Revenge
Title: Revenge
Author: withalittlewit aka Priscila
Pairing: George/John
Rating: NC-17
Summary: John is madly in love with George. George just wants revenge.
Warnings: A bit of bondage, non-con, OOC!George (aka incredibly sexual George :O)
Author Notes: So yesterday, me and katexlove (she's like my fucking muse XD) were talking. One of the topics that came up was how it'd be great if John was in actuality eager to please George. Well, then today I had a sick and twisted idea that was loosely based off of that but not nearly as sweet sounding and actually very dark and depressing. D: SORRY.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor intend to imply to own the Beatles and any of the individuals' lives or history.
“I love you,” John said to George.
John loved George (though the fact seemed obvious enough after John had admitted it).
“Do you really?” George had answered back coolly.
George didn’t love John back (though John was never really sure; George was so difficult to read at times).
“Yes, I do. I would do anything for you.”
“Is that so?”
George stood, crossed the room, sat down in the chair across from John. He looked at him long and hard. Then: “Anything?”
“Anything,” John repeated, nodding.
“Strip.”
John was surprised, which would be the proper reaction in that situation to anyone with half a brain. He stared back at George, trying to see if there was any sincerity in his words. However, George’s eyes were blank, guarded, and the desperate desire to please George ate at John’s heart.
So John pulled off his clothes and sat back down on the chair. George watched him for a moment before moving behind the older man. He grabbed John’s discarded shirt and tied his hands behind his back. When he faced John again, the older Beatle saw something in the cold eyes.
There was something oddly evil and cruel, and he shivered.
“You love me, right, Johnny?” George asked sultrily, and John nodded. “You’d never hurt me, right, Johnny?” John nodded once more, his throat suddenly getting very tight. “Because you know how I can cry sometimes.”
“I love you, Geo,” John repeated, and George gave him a small smile. He leaned forward, his lips dancing before John’s enticingly, and John tried to move to close the gap. However, the younger male pulled away before they came into contact. He took a step away from John and sat back down on his chair.
“John, what do you want?” George asked as he rose an eyebrow.
“I want you.”
“Do you really? What about me do you want?”
“All of you.”
“Do you want my lips?” George dragged his tongue across his full lower lip seductively, and John nodded, knowing his voice would crack if he tried to talk. “How about my chest?” He dragged a hand down his torso and swirled a finger around his navel. “My legs?” The younger man caressed his thighs, never taking his eyes off of John.
John felt his cock twitch, his lower half pounding as his erection grew. “Geo, fuck, please, I need you.”
George gave him a sly smile and pressed a finger against the older man’s lips. “Ah, ah. Not yet, John. Wouldn’t you rather I get comfortable first?” He asked as he stood, his hands fingering the hem of his shirt. John nodded, his eyes wide and full of desire as he eyed George greedily.
Slowly, slowly, George pulled off his shirt. He let John’s eyes run over his body as he dropped the shirt onto the hotel room floor. He fingered the button of his jeans as he bit his lower lip, looking up at the sitting male innocently. John’s breath was coming out in ragged pants as George flicked open his jeans, his fingers brushing on his zipper before pulling it down. John watched in anticipation as George pulled off his pants.
George leaned forward, an all-knowing grin on his face. “Do you want to see it, John?” He didn’t have to hear John’s croaky answer before he slowly peeled off his underwear, his own cock fully aroused. “Like what you see?”
“Fuck yes,” John breathed, and George dragged his fingernails down John’s chest. The older man bit back a moan of mixed pain and pleasure.
“Tut, tut, Johnny. You shouldn’t curse, not with such impressionable minds about,” George chided. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want you to kiss me,” John replied eagerly. “I want to make you feel good,” he continued, and George roughly grabbed John’s cock. The older man gave out a cry.
“You want to make me feel good?” George challenged.
“Geo, please, let me fuck you.”
George released his grip and stepped back once more. He pressed a finger to his lip, pretending to think about it. “Only good boys get to fuck me,” he finally said. “Bad boys have to watch.”
“Fuck, Geo, please, I need you so bad-“
George’s hand struck John’s cheek, and John looked up, stunned. He had never seen George like this; so demanding, so in control. While it scared him, it also gave him a sick excitement. “No talking out of turn, Johnny.”
He moved to sit on his own chair, spreading his legs so John could get a better look. “Do you want me to touch myself, John?” he asked, and John nodded and gulped. “You have to beg me for it.”
“Please, George, play with yourself,” John pleaded, his eyes clouded with lust and his own erection in need of a touch.
George gave him a smile and lightly swirled a finger on the tip of his cock. He let out a light gasp of pleasure. He moved his hand to cover his arousal as he slowly began to stroke it, his gasps turning into quiet moans. “Do you imagine me doing this? Tossing off while moaning your name?” George asked.
