#trans Lewis

[outatmako]

anyways here’s my incomplete list of reasons why trans boy Lewis just makes sense to me:

when he swims he wears a full rash guard, and he never goes shirtless, despite the fact we see other boys on the show shirtless

the one time we see him shirtless, in 2x01 (so not exactly his choice) he has his arms crossed over his chest the entire time -

he is pretty blasé when Rikki and Emma claim to be naked, almost like he’s used to sharing locker rooms and such with girls/women and is thus not bothered

similarly, is often wanting to sleepover with the girls on the full moon to protect them, but again is doesn't seem bothered about the implications of a co-ed sleepover, almost like he’s used to sleeping over with girls

he has an inherent understanding of the importance of keeping the girls’ secret, unlike Zane who needs the consequences shoved in his face. Lewis gets it immediately. almost like has his own secret, his own difference.

everything about the way he dresses has mega transmasc energy. it just does. the short sleeve button up, baggy cargo shorts combo? Faded graphic tee + frayed jeans + off brand vans? some stupid fucking hat?

that one scene where Cleo’s dad is like “the male of the species is predatory” and Lewis just gives him a blank stare and asks if he wants a biscuit. that hypermasculinity bullshit flew right past him.

this one requires us to accept Rikki is bi/queer, but that doesn't strike me as controversial. same taste in music as Rikki, meaning he probably listens to alternative rock and punk music (knowing Rikki). Very queer genres.

I'm transmasc and I said so

[werethropy]

"The nonbinary afab who goes by she/her, dresses femininely, and uses a push-up bra when I—" when you what? What's wrong with her?

Is she not nonbinary enough for you? Is the way she experiences her queerness and how she presents not perfect enough for you? Nonbinary people don't owe you androgyny, right? So why is she the exception? Why does she have to hate herself to appeal to your standards? Why is she any less trans—any less worthy of respect—cause it's "not visible"? Queer solidarity my ass. Don't spout this bullshit on Pride, man.

[separatetheyolk]

Drivers Love Language

ʚɞ featuring: Lewis Hamilton & Lando Norris

ʚɞ how I think they would love and how they would like to be loved

ʚɞ warnings: not proofread

ʚɞ gender neutral

Lewis Hamilton

✰ how he loves - gifts

Lewis would absolutely spoil his other half rotten. He has more money than he knows what to do with and loves to not only support you. But also give you more. He sees no better person and no better way to spend his money than on the person he loves.

He’d buy anything you’d ask for, anything he thinks you’d like. From the smallest of gifts like flowers and a card to the more expensive purchases like rings or a car.

✰ how he loves - affirmation

Lewis is far from shy when it comes to expressing himself. He loves that he can use his platform to lift others up, create spaces for things that need to be talked about. The same could be said for his relationship,

he loves to complement his partner. Whether that’s now you look, how you’re dressed, your body, to your personality, your achievements, how much he admires you. So on, so forth. This man wants or rather needs you to know just how much he loves you.

He understands that often it is him in the spotlight. How could he not be? He’s a 7 time WDC. But he makes sure that you are never left in the shadows when it comes to your relationship. Highlighting everything you’ve done big or small. He never wants you to feel unimportant. Of course, if you would rather keep your achievements to your private life, Lewis will instead keep those complements securely behind closed doors

✰ how he loves/likes to be loved - acts of service

whether it’s helping with a puzzle, helping with cooking, run errands, or something as simple as clean the house Lewis loves to ease burdens from you shoulders big or small. He wants to see you relaxed and comfortable in your own home.

however he also would secretly love when his partner reciprocates this when needed. Even if he insists you don’t. His work can be demanding. Very demanding at times. And there are times where yes, general every day tasks are just too much for Lewis to fit into his schedule. He loves when you would take time out of your day to take Roscoe for a walk, or cook a meal, clean the house, hang his clothes, even something as simple as running a bath or starting the shower. However much he insists you don’t need to, it melts his heart and he falls head over heels in love again every single time.

✰ how he loves/likes to be loved - physical touch

now this is where acts of service goes hand in hand. The more time you have to relax, the more time you have for cuddles and kisses. Away from the public eye, cuddling on the sofa with you hidden away in his side or sitting on his lap watching a movie is up there. A highlight of his day. Doesn’t matter how often they’d do it. To him, it’s never enough.

In public, the touches are very much toned down. However, he still likes to make it clear this partner taken. And who exactly has taken them. Hand holding, arm around your waist, hand resting on your thigh, fixing your hair, the odd kiss on the cheek. All different ways Lewis shows his love. Any chance he can get there’s a hand on you. And he very much likes when you initiate the touch and reciprocate his affection.

Lando Norris

✰ how he loves - learning

This man would learn anything for you. Whether that’s how to style your hair, how to bake, how to make those fake paper flowers. He’d improve his writing just to write letters to you. He’d learn how to fix gadgets that you’ve broken if he can’t find anyone do to it instead. And if he can’t fix something, like a ring or necklace, he will be damn sure to take it to a jewellers the following morning. Absolutely nothing else would matter to him until that jewellery was in the safe hands of a professional.

✰ how he likes to be loved - food

Food is the way to Lando’s heart. Whether that’s bringing him food on stream, or just deciding to bake something. This man absolutely loves that you cook for him.

✰ how he loves - appreciation

If your relationship is known to the public, this guy will talk so highly of you on stream. How you’re the best partner, how lucky he is to have you, how he wants nothing more than to put a ring on your finger, etc, etc.

If the relationship is secret from the public but not to friends, family, and/or the grid. Then he will turn to those closest to him and talk about you to them like you’re heaven on earth.

✰ how he loves/likes to be loved - touch

He is a slut for physical affection. Hand in his hair, cuddles, hand on his back, leg, a kiss. It does not matter to him. He will take any and all that he can get. And he will love you even more for it.

If you want more drivers then lmk I guess lol

This has been sat in my drafts for days and I cba to add more rn but it’s pissing me off by being there lol so enjoy ig

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

MOODY

trans ftm!formula one x male!reader

request: can we get texts with trans!drivers being pregnant with their first child and get extremely moody can you also include lewis🙏🏼 - @nyramylove

summary: your boyfriend is pregnant and he's quite happy to make it just as much of a problem for you as it is for him

warnings: swearing, seahorse dad!drivers, pregnant!drivers, whipped!reader (jenson, seb), suggestive content (kimi (?), lewis, oscar), implied breeding kink (oscar)

contains: jenson button, kimi raikkonen, lewis hamilton, max verstappen, oscar piastri, + sebastian vettel

©thekoalapastriesbakery :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: seahorse dad!drivers i adore you. here you go love!

comments + reblogs appreciated!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ncrsbrg @spoonfulofmilo @justaf1girl

[transbookoftheday]

Welcome to St. Hell by Lewis Hancox

A groundbreaking memoir about being a trans teen, in the vein of FUN HOME and FLAMER… and at the same time entirely its own.

