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abiiors · 8 months

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truth or dare 🌙 // george daniel x reader

a/n: this is based on a few requests and also loosely a sequel to first time and midnight, car lights. so the ages are 18 and 20! i tried to make this as realistic as possible so it's not perhaps the hottest thing ever but it's weirdly sweet haha

cw: brother's best friend, loss of virginity, smut in general, fingering. they talk :)) so much :)), the use of "good girl", female reader

wc: 6.3k

the room is buzzing with energy. loud and boisterous sounds of people having fun and whooping along to a silly game of truth or dare. matty already has his tongue down someone’s throat—as a “dare” of course. you cringe internally.

it’s one thing to sit and play a game of truth or dare with your brother’s friends and potentially spill embarrassing secrets, it’s another to sit there and watch your brother practically dry hump some girl you’ve never seen before.

and then there’s andrew who keeps looking at you like he wants them to do the same.

you stifle the urge to retch.

“alright, alright,” ross puts his hands up, “we get it, let’s move on.”

matty and the girl pull away amidst boyish whoops and giggles. the girl hides her mouth behind her hand, coy and flirty, and matty, ever the little shit, throws her a wink.

“okay, okay, right. good luck to whoever who has to sleep near matty’s bedroom tonight,” one of the people jokes and another roar of laughter goes up. great, yeah, fucking hilarious. because once again, that would be you.

“next up!” andrew picks up the bottle, wiggling it at the crowd of people and building up excitement.

it spins and spins and spins in dizzying circles and for a moment you wonder if it will ever stop or slow down. it’s a silly thought. of course, the bottle slows dows, going past you once before losing some more momentum, then past you again and you breathe a sigh of relief. not you…

until somehow, the bottle gets second wind, spinning way past what it should have been able to, its nozzle coming closer and closer and closer before it stops right on you.

when the next cheer goes up, it sounds like it’s coming from under water.

you look aroud at the faces of the people gathered. the growing sense of dread climbs up your spine, manifests in visible goosebumps that you resist rubbing away. fuck this, fuck your brother and fuck his friends.

matty is utterly useless when you glance at him for any kind of help. all he does is grin mischievously, clearly relishing the idea of you being at the center of attention. next to him, george sits with an unreadable expression. but you know looking at him is not a good idea…

looking at him only makes you think about the kiss and how you have not spoken since…

andrew, who had spun the bottle, wears a sly smile, his eyes still fixed on you. you know him well enough to understand that he's been angling for this moment. the rest of your brother's friends exchange knowing glances, anticipating some juicy revelation or an embarrassing dare;.

ross, trying to keep the game moving, speaks up, "alright, truth or dare?"

you briefly consider choosing dare, thinking you might be able to dodge a potentially embarrassing truth. but you know these guys—they're relentless when it comes to dares, especially when it's your turn. besides, you don't give a shit if you appear cowardly in front of them.

taking a deep breath, you muster some courage. "truth."

a couple boos ring out. matty makes an exaggerated “pfft” and goes back to his makeout. george just stares at you with a raised eyebrow.

but there’s one person in the room whose attention doesn’t waver. andrew still has that persistent look in his eyes, clearly brainstorming something devious.

“your most interesting sex story. go,” he grins, staring at you with the utmost interest.

you roll your eyes and groan audibly. “really, andrew? couldn’t think of something original?”

“yes, really,” he counters, sounding like a fucking knobhead. “and i wanna know. the rules are the rules.”

you look around the room, trying not to panic. everyone has gone from looking bored at you picking truth to back to looking at you with wide eyes. and no amount of trying stops the heat from creeping up your neck.

“i don’t–it’s not interesting,” you stammer out. trying to make up something on the spot. “they’ve been pretty basic. just regular stuff.”

you hope it’s enough for them to lose interest again, to call you boring and vanilla and move on to the next person. but fuck andrew and fuck his lecherous curiosity.

“what’s ‘pretty basic’?” he pokes a tongue in his cheek, eating up the subsequent oooohs with a big smile.

you look around the room, first at matty only to find that he and the girl are already halfway out the door, heading up to his room (gag). then you look at the next best person.

george. stoic george with his arms crossed in front of his chest, glaring at andrew as if he could kill him with his stare alone.

