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Hill’s single release party wasn’t some chaotic, headliner-packed mess like George had feared. It was pleasantly quieter. A pub in some trendy part of town, booked out for close friends with creaky floors and shitty string lights strung across dark ceiling beams. Plenty of familiar, and vaguely familiar faces were tucked into leather booths, sipping fancy cocktails and greeting each other like it had only been a week, not months, since the last time.
Arthur Hill was playing an acoustic set. It was nothing flashy, just him, his guitar and a mic as he played like it was second nature. George was so proud of him, but truthfully he barely heard a word of it.
He was too busy watching the other Arthur lean against the bar on his fourth whiskey lemonade, all pink-cheeked and flushed from laughter.
He looked so relaxed. Loose-limbed and undone in a way George rarely got to see. His curls were a bit wild, shirt sleeves rolled up, and every time he laughed it lit up the whole room.
George had seen him like this before, but never this early in the night. Not since the last time they'd filmed a platform roulette together, and Arthur had sat next to him on the train in a way that was too close to be friendly, with their knees touching and a teasing smile pressed into every sentence. George had gone home aching for him, every nerve still tuned into Arthur.
Arthur glanced over the rim of his glass and caught George staring.
“What?” Arthur said with a toothy smile spreading across his face.
George shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Just making sure you haven’t started heckling Hill again.”
“I’d never,” Arthur said, mock-innocent. “I love his slutty little emo indie music.”
George let out a short laugh. Arthur leaned closer, like he was about to share a secret.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start blushing,” Arthur teased, nudging him playfully.
“You’re so loud and so, so talkative when you drink,” George said, ignoring Arthur’s prior comment.
“No Georgie I’m charming,” Arthur corrected. “And maybe a little flirty. You should be taking advantage of that.”
The sentence hung in the air for a second too long.
George took a second to size him up. The flushed skin, the crooked smile, the sly eyes and the way Arthur’s fingers toyed absently with the straw in his drink. It was maddening.
He tilted his head. “Yeah?”
Arthur grinned. “Yeah.”
This dance wasn’t new to either of them. It had been perfected over months of flirting in videos and not stopping when the cameras were cut. Months of near-misses in shared cabs and too-long goodbye hugs outside of George’s building. They’d both known. Known what they wanted. Who they wanted. Tonight neither of them was willing to pretend otherwise.
Arthur tilted his head, watching George like he was trying to read something under his skin. “You’ve been looking at me all night.”
George didn’t deny it. “You’ve been letting me.”
Arthur grinned brightly, and just a little shy. “Yeah. I have.”
George shifted closer, his hand finding Arthur’s waist without thinking. He rested it there, firm and warm and possessive in a way he hadn’t let himself be before. Arthur’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move away.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” George said, quiet enough that only Arthur could hear. “For months.”
Arthur looked up at him, eyes soft around the edges, lashes still sticky from laughter. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to push.”
“You’re not pushing,” Arthur murmured. “I’m right here for the taking.”
George’s fingers tightened slightly at his waist, grounding himself. “If I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t stop at just kissing.”
Arthur’s mouth curved, slow and sure. “That’s the idea.”
George huffed a laugh, barely holding himself back. “You want this?”
Arthur stepped in closer, hands settling at George’s hips, curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I want you.”
George leaned in, lips brushing just near Arthur’s temple, voice low and wrecked. “Then let me take you home.”
Arthur’s smile went crooked. “Mine’s closer.”
George pressed his forehead to Arthur’s for a second, steadying them both. “Perfect.”
They made it back to Arthur’s flat on instinct more than memory. Arthur clung to George’s arm in the Uber, laughing too much, talking absolute nonsense. About the shape of pub chairs. About how George’s thumb was warm. About how “twink is a state of mind, not a body type” and George was lucky to be let near one.
“You’re not a twink,” George had said, scandalized. Arthur beamed. “Am so. I’ve got the twink abs and everything.”
It nearly knocked the air out of the typically nonchalant George.
But underneath the teasing, George was so stupidly happy.
Because even with everything between them shifting Arthur still felt safe being himself. Still cheeky. Still terribly dramatic. He hadn’t pulled back or gone cautious just because they were toeing the line between what they’d been and what they were about to become.
It made George’s chest feel too full in the best possible way.