Lewis has a few things to say to his younger teen self. He knows she hates her body. He knows she’s confused about who to snog. He knows she’s really a he and will ultimately realize this… but she’s going to go through a whole lot of mess (some of it funny, some of it not funny at all) to get to that point. Lewis is trying to tell her this… but she’s refusing to listen.

In WELCOME TO ST. HELL, author-illustrator Lewis Hancox takes readers on the hilarious, heartbreaking, and healing path he took to make it past trauma, confusion, hurt, and dubious fashion choices in order to become the man he was meant to be. It’s a remarkable, groundbreaking graphic memoir from an unmistakably bold new voice in comics.

[middle-ans]

Neighbours AU: The Laundry Room

George was just doing routine laundry on his sudden day off in the middle of the week. He wasn't about to blatantly give the hot, gorgeous, enigmatic neighbor a surprise glimpse of what later found a floral affiliation with the shade of soft, blushing pink on his doorstep.

1.5k words

What, I'm silly. And I love that scene from Desperate Housewives with the nanny in the laundry room at Scavo's house, btw Lynnette should've killed Tom on the spot when she found out.

The laundry room was empty, just as George had hoped. It was midweek, mid-morning - the kind of time when most people in the building were at work or otherwise occupied. He had an unexpected day off, a last-minute schedule change at the boutique, and he figured he might as well take advantage of it to catch up on chores.

The space was lit by long strips of flickering fluorescent lights, but the real glow came from the high, frosted windows under the ceiling, where sunlight slanted in at an angle, casting everything in warm, golden hues. George felt it on his skin, a soft caress of warmth as he set his laundry basket down and started sorting through his clothes.

It wasn’t much - a few shirts, some socks, a hoodie he’d worn twice but wasn’t ready to call dirty. As he stuffed them into the washing machine, his gaze fell to his own clothes, the loose pajama pants and the slightly oversized sleep shirt. The pants weren’t exactly dirty, but he’d been wearing them all morning, and the thought struck him that he might as well throw them in, too.

And if he was doing that, well…

There was something else, a pair of lacy panties from the lingerie store he worked at, a test mock-up of what was the inspiration for the new collection, and Alessandra, the owner & designer, had handed them to him after catching his eye lingering on the panties for a second longer. 'Perfect for your hips' she said, and George didn't mind. He preferred lace, especially low cut ones and those that barely covered what they were meant for. So standing next to the open door of the washing machine he thought why not?

George bit his lip, he hooked his thumbs into the elastic, shimmying the pajamas down his hips. The air bit at his bare thighs, raising goosebumps. The panties clung stubbornly, lace against skin still sleep-warm, until he wiggled them free with a huff.

“In you go,” he whispered to them, dropping the panties into the machine with a flourish.

Fumbling with the buttons on the mode panel, George hummed a soft tune to himself, arching his back in a sweet stretch to relieve any residual stiffness in his muscles from sleep. One leg bent at the knee, hips raised high as he reached for the appropriate wash mode. All in peace. Until a throat cleared behind him.

George froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck.

He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse over his shoulder, and there he was - his hot neighbor. The one he only ever exchanged nods and polite hey, man greetings with in the lobby. The one with warm, dark eyes and tattooed arms and plump, unfairly pretty lips. The one whose name George didn’t even know, because they’d never properly introduced themselves. And those lips. Those lips were slightly parted, his lower one caught just between his teeth before his tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, wetting it.

And yet here he was, standing in the doorway, staring.

George realized, with a sudden and violent awareness, that he was bent over in front of this man, pants pooled around his ankles, pussy fully on display in the golden morning light. It backlit him like some kind of deranged Renaissance painting - ‘Boy With Panties and Regret’.

Oh, fuck.

Lewis coughed, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Hope I’m not interrupting… laundry yoga?”

George yanked his sleep shirt down with a speed that could have broken records, straightening up so fast he almost lost his balance. He fumbled for his pants, heart pounding in his chest, face heating up so much he was sure he’d combust on the spot.

“I, uh, hi-” his voice cracked. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Lewis leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze steady and unreadable except for the slight amusement in his eyes.

“Hi yourself. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, voice smooth, rich, a little teasing. “Didn’t mean to, uh… see anything, either. Not something I'd expect with my morning coffee.”

“Oh my God,” George wanted to melt into the floor.

“But,” Lewis tilted his head. “If I did see something, just know it was a beautiful start to my day.”

George made a sound. A strangled, embarrassed, horrified little sound.

Lewis smiled, slow and warm.

“Nice lace, by the way.”

George squirmed, covering half his face with a hand. He sighed, straightening the waistband of his pajama pants and tilted his head, examining the pattern on them. A huge cluster of sneezing cats. Bloody Alex.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, lips going to be bitten into a hideous state by the end of this day. “It's from the store where I work.”

Lewis hums, viewing him like a curious fruitcake.

“So you work in a lingerie store?” his lashes fall a breath lower, a tiny movement that frames the heavy dark gaze with an even greater veil of mystery. “Might as well hire you as a model. With a curve like that.”

George sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing the now empty laundry basket.

“You, I- this never happened.”

Lewis tilted his head, considering him.

“Sure it didn’t.”

“It didn’t!”

Lewis’s lips curled, that same thoughtful, very entertained expression lingering on his face.

“Then why are you blushing, sweetheart?”

George made a strangled sound, high and distressed.

“You cannot just, just walk in here and see that and say things like that!”

“See what?” Lewis asked, all fake innocence. “I was just coming in to do my laundry.”

George glared at him.

“You licked your lips.”

Lewis exhaled a small, amused laugh.

“What can I say? You looked good enough to eat.”

George's soul left his body.

“I’m leaving.”

Lewis stepped aside to let him pass, but as George stormed past him, he heard it - low and teasing, just under his breath-

“Guess I’ll be dreaming about that all day, huh?”

George didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

But his heart?

His heart was racing.

The rest of the day stretched on, slow and heavy with tension. George couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking around in a haze, his mind a swirling mess of thoughts. Every time he tried to distract himself - whether by reading, watching TV, or scrolling through his phone - his thoughts inevitably returned to that moment in the laundry room.

Lewis’s smirk, his low voice, the way his gaze had lingered on George’s exposed skin, it was all too much to ignore. Each time he thought about it, a wave of embarrassment would roll over him, followed by a rush of something else, something hotter. He hadn’t expected to be so... intrigued.

He shifted from room to room, trying to distract himself, but his mind kept returning to Lewis. To that moment. To the way his body had reacted to the teasing words, to the knowing look in Lewis's eyes.

