Fandom: Being Human
Word Count: 1100+ words.
Notes: George/Mitchell. For taurenova, not only because she asked, but because it's her birthday! ♥ Hope you have a wonderful day!
The normal way of doing things was to kiss first, fuck later, but there was nothing about them that was remotely normal. So it made sense that Mitchell had George flat on his back on the shag carpet of their home, one leg hooked over his right arm, the other foot firmly planted on the floor, as he slowly settled himself on his cock.
George huffed out deep breaths as Mitchell slowly eased himself down, trying very hard not to let his eyes roll to the back of his head as tight coldness enveloped him. He'd never been with a man before, but then again, there was every evidence Mitchell wasn't exactly a man and George had learnt recently to be open minded.
Mitchell growled as he rose up and down.
George had also never been the kind of person who was able to switch off their thoughts and several words echoed throughout his head as Mitchell continued with a rocking action; I'm impaling him with my hot cock. No. Not impaling! I can't think about impaling at a moment like this. Oh God, this is amazing.
George wanted to be able to reach up, pull Mitchell's head down and kiss him, but Mitchell was being too commanding, and he was stuck with digging into his hips and grunting instead.
Mitchell had bed-head. George stared at it and thought about brushing his fingers through it, maybe pressing his lips to Mitchell's forehead.
"You're not staring at me, are you, George?" Mitchell asked, eyes still firmly closed and voice slow and languorous.
"No! I don't stare, what makes you think I stare? I have my eyes shut, if you must know."
"It's your heartbeat, it increased a few minutes ago. Since then I've experienced a familiar 'watched' sensation. You've been staring."
George tried in vain not to bluster. "I can't help it. Your hair's all over the place."
"I like it like that."
"You like anything. Except the sun. And even then, you had to be given a bloody good reason not to---"
"Is there a reason you're rambling? George, it's the middle of the night, just get some sleep."
"No, it's not, it's morning, and if we don't move it, we'll be late for work."
Mitchell opened his eyes at last to gaze at George with a piercing clarity that George found unnerving. "Well, then, we better shower."
They were all watching football together. George, Mitchell, and Annie. George didn't really care much about football, usually, but he was trying to distract himself, so he chose a team and enthusiastically chanted for them, and when they got a goal, he allowed himself to get excited.
Annie was an Arsenal supporter; "purely because I like saying their team name. Arsenal. It never gets old. I mean, it's funny from beyond the grave --- that's really special, when you think on it."
And Mitchell's care factor seemed about on par with George's real one. He stretched his legs out and yawned. But, either through sheer determined will, or the fact this match was actually exciting, George was getting into it. He emitted a sound of pure glee at the third goal, wrapped his arms around Mitchell's shoulders and was about to plant a big fat kiss on his lips before sense prevailed.
"I don't know what it is about football that makes men all homoerotic all of a sudden," Annie said, glancing at George and Mitchell. "But I like it."
George wasn't flat on his back this time, at least. That had to count for something. Oh, no, George was rammed up against the wall of his werewolf retreat in the hospital, Mitchell's hand around his cock and Mitchell's teeth by his pulse. This was and wasn't the best position to be in, since it felt brilliant, but he was going to start transforming in about twenty minutes.
"Mitchell," George panted out.
"George," Mitchell returned, low and throaty.
"Unless you want to see what unliving the rest of your life without your limbs is like, you better leave."
Mitchell pulled away. He looked almost hurt. "Right. I'll see you in the morning."
George extended his hand, flailing for Mitchell's shoulder. "And we can resume."
Mitchell gave a non-committal shrug. "Sure."
"Or, er, get a coffee, even?"
"Don't see why not."
Mitchell whirled around and walked towards the steel door. George almost stopped Mitchell in his tracks, leaned forward and kissed him. But he didn't, because he felt a searing pain shoot up his leg and he knew it would be too dangerous.
"I'm sorry. I'm sure you get this all the time," George said as he cradled the cappuccino in his hands. Mitchell quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. "This conversation."
Mitchell took a sip of his own espresso. "What conversation?"
"You know. The 'where do you see us heading' conversation. Are we just a couple of crazy kids on a fling, or is this something more?"
"Oh. I see."
"I mean, I know that, for us, there are extenuating circumstances. But on the upshot, since we're both guys, it's not like we've got deformed mutant werevamps to worry about or anything."
"And I completely understand if this is just a convenience thing for you, believe me, and I promise I won't get all strangely possessive, except when it's close to the full moon, like now, because I can't help it with my furry little problem..."
"But I --- I just want to know, just for knowledge's sake."
"Where do I see us heading?" Mitchell asked, but it wasn't really a question. "To be honest, I hadn't thought about it. I tend to go with my instincts. At the moment, this moment in time, they're telling me I want and need to be with you. And on a rational level I agree, because I find you utterly and unremorsefully charming. But if that's not enough for you --- or too much..."
"No! No, that sounds fine. I can handle that. Thank you."
George gave a small, quick smile that made his face almost glow with joy. He wanted to have the courage to show Mitchell how much this pleased him.
He didn't, however, get the chance, because Mitchell was the one who threaded his hand into George's hair, pulled his head forward, and kissed him. His lips were soft and cold, but perfect, and George closed his eyes and gently returned the kiss, thinking that perhaps it was a great thing he and Mitchell and Annie weren't so normal after all.