Page 21

Georgie was a goddamn mess. The sexiest, cutest, most enticing mess in the history of the universe. He would not stop shaking. So fucking desperate to be touched that he quaked with every breath.

I kissed his left hip bone, then his right, and he made a pitiful sound behind his hand. It was muffled, yes, but nowhere near quiet, like he’d promised he’d be. “That’s not very good, sweetheart,” I admonished, just to watch the way he shuddered. Like my reprimand was getting him off.

Christ.

My dick was at half mast already. And that shit hadn’t happened to me since I was in fucking high school. He was seriously…the most attractive person I’d ever met. All nervous and quaky and needy all at once. Not afraid to fight me. But eager to lose.

“Try harder,” I said to test the waters. George’s lashes fluttered, and his hips flexed up, proving my hypothesis correct. He liked me a little mean. He liked me firm. At least…in bed. Worn thin with his heart on his sleeve and no walls to conceal it, George was so eager to give up control it was addicting.

I hadn’t been lying when I’d told him I could tell. Sure, I’d exaggerated a bit—you know, to match the mood. But exaggeration wasn’t a lie.

“Remember, quiet .” I slipped my thumbs under his waistband and tugged his briefs down a few inches. I tucked them beneath his sweet balls, mouth watering as I took in the majesty of George’s little cock.

And it was little.

Maybe max three inches?

And so fucking sexy I could hardly breathe. Pulsing and red, the poor thing looked fit to burst. All it’d take was one suck and he’d be spilling. I almost wanted to tease him some more to see how long I could make him last.

But…he really had been good.

And he was shaking, those dark blue eyes swimming with tears.

He probably didn’t even know that he was crying. He’d be mortified if he did. George was easily embarrassed. Even when it wasn’t fair to react that way. He was as prickly as a cactus, and charitable to everyone but himself.

I had never met someone who deserved pleasure more.

Though I’d never outright dommed before, I was familiar with the concept. Blame my choice of reading material. I had a big imagination, and I could admit over my years soaking up smutty page after page, I’d grown…curious. Not to say that I’d ever particularly felt the drive to actually scratch that itch—because I hadn’t.

But I had also never been with someone like George.

And he…fuck. He made me want to take charge of every aspect of his goddamn life. To make sure he ate right, to tuck him into bed on time, to fuck him when he acted up—and needed release. To bully my way into every aspect of his life so that I could ensure he was well-maintained and happy. To put that same dopey, needy look on his face like he was sporting now, all flushed and turned on—embarrassed by his own nature, but desperate to let go. Like I was the only thing that mattered.

Like I was his world.

And he was trusting me to take care of him.

“A-Alex?” George lowered his hand to speak. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped moving, lost in thought as I was. That wouldn’t do. I didn’t want that softness to flee, replaced by fear that he’d done something wrong when he really, truly hadn’t.

“You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking pretty.” The praise came easily. It wasn’t an act. Or forced. It was natural. This was a lot more personal than I ever got during sex, and because of that, the intimacy only felt heightened. “I’m just taking my time admiring your sweet little cock.”

George squirmed like he was embarrassed, and I smirked.

“You like that?” My voice went even lower. “You like me calling your dick little?” He made a sound—mortified and turned on, obviously. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” George’s admission was barely a whisper.

“You like all the nicknames I give you,” I deduced. “Every last one.” Seemed I was going to need to get even more creative moving forward. “Okay, enough teasing. You just lay back and relax, gorgeous, I’ll take care of everything.”

It was time to cease torturing him.

He’d waited long enough.

When I wrapped my fingers around the root of his cock, George gasped. His entire body went rigid. “If you want me to stop, tap my head three times,” I told him. Oh— “And keep your mouth covered. I don’t want to share you with the rest of the goddamn camp.”

George’s eyes widened.

Realistically, he was still way too loud for that to actually help, but he seemed to like the illusion of it anyway. The secrecy most definitely. Struggling to be silent despite his pleasure. Breaking the rules. The threat of discovery only heightened each sensation.

This was the kinkiest I’d ever been with another person.

I usually fucked in, and out, and left when the deed was done .