George felt wound up, nervous but intrigued, and more than a little unsure of what he was supposed to be feeling. Was he embarrassed? Yes, of course. But was he also... curious? Absolutely.

When the sun began to set, casting golden hues across the apartment, George found himself walking aimlessly to the window, pulling back the curtain slightly to peer out. The evening sky was cloudless, and he could see the moon just starting to rise. He leaned against the window frame, lost in thought, his mind flickering between confusion and a growing curiosity.

He was still replaying the events of the morning in his mind, the feel of Lewis’s eyes on him, the teasing words he’d heard just as he’d stormed past him.

But then - there was a knock on his door.

George’s heart skipped in his chest, suddenly alert, as if the sound had shaken him from his thoughts. He froze, staring at the door for a few moments as though trying to figure out if he had imagined it.

No. It came again, more insistent this time.

He quickly glanced around the apartment, feeling the flush rise on his cheeks as though he’d just been caught in the middle of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

For a brief second, he wondered if it was just his nerves. But when he heard the knock again, George knew.

He opened the door cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing - there, on the floor in front of him, was a bouquet of soft pink peonies, their petals open wide, and a folded piece of paper resting carefully beneath them.

His heart pounded in his chest, confusion and excitement swirling together. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the flowers, the faint scent of them hitting his senses and calming him, if only slightly.

He unfolded the note, his hands trembling ever so slightly.

The note was simple. Short. But every word hit George like a punch to the gut. The giggle though was so resonant bouncing off the walls that it was heard even by the man standing a few floors above, leaning against the wall and grinning like crazy, trying to catch his breath.

“For a beautiful boy who gave me the best part of my morning.

I couldn’t help but notice the color of these peonies matches something else I saw today.

Sweet, soft, and impossible to forget. Still thinking about it. Still thinking about you.”

And on the other side was hopeful “I’ll be around if you want to pick up where we left off.”.

[chrissy-kaos]

Some of you were asking to see my little Lego/trinkets collection. This is just what I have on display rn. I have a few more sets in storage. Sadly I don’t have enough shelf space yet! Big sad 😭

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

Make your choice, adventurous girlie

Pop the skittles, skirt go twirly

Or wonder, till it drives you mad

What would have followed if you had

[outatmako]

H2O: Just Add Water Moodboards (9/?)

trans boy Lewis McCartney

[separatetheyolk]

Like Real People Do | Lewis Hamilton X Male!Reader

ʚɞ Featuring: Lewis Hamilton

ʚɞ absolutely no one asked for this but I give you Lewis Hamilton aftercare

ʚɞ warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing overly explicit mainly just in passing

ʚɞ note: this is a long one. I’ve got a one for Charles finished (though I’m not sure if I like it so may scrap and restart) and Carlos in the works. As with all my male!reader posts this can be read as trans!reader too. Trans masc too but there is he/him, boy and boyfriend used to refer to the reader in this. I’ve read this like ten times but there may still be some mistakes and shit so sorry in advance

ʚɞ wordcount: 3.6k

ʚɞ requests are open!

You trembled on the bed, curled up on your side ever so slightly, twitching and jerking every so often as you came down from your fifth high that night, your brain turned practically to mush, gripping to the pillow set under your head.

You let out a weak cry as Lewis ran his thumb over your abused nipple. Causing the man to pause. Pulling himself away from the session for a moment he checked you over. Studying your body. You looked spent. Utterly spent. Chest heaving for air, tear tracks down your cheeks. Face flushed red and that neck.. that poor, abused neck. “Colour, baby.” He asked softly, moving his hand down from your chest to your hip. Rubbing small circles on the bone in a comforting manner.

You couldn’t form words, your brain couldn’t make the connection to your tongue to work. To your mouth for your lips to move. Instead, you let out a whine. High pitched and exhausted, shaking your head quickly. Lewis took that as you wanted to end the session, nodding softly.

You felt the bed shift beside you, opening your eyes for your gaze to meet your boyfriends. Instinctively you moved to him the best you could with weak legs and trembling arms. Lewis helping you the rest of the way. “You done so well, baby..” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The praise caused you to melt slightly. Letting out a small noise of adoration. “You done so good for me.. so proud of you..”

“I love you so much.. took it all so well..” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head again. You didn’t know how long you spent like that. Your concept of time blurred. But eventually Lewis started to pull away. All too soon in your opinion.

You let out a whimper, moving to grab ahold of him a little more. Hearing a deep chuckle from the man. “Oh I know..” he whispered. “I know you want cuddles. But I gotta get you cleaned up, sugar.” He slipped from the bed, crouching down on the floor beside it so he could see your face again. Taking in every small imperfection on it. Drinking you up like he couldn’t get enough. Like he hadn’t just fucked you for two hours. “Could you be a good boy? Wait here for me?” He asked, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Hmm?”

You could be a good boy.. you wanted to be a good boy. You craved the praise that came with it. Craved that love and affection. Nodding quickly, you watched as Lewis smiled. Pressing a kiss to your temple as he stood. “There’s my boy. You just stay here.. I’ll take care of you..”

You watched as Lewis left the room to the ensuite. Stomach sinking slightly but you done as instructed and stayed put. Grabbing the blankets and pulling them to your shoulders. Not caring that they were dirty. And judging by the water running, you had a feeling it didn’t matter regardless.

Lewis ran his hand under the tap, making sure the water to the bath was warming up. Realistically, he knew it wasn’t the cleanest option. But he had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to stand long enough for a shower. And he wouldn’t be able to carry and wash you at the same time. So a shared bath it was. At this point, he had aftercare on lock. Lighting a few candles he knew you liked, adding some muscle relaxer into the water along with some bubble bath and a lavender bath bomb. Once the tub had filled, he made his way back to you. Stopping at the doorway and lent against the wood, just taking in the sight of you.

Taking in the sight of you curled up on the, admittedly, ridiculously large bed. One leg poked out from under the duvet, hugging one of Lewis’ pillows, face pressed into your own, hair ruffled and messed up. Swallowed by sheets. He almost didn’t want to move you, but he wasn’t exactly keen on sleeping in those sheets tonight.

So, reluctantly, he moved to the bed, hand coming to rest on your upper arm and began to stroke up and down it gently. His hand was rough against your skin. Something you’d always loved. “Baby?” His voice came out almost as a whisper, smiling wide when you opened your eyes. Your own face up lit when you’d realised he was back. “Hey.. hey, sugar. Ready for your bath?”

You nodded slowly, arms held out to the man. And Lewis didn’t need to be told twice. He picked you up with a groan, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the tub he double checked the temperature of the water. Pouring some onto your thigh. “How’s that, baby?” He asked, feeling you nod against his shoulder.

