Chapter Text
Lewis' braids are different. Before, they were done close to the head, nago style and starting from the hair root to the ends, braiding the entire length of the dark curls. Now, the locks are braided with black coloured jumbo and secured in a ponytail. He is wearing a set of double jeans and a white tank top with matching trainers, refusing to go out poorly dressed even if the London sky is falling in rain. In his hands, he carries his car key and the black-covered photo album.
He is still the most gorgeous human being George has ever laid eyes on.
After George recovered from his shock and was able to process the information more calmly, he managed to control his body enough to move to the side, allowing the older man to enter. When Lewis stepped through the door and George felt his scent disperse into the air, the shiver was immediate, the chill running through him entirely, from head to toe, and the already unsteady pace of his heart only quickened further.
Damn, he missed that smell so much it physically hurts.
The mood is heavy as they sit on the large sofa, each at one end. George tries to control the physical instinct to get as close as possible, unable to look away from him, even though his face is burning and he's hyper aware of his own looks, the heavy jumpers with oversized sweatshirts he wore to stay at home and the messy hair after spending hours lying on the couch watching the sitcom. Staring at Lewis after purposely avoiding the older man for so long causes as much embarrassment as an urge to approach him like a moth towards a flame.
George had imagined this moment many times in the nights when the pain of solitude was too strong and wouldn't let him sleep, his thoughts all focused on Lewis and how he missed the elder's presence, his touch, his caresses. He tried to picture the hurt look he would receive, the sorrow dripping in waves down his brown irises, the shield that had been formed to keep him out almost palpable in the doctor's body language after being kicked out of his life as someone of no importance.
But it's not like that at all.
Lewis hasn't looked away from the younger at any time since he sat down, his face illegible but his intense eyes refusing to deviate from George's sky-blue ones. They've been silent for a while, just staring at each other, almost a game to see who will risk breaking it first and make the first move. After asking if he could come in, Lewis said nothing more and the silence ate George alive, the lingering uncertainty of what gesture to make, what words to say, burning.
George takes a risk.
"Did you get the album I asked to be given to you?" It' a stupid question and his voice comes out faltered and breathless. The photo album is being held tightly by Lewis' tattooed hands, as if the object is going to slip out at any moment and the older is trying to avoid it. So yes, it's pretty obvious he found it in the letterbox.
George wants to open the loft window and throw himself out.
But instead of answering, Lewis turns the cover over, opening it.
George feels nervous tears prickling behind his eyeballs and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It feels like he is tied onto tracks and a high-speed train is approaching, an imminent but inevitable disaster. Lewis' silence stings deeply, it feeds the disastrous scenarios George has created countless times during their time apart. Nothing good can come from such a deadly silence.
The man in front of him turns the album towards George and holds it out, still gripping it tightly, the white-coloured back cover is marred only by the student's cursive handwriting. There lies a sentence cautiously written in black pen ink.
06/12: Thank you for gifting me with a forever even if he came with his days counted.
"What's that?" Lewis's voice is tight, as if he is controlling himself. A black panther about to attack, camouflaging itself in the tree shadows and stretching his muscles backwards as he targets his prey, about to leap upon it and strike the fatal blow. George gulps dryly, feeling very much like the prey about to be attacked.
"That's the line you wrote-"
"Is this some kind of twisted game to you?"
George raises his eyes from the cover, staring at the older man. Lewis's eyes are burning like embers, glaring at George just like the boy had feared all this time: as the younger were a menace, someone unrecognizable, the person who had broken his heart into a thousand tiny pieces without mercy and now tries to come back into his life as if he had the right to ask for at least a little of his attention and the love that, in the past, he received completely and without limitation.
The first teardrop falls, sliding silently down George's cheek.
"I don't understand." The student whispers.
"The only person who isn't understanding is me, George." Lewis takes a deep breath, placing the album beside him on the sofa and running his large hands through his braids in a gesture that reflects how exhausted he feels. "I haven't understood anything for the past eight months and I can't deal with it anymore. Why did you send an album full of our memories with the date you left me and the line I wrote to try to bring you back? Why are you doing this to me?"
George had always looked up to Lewis's strength. The way he carried himself always composed and poised in the most terrible moments. He didn't know if it was something inherent in the man, of his being, or was it acquired with the profession always full of surprises and turbulent times, but George on rare occasions saw the elder break down. This was one of those. Lewis looked vulnerable and defeated, like a man who long ago lost the battle and now tries to survive only to tell the tale, scarred and destroyed by war memories.