“your usual stuff, andrew…” you grit out, staring at a spot behind him. you should have just stopped this, should have told him that truth entails one question and one question only and it’s none of his business but you’ve always let matty’s friends strong arm you.

“so describe it, little healy—”

“don’t call her that.”

to your surprise, it’s george who speaks up before you do. his entire body vibrates with tension, jaw clenched and arms taut.

“move on, andrew,” his voice has an edge of warning. “she clearly doesn’t want to discuss it.”

you stare at him in awe, about to nod as a silent thank you when george stares directly at you. “besides, why do you want to know something so boring and vanilla?”

the people snicker and you feel your face drop. his tone is not cruel, it’s just matter of fact which somehow hurts more. a faint buzzing fills your ears, increasing by the second.

this is too much. you need peace and quiet and the comfort of your own room, not this stupid party with all these idiots. you should have never agreed to it.

the bottle spins again, you do not wait to see who it lands on. instead, you do the cowardly thing of running up to your bedroom.

“the last time i checked, the game was called truth or dare,” george drawls behind you just as you’re about to open the door to your bedroom.

you barely even wait for him, rolling your eyes to yourself and opening the door in a huff. he’s just like the rest of them—an idiot. an idiot you were stupid enough to kiss and have a crush on.

of course, george doesn’t back away too easily.

pushing his way into your room behind you, he closes the door, acting as if this is his space. deja vu hits you like a tonne of bricks.

“it’s none of their business,” you retort.

“shoulda picked dare then…”

“and what? make out with andrew? you and i both know that’s what he was hoping for.”

the serious expression on his face crumbles for a moment, replaced by an annoying little smirk.

“character development, little healy,” he teases, once again crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against the door.

you don’t know how you always end up like this—george in your room without anyone’s knowledge, looking like the boy of your dreams while you fume at him for one thing or the other.

“shut up,” you mumble petulantly.

george doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead choosing to look around him nonchalantly. all you can replay in your head is the kiss, and his stupid little smile after. and then the fact that he seemed to vanish into thin air for two weeks.

you can't help but feel a mixture of irritation and curiosity. he's always been a puzzle to you—maddeningly frustrating yet undeniably intriguing and despite your attempts to resist his charm, there's a part of you that can't help but be drawn to him.

you decide to break the tense silence that has settled between you two. "what are you even doing here, george?" you demand, your voice laced with annoyance.

frustratingly enough, he chooses to answer it with a question of his own.

“why is sex such a touchy topic?” george toys with his bracelet, “you’re only 18. most people your age haven’t done it yet.”

“you’re joking, right?” you laugh, unable to hide your incredulity. “and what does it matter to you if i have or haven’t done it.”

“it doesn’t,” he shrugs, “not to me. but clearly it matters to you… wouldn’t have been so defensive otherwise.”

“i wasn’t defensive—”

“shup up, george,” he says in a high pitched voice, a crude imitation of you presumably. and it is nothing what you sound like. yet he continues. “i have seen photos, george, i have seen videos!” then he shakes his head, one irresistible lock of hair falling in his face. “isn’t that what you said last time? about the weed?”

“it bothers you, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he continues when you refuse to speak. “why not ask someone. you’re a pretty girl. any boy your age would say yes.”

“so you do it then,” you challenge. it’s only when the sentence has fully slipped out, beyond your control, that you realise what you just said. it’s only then that your heart starts hammering in your chest.

your back is pressed against the wall of your room. faint music and chatter slips in through the cracks of the door and yet you swear you can hear the loud beat of your heat echoing all around the room. george stills in place.

“i’m asking you; since you think i have such a problem with being a virgin,” you continue. no point backing out now, no point pretending you didn’t offer to let him fuck you. for the first time. “it’s long overdue anyway. i don’t want candles and flowers and a picnic under the stars. i just want to get it over with.”

“don’t say things you don’t mean, little healy.” his voice has gone hoarse as if it strains him to speak normally. you watch as he swallows roughly, the hollow of his throat becomes prominent for a brief moment and you wonder what it would feel like to get a taste of his skin.