He then carefully lowered you into the tub, mindful of your bruised ass. You let out a small whine as it hit the bottom, Lewis whispering quiet “I know..” to you. Once you were situated, he lowered himself into the bath behind you. Leaning back and whispered a quiet “C’mere baby..” allowing you to lean into his chest, rubbing up and down your sides gently. He didn’t immediately move to wash you. Instead he let the two of you soak in the water first. Pressing kisses to your shoulder and the darkening hickeys on your neck and behind your ear like they’d sooth them some. All while keeping his hand moving up and down against your skin. “I got you..” he whispered, rubbing your side gently. “Right here baby..”

You whined quietly, trying to spin round to face him. Beginning to grow upset that you couldn’t. Past that point of exhaustion and now to where any minor inconvenience was enough to upset you. Lewis smiled softly, tucking your legs into your chest and carefully spun you round, letting you go wherever you wanted which you decided would be to straddle his lap, arms wrapped around him. Legs tight around Lewis’ waist. Face pressed to his neck.

Lewis wrapped his arms gently around your waist, loose but enough to let you know he wasn’t leaving. He slid down in the water a little more. Still making sure your head was above it but more of the warmth wrapped your body. The lavender bath bomb began to have its desired effect after about half an hour, drowsy and oh so tired. Just ready to curl up into Lewis’ side wrapped in warm blankets and comfy clothes.

You let out a whine of “Lew..” when he sat up again. The man looking down to you with a smile. “Well, welcome back baby..” he kept one arm wrapped around you a little tighter, the other squeezing body wash onto a loofa that was floating around in the water. “You’re okay.. I got you..” he reassured.

He felt you remove your head from his shoulder, looking around the room to grasp your surroundings. You had a vague idea of what had happened during the time Lewis had been taking care of you. More veiled behind fog than anything. Like the moment Lewis lay down your brain switched off in a completely different way. “You just relax, baby.. just gonna wash you then you can curl up in bed again.” Lewis spoke, keeping his eyes fixed to you. Studying you, making sure your mood wasn’t about to plummet. “Okay? You doing okay?”

You looked to the man for a moment like he was speaking in tongues. Either way, you’d have let him. Whether you understood his self appointed mission or not. You’d trust this man with your life.. this didn’t work without trust. Sex, aftercare, your relationship as a whole. You nodded slowly once you’d managed to grasp what had been said, nuzzling back into his neck.

Lewis wasn’t sure whether that nod was in response to him washing you, if you were feeling okay, or both. Sighing softly. “Darling, can I?” He asked, removing your face from his neck and held the loofa in view. Again, another nod.

He’d started with your back first, then your sides, chest, legs, then used a separate cloth for your armpits and afterwards he rinsed you down. Humming softly as he done so, hand rubbing circles onto the small of your back. He then began to wash himself. Lewis then made quick work of getting out and drying himself, turning back to the bath when finished towel wrapped around his waist. Eh.. you could stay in there while he changed the bedding.

He slipped on some clean boxers and comfy joggers before he got to work. Stripping any and all bedding, throwing it into the corner of the room, rummaging through drawers to find a particular set he knew you liked. Extremely soft to the touch and likely the better choice for not only your bruised arse, but his clawed up back. Finding it with a little bit of trouble. He threw on the fitted sheet, changed the pillow cases, stripped the duvet of its cover and replaced it with the clean one. Picked up any used or unopened condoms, threw them in the bin, set the lube away in his middle drawer and decided that would do for the night. He could do a deeper clean in the morning if you weren’t as dependant on him then.

He rushed downstairs before getting you out the bath, grabbing a protein bar from the cupboard for himself, favourite snack for you, and two bottles of water from the fridge. Setting them down on his bedside table for the time being.

Last but not least, he moved back to the bathroom with some clean underwear, fresh towel and a few of his own shirts in hand. Hanging them up on the hook on the door, Lewis then moved over to pull the plug for the bath, stealing a kiss as he stood back up. He cleared a section of the counter then carefully picked you up from the bath. Not caring about water dripping onto his joggers. He set you onto the cool marble, dried you off and let you pick out which shirt. Then helped you get changed into it along with the clean boxers. “Handsome man..” Lewis murmured when done, kissing your temple before picking you up for the last time tonight.

He carried you back through to the bedroom after letting you blow out the candles, pulled your side of the blankets back with one hand and then propped up your pillows slightly. Setting you down onto the mattress and tucked you in. You watched as Lewis moved to his own side of the bed, slipping between the sheets and wrapped an arm around you. Grabbing one of the bottles of water. “Come here, baby.” He muttered, holding the plastic to your lips. “Drink some of this for me.. there we go.” He smiled softly as you tipped your head back. Lewis tipping the bottle to follow your lead. Making sure not to drown you or waterboard you. That would be far from ideal. Once about half the water was gone, you shook your head, wrapping arms around Lewis and set your head on his chest. With a smile, Lewis shuffled further down into bed, holding you to his side.

Food and your little chat could wait until morning too..

The next morning or well afternoon when you woke up, your entire body was stiff. Whining quietly from the slight pain as you stretched. You turned to the door when you heard shuffling making it’s way up the stairs only now realising the lack of Lewis’ presence beside you. Smiling when the man came round the corner and into the room holding a tray. Seemed to have some form of food and a glass of orange juice on it.

“Hey..” He spoke softly, spotting you half awake. Lewis set the food to the end of the bed for the time being, slipping back to his side of the bed again. “Was gonna come wake you up..”

“Wha’ times it?” You mumbled closely followed by a yawn, rubbing your eyes. “M’ sleepy still..”

“Well that’s probably because you overslept gorgeous..” Lewis replied, turning round to his bedside table briefly to grab his phone. “It’s..” he glanced up briefly as Roscoe made his way into the bedroom, clearly not happy that he hadn’t had access to it at all the night before. He then turned back to his phone, pressing the power button. “Half two.”

“Damn..” you’d slept that long? You weren’t entirely sure what time you’d ended up actually going to bed last night but it couldn’t have been any later than three in the morning. You’d slept eleven hours? “What time did you get up?”

“Around twelve.. had some zoom meetings at one. Something about the car next season I can’t really remember.” Lewis shook his head, leaning forward to grab the tray. “Come on, sit up and get this down you.” He rose the tray ever so slightly.

Reluctantly you done just that. Torso leaving the warmth of the blankets, groaning as you pushed yourself up and whining when your ass bore the weight. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Lewis asked almost immediately, concern rising in his throat.

“M’ just a little stiff n’ my ass is sore..” you told him, shaking your head. “Just the norm..”

Lewis frowned at that, nodding slowly and carefully set the tray on your lap. Not a whole lot of food but just the right amount that you’d eat after just waking up. “You start eating, I’ll grab some painkillers for you.” Lewis spoke softly.