"I want an explanation and you will give it to me. No more lies or excuses. I want to know why you left me the way you did." The older man demands, looking firmly at him. No other alternatives here: Lewis wants the answers and he will get them. He will get them because George will give all the responses he demands.
George will no longer allow himself to be the source of Lewis's pain. Ever again. Not intentionally.
"That was my one year gift to you." He reveals. "The photo album. I was going to give it to you that night."
Lewis leans back as if slapped, frowning in confusion and a shade of pain darkening his face, eyes going from George to the album and back to the younger. That was clearly not the answer he had expected to hear. "What?"
"I've never felt smaller than I did that night, Lew." George begins. "I looked at you and saw how bright you are. Like the sun. All I could think about was how you deserve the best things in the world, how all your wishes and desires should be given to you in the blink of an eye on a silver platter or something cheesy like that. You've achieved so much, overcome so many things and prove yourself every day a wonderful man who can have anything he wants."
"And then I would look at myself and it was almost laughable at how someone like you chosen to be with a student thirteen years younger who could barely pay for his university books without his older boyfriend's money or his parents' funds, who needed to carry a card with your name on it to buy his own food. I would wake up every day and look at myself and all I could think about was how I could improve myself to be the person you deserve, but there was no way. No matter what I did, Lewis, it never seemed to be enough for me to feel like someone worthy of you. There's nothing more painful than feeling insufficient for the person you are deeply in love with. Everything hurt so much. There were days I really hated myself and couldn't stop feeling like a failure. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that you loved me or to ignore my own conscience trying to drag me down, all I could think about was how I was a burden in your life, taking away every chance you had of finding someone who could really make you happy."
George is crying now, tears falling unstoppably and he runs his hands roughly over his cheeks, trying to wipe them away. He is panting, his breath coming out in short, sharp breaths, copiously pulling in and out the air to try keep pace with the fast moving tears. If he stops now, he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to put it all out again.
"And then you took me to that amazing, expensive restaurant and the price of a starter dish was four times what I spent making this album for you. And I broke. And I'm so sorry, Lewis, you never deserved anything that I put you through. Please believe me, you're perfect. I didn't mean anything I said that night Lewis, I never for a second stopped loving you. And I regret it so, so much-"
George can't complete the sentence because Lewis' large hands wrap around his cheeks tightly and the next thing he knows he has soft lips touching his in a desperate, hungry kiss. Familiar lips that have touched his countless times before. George whimpers loudly, grabbing the older's arm tightly and deepening the kiss. He missed it so much and now that he finally gets to taste it again, wonders how managed to survive. The slightest possibility of going back to not being able to feel Lewis' lips on his sending a rush of pain into his chest.
Lewis drops one of his strong hands to George's hips and carefully pulls the boy onto his lap, laying him on his side and cradling his back as George rests his head on the older man's shoulder, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. He listens to Lewis crooning, rocking him lightly and stroking his hair.
"I need you to take a deep breath, angel."
"I'm not done talking."
"I know, but it's hurting me to see you like this." Lewis turns his head slightly and places a soft kiss on the boy's forehead. "Try to calm down and then you can pick up where you left off, I'm not going anywhere."
George sobs lowly, grabbing a fistful of his tank top, such searing relief coursing through his entire body that he feels weak in the older's arms. Lewis wasn't going away. Even after all the time, all the silence, the times he hung up the phone, deleted messages, denied calls - even after all his lack of kindness, Lewis wasn't going away.
They stand there for a long period of time waiting for George to calm down, the student still being cradled by the caring hands and listening to the soothing whispers. They stay like that until George's breathing normalizes and tears stop falling, heartbeats pacifying themselves. With a peacefulness he hasn't felt for eight months, George begins to speak again.
"I know how wrong I was now. That I deserve to be happy as much as I want you to be happy." He stirs on Lewis's lap until he can look up into the handsome face, assessing his reactions. "I'm going to therapy, it's helping me a lot."
"I know and I'm very proud." At the younger man's confused look, Lewis replies. "I asked Seb to keep me in the loop if anything happened to you. I have to keep an eye on my baby and make sure he's okay, okay?"
And George wants to laugh and let out some witty comments, but he can't. Because the sense of injustice for Lewis is eatin' at him. He has hurt the man in front of him, someone who never made him feel less loved or wanted, who woke up every day with the purpose of making him feel cherished. Someone who cared for him even from a distance, respecting his decision but making sure he was okay even if he couldn't be the one watching him closely.