By the time they tumbled into Arthur’s flat, the air was warm with leftover radiator heat and the faint smell of whatever candle Arthur had lit earlier.
Arthur kicked off his shoes without untying them, then dramatically peeled off his jacket and tossed it at the coat rack, missing entirely.
“You need water,” George said, heading toward the kitchen.
Arthur followed him to the kitchen and leaned against the doorway like he was posing for a painting. “You take such good care of me Georgie.”
George grabbed one of Arthur’s mismatched mason jars from the shelf, filling it with cold water. “Someone’s got to.”
When he turned back, Arthur was still watching him. Head tilted, cheeks pink, curls in a tantrum. He looked effortlessly smug and stupidly gorgeous.
“You always do,” Arthur said softly, like the joke had melted away. “Even when you don’t have to.”
George crossed the room and handed him the jar. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”
Arthur took it, thumb grazing George’s. “A complement, duh. Also Georgie if you keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you want to kiss me or something.”
George didn’t move right away. Just stood there, close enough to feel the warmth coming off Arthur’s skin. He could smell the lemonade on his breath. Could see the softness in his eyes that made everything else in the room blur out.
Arthur tipped the jar back to take a sip, and George reached out, one hand on Arthur’s waist, the other steadying the glass in his shaky hands.
It felt intimate in a way that was practiced, like a habit they hadn’t yet gotten the chance to form.
Their eyes caught and held, too long. Arthur swallowed, slowly, and lowered the jar just an inch. His breath hitched. George’s hand didn’t move.
Neither of them spoke.
The jar tipped slightly in Arthur’s hand, and suddenly water was slipping over the rim and running down his wrist, dripping onto the floor between them.
George let out a stunned breath of a laugh. “Shit, sorry-”
Arthur laughed too, holding the jar up like it had betrayed him. “You distracted me!”
“You were already distracted.”
“You were the one touching me like we’re in a BBC period drama,” Arthur shot back, grinning through it.
George grabbed a tea towel with constellations on it off the counter and handed it over.
Arthur didn’t move. Just stared at him for a long, weightless beat, then said, quiet and certain, “I really want you to kiss me now.”
George stepped forward, both hands on Arthur’s waist this time.
“I was already going to.”
The kiss was hot and a little clumsy, Arthur all eager hands and crooked teeth against his lip. He was practically giggling against George’s mouth, teasing him through breathless kisses.
“You’ve been waiting for this,” he muttered, pulling George’s shirt up.
George huffed. “You’ve got such a mouth on you Arthur, my god. You can't even stop talking to kiss me.”
“You love it. You’d be so bored if I wasn’t like this.”
George walked him backwards until he was pressed against the wall and kissed down his jaw. “Perhaps.”
George’s hands had a mind of their own, slipping beneath the hem of Arthur’s shirt, palms dragging slowly up warm skin, tracing over the dip of his waist and the line of his ribs. Arthur’s breath hitched, but he didn’t dare stop him. He just stood there with weak legs watching George with parted lips and wide eyes.
His shirt came up inch by inch, slowly lifted over his stomach, his chest, his arms, until George got impatient and tugged it over his head.
He didn’t move at first. Just stared.
Arthur stood there, flushed and bare, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, soft at the edges in a way that made George's mouth go dry. George’s gaze slowly roamed over the gorgeous man in front of him. Over the curve of his collarbone, the soft dusting of hair down his sternum, the abs that had no right to look that good after a night out.
His hands came up again, brushing lightly over Arthur’s ribs, thumbs grazing the center of his chest, just to feel the sensation of Arthur beneath him.
And then he saw it.
The glint of silver.
And George stopped breathing altogether.
A slim silver barbell, glinting through one perfect, flushed nipple.
George’s breath caught. “Arthur. Holy shit.”
Arthur looked down, then up, eyes a little nervous now. “Oh. Yeah.”
“You’ve got a fucking piercing.”
“Mmhm,” Arthur hummed, dragging his teeth across his bottom lip, eyes flicking toward George like he was bracing for a reaction. “It was a drunken dare in law school. I kinda liked it so I kept it.”
George let out a soft, stunned sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and reached up without hesitation. His thumb grazed just beneath the piercing first, then brushed lightly over it. Arthur shivered and arched himself off the wall towards George.
“Jesus,” George muttered, eyes still fixed on his chest. “You’ve been walking around with this the whole time and didn't tell me?”