You watched the man turn to head to the ensuite, pausing when you spotted the state you’d left his back in. Usually? You found it hot. Something you both liked.. but this looked like he’d gotten into a fight with a tiger and came out the other end mauled. “Your back..” you practically whimpered. Lewis immediately turned back around, wanting to kick himself for not even thinking about that.

“Nono- no hey..” he rushed back over, moving to sit beside you. “I can’t even feel it, baby.. forgot they were even there.” He quickly took your hands, shaking his head. “No- hey don’t cry..” he squeezed them gently, giving you a reassuring smile. “If it hurt i would have said for you to stop..” he heard something along the lines of “but they’ve been bleeding..” causing him to sigh softly.

“They did, yes. But really not that much..” he watched your face, studying how it dropped, kept your eyes fixed to the food in your lap but that interest in eating no longer there. “Hey.. how about this..” you looked up to him ever so slightly, the man peaking your interest. “You eat your food, have a some painkillers and if you really want to, you can give them a clean.”

You thought about it for a moment, turning your eyes back to the food. “I..” You sighed softly, knowing for a fact he wouldn’t take any other compromise. You loved Lewis.. but sometimes that habit of not putting himself first annoyed you to no end. “Okay..”

With a smile, Lewis stood again. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before turning to head to the bathroom once again. Coming back with two ibuprofen both snapped in half. “Hand out baby.” He spoke, sitting down on the bed beside you and dropped them into your palm when you’d done as instructed. Throwing them into your mouth and quickly swallowing them down with the juice. Shuddering once you’d managed to successfully get them down.

“That’s it.. you finish eating I’ll clean up a little.” Lewis spoke, soft smile on his face. He grabbed a shirt from the wardrobe to not upset you any further. Just an old one, print practically gone the only remnants being a shiny patch on the cotton fabric where it used to be. What used to be black now washed out to a light grey.

You heard him hum softly, the sound of a washing machine door opening and closing, then the same for the dryer. You heard the beep of it starting up, Lewis coming up thirty seconds later with some pillows and duvet from the spare room. He carefully switched the pillows over with the ones on the bed, being sure not to strain you too much knowing your muscles were sore and then swapped the duvet round, taking them both downstairs. Rustling came from the laundry room of which you assumed was him stripping the covers from the bedding followed by two doors opening and closing, a curse, sound of a tap running so clearly Lewis had spilled liquid detergent and finally the sound of the doors closing and two beeps signalling the two machines had started washing their loads.

After that, it was mainly just standard day to day sounds. Like washing dishes, the odd clatter, sound of the vacuum. After about half an hour Lewis came back up to an empty plate. Instead of taking it downstairs like you thought he would, he simply set it on the table in the corner, nipped into the bathroom and came out with a damp clean cloth. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to, babe.” He spoke, moving to sit beside you and wrapped an arm around your waist. Pulling you into his side.

“I know..” you muttered, resting your head onto his shoulder and held your hand out for the cloth which he reluctantly handed over. “But I want to.. I caused it, I want to help make it better.” You heard the other chuckle, looking up to him confused.

“I mean, I’d argue that I was the one to cause it. You don’t exactly go around clawing at my back like it’s a norm.” He smirked, looking down to you briefly before pulling his arm away. He pulled the shirt off with one swift motion and then pulled the duvet back, moved to lie down between your legs and hugged your thigh. “But I do like when you do it..”

You smiled softly as the man got comfortable. It wasn’t a regular occurrence for Lewis to be searching comfort from you. Usually you were on the receiving end. Or you’d have to reach out and offer that comfort. You didn’t mind reaching out at all but often you found yourself wishing he’d do it a bit more. You wanted him to know he could come and ask. You were sure he did. You just didn’t know why he didn’t. “Is there anything you didn’t like?”

The question snapped you from your thoughts, looking down to him for a moment before beginning to gently clean the scratches covering his back. “Uhm.. not that I can think of?” You spoke, sounding in thought as you tried to recall anything. “That break after the third was a little short, not enough for me to be like ‘woah no stop’ just more ‘fucking hell already?’ If you get me? Like I was still okay to do it was just a little tired kinda thing.”

You felt Lewis nod against your leg, kiss being pressed to your thigh. “I’ll remember that for next time.. anything you wanted to ask? Anything you want to try?” You felt the man relax against your leg the more you ran the cloth against his back, a small sigh escaping past his lips which caused you to smile ever so slightly.

“I can’t.. think of anything? But if anything comes up I’ll let you know.” The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. Neither of you feeling any need to break it as you continued to clean the others back. Eventually, you did speak up after realising you hadn’t asked how Lewis was doing. “What about you? Did you like it? Anything you didn’t? How are you holding up?”

“Me? Oh I’m feelin’ fine babe. Little sore like you but that’s normal. I can’t think of anything that I didn’t like. A few things I’d want to try but I’d like to wait for you to come to me and bring them up.” Lewis didn’t want to pressure you.. he knew that seemed to be a reoccurring theme with other couples. Dom mentions something they want to try, sub agrees purely for the fact it’s their dom without even considering if it was something they’d want. He knew you could stand up, tell him what you wanted, when you wanted to stop. You’d demonstrated that last night. But it was still a fear none the less.

“Alright well.. you can bring it up. ‘M all ears.” You spoke. To some, it may have come up as trying to pressure him. To Lewis? He knew it was simply some reassurance before you’d both drop the subject. Again, the room fell silent. Roscoes snores and the muffled sounds of birds filling the room. Eventually, his back was cleaned. “Alright.. baby you’re gonna have to scooch. Need the bathroom.”

Lewis reluctantly sat up from inbetween your legs, rubbing his face with a yawn. “You need a hand getting there or no?”

“Nah.. I think I got it.” The trip there was slow, you had a slight waddle in your walk. But you did eventually make it. Turning the light on as Lewis got comfortable on the bed. Turning the TV on. Not even five seconds later there was a shout.

“Lewis!” He turned his head to the door, smirk already plastered on his face. Just knowing you’d saw the absolute state of your neck. Then, your head popped from the room. “I’ve got work tomorrow!”

ʚɞ I actually really liked how this turned out?? I was originally going to post Lewis, Charles and Carlos together but I got like 2k words in for Lewis and thought “who tf is going to read like 6k words of just aftercare”.