“Yeah,” John admitted breathily.
“Oh, John, yes. That feels so good,” George moaned as he gave his erection a light squeeze. John’s own cock was twitching. However, George made no effort to acknowledge it. He moved to bend over on the chair, exposing his bottom to the older man. “Do you want to fuck this?”
“Please, Geo, please let me. I swear, I’ll make you feel good.”
“Oh, no, Johnny. I’m going to make you watch…” George licked one long finger, flicking the tip with his tongue, “as I fuck myself.” At the words he pushed a finger in, letting out a gasp as he did so. He pushed it in as far as it would go before slowly extracting it. “Oh, John, I’m so tight,” he teased, and John’s cock twitched again. He pushed the digit back in, slowly gaining a rhythm as it disappeared and reappeared before John’s eyes.
John tried to struggle against his bonds; his cock desperately needed tending to. His erection throbbed painfully, only being more enticed by George’s playing. John groaned gutturally as George slipped another finger into himself, the younger man’s moans becoming louder with each passing second. John couldn’t pull his eyes away from the sight before him.
“Fuck, John, you’re so big,” George moaned as he slipped another finger into himself. “You feel so good inside me.” He paused momentarily to sit on the chair, his legs spread wide so he could watch John watch him. He continued to fuck himself, his other hand moving to stroke his erection. “Oh, fuck, John, I think I’m going to come!”
With a cry George ejaculated, the white liquid landing unceremoniously on John’s stomach. John looked up at George eagerly, waiting for his turn. George took several moments to collect himself and control his breathing. After a minute, he straightened and stood, bending down to grab John’s jacket. Using to wipe himself off gently, he tossed the dirtied clothing on the ground before pulling on his own clothes.
When he finished dressing, he turned his attention back to his prisoner. “You love me, right, John?” he asked again. John, confused at George’s clothed nature, nodded numbly. George gave him a smile and leaned in to John, his lips brushing the older man’s ear. “Well, it’s too bad you’ll never have me,” he whispered. He pulled back and pressed a bruising and cruel kiss on John’s lips; holding in it nothing resembling love or affection and acting more as a slap than anything else.
George straightened and headed to the hotel door. “Ta, John. I’m off to the bar. Tell my regards to whoever finds you,” he said indifferently before exiting. He smiled to himself bitterly as he heard John’s anguished cry through the closed door.
George beat against John’s arms, chest, stomach. He tried to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat. John gave him an evil grin as he turned him around, bent him over and shoved him against the brick wall. George felt a whimper escape his lips as his pants were pulled down. He felt frightened and numb; who was this man? It wasn’t John, surely not. John wouldn’t do this to him, he wouldn’t rape him, especially not in front of-
John’s cock pushed into him roughly, causing him to cry out in alarm. The pain was blinding him, and he was vaguely aware of the jagged brick wall that was cutting into his palms. “John, please, don’t!” he cried, his body beginning to shake. He could hear howls of encouragement and cruel laughter from behind him; George realized he must’ve started crying.
“Fuck, Geo, you’re so fucking tight,” John grunted behind him as he rammed into him. George let out a strangled sob, his eyes shut tightly.
Why him? Why in front of everyone? If it had been anywhere else, at any time, with no one there, he might have been a bit better about it. “Why?” he croaked out, and he felt John lean into him.
“Mach shau, Geo. These Germans want a show, I’ll give them a fucking show. Plus, didn’t you say you love me?” he asked before grabbing George’s hair and pulling the younger man into a rough kiss.
George slowed his pace until he stopped completely. He paused and dragged a shaking hand through his hair, briefly noting the cold sweat that had gathered on his brow. He glanced back at the room. He could imagine John, betrayed and humiliated, just as he was back then, back in 1960 in Hamburg.
George had gotten what he wanted. He had waited patiently for revenge, and, just as he had hoped, it had come. And the plan, the execution was more perfect than he could have ever hoped for.
Yet George didn’t feel any better.
He had imagined he would feel that great weight on his heart lifted, like he was being freed from that evil that plagued him for four years. George had told John he loved him, he would do anything for him, and John had killed him.
But George didn’t want revenge, he realized slowly. He hadn’t wanted to hurt John. He wanted John’s love, his affection, his attention. He had wanted John to say he was sorry and that he accepted him and that they could mend the past.
George turned and stared at his hotel door, only a few feet away. It was so close. He could walk in, apologize, untie John, tell him he loved him still. They would talk about Hamburg, about what had happened, and they would be better. And John would remove the darkness that lingered in George’s soul, that had rattled him to the core. Or he could be a coward and leave and live with the guilt of what he had done.
After a few seconds of deliberating, George bit his lower lip. He knew what he had to do. What needed to be done, what was the right thing to do if he ever hoped for anything to be normal between him and John.