I sated the physical and social urge like it was another task on my to-do list. And as someone with an overactive libido that happened often. I never allowed myself to be anything other than a glorified sex toy. I needed more, but I never let myself have it.

I certainly never experimented.

That took trust.

I found, as I settled into what felt like my natural role, George looking to me for guidance. George only looking at me, I’d definitely been missing out on how intimate sex could be. It certainly helped that for the majority of the day I hadn’t censored myself. I’d been fully me, in all my “overwhelming” glory, and George had still chosen to take me up on my offer.

George had seen my stupid-romantic picnic and he’d loved it.

He’d wanted to kiss me.

He’d been the one that wished to touch me first.

For him, I hadn’t been too much.

At least…not yet.

When I sucked George down to the root, it took hardly any effort at all—he was so small.

Obviously, I had never been harder in all my life.

His tiny cock barely tapped the back of my throat even with my nose buried in the golden hair at its base. The sound George made wasn’t human, this garbled choked thing that made my own dick throb. His hips flexed up, feigning like he wanted to gag me, even though that was frankly impossible. I pressed them back down, forcing his pelvis against the grass as I swallowed around his twitchy length.

Because his hips were trapped, George’s legs jumped next, like an anxious rabbit kicking out—so I had to restrain those too, using my bulk to keep him immobile. Pinned like prey, George was the prettiest fucking thing I’d ever seen. He struggled for a minute, wiggling and jerking, and then?—

Like magic .

He gave up.

Sagged into the dirt, all the tension in his frame bleeding away.

I watched his eyes grow glassy with a primal sort of satisfaction.

I’d done that.

I’d caused this.

A few tears slipped down his red cheeks. Dazed and submissive, George still wouldn’t stop quaking. His nipples were hard enough they poked his shirt. It was only my delicious mouthful and the fact that I was using every limb I had to keep him still that stopped me from leaning up to bite them.

George’s hair, usually styled, was this horrible wavy mess, sticking up in clumps and spikes. Debauched already, and I’d only just gotten my mouth on him for the first time.

More.

I wanted more.

Wanted him to keep making that face.

Wanted him to lose himself entirely.

To forget about everyone and everything but me.

Wanted to silence his noisy thoughts.

Wanted to give him peace, hand in hand with his pleasure.

I swallowed around his cock, spit slicking my lips and leaking into the golden curls at his base making them sticky. George’s Adam’s apple bobbed like he was drooling as much as I was.

There was no denying he liked this.

Hand over his own mouth, me between his legs.

Entirely at my mercy.

Was he sniffing my cum on his hand right now? Was his sweet tongue chasing my taste from his fingers as he cried and cried and attempted—to no avail—to hump my mouth?

There was something so gorgeously addictive about the way George submitted. His lean frame twitching, the width of his shoulders pressed into the dirt. Someone as high-strung as he was, reduced to gibberish and sobs— man .

This was so fucking hot.

And the hottest part was that I’d caused it.

He’d given this to me.

Trusted me.

Chosen me.

Forgiven me.

Determined not to let him down, I swallowed again, slurping around his length as his dick pulsed against my tongue. I could practically feel his heartbeat through it as I pulled up and down, shifting the soft skin back and forth with deliberate precision.

George’s chest heaved, these anxious, broken breaths wracking his frame—followed by another fruitless attempt at a kick. Simply reflexes. He was nothing if not predictable. It was easy to thwart his efforts. As leggy as he was—and surprisingly strong—he was no match for me.

He could kick all he wanted and it wouldn’t do a damn thing.

However, one of his hands did find its way to my shoulders. And his nails were a different story. Though as perfectly groomed as the rest of him, they dug in hard enough to sting. The pain only heightened my pleasure, making me sink into him with a groan. Scratching, digging, scraping into my skin with gusto, clinging tight.

When I pulled off his dick after a few minutes of back and forth sucking, I dragged my tongue along the vein on the underside. I could still feel the skip of his heartbeat there, the steady thrum of it as I held still and watched him squirm. I paused, the crown of his cock still suckled gently between my lips.

George’s nails sank in again, a new line of scratches forming as he tried to encourage me to take him deeper again.

He was so responsive.