"I hurt you." George whispers.
Lewis pauses, looking deeply at the younger. He missed his boy so much that there were days he felt like he was going to lose his mind, finally succumbing to madness after what he considered most precious had been ripped from him. The first few months were the worst, naturally. Frustration and anger at himself hitting him like stray bullets every day when he woke up and found the empty space beside him in bed, when he came home from a long shift at the hospital and only Roscoe greeted him, as downhearted as he felt, when he thought about how and where he was able to go wrong with George enough that the younger stopped loving him, so suddenly. Not understanding where he went wrong was probably the worst: he couldn't fix what he didn't know was broken.
So when George didn't return his calls and didn't answer his texts for the first few weeks, he realized that there was nothing he could do to convince the boy to come back. He didn't want to go to Charles's loft and cause a scene, nor did he want to upset George who, if wasn't answering, was because he didn't want to talk or see him. He organized the photography student's things that he had purposely hidden when Charles came to get them, hoping that George would sooner or later seek him out for the items and have a reason to at least look at Lewis (he wasn't proud of this childish attitude, but was desperate), and sent everything back along with the letter.
Lewis lifts George's head from his shoulder and gently removes the boy from his lap, carefully uncurling the hands that are clutched in the fabric of his tank top and ignoring the pout. He moves him until the student is facing him and they are both staring at each other again, this time closer, only a few inches apart, and every time Lewis watches the big blue eyes closely he feels the same urge to submerge himself in them, without looking back.
"I made some mistakes in this story too, Georgie."
"Lewis-"
"Let me continue, please." He scolds the younger man, who presses his lips together and nods stiffly, willing to let Lewis do, well, whatever he wanted if it meant the man was still there, giving him attention. "Angel, I realized you were acting weird a few weeks before the... day, but I chose to let it go because I didn't want to pressure you and I figured you'd come to me when you were ready."
Lewis realizes the mistake he has made now. He didn't imagine for a second that George had insecurities about their relationship disturbing him, the boy always a witty presence. At the time he thought it was university issues, George always a bit paranoid about getting high grades and reaching the top of the class, so he waited until the younger was ready to let off his steam, not wanting to pressure him. Now, he can't help but wonder how this whole mess could have been avoided if he had stepped in and questioned what was going on, how he could have avoided so much pain and longing.
"I didn't imagine for a second that you doubted you were good enough for me." Lewis shakes his head, as if the idea is in itself bizarre. "You're not only good enough as you're the only one I really want, angel. I'm afraid you've ruined me for anyone else, really."
They laugh softly, but Lewis knows it's not a lie at all.
"I am so proud of how you sought professional help. I hope it was enough to understand that I am capable of making my own decisions." Lewis brings one of his hands to the younger man's chin, tilting his head up slightly so that all his attention is focused on him. "I'm the only one who can decide what I want, Georgie, I'm old enough to determine what or who is the best for me. I understand you didn't mean any harm and I don't blame you, angel."
George swears by God, he will never meet anyone as celestial as this man.
"But you can't decide for other people what you think is best for them. That hurt me." Lewis pauses, before taking a deep breath and speaking firmly. "And I know, for sure, that who I want is you."
George closes his eyes again, the crushing weight of the gaze of the man in front of him a force to be reckoned with, and a needy sound escapes his throat without permission. He longs for the elder so much that it shakes every structure that forms him, a magnetic force pulling him uninterruptedly towards Lewis. And then he does what his body, his heart, has been urging him to do since he opened the door and leans in without allowing himself much thought, wrapping one of his own hands around the elder's cheek, bringing their lips together.
Please don't push me away.
Lewis doesn't. Instead, he brings both hands to his hips, holding them in a firm grip, and dives in. Their kiss makes George feel electrified, a current of energy crossing his body hard and spreading. He strongly craves more and leans even closer towards the older man, not parting his lips for a moment. The movement is poorly calculated and George throws himself off balance, placing his hand on any surface he can find to avoid falling to the side. His hand lands on Lewis' bulge hidden beneath his jeans and the older man groans hoarsely, breaking the kiss and looking down.
George can feel the atmosphere in the room changing, the desire of both of them thickening the air. He looks at Lewis, a question in his eyes, but the older man looks wiped out with just a touch, still aiming the boy's hand over his clothed cock. Then he rubs the area, cautiously pressing the volume there, the still soft cock reacting to his touch and pulsing hard under the fabric of his jeans.