Arthur tried to play it cool, but his breath caught when George touched him again. “You never asked.”
“Oh, so now you want to get cocky,” George said, dragging his palm down Arthur’s torso. “Unreal.”
Arthur whimpered when George passed over his piercing again, hips twitching slightly forward like his body was chasing it.
“You’re so sensitive,” he said, thumb grazing the bar again. This time slower, with more pressure.
Arthur nodded, visibly biting back a noise.
George leaned in and kissed just above it, then dragged his mouth lower, letting his tongue swipe lightly across the other nipple. Arthur gasped, head tipping back, body arching toward the heat of his mouth.
“Fuck Georgie”
“That’s what I thought,” George murmured, kissing across his chest, his ribs, every line of tension beneath his skin. His hands slid down over Arthur’s waist, thumbs dipping into the edges of his jeans.
And then, just above his navel, George bit gently. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make Arthur flinch and let out a shaky, desperate sound.
“You really are such a fucking twink,” George said, voice low and too pleased with himself. “Like, textbook.”
Arthur groaned. “You’re-” His voice gave out as George kissed lower, dragging his teeth across the center of his abs. “You’re obsessed.”
“I am,” George said, shameless. “I’m also so never letting you wear a shirt again.”
Arthur laughed, breathless, hands fisting in the back of George’s t-shirt.
“You’re so fucking easy to touch,” George added, quieter this time. He slid his hands up again, slowly palming Arthur’s waist, his sides, and brushing back across his nipples just to watch him twitch.
Arthur whined, high in the back of his throat, grinding down slightly like he couldn’t help it.
“You like it,” George whispered, leaning in again. “Being looked at. Being touched like this.”
Arthur nodded, gasping. “Yeah. Fuck. Yeah, I-”
George kissed him mid-sentence, one hand dragging down Arthur’s stomach again while the other settled possessively at his hip.
He kissed everywhere. Under Arthur’s ribs, down his thighs, over the curve of his hip just because it made him squirm. He sucked a mark into the skin just above Arthur’s waistband. Then another below the sharp jut of his collarbone.
“Gonna mark you up,” George muttered.
Arthur was panting now. “Georgie below the collar please, don't want people to see.”
“No promises,” George said with a smirk.
George then worked Arthur’s jeans down slowly. His thumbs hooked at the waistband, dragging the denim over his hips with deliberate care. He didn’t rush, so he could observe Arthur. His eyes tracing every new inch of skin, every twitch and every shift of Arthur’s breath.
When his jeans hit the floor, George froze.
Arthur stood there in a pair of tiny, red boxers. They were snug, low on his hips, and completely obscene. His dick was already hard, clearly outlined beneath the fabric, straining up toward his stomach.
George exhaled, sharp and wrecked. “You’re kidding.”
Arthur didn’t even try to look innocent. “You caused it.”
George let out a low groan. “You’re such a fucking slut Arthur, what the fuck.”
George couldn’t take another second of it. Arthur flushed and hard in those ridiculous boxers, still grinning like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. George’s restraint snapped all at once.
He grabbed Arthur by the thighs and hauled him up around his waist, strong and steady, barely giving him time to react.
Arthur let out a surprised noise as his arms flew around George’s shoulders. “Jesus, warn a guy-”
George adjusted his grip, hands sliding to Arthur’s ass and squeezing hard, fingers digging in like he couldn’t help himself. “Didn’t feel like it, sorry.”
Arthur squirmed in his hold, breath catching as George started walking them toward the bedroom, his intent clear.
“Could’ve just asked,” Arthur said, voice already going wobbly.
“Had to test a theory, and I was right,” George muttered, voice low against Arthur’s ear. “You do like being tossed around.”
Arthur didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned in and sank his teeth into the side of George’s neck, hard enough to sting and deliberate enough to leave a mark.
George hissed through his teeth. “You just fucking bit me you freak.”
Arthur grinned against his skin. “You’ve been gnawing on me since we got home so I decided it was my turn.”
George laughed, breath hot. “You’re unbelievable.”
Arthur licked over the mark, smug. “You started it.”
George’s hands shifted, gripping lower, one full palm over the curve of Arthur’s ass. His fingers dug in, massaging through the thin stretch of his boxers as he walked them toward the bedroom.
Arthur’s legs tightened around George’s waist, heels hooking just above the small of his back. And then he slowly started to move.