It was intoxicating .

Pulling off with a pop, I arched a brow at him. “You’re kinda a slut, you know that, right?” I teased, keeping my tone light so he’d know I wasn’t criticizing him. “If I let go of your hips you’d be fucking my face right now.”

George choked, eyes widening. Despite being foggy-headed and pleasure-drunk, he still wanted to deny what I was accusing him of—even though we both knew I was correct. He attempted another fruitless kick.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to have bruises on your hips and leg tomorrow,” I warned. “And it’s lake day. So everyone is going to see.” I had no doubt George was going to wheedle his way out of swimming, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t tease—or that he wasn’t going to be wearing trunks.

I didn’t mention the scratching, worried that if I brought attention to it, he’d stop.

I didn’t want him to stop.

He may be too shy to wear the marks from tonight, but I wasn’t.

George gave up protesting.

Instead, he sank into the grass again, somehow even softer than before. This time, his head tipped far enough back that I could no longer see his face. Which was a shame. There was nothing sexier than watching his expression while I sucked his twitchy, red cock.

“Look at me,” I said, lips pressed to the tip of his needy dick.

George convulsed, even his arm trembling as he tilted his head down to peer at me again.

Obedient.

He was so fucking obedient like this—totally at odds with his usual personality.

His teary eyes peered down at me from above the delicate line of his fingers, still strangling his mouth. “There we go. That’s just what I wanted,” I purred. “I need to see your face when I make you fall apart.”

George’s brow pinched, and then relaxed as I took his cock back into my mouth with gusto. His crown was tight and slippery beneath my tongue, slit weeping as I dug the tip of my tongue inside it, chasing the flavor of his pleasure. Salty, and frankly delicious. Because it was George .

George’s musk I was smelling.

George’s taste on my tongue.

George’s most personal, private parts—vulnerable inside my mouth.

Though short, George’s dick had a decent width. Proportionate. Not enough to even get close to choking me, of course, but enough that when I tightened my lips at the base and slid all the way to the tip, my jaw began to ache.

Up and down, I abandoned my need to tease him in favor of giving him what he needed. Just like before—except this time I had every intention of sending him right over the edge.

All the while, I watched his face, enjoying the pinched furrow his eyebrows performed every time I sank low enough his balls tapped my chin. Enjoying the way the hand over his mouth tightened till his knuckles went white when I nibbled on his tip. He was so fucking sticky. Covered in spit, in precum, skin spongy and wet as his curls tickled my nose.

George didn’t last long just like I’d suspected he wouldn’t.

A fact that pissed him off, judging by the angry grunt he made when he came—breaking through his obedient sprawl. It was flattering to taste the evidence of my effect on him. Salty and a bit sweet—stronger than what he’d been leaking before—George’s cock began to spurt after a particularly snug glide up and down.

I was careful not to swallow, cupping his seed safe in the curl of my tongue as I rose from my spot between his thighs and climbed up his body with slow, deliberate movements.

George’s nostrils flared, his blue eyes—nearly black with lust—wide enough I could see the whites. That dazed look in his eyes was still there, though slightly more alert. Like his guard wasn’t back up yet. He was present, still processing his orgasm.

I grabbed his wrist, squeezing the bones and pulling his hand away from his face to see what lay beneath it. His mouth was bitten red and raw. They were so fucking enticing. Swollen and wet, like the entire time I’d been sucking on his tiny dick he’d been biting and rubbing his lips behind his fingers.

Or maybe that was from before? From our kisses.

Christ, that was even better.

With an arched brow, I waited, giving his parted, glossy lips a pointed look.

When he didn’t understand what I wanted, I helped him along. I released his wrist—which he dropped at his side in the grass—and used that same hand to cup his jaw. My thumb skimmed his bottom lip, dragging it open. The flash of teeth made my dick jump, but I ignored it.

This wasn’t about sex.

This was about him .

About asserting dominance over him—the way we both craved.

About allowing him to let go of his worries and simply feel.

And I knew exactly how to do that.

George stared at me. He didn’t say a word. He looked half drunk, even though he’d sworn to me that he wasn’t. Maybe he was as drunk on me—on us—as I was? His nostrils flared, alarm written all over his face when he finally seemed to realize where this was headed.