"Fuck." Lewis moans, her large, tattooed hand wrapping the thinner one over his bulge and helping the languid motion she's making. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."
And George wants to laugh because he can't think of anything in the world he wants more in that moment than to be able to feel Lewis that way again. "I want this, Lew. I want you."
And Lewis must be satisfied with the answer, because the next thing George knows he's lying on the sofa with his legs spread out, Lewis between them with eager fingers tugging at his sweatpants with ease, dragging the fabric swiftly between the younger's long legs. George arches his hips to help and moans loudly as he feels teeth biting and scraping the inside of one of his thighs, Lewis's hand moving teasingly to his ass and squeezing.
George's panties are slick in the center with pre-cum, the fluid darkening the fabric and smothering his member in a pungent grip. He moves his hands to remove the cloth and finally free his aching cock when Lewis releases his ass and holds his wrists in a firm grip, restraining the move to wrap the whole of George's cock under his panties with his mouth and suck. George cries out.
"Oh god, Lewis." Hiccups come out of his mouth as pleasure shoots through his entire body when he feels the hot, experienced tongue tracing his cock over his panties. Suction only increasing the libido inside him and he shudders hard, his hips moving involuntarily chasing the warmth of the tongue over his member. "Take it off, please."
Lewis pulls away with a light kiss on the bulge, the fabric now wet with precum and saliva. "My baby is so eager, isn't he? Look how wet you are."
A thick index finger runs along the length, and Lewis lets out a satisfied chuckle as George's cock convulses over the touch, desperate for attention. The younger man can't even care how greedily his body reacts, desperate for any action. "Don't tease me, please. I need you."
With one last delicate, apologetic kiss on the boy's knee, Lewis slides his pants off carefully and George feels as if he might actually cry when his cock pops out, pink at the tip and glistening with pre-cum under the loft's artificial light. He blushes intensely when Lewis grabs both his ankles and positions his feet on the sofa, leaving him spread open and accessible, ready for anything the older man is willing to give him.
Lewis takes a sharp deep breath as he looks over there and approaches like a starved man, licking a long stripe from the winking hole to the perineum and back to the hole, repeating the gesture eagerly until George feels his whole body burning in a delightful way. "I missed this so much, baby. I missed you so much."
He dives in eagerly, his tongue moving deftly over the hole and at that point he's just fucking the younger with his tongue, George's neglected cock burning for attention and he arches his back hard when he feels a big, hot hand enveloping him completely, lewd moans falling from his lips with the absolute pleasure he feels under Lewis's care.
"A finger… put a finger in, Lew." George pleads, feeling like he might lose his sanity if he doesn't feel something inside him at that very moment.
Lewis looks up guilty. "I didn't bring lube, angel."
"Don't need it. I don't need it. Please, just get in." George knows it's crazy, and that Lewis's length would probably literally tear him apart if they tried it without any kind of lube, but he can't care about the consequences after so long without feeling the older man's touch.
"I'm not fucking you without lube."
A loud whimper comes from the younger's lips, real tears of both frustration and desire prickling his eyes. He wants Lewis so badly, can't he see it? "I need you, please."
"And my cock is leaking because of you, but I still won't fuck you without any lube, angel." Lewis releases the younger man's cock and reaches up to wrap his palms around George's cheek carefully, the boy closing his eyes tightly when he feels how wet they are from his own pre-cum. God, the effect this man has on him. "Hey, look at me." George obeys. "Think about it, Georgie, don't you guys have any around here?"
George gives an insulted pout.
"I haven't had sex with anyone after you."
He doesn't miss how Lewis's eyes darken with both satisfaction and jealousy, "Well, I hope not."
A firm peck is pressed to his lips.
"Charles, baby. Doesn't he keep any here?" George looks around at the older's question, trying to get his brain to think. This here is worth a Lewis Hamilton dicking, okay, a lot is at stake.
He almost squeals with delight when he remembers the collection of lubricants tucked away in his friend's bedside drawer, thanking the heavens that Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly are the reincarnation of two rabbits in heat and every occasion for them is the perfect time to try and breed, George himself being a more than recurring visual victim of their mischief (we're talking real trauma here).
