Untitled George O/Peter M
The door slammed with such a force Peter vaguely wondered if the hinges would need replacing. The thought was cut off however, by the sight of George rushing past the living room, throwing his briefcase down onto the floor with a thump, and rushing upstairs, his footsteps heavy and loud. Peter returned his eyes to the paperback in his hands after a quick monotonous call of “Hello George.” He really didn’t have time for George’s sulking childish behaviour right now, he was in the middle of a particularly exciting chapter.
It wasn’t the first time George had acted this way. It seemed to be getting more regular and this bothered Peter for the sole reason that it meant he was having to ask questions about work. Work was something Peter tried to avoid talking about at any cost, and something George seemed to want to talk about more and more. It was hard, because George was young and had the job he’d always wanted, and sometimes Peter got the impression that if he could, George would run around the house like an excited child, beaming from ear to ear, just so happy to have the perfect job, the perfect friends and the perfect…boyfriend. Except of course, Peter couldn’t allow that. George acting this way, this childish sulky way, was somewhat of a major inconvenience for Peter.
As the sky outside began to slowly darken and the pages beneath Peter’s right hand got thinner and thinner, he began to worry a little. He’d still not heard a single peep from George, and usually when he threw these tantrums he’d be down within the hour to get a drink or to annoy Peter into asking him what was wrong. With a long slow sigh, he slid the glasses off the end of his nose and placed them on the small table beside him along with his book. He walked towards the stairs slowly, and as he reached the top horrifying images of George curled up on the bed, or in the bath with blood pouring from his wrists filled his head. Peter’s lips twisted at the thought. Blood on the sheets would be very hard to wash for one thing and besides, Peter had grown to quite like George, even if he was a bloody pain in the arse.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he found George on the bed, hugging his knees to his chin in an almost worrying infantile way, but, thank god, blood free. He had removed his jacket and was laid in his white shirt, the thin fabric clung to the curves of his muscles and made Peter twitch slightly.
He lowered himself onto the bed behind George and wrapped his arms lightly around the younger mans waist, kissing the back of his neck. George sighed heavily which let Peter know he was awake at least. He moved his hands lower to cup the mans crotch but George pushed them away.
“Not now Peter.” He sighed, Peter snatched his hands away and moved them to rest on his shoulders, a safe place for now.
“Are you going to tell me what is wrong or do you want me to guess? How about twenty questions? Will that do?” Peter said coldly.
“Fuck off Peter.” George pulled away entirely from the other man and wrapped his own arms around his thin torso.
“Will you stop acting like a bloody infant George.” Peter snapped. The younger man shook slightly and Peter’s chest dropped as he realised George was crying. “George.” Peter sighed, slightly softer, feeling guilty already. He reached back out and rubbed the mans back in slow circles. “George, what’s wrong. Please tell me.”
“I love you.” George let out a small sob. Peter waited. “You wont want to know. It’s to do with work.” The older man kissed the top of George’s ear, letting him know it was okay to carry on. “It’s Dave…David. We’re supposed to be…and he had a word with me about the fall in the economy…and he blamed me for…he had a go about my speech…with the weather…and…” George’s sobs became too loud for him to speak clearly so Peter wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him over to face him. Tears were rolling down George’s pale cheeks and Peter caught them in a kiss, wiping the salty water away with his soft lips. He traced a thumb along the younger mans cheekbones and smiled slightly as the tears stopped.
“He doesn’t appreciate you George.” Peter caught George’s lips in a gentle chaste kiss. “And neither do I. Not enough anyway.”
“Peter…I…” George began but Peter hushed him.
“Not now. Don’t worry about any of that now. Just let me hold you.” Peter’s arms moved to pull the other man even closer, his hands resting gently on George’s hips.
“I love you so much.” George whispered, his own arms wrapping around Peter’s body to hold him still, needing something stable to keep a grasp of.