George knew his safe words. But I still waited to give him time to use them. When he didn’t, I groaned . My cock twitched, cupped in sticky fabric. He parted his lips on his own, holding his mouth open submissively—and I…fuck.

I wasted no time.

Slow and steady, allowing us to really feel the moment, I leaned in close. For a beat, we just observed each other, blue on blue. And then…I opened my mouth and fed him his own cum.

George jerked at the initial taste, but I held him still by my grip on his chin. My tongue slid deep inside his expressive mouth, urging him to swallow every last drop. Still struggling, despite having consented to this, George whined.

His jaw tensed, like he was going to snap it shut, right on my tongue.

But then…he did the most beautiful thing .

He stopped fighting.

He relaxed.

And he did as he’d been urged, his mouth convulsing with my tongue still inside it as he swallowed his own seed like a fucking champ. Every last drop.

Jesus Christ.

He was such a kinky little shit.

Holy fuck.

So surprising.

After I was sure he’d taken it all, I gave his lips one last parting lick before pulling back. His mouth didn’t look any different now that he’d just eaten his own cum. Still pink and puffy. But simply knowing what I’d put in his belly made me feel feral in a way I never had.

So many kinky, wonderful possibilities.

A world I’d never tapped into at my fingertips.

I only hoped I could keep up.

“Good boy, Georgie,” I murmured, watching as his lashes fluttered with pleasure in response to the praise. “You’re such a sweetheart , aren’t you?” George’s breath quickened. I peppered soothing kisses across his lips, his jaw, and up his cheek. “You did so well, baby. Perfectly .”

He gasped.

Fuck.

He really liked that.

Really liked being called perfect.

“You’re such a perfect little slut for me.” George jolted, proving my point. His hands sank into the back of my t-shirt, clinging to me as I praised and comforted him. The marks he’d left on my back stung, but I ignored them. Wore them as a badge of honor.

For several long, glorious minutes, I told him how gorgeous he’d been. Told him how much I loved his obedience. How he’d been so pretty with his cock in my throat. Told him I’d never seen a prettier man in all my life. Never been with a better lover. Never seen anyone look so goddamn earth-shatteringly riveting when they lost control.

I spoiled him the way I’d always wanted to spoil someone.

George ate it up.

He softened with every word, clinging, clinging—like he didn’t know how to let go of me now that we’d crossed this line together. Like he was scared the second he did, I’d abandon him.

I didn’t.

I wouldn’t.

Even if we weren’t literally sharing a tent, there was no way I was letting him out of my sight tonight. This had been…a lot. I definitely hadn’t intended the picnic to lead to sex when I’d set it up—but I didn’t regret anything.

I liked being close with him.

And discovering what he looked like when he actually let his walls down was ridiculously enthralling.

Had Brendon done this for him? Brought him high, high, high—and protected him from the subsequent low?

Somehow I doubted that. Based on how George responded—like he’d never been praised before. Like this was his first time receiving any sort of care after sex.

It pissed me the fuck off.

But I pushed those feelings aside.

Instead, I focused on him. On bringing him out of that foggy headspace. On kissing his grimple, the corners of his mouth, and that sweet scrunchy nose.

“Alright, baby, up you go,” I said several long minutes later. George was less shaky now, the glassy look in his eyes having faded into something more aware, though still soft. He huffed at me, which was a good sign—his ire returning. “I’m gonna let you rest on the blanket while I get our mess cleared up.”

George didn’t protest, even when I half-carried him back onto the fabric and laid him down. He didn’t get mad when I kicked the snacks off of it and bundled him up like an adorable, grumpy little caterpillar. He just watched me, those dark blue eyes full of emotion.

Mouth still slick.

His own cum still in his belly.

“You just stay there and look pretty,” I said for the second time that night. “I got this.”

I said that a lot when he was around, but I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but want to take care of everything for him. It felt right. Like all my life I’d been wandering, and only now found the place I was needed.

Stop thinking like that, Alex.

George glared at me—which was another good sign that he was coming back to himself.