"In the drawer next to his headboard. It's the bed on the left side of the black fabric." Lewis nods and George sighs in ecstasy as the man hooks his hands under his thighs and pulls him up in one thrust, moving George's legs until they are circling his hips. Lewis crosses the vastness of the loft and carries him with ease to the bedroom area, taking care not to step on the many canvases he finds along the way.
George's "bedroom" was on the loft's right side, closer to the windows as it was a late addition, an improvisation to give him a place to settle in after the breakup, and the falling rain is louder here, the raindrops from the storm hitting the window fiercely, pounding violently on the glass. Charles' room was in the center, hidden from the eye by the black fabric that divided the area and gave the two a little privacy, and it is there that Lewis goes to look for the lube after carefully laying George on his own bed, the half-naked boy still shivering slightly.
George uses the brief pause to remove his sweatshirt, getting totally naked on the bed to make Lewis' job easier and he gives the older man a teasing smile when he returns, bottle of lube in his hands and his eyes roaming the boy's body hungrily.
"Damn, angel, look at you." Lewis moves closer, throwing the bottle of lube carelessly on the bed and draping his big, strong hands over George's long legs. He traces fervent kisses from ankle, knees, thighs, torso and attacks the neck eagerly, distributing bites and hickeys across the smooth, soft skin. "You're a fuckin' sight, all perfect."
"Just for you." George sighs breathlessly, his head thrown back to give Lewis' eager mouth full access, feeling his whole being trembling with the purest lust and desire to give himself completely to the older man. "Just for you, Lew."
"Just for me, right?" Lewis takes one last light bite of his neck, before lifting his head and aiming at George's eyes, the blue orbs unfocused and steeped in so much want that he grunts hard, moving forward to attack his parted lips. The kiss is desperate and a little confused, with the younger too weak to react.
Lewis pulls away again with a quick peck, scooping up the lube tossed on the bed and opening the lid with a pop, his eyes not a second straying from the pliant boy sprawled on the bed. When George moves to turn and face the bed, a quick, stubborn hand clasps his hip and the older man shakes his head, a firm I want to look at you being the only explanation he gets.
A large amount of lube is poured over his thick fingers and Lewis blows to warm them, his other hand lazily stroking George's cock in a languid caress, almost going insane under the low whimpers the younger lets escape. He spreads the long legs in front of him with a heavy hand on the inside of his thigh, fingers dancing temptingly over the edge of George's hole.
"Inside... put it inside." Lewis complies with the desperate request and sticks a lubricated finger in, grunting low with the tightness around it. How he managed to survive so long away from this boy is a mystery.
Lewis moves his fingers precisely, dragging them slowly, George's greedy walls practically sucking him in. He repeats the moves until he hears the younger's unsatisfied whimper, adding another finger and stretching his free arm to grab the bottle of lube again, opening the lid and pouring more of the viscous liquid over George's occupied hole.
"Look how well you take my fingers, angel." Lewis whispers, his eyes focused on the thrusts his fingers were making and how George was taking him so well, shuddering and gasping with pure desire, incoherent sobs coming out of his pink lips. The boy looked completely destroyed even with the little action, moving his own hips to meet the thick fingers invading him inside.
"I want you inside me, please." George chokes, looking down to meet the brown eyes that watched him hungrily, barely able to feel shame at the way the older man stared with burning pleasure running through him. "Please please please."
"I am inside you, baby." Lewis grins teasingly, slipping another finger into the hole, watching amused as George closes his eyes tightly and sobs, shaking his head deliriously on the pillow.
The boy was a heavenly sight, lying sweetly all pliant on the white duvet, the light of the full moon coming in through the window and landing on his porcelain skin, a layer of sweat making him glow. Lewis wanted to ruin him, to make George never even consider leaving him again, to lock the boy in a state of ecstasy and satisfaction so overwhelming that he was never going to try to leave again.
"I want you inside me, Lew."
Lewis takes a deep breath and carefully removes his fingers, pulling away and getting up from the bed to undress. In his rush to make George feel good, the longing eating him up hard, he barely paid attention to his own body's reactions, but now he can feel how heavy his cock is in his pants, rock hard and he hurries to get his clothes off and get back to his boy as quickly as possible.
George can only watch from the bed, his eyes focused on how Lewis' tattooed hands strip him out of all his expensive, stylish clothes and when the older man pulls down his pants, he feels himself moaning loudly. Lewis's cock bounces as soon as it's released, thick and beautiful and glowing with desire.
"Want to suck you."
Lewis approaches the bed, kneeling on it, and George resists the natural urge to push forward over the man's length, only a few inches of distance separating them. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."