ʚɞ Not to mention I was struggling to find a way for it to not be repetitive? There’s only so many times I can x, y, z gave reader a bath in one post before it gets a little boring. So I decided to leave them as separate posts and if people want to go back and read the others they can 🤷‍♂️

ʚɞ Honestly no idea when the next of this little mini series will be up. My social battery is six feet under and I’m so goddamn tired lol so give me like a few days see where I’m at

ʚɞ As for requests, I know there was some interest for a one someone left a few days ago, I’ll get to that asap I was planning this one out when the request came through so I decided to finish this one first instead of immediately working on the request so I didn’t forget about it (this took so long to write omg usually I’m able to bash like three posts out in one sitting but this took days 😭)

ʚɞ Anyway I have a strong headcannon that Lewis would call you ‘sugar’ and I don’t know why because whenever I think of that I think of it being said in a southern accent by some guy who works on a ranch not a British guy who drives cars around a track for a living so 🤷‍♂️

ʚɞ This entire post is long enough as it is so I’ll leave it here. Bye now 👋🏻

[cyellolemon]

Pride illust with my webtoon's characters!! :) Happy pride

[werethropy]

Reminder that there're bigger things to be worrying about than if neopronouns or it/its pronouns are valid and what flag/term someone should use to express themselves.

I've seen too many reviving this "discourse" and unnecessarily breaking us all apart just because they want to feel as if they've taken some sort of moral high ground at the expense of other queer people. I doubt it's going to get too far, but I want to say my piece;

It's true that homophobia and transphobia have been on the rise in recent years, but trust me, it's not because someone uses xe/xem or a person would rather describe themselves as a boydyke or multigender lesbian.

There are fascists out there who want us dead and all you can think about is how to police labels to either A) appear more "correct" to those same fascists instead of fighting back in anyway you can, or B) to satisfy some sort of desire to control others' lives over the internet.

[transbookoftheday]

Welcome to St. Hell by Lewis Hancox

A groundbreaking memoir about being a trans teen, in the vein of FUN HOME and FLAMER… and at the same time entirely its own.

Lewis has a few things to say to his younger teen self. He knows she hates her body. He knows she’s confused about who to snog. He knows she’s really a he and will ultimately realize this… but she’s going to go through a whole lot of mess (some of it funny, some of it not funny at all) to get to that point. Lewis is trying to tell her this… but she’s refusing to listen.

In WELCOME TO ST. HELL, author-illustrator Lewis Hancox takes readers on the hilarious, heartbreaking, and healing path he took to make it past trauma, confusion, hurt, and dubious fashion choices in order to become the man he was meant to be. It’s a remarkable, groundbreaking graphic memoir from an unmistakably bold new voice in comics.

[middle-ans]

Neighbours AU: The Laundry Room

As night crept up, George dressed in pink silk and some fur, made his way downstairs back to the laundry room, because he knew. Lewis would surely come.

3k words

The hum of the dryer filled the shadowed laundry room, its rhythmic thump against the concrete floor the only sound as George knelt to retrieve his still-warm clothes. Moonlight bled through the high windows now, casting silver streaks across the floor that caught on the hem of his robe - silk the exact blush-pink of peony centers, slipping like liquid over his thighs when he moved. The matching panties clung lower than decency allowed, lace scallops brushing the top curves of his ass as he leaned forward. Fluffy slippers muffled his shifting feet, absurd and endearing against the room's industrial chill.

The door clicked open.

George's fingers froze on a thermal shirt. Cologne hit him first - sandalwood and something citrus-sharp, cutting through the fabric softener haze. He didn't turn. Didn't need to. The air thickened, charged like the moment before lightning strikes.

"Thought you might be down here," Lewis' voice rolled through the dark, velvet-wrapped gravel that skated down George's spine. "Left my detergent earlier."

Liar. George's lips twitched as slanted shadows merged on the wall before him - Lewis' broad silhouette engulfing his own slender shape.

"It's midnight."

"Got off shift late," closer now, heat radiating through the scant inches between them. A calloused thumb brushed the dip of George's waist where his robe had slipped open. "Couldn't sleep. Kept thinking about pink things."

George's breath hitched. The dryer's glow painted Lewis' hands burnt gold as they settled fully on his hips, burning through thin silk.

"You don't play fair."

"Never claimed to, darling," lips grazed the shell of his ear, stubble catching on fine hairs. Lewis' chest pressed flush against his back, solid and unyielding. "Saw these earlier through your robe when you passed the mailboxes," a fingertip traced the lace waistband peeking above his pajama line. "Knew they'd be prettier up close."

George arched without meaning to, the small noise he made swallowed by Lewis' hungry exhale. The hands at his hips turned him slowly, laundry forgotten as Lewis backed him against the humming machine. Frosted light caught the silver hoop in Lewis' earlobe, the devilish curve of his mouth.

"There's that blush," Lewis murmured, thumb brushing George's cheekbone. "Same color as when you were bent over this morning, all that pretty lace and smoother skin than these sheets," he palmed a stack of folded linens, eyes never leaving George's. "Tell me to stop."

"You wouldn't," George's laugh came breathless, nervous.

"Try me," Lewis crowded closer, knee slipping between George's thighs. "Could walk away right now. Let you finish your laundry like a good boy."

The giggle escaped before George could stifle it - high, melodic, cracking at the edges like sunlight through ice. Lewis went very still.

"Fuck," he breathed, pupils swallowing warm brown. His grip tightened, dragging George flush against him. "Do that again."

"Make me," George dared, pulse rabbiting as Lewis' gaze dropped to his mouth.

The kiss stole his next taunt - all heat and teeth and barely restrained hunger. Lewis tasted of spearmint gum and the whiskey he must've sipped before coming down, hands mapping the dip of George's back through slippery silk. When George whimpered, Lewis swallowed the sound, tongue sweeping in to claim it.

"Knew you'd feel like this," Lewis growled against his lips, hiking George's thigh around his hip. The robe slithered open, pooling at George's elbows. "Soft fucking everywhere. Knew you'd let me ruin you."

George's head thumped back against the dryer, exposing his throat.

"Not ruined," he gasped, nails scoring Lewis' shoulders through black cotton. "Y-you're...ohgod..."

Lewis' mouth trailed fire down his neck, pausing to suck a bruise over fluttering pulse.

"Could show you ruined. Could take you right here with your little panties around one ankle and the whole building asleep upstairs."

The mental image punched a moan from George's chest. Lewis chuckled darkly, nipping his collarbone.

"Want that, princess? Want me to fuck you messy where anyone could walk in? Where you'd have to bite your hand quiet while I ruin this perfect lace?"

George's knees buckled. Lewis caught him effortlessly, lifting him onto the dryer with a metallic groan. The world narrowed to roaming hands and the slick slide of mouths, to Lewis' choked ‘Christ, you're gorgeous’ when he took a closer approach to lace.

Somewhere upstairs, a toilet flushed. They froze, foreheads pressed together, breathing ragged.

"Your place," Lewis demanded, voice shredded. "Now."

George tangled his fingers in those neat braids, tugging just hard enough to make Lewis hiss.