Christ, he was so cute all swaddled like that. I clenched my jaw, nearly overwhelmed by cuteness aggression.

Do not bite him.

No biting.

I resisted the urge to pick him up and do just that—but only barely. And only because it felt imperative I get everything in order so we could brush our teeth and climb into bed.

It was late, and even though there was no way in hell I’d be waking up for the sunset hike the next morning, that didn’t mean I didn’t have stuff to do, despite what I’d told June about being on vacation.

Now that I’d discovered what sex with George was like, there was a lot I needed to figure out before the next time we did anything like this.

And we would be—doing something like this, I mean.

At least, if I had anything to say about it.

As always though, the ball was in his court. I’d have to see how he reacted in the light of day. And I really did need to figure out how exactly to…do this again. Maybe experiment? More kinks would be fun. And being in control of George had been the first time in my life I’d truly felt needed. With his ey es on me, looking to me for guidance—it was like nothing else mattered.

Not the thoughts in my head.

My insecurities.

My fears.

I’d brought him peace, but he’d brought me peace too.

He gave me somewhere to focus my boundless energy. He gave me purpose. Release.

And I wanted that again. I just…wanted to make sure I got it right. Not like Brendon, who I assumed was as much of an asshole in bed as he’d been outside it. There was no telling whether or not he and George had dabbled in a more…kink-oriented relationship? Just thinking about that made my blood fucking boil, honestly. But regardless, I doubted he gave George what he needed.

And I intended to do just that.

I’d do it the right way, too.

No going in by halves.

“You doing okay?” I checked in when I was nearly done packing up the picnic. We’d eaten a lot of the things I’d gathered so it was mostly trash I had in my arms. George grumbled in reply, which I translated to mean that he was fine. Once finished, my arms full, I debated the best course of action.

I could dump the trash off and come back for George? But I wasn’t sure his legs were working properly, and the idea of leaving him alone in the dark—given his fear of it—made me uneasy. I was lucky enough he’d been so distracted tonight he’d not once brought up the snake incident again.

Maybe…I made him feel safe?

The thought was almost too much to handle.

Too close to what I wanted.

Too close to something that would cross the line from “temporary” to “permanent.”

I shoved it away quickly, terrified of its implication.

Think, Alex. Think .

What to do…what to— Oh.

Perfect.

“Alright.” Plan decided, I knelt beside him. “I’m gonna need you to be in charge of carrying the trash.” George responded with an affronted look. I laughed. “Because I’m going to carry you .”

“I don’t need you to carry me,” he huffed, speaking for the first time since I’d had his dick down my throat. His voice was hoarse, his vulnerability evident in every rusty syllable. He was eyeing me warily—like he thought that now that I’d had him, I’d lose interest.

Ha.

Yeah right.

“Of course you don’t. But I’m going to do it anyway.” I grinned. George was too tired to protest again. Or maybe he didn’t mind being babied as much as he let on. Because soon enough the blanket was off of his shoulders and rolled up neatly in his grip along with an arm full of trash. “Cutest little raccoon I ever saw,” I cooed, enjoying the way he growled at me as I looped an arm around his back, and one beneath his knees, and hefted him up.

Trekking down a somewhat steep hill with a fully grown man in a bridal carry was easier said than done. I was glad for all my training in the gym as I was pretty damn sure if I’d been at any less than peak physical health, George and I would’ve ended up on our asses at the bottom.

We didn’t though.

Miraculously.

I didn’t want to lose my “cool guy” persona just yet.

The closer we got to the cabins, the more George stiffened up. He glanced this way and that—as though nervous we were going to get caught. Which was hilarious, given the fact that he’d been far less concerned when he’d had his pants open and his cock out. Apparently, getting caught being cuddled was exponentially worse than being caught having sex in George-Arthur-Milton-Land .

Damn he was adorable.

Seriously so fucking adorable.

Do not bite him, Alex.

My stomach gurgled so I made a detour toward the main cabin to drop off the trash and grab a snack. Sex always made me hungry, and carrying George certainly didn’t help. By the time we entered the empty kitchen, George was wriggling and struggling in my grip, so I set him down. Not because my arms were burning or anything, of course.