Just a shift at first, a tiny roll of his hips.
George felt it immediately. The press of Arthur’s hard cock dragging against his stomach. And then, more impossible to ignore, the unmistakable friction of Arthur’s thigh brushing up against the bulge in George’s jeans.
Arthur paused, breath catching. He could feel how hard George was beneath him so he squirmed again, slower this time, more deliberate.
“Fuck,” George muttered, voice rough.
Arthur smiled, a little unsteady, a little too pleased with himself. Then did it again.
“Christ,” George said, nearly stumbling as they reached the doorway.
Arthur rolled his hips once, slow and purposeful. “You feel really big Georgie.”
George growled, tightening his grip. “You keep doing that, I’m gonna drop you.”
Arthur smirked against his jaw. “No, you won’t.”
George didn’t answer. He just kicked the bedroom door open and crossed the threshold, still holding him, still feeling every inch of Arthur’s body wrapped around him.
And George was very, very aware of what he was about to do back.
George made it to the bed and laid him down. Arthur landed against the pillows, breath catching, legs falling open slightly. The red boxers he’d been teasing him with were riding even lower than before, clinging in all the right places, and George just stood there for a second and took the sight of him in.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Arthur said, voice somewhere between cocky and breathless.
George dragged his shirt off over his head and let it drop to the floor. “Because you look like a fantasy Arthur and I’m trying to stay upright.”
Arthur blushed even harder. Then very obviously stared at George's crotch as he unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down his hips. He stepped out of them, now stripped to black boxers, hard and already aching.
Arthur’s eyes tracked the shape of him. “Can I…?”
George raised an eyebrow. “Can you what?”
Arthur’s voice was quieter now. “Take them off.”
George’s grin curled at the edge, but he just nodded and stepped forward. “Go on, then.”
Arthur sat up on his knees, fingers clumsily curling into the waistband, and instead of pulling them down, he leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right against the fabric over George’s cock.
George groaned, hips jerking slightly.
Arthur glanced up at him, eyes wide and a little wicked. “Just saying hi.”
“Fucking hell,” George muttered, hand coming down to cradle the back of Arthur’s head, more out of instinct than anything. Arthur mouthed at him again, slower this time, lips dragging over the heat of him through the cotton.
It wasn’t quite teasing, George could tell there was something sincere about it. Like Arthur wanted to make George feel good just because he could.
George ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair and then gently tugged him back. “You keep that up and I’m gonna embarrass myself.”
Arthur flushed, but his smile stayed. “Then do something about it.”
George leaned down and kissed him, hard. His hands slid down Arthur’s torso, thumbs dipping into the waistband of those ridiculous red boxers, teasing the elastic.
“I wanna be inside you,” he whispered against Arthur’s lips. “So tell me what you need.”
Arthur’s expression softened, less cocky now, more embarrassed. His mouth parted, but it took him a second to answer. His fingers found the edge of George’s jaw, thumb brushing lightly there like he was getting ready to admit a terrible secret.
“I don’t need that much,” he said, voice quieter. “I… I finger myself sometimes. So I’m probably fine if you just do a little bit.”
“You what?”
Arthur rolled his eyes, groaning a little as his blush deepened. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not,” George said immediately, still stunned. “I just, fuck. That’s so hot.”
Arthur’s ears turned pink.
George kissed the corner of his mouth. “Where’s the lube?”
Arthur nodded toward the nightstand. “Top drawer.”
George opened it, grabbed the bottle and turned back to Arthur. “Is this… peach flavored?”
Arthur whined in embarrassment, dropping his head back against the pillow. “I bought it online in a panic. Leave me alone.”
George unscrewed the cap and sniffed it. His face twisted. “Oh wait, it actually smells pretty good.”
Arthur covered his face with both hands. “George can we not do a lube review right now?”
George laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to Arthur’s sternum, just above the piercing. “Sorry baby. It’s endearing. And very you.”
“Great,” Arthur muttered. “Exactly what I’m going for.”
“I’m serious,” George said, smiling into his skin. “Everything about you is perfect. Even your tragic little fruit-scented mistakes.”
Arthur let out an embarrassed laugh that turned into a whine when George slid a slick hand down his stomach.
“Alright,” George said, voice dropping. “Now be good and spread your legs for me.”
Arthur obeyed without hesitation.
