there, and he’s easily distracted by his arousal.

All he wants to do is eat and fuck. He really is an animal.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes out, pressing his hands against the truck door on either side of George so he can push himself away. “Jesus, you’re like catnip. Come on.”

Lee enters the lobby and bypasses the elevator to take the stairs instead, gesturing for George to follow him. “It’s just one flight up and that thing is slow as fuck.”

George has ridden in the elevator at his own building exactly once. He'd found the experience, frankly, terrifying and avoided it every since. He willingly follows Lee up the stairs, his fingers teasing against the sore spot on the side of his neck where Lee's mouth has surely left a mark.

Once they’re out of the stairwell, Lee takes off down the hall at an eager jog, tossing a promising grin over his shoulder at George as he does. His gaze dips to the prominent bulge at the front of George’s pants and he lets out a delighted laugh, tossing his head back in amusement as he approaches his door.

He gets his keys out of his pocket and hurriedly unlocks the door, stumbling inside and tossing his keys toward the end table next to the sofa, dragging his hands through his hair. “Fucking finally.”

George doesn't run but he does follow like a thing leashed, a hound, perhaps, or a horse. He doesn't feel like an entirely thinking thing right then, not with so much heat so close to his skin.

"Finally," he echoes, leaning back against the closed door. "And I am at your mercy."

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