“I could hear your stomach growling the entire walk,” he huffed, mother-henning me again as he stomped to the fridge and began pulling out a handful of items.

“Sex makes me hungry,” I replied, and George glared at me.

“Of course it does. You didn’t eat anything.”

I’d eaten plenty of snacks. What did he mean ? —

Oh .

Oh. Naughty, naughty Georgie.

It took George a second for his words to catch up. He paled, then reddened, then stormed over to the counter. Running away was his go-to when he was overwhelmed. I let him have it. Especially because it looked like he was about to make me a bomb-ass sandwich.

Peppers, turkey, lettuce.

Far more sophisticated than the ones we’d made together earlier that day.

“Are you saying I’m hungry because I didn’t swallow your cum, George?” I teased, stalking after him with a sly grin. I leaned into his personal space and kissed his blanket-covered shoulder, just because I could. He shook me off, hands full of deli meat, his brow furrowed.

“ No. ”

“Really? Because I think that’s exactly what you’re saying.” Christ, he was irresistible when he was annoyed. Part of me had wondered if sex would change our dynamic, but it hadn’t. I was glad. I’d never had more fun with another person in my life.

There was, however, a new layer of intimacy between us.

Like a cushion.

Soft and unobtrusive. Like it should’ve been there all along.

“Stop talking about cum, and eat your sandwich.” George was apparently an olympic level sandwich maker because I hadn’t even realized he’d finished. He shoved the food against my chest, mayo—ugh—smearing on my shirt.

“You didn’t make one for you?” I took a bite, talking around my mouthful.

“Don’t talk when you’re chewing.” George’s face scrunched with disgust.

I swallowed, then smirked slyly. “Not hungry, huh? Belly full of?—”

“I will literally stab you, I swear to god.”

I shut up. Because as much as I liked to tease him, the kitchen was full of knives—and I’d learned the hard way that George followed through with some of his threats. He looked incredibly pleased with himself as I finished my sandwich in silence.

Comfortable silence.

The kind of comfortable silence that should not come after a threat to stab someone, but it did. Because I was with George, and when we were together, even the quiet was pleasant.

“Thanks,” I said when I was done washing my hands in the sink. I took my time like I always did, and George watched me soap up like it was foreplay. And then, because I remembered just how much he’d lit up when I praised him, I added, “Best goddamn sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that,” George waved me off.

His ears were red, betraying him.

George had already cleared up the mess we’d made and was waiting eagerly, his blanket draped over his shoulders like a cloak. He really did look regal like that. Regal and dorky. My own personal elf.

“C’mon, Legolas,” I urged. “Time to get that sexy ass ready for bed.”

George scoffed as I slung an arm over his shoulders, leading him back out of the kitchen and off to the tent to grab our hygiene stuff. He griped at me over how much toothpaste I used, but aside from that, was content to remain in silence at my side as we got ready for bed. Despite his chatter, it was clear how much George liked my meticulous routine.

“I knew he had a clean mouth,” he muttered to himself, thinking I couldn’t hear. I gargled more mouthwash, trying not to laugh. Of course he, of all people, would appreciate that.

Zipped up in the tent, with his nightlight on, and both of us dressed down, neither of us seemed to know what to do next. I wanted to offer him my bed again—to save him from the bugs—and steal a cuddle or two, but had a feeling, especially after how vulnerable he’d been during sex, if I offered he’d refuse.

I was wrong.

George surprised me once again.

“Alex…?” George’s voice was small—like it had been the night before when he’d tapped me with his cold fingers and put aside his pride to ask for help. He didn’t look at me, arms stiff at his sides, minute trembles shaking his sexy hands.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I could…maybe?—”

“Of course.” I didn’t make him finish the question, instead striding over to my mattress and sleeping bag with purpose. “I’ll double-check it for bugs first, okay?” I promised, even though I doubted anything had snuck inside there.

“Thank you.” George watched me as I worked, checking every nook and cranny. Because I’d remembered how cold he’d gotten the previous night, I made sure to turn the space heater on a bit hotter before returning to the freshly inspected sleeping bag with a smile that I hoped was enticing.

“You want to be little spoon or big spoon?” I offered.