George whimpers loudly.
"I want to suck you off and then you fuck me, Lew. Please." The boy is already propping his elbows up, waiting for permission, ready to beg if necessary to have that cock in his mouth.
"So greedy.” Lewis chuckled. “Be my guest, angel."
George is propped up on his elbows in front of Lewis in seconds, the older man kneeling on the white duvets and taking a hand to the boy's hair, stroking it affectionately before grabbing a lock hard enough to make George whimper and move his face closer towards his cock. George closes his fingers into a fist on the long length stroking it with intent and opens his mouth to wrap around the tip of the cock, sucking hard.
The taste of Lewis is so familiar in his mouth that he hears himself moaning, sinking onto the cock more vigorously and rolling his tongue, going up and down guided by the heavy hand in his hair. Lewis is groaning hard, his head thrown back and he looks gorgeous. Like a fucking god. The veins of his tense arms stand out as he guides George's head further down and moans loudly at the ceiling, the braids that have come loose from his ponytail after the commotion shaping his face beautifully. Lewis is indescribably handsome on a day-to-day basis, but when he's sunk in pleasure, he's a fucking sight.
"Fuck, angel." Lewis lowers his head to face George's watery blue eyes and groans loud at the sight of the boy taking his cock so well in his mouth. "Just like that. I love your mouth. Love your mouth so fucking much."
George looks at Lewis through his eyelashes and sucks harder, wanting to see the man above him crumble in ecstasy. Lewis deserves it.
He continues for longer, until he feels hands on his elbows pulling him up quickly. "Enough. Lay on your back."
George obeys and watches as Lewis takes the bottle of lube again, pouring a generous amount over his already wet cock, and spreads the liquid over the length with long strokes as he positions himself between the younger's already spread open legs.
Lewis leans in to kiss George's lips gently, his hands resting on either side of the boy's head, and George cries out loud enough for his voice to overcome the storm noise outside as Lewis enters him in a sharp thrust of his hips, his cock filling him so well that the boy sees literal stars.
"Fuck." Lewis grunts as he enters the tight heat, his head falling forward onto George's shoulder as he lifts his hips to come back even harder. "Fuck, angel."
George can only moan incoherently, gripping the duvets beneath him and lost in his own pleasure. The bliss so intense he's literally shaking, shallow tears finally falling over his cheeks and he can't even care how ruined he must look under Lewis, the tips of the older's loose braids scratching his cheeks with the thrusts. He just takes it.
"So good, Lewis." He sobs, moving his hands from the duvets to the man's back, gripping the skin there. "Feel so full...it's so big...so good."
"Yes, baby?" Lewis murmurs, turning his head to press a hard kiss to the slender throat. "You'll never leave me again, huh? Say it."
George shakes his head desperately, feeling more tears of pleasure and relief burn in his eyes. Never again. He's never going to leave Lewis again.
"Say it for me, George." Lewis grabs the younger's chin, forcing him to open his blurred eyes and stare at him. Lewis has to hold a curse at how broken he looks, his cheeks red and stained from shed tears, his lips bitten and red. "Say it for me, angel, please."
George gulps at Lewis's vulnerable, desperate tone.
"I'll never leave you again, Lew." He whispers, firmness covering every word. "Never again, I promise."
Lewis sighs heavily before closing his eyes, thrusting his hips even faster, pounding into him with such force that George arches his back, moaning so loudly that he fears the neighbors will have a new reason to hate them (and it won't even be Charles' fault this time).
Lewis hits him so well, so deep. The balls slapping with an audible lewd sound into the boy's ass, lube wetting the area and making the sound of the skins meeting even more obscene. George feels the familiar firestorm forming, moving his hips with more determination to meet the Lewis' thrusts and his moans lingering longer.
Lewis must notice he's getting closer and grabs his neglected cock, stroking it quickly and firmly. “I can feel you tightening up around me, angel. I know you need to come. Let's go… cum for me."
George's body strains with tension, the fire in him spreading stronger and the walls contracting impossibly tighter around the strokes of Lewis's cock and then he's coming with a howl, spilling over Lewis's hand and abdomen like a fountain. For a moment, all Lewis can do is keep drilling him hard and watch the mess he's created before stopping with a pointedly deep thrust.
George looks beautiful after he cums, Lewis observes. The cloudy blue eyes gleaming with ecstasy, framed by the long wet eyelashes; the mouth glowing red from the bites and the face flushed hard, the red extending from his face to the boy's chest. Like a fucking dream.