“who says i didn’t mean it,” you push yourself off the wall, taking one daring step closer. george stays where he is, still looking at you intently, still watching. his lips part as he tries to subtly take in a shaky breath.

“your brother—”

“doesn’t care,” you finish for him. “someone else has his attention tonight.”

“this is so wrong…”

“why?”

george scrutinises you, rolling his tongue in his mouth. you follow the line of it, wondering how it would feel in your mouth—its weight and its texture. how it would feel on your body, to be touched like that for the first time.

“why is it wrong, george? i am old enough. i want this, i am consenting to it.” george stands straighter as you stop right in front of him.

to an untrained eye, he looks casual and cool as always, effortlessly carrying all 6’4 inches of him, effortlessly beautiful and irresistible. but the vein standing taut on his arm says otherwise. he’s anything but cool and casual. if anything, he’s as charged as a live wire.

“unless you don’t… unless that’s not something…”

“stop.”

it’s your turn to freeze and gawk up at him wordlessly. george closes the gap between you, stepping towards you until you’re back in your original place; against the wall with his hand resting next to your head. his mouth is so close as he leans down—pink and full and just…filthy.

“you have no idea… you don’t–fuck. okay.” he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily. his face is a mask of something. almost something you recognise. but it passes just as quickly as it appears.

“you have never done this before, any of it, have you? you couldn’t even look people in the eye while saying it, bushing and flustered like a schoolgirl.”

“i have!” you burst out, indignant and angry now. “i have done…things. i have kissed and made out with people, i have…people have seen me without a top on.”

george laughs roughly at that and swallows again. the hollow of his throat appears again, right there, tauntingly close. all you have to do is get on your tip toes and you’ll be kissing it. but then there’s the way his other arm snakes around your waist.

you are pressed flush against the wall with barely an inch between the two of you. and even though he still hasn’t touched you, if anyone walked in on you in this position…

“so you haven’t done shit. tell me something…have you ever been touched like you touch yourself? have you ever had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced? someone ever go down on you? make you see stars and blackout?”

the questions come out like rapid fire; each one making your blood run faster and your heart pound all over your body. heat courses through you. it’s undeniable that you want him to do all those things to you, want him to be the first.

by the time he’s finished, his mouth is parted. his pupils are so dilated that his eyes might as well be black and you can feel the warmth of his breaths on your face. so you decide to take matters into your own hands, say fuck it and pull him down, crashing your mouth onto his.

both his hands are on your waist instantly, holding you tightly as his mouth moves against yours. it’s rough and hot, full of want. his body is pressed against yours, his hard chest and the bulge in his jeans against the softness of your body. this is so much different than the first kiss. it’s all hardness and intensity and hot searing kisses.

you’re vaguely aware of jumping onto him and wrapping your legs around his middle, vaguely aware of george moving across the room and placing you on the bed.

george barely breaks the kiss when he takes his top off, warm skin pressed against yours. your head spins.

this is happening. this is happening with george. with GEORGE.

there’s a part of you that wants to run around the room and hyperventilate. another part of you—the much bigger one—decides to be bold again, copying his moments as you take your top off too, silently thanking the patron gods of teenage sex that you chose to wear a good bra.

“you really…” he pants, struggling to catch his breath for a second. “you really want this? with me?”

your hair sticks to his jaw a you pull back slightly, just enough to be able to speak.

“i do, i—” a rough swallow, “i want you.”

“okay then,” he leans forward again, then stops, trying to fight off the massive smile making its way onto his face. you didn’t think there would be something to find endearing in the middle of a one night stand. yet here you are, fighting a big goofy smile of your own.

“show me what you do,” george sits at the end of your bed, watching you with hooded eyes. his chest glistens with sweat—so does yours, you imagine—making his tattoos stand out in the warm light of your bedroom. “when you touch yourself, how do you do it.”

heat creeps up your cheeks at the prospect of being entirely naked and vulnerable in front of him. shyness floods your body making you avert your gaze and bite your lip nervously. not that you don’t trust him enough, but you don’t want to be ogled at so blatantly.

“uh–um, i don’t–that’s…” it’s frustrating that you can’t even get a proper sentence out, stuttering and stammering like a fucking child but george clocks it instantly.

