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Dinner Party (Georgeley)

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Stanley was disgusted with himself. George had dropped by to bother him at work, and ever since that devil (quite literally) had come in, Stanley hadn't been able to stop staring at him.
"Wonderful", he thought, "now he's taking off those stupid sunglasses of his...no one needs to see your stupid blue eyes, George..." he lost his train of thought when the eyes directed themselves at him for a moment, accompanied by a quickly flashed smirk, before George turned to the menu.

"Damn it!" Stanley thought. He had forgotten to look away. And George had most certainly noticed. Embarrassed, he returned to his grill work, vaguely wishing Margaret had shown up at work today. He figured she could have distracted him from George.

George, on the other hand, was not disgusted in the least. He had been eyeing Stanley the entire time, hiding behind his sunglasses and pretending to read the menu, and evidently being much less obvious than the fry cook. He had noticed all of Stanley's stares. Messing with his head was great fun. Even better was the assurance of Stanley's little crush on him. He could be certain of having him soon.

Soon Stanley's shift ended, and George implemented his plan.

"Wait up, Stanley!" George started after him as he walked out of the restaurant.

"Oh, hi George,"

"Want to join me for dinner later? At my place? Only all the sins'll be there, and I need some sane company."

"And what if I don't want to go?"

"I know you do. I'll see you at 6."

Stanley sighed in frustration at George's ability to constantly get into his head. He did want to go, of course he did, but he felt that it would be an extremely awkward evening.

And quite the awkward evening it turned out to be. Stanley kept mostly quiet throughout the whole meal for fear of saying something embarrassing. The sins' bickering and ridiculous antics grew more and more ridiculous, not to mention their teasing George and Stanley about each other.

By the end of the ordeal, Stanley had drank quite a bit of wine in attempts to distract himself. Everyone had either stormed off at some inappropriate time or left as soon as they finished eating. Except for gluttony, who was finishing off her seventh helping, and George and Stanley, who were having a conversation.

"Oh, Stanley, you collect moths, right? I came across a very interesting moth last week. It's in my room, would you like to come have a look?" Was that a mischievous grin playing across his face? A peculiar thought began to work its way into Stanley's buzzing head. He ignored it, and accepted George's offer.

Stanley didn't say much while George showed him the moth, (specifically the large, green, actias luna) and responded little to his conversational efforts while he set it down on the bedside table. It was all too distracting--too many words with double meanings and suggestive inflections and little glances that made him almost feel faint.

"What's the matter, Stanley? Don't you like me anymore?"

"Well-Sure, I do."

"Stanley," George inquired, sitting next to the man on his bed, "how would you like me if I were to, say, kiss you? Or something along those lines..." his eyes flicked downwards.

"George! Are you drunk?"

"Barely,"

"Are you-are you flirting with me?" Stanley tried to look indignant to hide the blush spreading across his face. He couldn't make eye contact with George for more than a second.
The taller man smiled wryly and leaned in closer.

"No, I'm selling flowers for depraved criminals," and with that, he leaned right into Stanley's lips. Stanley began to raise his arms in considered protest, however he had decided that he was enjoying this more than he wanted to think, and instead grabbed at George's shoulders. In response to this, George slid his hands onto Stanley's hips and pushed Stanley up against the headboard of the bed. Stanley tried to gasp, only to breathe in the Devil's hot breath. He felt George's tongue start to advance and panicked, shoving him away.

"What's wrong?"
"I can't do this, George. I mean, you're the devil. And besides that, you're a man, and I'm a man,"

"An attractive man, at that..."

"Won't you stop trying to charm me? I'm confused enough as it is! And stop touching me like that!" Stanley exclaimed, swatting at George's hands, which had been snaking up his thighs.

"Oh, don't be that way, Stanley. If you fancy me--and I know you do--"
Stanley mumbled a useless "I do not..."
"--then you shouldn't inhibit yourself,"

"But what about Margaret?"

"She doesn't have to know a thing,"

Stanley thought for a moment. George was right, of course. This would be great if he weren't "inhibiting himself".
All that aside, George's lips looked very, very tempting, and he wanted them back on his own, if anything.

"Well, stanley, do you still want to...?" George finally asked.
Stanley kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on the bed, staring intently at George.

"Well, George, I-I suppose I do."
George took off his own shoes--revealing his signature bright red socks--and then his pants, before getting on the bed to straddle Stanley.

"Oh, do you ever overdress..." He sighed at Stanley's suit and tie.

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Sock Garters." Stanley shrugged off his jacket.
George raised an eyebrow.

"I rather think I will speak for myself," he intoned as he took off Stanley's tie and undid the first few buttons on his shirt.
Stanley, beginning to feel both adventurous and impatient, retaliated:

"Well, I wish you would just shut up and kiss me again!"

"You asked for it," George went back down to Stanley's lips, slowly and gently at first, but rapidly increasing in force. Though he had tried, Stanley couldn't simply lie back and feel the sensations of George's lips and tongue. He had to do something. He grabbed at George's hair, fought back with his own tongue, and even began to grind up against his hips. George pulled away from the kiss to say, "Slow down, Stanley, you're rushing too much to enjoy it."

"Can't help it," between kisses, "I barely ever get any..."

"Relax. Let me give it to you."

Stanley moaned a little when George moved his kissing down to his neck. He unbuttoned the rest of Stanley's shirt, lips sliding down and hands sliding lower as he went. He was going unbearably slow.
"Stop being such a tease," Stanley complained. George only laughed in response and continued at an even slower pace. He didn't understand how George could resist so much, especially since he could feel a hard-on poking his leg. His own was building all the time. George finally reached his belt buckle, undid his trousers, pulled them a little ways down his legs...and then stopped.

"Damn it, George, if you wanted to fuck, why aren't we just fucking?"

"Talking dirty, are we? I like this side of you, Stanley. But foreplay is an art, you know." His sexy grin turned into an almost comically haughty look.

Frustrated, Stanley groaned "Fuck art!" And grabbed George by the shirt collar to yank him into another kiss. As rough a kiss as he could manage, as rough a grip on George's shoulders, as rough a grind against him. George was starting to lose his composure, moaning Stanley's name...

Stanley froze when he heard the door swing open, although there was no way to hide what was going on.
"What's the matter?" George sat up and turned around. Envy was standing in the doorway, arms crossed and shaking his head.
"You two," he drawled, "I knew there was something going on here." He leaned back into the hallway to shout,
"Lillian, you owe me five pounds!"
"Oh my god."
Stanley hid his face in his hands.
Envy continued, "Why aren't I ever included, George? You know how much less exciting my life is than yours."
George rolled his eyes.
"Get out, Envy!"
"Of course, no one ever wants me around..."
"Envy!"
"...not like Lust or, God forbid, Stanley Moon..." The sin muttered as he slowly shut the door and walked away.
"What a git," George spat.
All Stanley could emit was another "Oh my god."
"Are you alright, Stanley? I suppose he's killed your mood, hasn't he? Unfortunate, really, how much he likes to interrupt."
"I can't believe it. I'm never going to show my face to them again."
"Oh, you know the sins don't mind."
"But I mind!"
A long pause. Stanley sat upright. George looked at him, genuinely concerned.
"Do you want to leave?"
"I don't know."
"Tell you what, Stanley," he said, starting to straighten out Stanley's shirt, "I'll walk you out, try and help you avoid the sins, and we can save this for later. Maybe at your place sometime."
"All right. Deal."