The two of them stand still for a while, only the gasping breaths of both and the raindrops whipping off the window being heard, waiting for the younger to recover from the orgasm, until a breathless You can keep going now come out and Lewis presses a firm kiss to his parted mouth, starting to move his hips again.
It doesn't take long for him to recover the pace from before and he pistons hard into George's walls, his eyes not straying for a moment from his post-fuck face and feeling his own orgasm approaching. He rests his hands more firmly on the pillow beneath them and speeds up his hips, only stopping to grind against the younger's ass for a few seconds before speeding up again.
"Come inside me, Lew." George whispers weakly, a lazy smile on his bitten lips. "I've missed you cumming inside me so much."
Lewis comes hard, shooting inside George and staining him, both of them groaning as they feel the liquid spilling onto his walls, a few drops escaping and forming a ring on the swollen edge of George's hole. Lewis plunges shallowly a few more times, short strokes just to relish the sensation, before carefully pulling out when George whimpers with hypersensitivity.
Immersed in a state of semi-consciousness, George can only lie there and sigh weakly as he feels Lewis' fingers tracing his skin affectionately, feathery kisses being distributed across it and braids sliding over his torso.
"Come on, angel, let's get cleaned up."
Charl
Morning, Sunflower.
Any news?
Hold on. What?
To Charl
What have you done, Charles Leclerc?
Charl
Oh, nothing at all
Just said you were home alone when he asked
George stares at the screen with an entertained smile, listening to the soft sounds of spoons hitting the bottom of the pan, knives slicing fruit, feet dragging snugly and whistling melodies that is the symphony formed by Lewis Hamilton in the kitchen. It's domestic and the huge, airy loft space feels, for the first time since George moved in, like a home he could actually return to.
And it is then that he realizes that home, for him, is not about where he is, but where he and Lewis are.
He and the older man could decide to live in a thatched house on an island isolated from any kind of civilization, with miles of water surrounding them, living out of coconut water and hand-caught fish and everything would still be perfect. It would be perfect because they would be together.
"Here, angel." Lewis places a cup of homemade coffee in front of him, always ready to satisfy his cravings, even if he'd rather take a gunshot than take a sip of the dark liquid. "Your pancakes are almost ready."
George leans towards the man as he sits down, a bowl of apples, bananas and chia seed crunched in his tattooed hands, "You didn't have to do that."
"What do you mean? I have to look after my baby." Lewis deposits a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "When are you coming home?"
The question is asked with disguised ease, Lewis's voice softer than usual, but George can identify the hint of insecurity beneath the layer of softness. George can see it in the way the older man squeezes the spoon a little harder, his eyes lowered towards the cut fruit in the bowl he holds in his other hand, his lower lip being bitten lightly after uttering the question. It was a vulnerability Lewis would not allow himself to show to anyone else, always the picture of strength and resilience. George could only feel grateful that he was opening up to him in this way, even after months of being apart.
"What?" He whispers, disbelieving. "You want me to come back to your house?"
"I want you to go back to our house." Lewis corrects him, a stern look scolding him, and George understands the gravity of the situation. Our house. It's his house too. Okay.
George is silent for a good while, just watching the Lewis' dark irises, still not believing that the man in front of him is willing to try again after eight months. Lewis stares back at him steadily, without faltering.
"You still want me after everything?"
Lewis sighs heavily and sets the bowl of fruit down on the countertop to take George's hands in his and hold them, fingers dancing over gently.
"When you left, I spent days in complete despair trying to figure out where I went wrong. Each day was worse than the last because I couldn't understand why you left me and I felt like I was losing you more and more, the chances of us coming back becoming smaller as time went on." Lewis's eyes blur, as if reliving memories from months ago. "Seb was trying to help me as much as he could, but I was... well, impossible. I probably gave him some headaches."
"As time passed, the anger I felt for myself was also directed at us and I felt so angry at how I allowed you to come into my heart and get hold of it only to leave, causing everything around me to become a real hell. But it only lasted a short time, I can't stay mad at my angel for long, you know that." He smiles fondly at George who returns it, trembling. "So I tried to move on with life, but I just couldn't leave you behind and I tried, Georgie, I tried so hard - but I kept asking Sebastian how you were, how your studies were, what you were doing. I just couldn't not think about you."
Lewis takes a deep breath. "And then I received the photo album."