“what is it?” this time his voice is gentle, curious. “is it too much? do you want to stop—”

“no! no, i just…” you keep your eyes averted building the courage to tell him exactly what you want. there’s no denying the fact that george makes you nervous; he always has but you have to remind yourself what he said—practically drilled into you—at the beginning.

you are in control of everything. all of it.

“i don’t want to be stared at, that–that’s too much.”

his features soften as realisation dawns on him. you wonder if you’ve put him off—sex should go both ways, after all. what’s the point if only one of you enjoys yourself?

“right then…” silently, george moves from the foot of the bed to right next to you.

the movement makes the bed dip and your breath quivers in anticipation the closer he comes. is he going to put a stop to it? break it to you gently that he’s not interested anymore. maybe you should have sucked it up and done what he told you to do, he’s the one with more experience after all…

“what are you…”

he settles himself right next to you, legs spread open just wide enough for—

“come here,” he instructs and pats the space in front of him. “how about you show me some other way. guide my hand, if that’s okay.”

for a moment, the idea stuns you. of course you knew what sex entailed but it’s just…it’s so much happening all at once. so much that requires being vulnerable.

but you trust george. so you nod and do as he’s told you.

you close your eyes once you settle yourself between his legs, fully immersing yourself in the feeling of him all around you—his cologne and cigarettes and the hint of sweat that’s somehow the most perfect combination ever. your hand is so much smaller on top of his, guiding him down starting just at your navel. his other hand is on your breasts, kneading and rolling your nipples between his fingers expertly.

george doesn’t need you to guide him, judging by the gasps and moans that he draws out of you, you know he can make you feel good either way. but this is more for you than him, more so you would feel in control, and that adds to the thrill of it all the more.

“does this feel good, sweetheart? is this okay?” his voice is all around you, skittering over your bones and sending a shiver down your spine. all you can do is nod and whimper. all you want to do is guide his hand further down.

george lets you.

the callouses on the pad of his fingers leave electric tingles in their wake as they brush your pelvis. a gasp echoes around the room, sharp and sudden.

“that’s it,” he coaxes, “show me how you like it.”

his fingers graze the inside of your thighs and right above the waistband of your underwear, leaving goosebumps wherever they trail.

“take these off me?” you breathe out into the stillness of your room. he takes no time in obliging—hooking a finger in them and lifting your hips off the bed to slide the delicate fabric down your thighs and past your knees until they’re discarded somewhere on the floor with the rest of your clothes. this is it, you, here, fully naked and at his mercy.

“better?” he asks.

you nod, leaning your head back onto his collarbone. george nips at your skin, making you giggle and loosening some of the tension filling your body. his fingers hover over your clit, waiting for you to show him what you want.

“fuck, george,” you breathe as soon as you feel his touch—it’s just the right pressure, the right pace as he circles your clit. your hand falls slack, back arching off his chest lightly as you bite your lips to stifle a loud moan.

this is nothing like you’ve felt before, nothing like your own hands make you feel. this is like tiny fireworks right under your skin.

“shit, that–that feels so good.”

george hums behind you, keeping up with the pace you set. his fingers dip between your folds, teasing and inching towards your opening—keeping you on edge. the sheets are bunched between your fingers, sweaty back pressed to his chest. george nibbles at your neck, right over your pulse point as his fingers play with your nipples; stimulating, sending jolts through your whole body.

“so wet,” he breathes, peppering kisses down your shoulder. his finger circles your entrance, rough and thicker than your own, better than you’re used to. “so perfect for me.”

it’s enough for you to cry out—whine really. because you want him, need to feel him. but he’s taking his own sweet time.

“what was that for, huh? needy little thing,” he taunts, “what do you want?”

between the words and his gruff voice, all thoughts fly out of your head for a second. he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet and your head is already starting to feel like mush.

“you, please,” you all but beg, “want your fingers in me, please george…”

“think you’re ready to take it?”

nodding nervously, you spread your legs wider. your hand reaches back, caressing the nape of neck, scratching it in slow sensual circles. hearing him groan is enough to calm your nerves. sure, the effect you have on him is minuscule compared to what he’s doing to you, but it’s a small victory regardless.

george falters for a brief moment, head thrown back as you feel the spike in his heartbeat. it makes your own skip a beat. but he recovers quickly, teasing your folds a bit more, finger circling your entrance.