"Ask nicely."

Lewis' grin turned feral. He slid two fingers under lace, finding George already dripping.

"Please," he purred, circling slow. "Let me taste what I've been dreaming about all day."

The dryer buzzed. Neither moved.

"Again," George whispered.

Lewis kissed him, slow and filthy.

"Please, sweetheart. Please let me ruin you proper."

The sudden lurch of being hoisted into the air punched a yelp from George's throat. Lewis' arms banded under his thighs like steel cables, the ridged muscle of his forearms flexing against George's bare skin where the robe had ridden up. Fluffy slippers dangled precariously from his toes as Lewis pivoted toward the door.

"Put me down, you lunatic-"

"Make me," Lewis parroted George's earlier challenge, grinning wolfishly as he shouldered through the laundry room door. The hallway fluorescents buzzed overhead, mercilessly bright after the dim warmth of the dryer room. George's silk robe fluttered open, revealing a scandalous strip of lace-clad hip just as Mrs. Gupta from 5H rounded the corner with her yorkshire terrier.

The elderly woman froze. Peaches the terrier yapped.

"Evening, Mrs. G!" Lewis chirped, adjusting his grip as George desperately tried to clutch his robe closed. "Just helping my neighbor here with a... laundry emergency. You know how it is with delicates."

Mrs. Gupta's cataract-clouded eyes crinkled.

"In my day, we called that courting," she cackled, giving Peaches' leash a tug. "Carry on, Mr. Hamilton!"

The giggle tore from George before he could stop it - bright and effervescent, the sound of champagne bubbles hitting crystal. Lewis' steps faltered. His throat worked as he stared down at George, pupils blown wide enough to drown in.

"Fuck," he rasped, striding faster toward the elevator. "Do that again and I'll take you right here against the mailboxes."

George pressed his smile into Lewis' neck, inhaling bartender-sweat and amber cologne.

"Promises, promises."

The elevator doors slid open with a ding. Lewis backed them inside, never breaking eye contact as he hit the button for the 7th floor with his elbow. The mirrored walls threw back a hundred reflections of George's dishevelment - silk pooling around his waist, slippers dangling, Lewis' large hands splayed possessively across his bare thighs.

"Seven," George murmured, watching Lewis' gaze track a falling slipper in the mirrors. "You remembered my floor."

Lewis' thumbs dug into the soft inner curve of his thighs.

"Not the only thing I remembered," his voice dropped, gone rough at the edges. "Like how you shivered when I said I'd ruin you. How wet you got just from talking."

The elevator lurched upward. George's remaining slipper fell with a soft plop.

"Y'know..." Lewis' lips brushed the hinge of his jaw. "...these panties really do match the peonies," a fingertip slid beneath lace. "Exactly the shade of your blush when you come."

George's head thunked against the mirror.

"You're insufferable."

"Uh-huh," Lewis caught his mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing George's moan as the elevator chimed for the seventh floor. "And you're dripping through this lace. Let's see if I can make you sing louder than those fucking dryers, yeah?"

The apartment door slammed against the wall with a thud as Lewis shouldered his way inside, George's laughter bouncing off the exposed brick walls. He didn't set him down - just adjusted his grip, those bartender's arms holding George aloft like he weighed nothing. Moonlight streamed through the loft windows, glinting off the vase of peonies centered perfectly on the reclaimed wood coffee table.

Lewis' grin turned smug.

"Kept them, then."

George squirmed, silk robe slipping dangerously off one shoulder.

"They're... nice."

"Nice?" Lewis pivoted toward the kitchen island, deliberately brushing George's dangling slipper against the vase. Petals trembled. "Thought they might remind you of something."

The flush started at George's collarbones, crawling upward.

"Of your terrible taste in floral arrangements?"

"Of how fucking pretty you looked this morning," Lewis' voice dropped, nose skimming George's throat as he breathed him in. "All pink and golden and embarrassed. Bet you're still pink under this silk, aren't you?"

George's thighs clenched around Lewis' waist.

"Shut up."

"Make me," Lewis bit the shell of his ear, relishing the full-body shiver it provoked. "Or tell me why you really kept the flowers."

"Because-" George's breath hitched as Lewis walked them past the vase, his reflection in the dark TV screen showing how completely Lewis engulfed him. "Because no one's ever... matched them to..."

"To what, darling?" Lewis purred, backing him against the refrigerator. Condensation seeped through the silk robe. "Use your words."

George's gaze flicked to the peonies, their blushing centers luminous in the dark.

"T-to my... my..."

Lewis' lips traced the frantic pulse in his neck.

"Pussy?"

The word landed like a lit match. George whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily.

"There it is," Lewis ground up against him, hard and deliberate. "Knew you could say it. Knew you wanted to," He nipped George's jaw, hands sliding lower under his thighs. "Now tell me why they match."

George's head thunked back against the fridge.

"Lewis-"

"Tell me."

"Because you-" a high, desperate sound. "You saw-"

"Saw?" Lewis laughed darkly, rolling his hips to emphasize the thick ridge of his arousal. "Baby, I dreamed. About how you'd taste. How you'd sound when I finally got my mouth on you," his voice dropped to a whiskey-rough whisper. "Wanna know what I call these flowers in my head? Sweetheart’s Cunt Bouquet. Water them every morning thinking about-"

George's hand clapped over his mouth, scandalized.

"Oh my god."

Lewis licked his palm.

"Fuck!" George jerked back, giggling despite himself - that bright, bell-like sound that made Lewis' knees weak. "You're disgusting!"

"Disgustingly right," Lewis trapped George's wrist against the fridge, leaning in until their breaths tangled. "Admit it. You've been thinking about my tongue on those petals all day."

George's chest heaved. The robe slithered open completely.

"Say it," Lewis thumbed the soaked lace between his legs. "Pussy. Say you want mine on yours."

The sob of the elevator rising somewhere below underscored George's silence.

"Georgie," Lewis pressed closer, all feigned patience. "Words."

"Y-you first," George rasped, boldness flaring through the embarrassment. "Say what you'll..do."

Lewis' smile turned feral. He dropped to his knees without warning, George's back sliding down the fridge as he hit the cold tile.

"Gladly."

The robe fell open completely now, revealing the ruin of those pink panties - soaked through, lace clinging to every curve.

“Fuck,” Lewis breathed, reverent. He pressed his forehead to George’s stomach, stubble grazing the trembling flesh. “You’re a fucking revelation.”

Dark eyes flicked up, blazing. His breath ghosted over damp lace, a blunt finger traced the sodden seam.

“Wanted to ruin these pretty panties so bad I almost came in my jeans when you giggled in the elevator.”

George whimpered, hips jerking forward.