George looks at the black-covered album resting on the large couch, carefully deposited on the upholstery by Lewis. How can something so small carry such big meaning?
"I got so mad when I saw the date with the line on it. I thought you were trying to provoke me, hurt me somehow and I didn't understand." George opens his mouth to try and explain himself, but Lewis puts a thumb over his lips to silence him, massaging the flesh lightly there. "I know I misunderstood the situation, angel. I'm sorry."
George nods, relieved. He would never do anything to intentionally hurt Lewis, let alone with something as delicate as their break-up.
"The pictures are beautiful, Georgie." Lewis has a look of wonder on his face, pride filling every space on his face. He looks sincere and that touches something deep in George's heart. Knowing that the love of his life, someone as capable and special as Lewis admires and respects his work is more than satisfying: it gives him a purpose to keep going. "You're so talented, angel."
George laughs joyfully, a loving Thank You, Lew escaping his lips. The love he feels for that man inflating hard in his chest.
"I want you back, Georgie, I'll always want you." There isn't a trace of hesitation in Lewis' voice and it flows through the room so smoothly, carrying soft, affection-filled promises. "But I need to make sure that's what you want too. I can't-I can't deal with you leaving again, angel. Once already hurt too much."
George turns his face towards the hand that holds his cheek gently and presses a firm kiss, trying to pass as much confidence as possible to Lewis through the gesture.
"I love you." George speaks and there is not a trace of doubt in his voice, there never was when the subject was how he felt about Lewis. "I didn't leave because I stopped loving you, I left because I thought you deserved more than I could give you."
Lewis shakes his head, eyes hurt.
"I understand that I was wrong now, Lew. I can make you happy because your happiness to me is the most important thing. I can make you happy in my own way." George gets up from his chair and moves to sit on the older's lap, coffee cup forgotten on the countertop and the need to be as close to Lewis as possible overcoming anything. "Please let me try again."
Lewis welcomes him with strong hands on his hips and rubbing his nose against George's neck, a breathless, happy laugh coming out of his mouth.
"Roscoe will be beyond the moon to have his second favorite person back."
"But he's always had you."
"Okay, listen here, you little brat."
They are in Sebastian's place. It is a small house with earth-coloured walls, hera-japanese vines creeping over it and large windows framed by white wood. The spotlight is on the yard behind the house with the nurse's huge garden - there are angelonias, boxwoods, milk cups flowers and grasses swaying vehemently in the London winter wind along with numerous children's toys and a playground.
Lewis's arms are wrapped around George's waist, firm chest resting on the lean back, his chin resting on the younger's slender shoulder. They are watching Sebastian's daughters run excitedly in the backyard grass with Roscoe, the dog's cheerful barks mingling with the children's enthusiastic shouts. Sebastian and his wife are sitting at a table, listening to Charles telling them once again how he threw paint at his classmate who tried to steal and hide one of his paintings to try to get in the way of the Monegasque's exhibition while Pierre nods his head seriously in agreement with his boyfriend's antics. Sebastian looks unimpressed.
"Have you ever thought about it?" Lewis whispers softly near the boy's ear and George startles, turning his attention away from the children and Roscoe.
"About what?"
There is silence until Lewis gently turns him around.
"About starting a family." He places a kiss on George's forehead, murmuring softly into his skin. "With me."
George feels his breath hitch in his throat. "Lewis?"
It's been a year and a few months since they got back together and George's life was back on track. He kept going to therapy until Susie declared that her work was finished and the younger only needed to go once a month, more as a way to clear his mind than really a necessity. He's currently in his penultimate year of college alongside Charles and he continues to work independently as a freelancer, his niche of clients increasing considerably and his black and white photos attracting the attention of professors and art galleries in the city. And Lewis is by his side, supporting him through every moment.
"We can wait for you to enter senior year, or until you finish your college. But I think we'd be great parents, just saying, Roscoe looks like he's living his best life." Lewis has an amused smile on his lips, but his eyes are gleaming in seriousness and purpose.
It doesn't look like he's imposing anything on George, and the younger knows it's a suggestion between the lines: I'd be very happy to start a family, but I want it to be with you and I want us to be ready for it.
"Do you want to start a family with me?" George asks and he feels like a broken record, but he needs to be sure.
"Yes, angel."
Thank God they're away from the table with all the other people because the sob George lets out is embarrassingly loud.
Holy cow, he's going to start a family with Lewis Hamilton.