“tell me to stop if it’s too much, okay?”

your stomach churns from a mix of anxiety and excitement—this is happening, this is really happening. george tuts when you nod on auto-pilot.

“need you to say it, love. use your words.”

“y–yes, yes, i will.”

“good girl,” he whispers, lips pressed to the shell of your ear.

before you even have the time to react to that, he slides a finger in, just the tip first. he goes slow, takes just enough time to gague your reaction.

it’s a strange sensation—a good sensation. his finger is noticeably thicker than yours, and longer, the pad of it scratches against your insides, making you gasp. george stops once he’s all in.

“good?”

“fuck–yes!”

all you need to do is give him that little nudge before he pulling the finger out again, and thrusting it in, this time faster, rougher. your insides feel like liquid, melting further and further with each graze of his callouses, with each thrust, and oh the rhythm…

you knew he would know how to set a pace but somehow he gets it right on the first try, going just slow enough to give your body time to adjust but fast enough for a familiar knot to build in your stomach. his thumb presses against your clit each time.

“oh my god–oh god…” you can’t remember the last time you’ve chanted it so thoroughly, reciting it like a prayer and chasing your high.

“need to add another finger, sweetheart. need to stretch you out, that okay?”

his voice makes you jolt. it’s all around you, deep and scratchy and almost a growl—teeming with lust. of course it is, you can feel his hard on pressed against the small of your back, can feel the way his heart is thumping in his chest. you can hear his audible swallows and groans each time you dig your nails into his thighs, every time you grind against him when the pleasure becomes too much.

“mm-hmm,” you nod vigorously, “yes… need more…”

it’s frankly a surprise that you still have the ability to speak because every single part of your body feels like it’s melting, blood zapping through your body, pushing your heart into overdrive.

this time when george thrusts in, it’s with two fingers. you cry out at the sudden stretch, the burn that accompanies it. george falters when you jolt forward.

“shit–shit did i hurt you?”

hurt??

“no, i—” it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, and to take the whiney edge off your voice. “that felt good… better than before. keep going, please, just—”

george doesn’t let you finish, pushing his fingers inside you again. the hilt of his palm crashes against your clit, rougher than before and your body trembles from all of it.

“such a perfect girl, taking me so well.” his words add to the heady intoxication.

your head spins, completely blanking out on anything else. all that matters right now is george and his hands and his voice. his lips latch onto your neck, sucking on your sweet spot and peppering kissing and this time the buzzing that fills your ears is nothing like before.

now as your legs shake and spasm, you know you’re close.

“gonna cum, george, fuck…keep going…” it’s a whine, you don’t know where it just came from but now is not the time to care about that.

his fingers keep moving in and out, plunging into you, drawing out wet and obscene sounds until you feel them hooking inside you, without warning. when george parts his fingers inside you, stretching you more, it’s enough to push you over the edge.

with a cry, you slump against him, gushing onto his hand, incapable of doing anything else as waves of pleasure crash onto you, blinding you almost. this has never happened before… never. not with your own hand, or the tiny white bullet in your drawer. something about his body makes your blood sing.

facing george after that feels like a daunting task. he did just witness you completely falling apart on his hand and who knows what kinds of sounds you made in the heat of the moment…

a flush creeps up your face when george turns you around.

“fuck…” he breathes, panting, his heavy breaths mixing with yours. “that was so hot, fuck!”

for a second you don’t know what to say so you sit there, trying not to nervously bite on your lip, averting his eyes. because that was just the foreplay… the main part is yet to come.

“did you enjoy that?” he asks tentatively. another second ticks by before you feel a hand under your chin, tilting it up.

“sweetheart…” george begins. his eyes are soft—blown out and hooded with lust, sure, but somewhere in there, there’s a tenderness you haven’t seen before. “do you want to stop? it’s alright, if that’s all you want to do tonight. i promise…”

you contemplate it. you want him, you want his closeness and you want his body and if sex feels anything like what you just felt then you absolutely can’t wait for it.