George slicked his fingers and pressed one in slowly, watching Arthur’s whole body twitch at the intrusion.
“Fuck-” Arthur hissed, thighs tensing, breath catching like the air had been punched from his lungs.
“Sensitive little thing,” George murmured, dragging his free hand across Arthur’s stomach, thumb grazing the dip just above his hip.
Arthur whimpered. “Yes-fuck-”
George added a second finger, slow but firm, twisting them as he pressed in deeper. Arthur gasped, head tipping back, mouth falling open.
“You like that?” George asked, already knowing the answer. He leaned in to mouth at Arthur’s chest again, lips dragging over the piercing, sucking hard enough to make Arthur writhe.
“Y-yeah, I- fuck, please-”
George grinned against his skin, tongue flicking the barbell just to feel Arthur squirm. “You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “All open and greedy for it. What a sight.”
Arthur let out a broken sound and rolled his hips down into the motion of George’s hand, chasing the stretch, the friction, the feeling of being wanted like this.
George scissored his fingers carefully, curling them just right, watching Arthur clench around him. “God,” he said under his breath, “you’re tight. Can’t wait to fuck you open.”
Arthur moaned, shaky and high in his throat. “George-please-”
George pulled his fingers out slowly, watching the way Arthur’s body twitched with the loss. He sat back on his knees just long enough to grab the condom from the nightstand and roll it on, slicking himself quickly. His cock was flushed, thick, and aching, and he didn’t hesitate, just moved between Arthur’s legs, lined himself up, and paused.
“You ready baby?” he asked, voice low, not quite teasing now.
Arthur nodded fast, breathless. “Yes. Yes. Want you now Georgie, please.”
George pressed in, slowly at first, inch by inch, until he was buried inside him.
Arthur’s mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as his eyes fluttered shut. His fingers clawed at the sheets, knuckles going white.
“Fucking hell,” George muttered, not moving yet, just feeling it. The tight heat of Arthur around him, the way he clenched and breathed like he was on the edge of something already.
“You feel-” Arthur managed, voice hoarse. “You feel so good. Feel so full. Fuck.”
George leaned over him, one hand planted next to his head, the other still wandering, stroking his chest, his stomach, and dragging down the length of his thigh.
He started to move, gently at first, deep, grinding thrusts meant to tease more than satisfy. And Arthur met him, hips lifting, thighs parting wider like he needed more.
“Oh, you’re fucking desperate,” George said, laughing softly. “You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?”
Arthur nodded helplessly, gasping. “Please Georgie.”
George kissed him hard, then bit his lip on the way out. “I knew you’d be like this. All mouthy when you’re dressed, and a fucking mess when you get touched right.”
Arthur let out a shaky moan, eyes wide, lips pink and parted. “You’re so mean to me.”
“You love it,” George said, voice hot in his ear. “You want to be talked down to while I ruin you. It’s written all over your face.”
Arthur sobbed out a laugh that was cut short by a moan, confirming what George assumed.
George slammed in deeper, harder now, and Arthur arched, back bowing off the bed like his body couldn’t contain it.
“You like pain?” George asked, even though he already knew.
Arthur nodded fast, panting. “Yes-yes, fuck, please-”
George reached down and tugged on the barbell in his nipple, not too hard, but enough for the boy beneath him to feel it. Arthur cried out, legs twitching around his waist.
“Pretty little slut,” George muttered, kissing down his chest again. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He bit at the unpierced nipple, then dragged his tongue across Arthur’s abs, just because he could.
Arthur whimpered, fingers tangled in George’s hair, clinging like it was the only thing anchoring him to the bed.
“You take me so well,” George said, fucking into him faster now. “Tight little hole-Jesus, you’re squeezing me like you’re trying to keep me inside you.”
“Want you inside me,” Arthur gasped. “All of you, don’t stop-”
George wrapped a hand around Arthur’s cock, stroking it in rhythm with his thrusts. Arthur was leaking, flushed, soaked, and so fucking pretty, head thrown back and lips slick from kissing.
“Go on,” George whispered, voice ragged. “Come for me. Make a mess. Want to see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”
Arthur’s whole body shook. He let out a cracked moan and came hard, spilling across his stomach and George’s hand, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut.
George didn’t stop. Kept fucking him through it, chasing his own high.'