“I know you do, my dear boy, I know you do.” Peter’s lips moved once again to George’s and kissed him deeply and slowly, his hands remaining tightly grasped against George’s body, not wanting to ruin the intimacy of the moment by letting them stray. Right now, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to just hold George and let him know that he would always be there for him.
It wasn’t the first time George had acted this way. It seemed to be getting more regular and this bothered Peter for the sole reason that it meant he was having to ask questions about work. Work was something Peter tried to avoid talking about at any cost, and something George seemed to want to talk about more and more. It was hard, because George was young and had the job he’d always wanted, and sometimes Peter got the impression that if he could, George would run around the house like an excited child, beaming from ear to ear, just so happy to have the perfect job, the perfect friends and the perfect…boyfriend. Except of course, Peter couldn’t allow that. George acting this way, this childish sulky way, was somewhat of a major inconvenience for Peter.
As the sky outside began to slowly darken and the pages beneath Peter’s right hand got thinner and thinner, he began to worry a little. He’d still not heard a single peep from George, and usually when he threw these tantrums he’d be down within the hour to get a drink or to annoy Peter into asking him what was wrong. With a long slow sigh, he slid the glasses off the end of his nose and placed them on the small table beside him along with his book. He walked towards the stairs slowly, and as he reached the top horrifying images of George curled up on the bed, or in the bath with blood pouring from his wrists filled his head. Peter’s lips twisted at the thought. Blood on the sheets would be very hard to wash for one thing and besides, Peter had grown to quite like George, even if he was a bloody pain in the arse.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he found George on the bed, hugging his knees to his chin in an almost worrying infantile way, but, thank god, blood free. He had removed his jacket and was laid in his white shirt, the thin fabric clung to the curves of his muscles and made Peter twitch slightly.
He lowered himself onto the bed behind George and wrapped his arms lightly around the younger mans waist, kissing the back of his neck. George sighed heavily which let Peter know he was awake at least. He moved his hands lower to cup the mans crotch but George pushed them away.
“Not now Peter.” He sighed, Peter snatched his hands away and moved them to rest on his shoulders, a safe place for now.
“Are you going to tell me what is wrong or do you want me to guess? How about twenty questions? Will that do?” Peter said coldly.
“Fuck off Peter.” George pulled away entirely from the other man and wrapped his own arms around his thin torso.
“Will you stop acting like a bloody infant George.” Peter snapped. The younger man shook slightly and Peter’s chest dropped as he realised George was crying. “George.” Peter sighed, slightly softer, feeling guilty already. He reached back out and rubbed the mans back in slow circles. “George, what’s wrong. Please tell me.”
“I love you.” George let out a small sob. Peter waited. “You wont want to know. It’s to do with work.” The older man kissed the top of George’s ear, letting him know it was okay to carry on. “It’s Dave…David. We’re supposed to be…and he had a word with me about the fall in the economy…and he blamed me for…he had a go about my speech…with the weather…and…” George’s sobs became too loud for him to speak clearly so Peter wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him over to face him. Tears were rolling down George’s pale cheeks and Peter caught them in a kiss, wiping the salty water away with his soft lips. He traced a thumb along the younger mans cheekbones and smiled slightly as the tears stopped.
“He doesn’t appreciate you George.” Peter caught George’s lips in a gentle chaste kiss. “And neither do I. Not enough anyway.”
“Peter…I…” George began but Peter hushed him.
“Not now. Don’t worry about any of that now. Just let me hold you.” Peter’s arms moved to pull the other man even closer, his hands resting gently on George’s hips.
“I love you so much.” George whispered, his own arms wrapping around Peter’s body to hold him still, needing something stable to keep a grasp of.
“I know you do, my dear boy, I know you do.” Peter’s lips moved once again to George’s and kissed him deeply and slowly, his hands remaining tightly grasped against George’s body, not wanting to ruin the intimacy of the moment by letting them stray. Right now, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to just hold George and let him know that he would always be there for him.