“i want to keep going,” you reply.

this time, george leans forward, hand still on your chin, holding it in place as he goes in for a kiss. something soft and sweet. a stolen moment of leisure amidst all the burning passion and hormone filled lust.

“are you in your head?” he asks after a minute.

you know the answer is yes. it shouldn’t be this difficult, he has done nothing to make you feel uncomfortable. on the contrary, you have never felt so safe with another boy.

“i think so…yeah. i just, i don’t know how to stop overthinking it.”

he contemplates it for a long time, at least it feels like a long time. you’re aware of the wetness between your legs, of the little fire in your stomach that still hasn’t gone out. you’re aware of how hard he is and yet how he hasn’t even talked about himself yet.

“can i touch you?”

it’s an unsure question; your voice sounds small to your ears but there’s an undertone of curiosity. his eyes widen.

george nods, moving to take off his brief. when he’s done, george settles on his knees, now fully naked.

your breath catches in your throat. it’s not like you haven’t seen a dick before. you’ve watched porn. the first guy who made out with you and got to third base had you feel him over his jeans. and although it was more unsettling than it was fascinating, it was a new experience.

but watching george is a mesmerising thing. he’s not shy about his body, if anything, his bold confidence makes him hotter than any other boy you’ve ever known.

“please.” he breathes in deeply, trying to stay still as your hand inches between his thighs.

he’s big, at least to you he is, thick and hard. george groans loudly when you trace his length with a finger, running it along his red tip that already leaks with precum. the sound is throaty, almost a growl. so this is what a man looks like when he’s fighting to stay in control.

his eyes are closed, a string of curses falling from his lips as you wrap a hand around the base of his cock, moving it tentatively—slow strokes from the base to his tip and back again. his body shudders, the hollow of his throat moves.

“i’m gonna cum if you keep doing that, love.” his voice is a throaty whisper, his nails dig into the flesh of his thighs even as he so clearly struggles not to thrust his hips into your hand.

it’s the small, impulsive movement that fills you up with some confidence. a tiny thrill of pride shoots through you, thoroughly pleased at the way his body responds to your touch. some of the tension in your body dissipates.

“well, isn’t that the goal here? to make you cum?”

george clicks his tongue, “not before you. tonight is about you. my pleasure is just a byproduct.”

george moves before you have the time to respond, grabbing his jeans from the foot of the bed to look for his wallet. and there, inside, as expected is a small, silver square.

“you ready for it?”

“yes,” you say and this time, there’s not a hint of doubt in it. “yes i am.”

george tears the foil with his teeth, spitting it out to one side and taking the condom out. you watch unabashedly as he rolls onto his dick. his fingers work deftly—practiced, sure movements; small things that make you aware once again of how inexperienced you are.

but that’s about to change.

his mouth is back on yours, hand back between your legs, drawing rough eight figures on your clit. you barely even registers as george lays you down on your back. all you can focus on are his fingers dipping in and out of you once again, quick and expert thrusts that have you on the edge again in no time.

“lift your hips for me, love. just like that.” his voice is soft, his eyes are softer. there’s a tenderness to his face that you’ve never seen before; a stillness that’s gentle and comforting.

poised on top of you, you can feel his tip brushing against your entrance. nerves flood your body as you do what he’s asked.

“george…” it surprises you how shaky your voice sounds. for all your bravado before, your mouth feels dry. “please just…go slow, please.”

he pauses for a moment and you marvel at his self-control once again. he could so easily just chase his orgasm somewhere else, fuck someone else at the party. yet here he is, pausing every two minutes to make sure you’re alright and enjoying yourself.

he cups your face, gently running a thumb along your lower lip.

“i will. as slow as you want.”

his hand is back between your legs, teasing and brushing against your clit, melting your moans into small bursts of ecstasy. his fingers keep moving, building up pleasure again, bringing you closer and closer to the edge until a second orgasm hits you.

as you writhe under george, trying to ride out your high by grinding against his hand, he kisses you again, tongue licking the inside of your mouth, teeth clashing against teeth.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” he pants. his voice is strained. you imagine he’s being pushed to his limits.