“Fuck Arthur you feel so good, gonna-”
One last thrust and George buried himself deep, hips stuttering, eyes squeezed shut as he came with a low, broken sound. His whole body shuddered with it. His spine curving, breath caught halfway to a moan, and he stayed there, fully inside Arthur, unmoving.
The room was quiet now. The only sound was their breathing, all uneven and shaky, still catching up to what had just happened.
George’s forehead dropped to Arthur’s shoulder, skin tacky with sweat. His arms braced on either side of Arthur’s body, holding himself up like the weight of it all might crush them both if he let go.
Arthur blinked up at the ceiling, eyes glassy and wide, hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling fast. He looked like something holy. Wrecked and glowing, mouth parted, lips kiss-bruised, covered in sweat and hickies and everything George had given him.
“You alright?” George whispered, voice low and hoarse against his skin.
Arthur didn’t answer right away. His fingers flexed weakly in the sheets. Then he nodded, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering as he turned his face to meet George’s eyes.
“Yeah Georgie, really good,” he said, voice thin and raw.
George let out a soft, stunned laugh and leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You’re so perfect Arthur.”
He didn’t pull away. Didn’t move. Just stayed inside him, chests pressed together, his hands sliding over Arthur’s sides like he still didn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch him.
Arthur was trembling. George could feel it everywhere. His thighs, his ribs, the little muscles under his arms. His skin was warm and sticky, legs splayed open beneath George, his breathing just beginning to even out.
George dropped a kiss to the curve of Arthur’s spine. Then another at the back of his neck. His voice was quieter now, more lovesick.
“You’re okay?” he asked again, just to hear it twice.
Arthur nodded, softer this time. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Can’t feel my legs.”
George huffed a quiet laugh against his skin. “That good?”
“You wrecked me,” Arthur whispered.
George huffed a small laugh. “Pretty sure that was the point,” George murmured, kissing along his shoulder. His voice was teasing, but his hands were careful.
He pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at him, and the breath caught in his throat for the millionth time.
Arthur was a masterpiece. Legs spread, flushed all over, thighs shaking, and his chest heaving. Bite marks trailed up his neck. Hickies bloomed dark just below his collar. And the silver glint of the barbell at his nipple caught the light like a secret George had just earned.
He looked fucked. And beautiful. And completely his.
George swore under his breath and leaned down again, kissing Arthur’s throat. He didn’t know how to stop touching him. Arthur’s hand slid weakly up his back and clung there, fingertips just resting, like even now he didn’t want George to go far.
And George wouldn’t. Not for anything.
George cupped his face, brushing sweaty hair back from his forehead. “You did so good for me, baby. Took everything.”
Arthur flushed but didn’t look away. His hands found George’s chest, then shoulders, gripping him like he needed the weight of him still there.
“Jesus Christ,” Arthur mumbled into George’s chest. “You’re insane.”
George blinked, grinning. “What, because I made you see God?”
Arthur groaned. “Because you won’t stop feeling me up after I saw God. That’s gotta be sacrilegious.”
George’s hand smoothed over his hip, then dragged up to splay across his lower back. “That’s just body worship baby.” he said, voice warm and low.
Arthur made a wounded noise. “You’re so embarrassing.”
“You’re the one who just moaned my name loud enough to give the neighbors a fright.”
Arthur pulled the duvet over his face.
George tugged it back down, kissed the corner of his mouth. “I can still feel you clenching around me,” he whispered. “Don’t act like you’re not obsessed with this too.”
Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed. “I’m not admitting to anything.”
George kissed his jaw, then his neck, then lower, voice dropping as he added, “You don’t have to baby, your body already did.”
Arthur exhaled shakily.
George touched him again. Just because he could.
“Can’t believe all this is mine,” he whispered.
And Arthur, red-faced and completely done for, muttered, “Okay, maybe I like it, but only a little.”
George laughed and held him tighter.
“Fuck, you’re adorable like this,” he said, voice low, still winded. “All fucked-out and clingy.”
Arthur didn’t put up a fight. He just hummed and curled further into George’s chest, arms slung lazily around his neck.
Finally, George slowly eased himself out. Arthur hissed at the shift, his whole body twitching, whimpering at the loss. George’s hands soothed him automatically, palming his hip, and brushing down his thigh to ground him.
George stayed there for a minute, petting at his waist, nosing behind his ear. Then he kissed the curve of Arthur’s shoulder and said gently, “Alright baby let me clean you up.”