“Now,” Lewis peeled the lace aside, revealing glistening pink flesh. “Tell. Me. Please.”

The plea undid him.

“I want-” George’s head thumped back against the fridge. “I want your mouth. On my pussy. Please.”

Lewis groaned like a man starved. Lewis’s hands tightened on George’s hips, fingers digging into the delicate silk of his robe as he lowered himself fully to his knees. The kitchen tiles were cold beneath him, a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating off George’s body. Slowly, deliberately, Lewis hooked George’s right leg over his shoulder, the movement possessive, almost reverent. George’s fluffy pink slipper slipped off, landing with a muffled thud somewhere near the dishwasher.

“Look at you,” he rasped, breath hot against glistening flesh. “Pink as those fucking flowers. Pink as sunrise,” his tongue swiped a broad, torturous stripe. “Mine.”

George’s face burned, but he couldn’t look away. Lewis’s braids brushed against his inner thigh, the subtle tug at his scalp sending a shiver skittering down his spine. The fridge hummed against his back, its cold surface a sharp counterpoint to the warmth pooling low in his stomach.

Lewis leaned in, his breath ghosting over the soaked lace.

“Tell me again,” he said, lips grazing the scalloped edge.

“Lewis-”

“Say it.”

The command was velvet-wrapped steel. George’s fingers tangled in Lewis’s braids, not to guide, but to anchor himself.

“I want you,” he gasped, hips jerking forward involuntarily. “On my p—ah!”

The word dissolved into a moan as Lewis’s tongue swept over him through the lace - broad, languid strokes that left the fabric clinging to his skin. George’s head thumped back against the fridge, the metallic clang echoing through the kitchen.

“Fuck,” Lewis growled, his hands sliding up to grip George’s ass, lifting him slightly off the tiles. “Even sweeter than I imagined.”

He peeled the lace aside with his teeth, the delicate fabric tearing at the seam, and George’s sharp inhale morphed into a whimper. The first direct touch of Lewis’s tongue - hot, insistent - had his knees buckling. Lewis held him steady, mouth working with ruthless precision, alternating between flicking the swollen bud of his clit and sucking it gently between his lips.

“Lewis-” George’s voice broke, his free leg trembling. “I can’t- oh god-”

Lewis hummed against him, the vibration ricocheting through George’s nerves like live wire. His hands roamed, one thumb circling the sensitive skin of George’s inner thigh while the other pressed firmly against his lower back, holding him in place. The duality of his touch - tender and demanding - left George unmoored, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.

The kitchen filled with obscene, wet sounds, each one stoking the fire in George’s gut. His fingers tightened in Lewis’s hair, torn between pulling him closer and shoving him away from the overwhelming sensation. Lewis only groaned, the sound vibrating against George’s core, and redoubled his efforts.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Lewis murmured, pausing just long enough to glance up. His lips glistened, his gaze molten. “Let me hear you.”

George shook his head, biting his lip hard enough to taste copper. Embarrassing. Too much. Too-

Lewis’s teeth grazed his clit.

George screamed.

The sound was raw, unfiltered, ricocheting off the stainless steel appliances. Lewis chuckled, the bastard, and swirled his tongue in tight, relentless circles.

“Louder,” he demanded, slipping two fingers inside George with torturous slowness. “Let the whole building know who’s ruining you.”

George’s hips jerked forward, impaling himself deeper on Lewis’s fingers.

“You’re- you’re-” he couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. The stretch of Lewis’s fingers, the slick drag of his tongue, the cold of the fridge seeping into his shoulder blades - it was too much, too everything.

Lewis crooked his fingers, brushing a spot that made stars burst behind George’s eyelids.

“C’mon, darling,” he purred, lips brushing George’s inner thigh. “Give it to me.”

George’s climax hit like a freight train - a white-hot detonation that tore through him with vicious intensity. His back arched off the fridge, a broken sob tearing from his throat as Lewis rode him through it, fingers pumping, tongue lapping up every drop. Distantly, he heard glass rattling in the cabinets, the fridge door shuddering under his weight, but all he could focus on was the relentless pleasure, sharp and sweet and too much.

When it finally ebbed, leaving him boneless and trembling, Lewis gentled his touch. He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along George’s inner thigh, murmuring praises against his skin.

“Beautiful. Fucking perfect. Knew you’d taste like heaven.”

George slid down the fridge, legs giving out, but Lewis caught him before he hit the tiles. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, lowering them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs and silk. Lewis settled against the fridge door, George straddling his lap, their foreheads pressed together.

“Still with me?” Lewis asked, thumb brushing the tear tracks George hadn’t realized were there.

George nodded, his breathing still ragged.

“Y-yeah. Just… wow.”

Lewis’s smirk was insufferable.

“Wow?”

“Shut up,” George swatted his chest, but there was no heat in it. His entire body felt liquefied, his thoughts syrupy and slow. “You’re… ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously good at that?” Lewis nipped his earlobe. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take the compliment.”

George groaned, burying his face in Lewis’s neck. The scent of him - sweat, whiskey, and something earthy - was intoxicating.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stunning,” Lewis’s hand slid up his back, fingers tangling in the damp hair at his nape. “Especially like this. All unraveled. Mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone sent a fresh jolt of heat through George. He lifted his head, meeting Lewis’s gaze.

“Yours?”

Lewis’s expression softened, just for a heartbeat.

“If you want.”

George hesitated. This - whatever this was - had spun out of control faster than he could process. But the warmth of Lewis’s hands on his skin, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath George’s palm… It felt right. Dangerous, exhilarating, but right.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against Lewis’s.

“Maybe.”

Lewis’s grip tightened.

“Tease.”

“Learned from the best,” George kissed him properly this time, slow and deep, tasting himself on Lewis’s tongue. The moan that escaped Lewis - raw, unfiltered - was the most gratifying sound he’d ever heard.

When they broke apart, Lewis’s pupils were blown wide, his breathing uneven.

“Bedroom,” he rasped. “Now.”

George raised an eyebrow.

“Bossy.”

“George-”

“Make me.”

Lewis’s growl sent a thrill down his spine. In one fluid motion, he stood, lifting George with him as if he weighed nothing. George’s legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the remnants of his robe slipping off entirely.

“Still with the caveman routine?” George quipped, even as he clung to Lewis’s shoulders.

“You love it,” Lewis shot back, carrying him down the hallway.

George opened his mouth to retort, but the words died as Lewis’s thumb brushed his clit, still sensitive and throbbing.

“Lewis-”

“Payback, sweetheart,” Lewis shouldered open the bedroom door, moonlight spilling across the rumpled sheets. “Now, where were we?”

[esqueletosgays]

DR. JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE (1971)

Director: Roy Ward Baker Cinematography: Norman Warwick