“yes, just–just do it, i am ready.”

lining himself against your entrance, george pushes in. the first few seconds are completely normal. he moves slowly, sticking to your limits and pressing small kisses on your face. the stretch you feel is fine, exactly how it was when you were riding his fingers. a moans slips out, full of lust. and that’s when the burn starts.

tears well up on your bottom lashline the more he pushes in. you feel too full, more than you ever have, too stretched out.

“are you in?” your voice quivers and george pauses.

“not yet, sweetheart. but almost.”

another nod from you and he moves again, the burn intensifies, turning your moans of pleasure into whimpers of pain until george bottoms out and stills in place.

“you okay? does it hurt?” his voice is hushed, words coming out rapidly as he tries to make sure everything is alright. despite everything, the concern in his voice melts your heart.

“hurts a little. can you just–just stay still for a bit?”

he nods again. george lowers his forehead, resting it onto yours. the moments stands suspended in time. by the time, the burn subsides, you’re kissing again—slow and sweet, fingers intertwined.

“okay,” you nod into the crook of his neck, “okay you can move.”

the stinging is back when he starts moving back and forth. he’s going as slow as possible, you know it, yet it takes you body a bit longer to adjust, for sparks of pleasure to come through between the pain.

when you open your eyes, you find him already looking at you, a soft pink flush visible on his cheeks. to your surprise george averts his eyes quickly.

“i–uh,” he stammers a little, “i’m–um, i’m not gonna last long.” the last part is whispered, like a shameful confession. “you’re really tight and–fuck! fuck, baby it feels so good…”

“george,” you interrupt before he has the chance to keep going. he thrusts in again just then, a bit harder than before. this time, the pleasure is much stronger than the pain. all thoughts fly out the window momentarily, but you cradle his face in your hands. brush your fingers on his cheek.

“you’re already making me feel so good. shit, george, don’t apologise. just–you can go a bit harder if you want.” another gasp gets struck in your throat, another little broken moan.

george moves faster, hips bucking, slamming into yours lightly. the friction, the stretch, all of it is better than you could have ever imagined. you couldn’t care less how long he lasts. it’s your body that makes him go crazy, you that’s currently making him losing it. that thought alone is enough to send bolts of lightning all throughout your body.

feeling a little bold, you do the thing you’ve only watched girls in porn do. you wrap your legs around his waist and it’s like something clicks in place. suddenly he’s sliding in much deeper than he was before, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your mind go blank and your jaw go slack.

“fuck fuck fuck,” george curses. his pace increases. whatever control he had on himself has finally snapped, whatever leash he had kept on himself, finally gone.

maybe your eyes roll back in pleasure, maybe your legs tighten around his waist, the only thing you remember is clenching around him, telling him over and over again how good it feels.

“so good for me, baby, so perfect,” he coos, hand snaking down between your joined bodies. he finds your clit again, swollen and wet and so sensative, it’s like a thunderstorm just under the surface of your skin.

“gonna cum, sweetheart,” george grunts out. “cum with me, can you do that? hmm?”

you nod, or you think you do. all you remember is grinding on his pelvis and mewling when he flicks your clit. it’s the sound that gets to him, that pushes him over the edge. when his orgasm hits, you feel him twitch inside you. somewhere in the haze, a third orgasm washes over you.

you watch him mesmerised, desperately trying to keep your eyes open, to memorise the look of pure bliss on his face as he fucks into you, riding out his orgasm, letting you ride out yours. his thrusts slow down, eventually coming to a stop.

george doesn’t pull out instantly, instead, he collapses on top of you, breathing hard, panting into your neck. your sweaty bodies stick to each other, still locked in together.

it takes him a minute to gather himself. a minute until he can say, “gonna pull out okay? it might hurt.”

it does a little but the tingles in your body take over and all you feel is a slight sting.

“that was—” you start and stop again, completely at a loss for words.

“yeah?” he laughs a little, lying next to you and pulling you into his chest.

he’s warm and a bit sticky but this is nice, you think, the way his body envelopes yours entirely.

“was i good?”

he hums. “you were perfect.”

the butterflies in your stomach intensify. perfect. it’s nice to hear that word. especially nice to hear it from him.

"you might be a bit sore tomorrow," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "but don't worry, sweetheart. i'll stay and take care of you."

lemme know what you think <33

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