Arthur muttered something into George’s neck.
“What was that?”
Arthur lifted his head just enough to say, “Don’t be long, I’ll get lonely and cold,” then let his eyes slip closed again.
George grinned and rolled off the bed, grabbing a hand towel from the washroom and coming back as fast as he could. He wiped Arthur down with slow careful hands, starting with his stomach, then his thighs, then his inner legs. He used soft touches, murmuring praise between every pass. Arthur flinched here and there, feeling beyond sensitive, but he never pulled away.
“You look so good like this,” George murmured, dragging the duvet back so he could see all of him. “Marked up and wrecked. Fucking gorgeous.”
Arthur groaned, dragging the pillow over his face. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m just telling the truth.”
Once he was done, George tossed the towel in Arthurs hamper and leaned over the bed again.
“What do you wanna sleep in, baby?”
Arthur blinked up at him, eyes already heavy. “Just a hoodie.”
“Just a hoodie?” George raised a brow. “What, like dick out and everything?”
Arthur gave him a look. “It’s my flat. I can have it out.”
George smirked. “If you insist.”
He grabbed the softest hoodie he could find. A black worn-in, one that Arthur had definitely stolen from George weeks ago, and helped him sit up long enough to tug it over his head. Arthur sagged into the fabric immediately, hair mussed, legs bare, piercing catching the light again as the hem rode up.
George had to physically look away to keep from climbing back on top of him for another round.
Instead, he reached into Arthur’s dresser and pulled out a pair of Arthur's boxers for himself that were clearly too small.
He pulled them on anyway.
Arthur blinked at him blearily and tried to suppress a giggle. “Those are definitely too short. Maybe you're the secret twink.”
George adjusted the waistband. “You trying to body shame me in your post-nut haze?”
Arthur snorted and opened his arms. “Come back here.”
George climbed in beside him, boxers tight and chest bare. Arthur immediately pulled him in, throwing one leg over George’s hip and tucking his face into his neck like he couldn’t bear to have an inch between them.
George wrapped him up, arms snug around his waist, one hand slipping under the hem of the hoodie to palm his back.
They lay there like that, skin to skin, the room soft and quiet.
And then George murmured, “You know… it’s always the unassuming ones.”
Arthur didn’t even look up. “Don’t start.”
George smiled. “All those quiet nights reading your little space books, watching nature documentaries, playing chess, and thinking about some fuckass philosophy question I’m not smart enough to understand.”
“George-”
“And the whole time you’re getting off to peach-scented lube and fingering yourself in those red boxers with your piercing-”
“I hate you.”
George laughed, breath warm against Arthur’s cheek. “You loved it.”
Arthur was quiet for a second. “Yeah. Perhaps I did.”
George stilled a little, his fingers brushed up Arthur’s spine, then back down.
“I really like you, you know,” he said.
Arthur looked up, eyes soft and his expression open in a way George hadn’t quite seen before. “I know.”
“I’ve wanted this for a while.”
Arthur’s thumb found the edge of George’s jaw, tracing lazily along the bone. “Me too,” he murmured, the words slurred slightly at the edges with exhaustion.
George kissed him slow, like a promise.
They settled after that, wrapped around each other beneath the duvet, hoodie sleeves bunched at Arthur’s wrists, George’s thigh pressed snug between his legs.
Arthur shifted a little closer, nose tucked into the side of George’s neck. His voice was quieter now, softer than George had ever heard it. “We should probably, like… actually talk about this in the morning.”
George smiled against his hair. “We will.”
There was a pause. Then Arthur mumbled, “You’re not gonna pretend this didn’t happen, are you?”
George pulled him in tighter. “You’ve got your leg thrown over me and I’m in your boxers that are two sizes too small. I think we’ve passed the point of pretending baby.”
Arthur let out a sleepy laugh, his fingers curling George's hair. And then, with all the honesty in the world, Arthur breathed, “I really like you.”
George pressed a kiss into the crown of his curls. “I really like you too.”
Arthur didn’t say anything else. Just let out a deep, contented sigh and melted into him completely, hooking a leg over George’s hip, fingers tangled in the worn cotton at his waist, clinging like he never wanted to let go.
George stayed right there, wide awake, watching the slow rise and fall of Arthur’s chest and thinking he didn’t mind the idea of never letting go either.