George didn’t reply; he just climbed onto the mattress and slipped inside the sleeping bag, wiggling all the way toward the edge. He faced away from me, which I suppose was his answer to my question. Pleased, I snuck in behind him, twisted to zip us up, then settled at his back. It felt second nature to sling my arm over George’s torso and pull him in close. He shivered when I nuzzled the back of his ear, lacing a few unassuming kisses there to show him just how much I appreciated his vulnerability.

“Georgie?” I said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. He’d gone lax in my arms, his breathing deep and easy. Not asleep yet though, if the way he was absentmindedly playing with my fingers was any indication.

I didn’t want to wake him up, but I figured I needed to know.

“When you were with…asshole-Mc-fuck-face,” I began. George made that high-pitched noise he only did when he was trying not to laugh. “Did he…you know…” I paused, realizing that was the wrong question. “Was he your Dom?” There. Better.

“Yes.” George’s voice was quiet. It was all the answer I needed.

“And that’s something…you want? Not because of him, but because?—”

“Yes. I want it.”

“Okay.” I sucked in a breath, thoughts whirling. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I felt validated. Validated that what I’d assumed was reality. That I’d read him correctly. But that didn’t change the fact that this revelation proved Brendon’s abuse had run far deeper than surface-level. He’d taken George’s trust and he’d…

He’d crushed it.

At least…if the way George talked about him was any indicator.

It made me so fucking angry. So goddamn livid—that anyone could take such a gift and twist it into something so?—

“Go to sleep,” George replied, still playing with my fingers. “Stop worrying so much.”

My swirling thoughts stilled. The anger fled. Just like that.

It was funny. He was such a cute little hypocrite. Telling me not to worry—when that was all he ever did. But…it worked, despite this.

Because George was here in my arms, not with Brendon. George was safe . George was cared for, cuddled, and pampered the way he deserved to be. There was no need to waste what little time we had together chasing apparitions.

I hid against the back of his hair. It was soft. So soft. Tickling my nose as I nuzzled into it, inhaling the scent of his cologne greedily. Or maybe that was his shampoo? Either way, he smelled amazing. He always did.

“I’m not worrying,” I lied, realizing—belatedly—that we hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room from this morning. Specifically, the way he’d run away from me, worrying . “I’m just…ruminating.”

“Ruminating about what?” George said when I didn’t finish my thought.

Now I felt guilty for what I was about to say, simply because I was teasing him again—and here he was being adorable and grumpy and sleepy in my arms. I held him tighter, debating whether or not to open my mouth.

George sighed. “You’re going to say something stupid, aren’t you?”

“You know me so well.”

“Spit it out,” he replied with amusement that he tried to hide. “So that we can sleep.”

“Okay…” I grinned, something fizzy and bright buzzing in my stomach. Not between my legs this time, but higher up. Like butterflies were actually a thing, and I had a whole colony dancing around in there. “I was just going to promise…not to run away if I wake up tomorrow morning with a boner.”

George froze.

I waited, eager.

He was either going to elbow me or smile—either would be lovely.

Instead, he laughed, once again defying expectations.

His whole frame shook with it. Another one of his choking, snorting fits. My favorite. My favorite thing in the whole goddamn world. Like he couldn’t get a breath in, he was so overwhelmed with joy.

I joined him, chuckling against his shoulder, unable to help myself, because Georgie’s happiness was contagious.

Like the flu.

“Shut the fuck up,” George wheezed between snorts. “That is not—that’s just. That’s mean ?—”

“I’m just saying—” I spoke over him, seeing how long I could drag this out. “That getting a boner while being in bed with a handsome guy is a totally normal reaction. And in my world a little grinding is always welcome.”

“Ohmygod. Good night , Alex.” George continued to giggle and I did too.

When we finally fell asleep, we both had smiles on our faces.

Tomorrow, we could worry about what the future held for us. I could worry about the wedding. About learning. About being a better temporary partner than Brendon had ever been as a permanent one. I could worry about the timer ticking over our heads, the very thing that kept me from being the one to run.

But tomorrow had never felt further away than it did right then.

And I only had Georgie to blame for that.