And yet, fifteen minutes later, Paul McCartney walked into the hotel room and saw a broken John tied to a chair.
Author: withalittlewit aka Priscila
Pairing: George/John
Rating: NC-17
Summary: John is madly in love with George. George just wants revenge.
Warnings: A bit of bondage, non-con, OOC!George (aka incredibly sexual George :O)
Author Notes: So yesterday, me and katexlove (she's like my fucking muse XD) were talking. One of the topics that came up was how it'd be great if John was in actuality eager to please George. Well, then today I had a sick and twisted idea that was loosely based off of that but not nearly as sweet sounding and actually very dark and depressing. D: SORRY.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor intend to imply to own the Beatles and any of the individuals' lives or history.
“I love you,” John said to George.
John loved George (though the fact seemed obvious enough after John had admitted it).
“Do you really?” George had answered back coolly.
George didn’t love John back (though John was never really sure; George was so difficult to read at times).
“Yes, I do. I would do anything for you.”
“Is that so?”
George stood, crossed the room, sat down in the chair across from John. He looked at him long and hard. Then: “Anything?”
“Anything,” John repeated, nodding.
“Strip.”
John was surprised, which would be the proper reaction in that situation to anyone with half a brain. He stared back at George, trying to see if there was any sincerity in his words. However, George’s eyes were blank, guarded, and the desperate desire to please George ate at John’s heart.
So John pulled off his clothes and sat back down on the chair. George watched him for a moment before moving behind the older man. He grabbed John’s discarded shirt and tied his hands behind his back. When he faced John again, the older Beatle saw something in the cold eyes.
There was something oddly evil and cruel, and he shivered.
“You love me, right, Johnny?” George asked sultrily, and John nodded. “You’d never hurt me, right, Johnny?” John nodded once more, his throat suddenly getting very tight. “Because you know how I can cry sometimes.”
“I love you, Geo,” John repeated, and George gave him a small smile. He leaned forward, his lips dancing before John’s enticingly, and John tried to move to close the gap. However, the younger male pulled away before they came into contact. He took a step away from John and sat back down on his chair.
“John, what do you want?” George asked as he rose an eyebrow.
“I want you.”
“Do you really? What about me do you want?”
“All of you.”
“Do you want my lips?” George dragged his tongue across his full lower lip seductively, and John nodded, knowing his voice would crack if he tried to talk. “How about my chest?” He dragged a hand down his torso and swirled a finger around his navel. “My legs?” The younger man caressed his thighs, never taking his eyes off of John.
John felt his cock twitch, his lower half pounding as his erection grew. “Geo, fuck, please, I need you.”
George gave him a sly smile and pressed a finger against the older man’s lips. “Ah, ah. Not yet, John. Wouldn’t you rather I get comfortable first?” He asked as he stood, his hands fingering the hem of his shirt. John nodded, his eyes wide and full of desire as he eyed George greedily.
Slowly, slowly, George pulled off his shirt. He let John’s eyes run over his body as he dropped the shirt onto the hotel room floor. He fingered the button of his jeans as he bit his lower lip, looking up at the sitting male innocently. John’s breath was coming out in ragged pants as George flicked open his jeans, his fingers brushing on his zipper before pulling it down. John watched in anticipation as George pulled off his pants.
George leaned forward, an all-knowing grin on his face. “Do you want to see it, John?” He didn’t have to hear John’s croaky answer before he slowly peeled off his underwear, his own cock fully aroused. “Like what you see?”
“Fuck yes,” John breathed, and George dragged his fingernails down John’s chest. The older man bit back a moan of mixed pain and pleasure.
“Tut, tut, Johnny. You shouldn’t curse, not with such impressionable minds about,” George chided. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want you to kiss me,” John replied eagerly. “I want to make you feel good,” he continued, and George roughly grabbed John’s cock. The older man gave out a cry.
“You want to make me feel good?” George challenged.
“Geo, please, let me fuck you.”
George released his grip and stepped back once more. He pressed a finger to his lip, pretending to think about it. “Only good boys get to fuck me,” he finally said. “Bad boys have to watch.”
“Fuck, Geo, please, I need you so bad-“
George’s hand struck John’s cheek, and John looked up, stunned. He had never seen George like this; so demanding, so in control. While it scared him, it also gave him a sick excitement. “No talking out of turn, Johnny.”
He moved to sit on his own chair, spreading his legs so John could get a better look. “Do you want me to touch myself, John?” he asked, and John nodded and gulped. “You have to beg me for it.”
“Please, George, play with yourself,” John pleaded, his eyes clouded with lust and his own erection in need of a touch.
George gave him a smile and lightly swirled a finger on the tip of his cock. He let out a light gasp of pleasure. He moved his hand to cover his arousal as he slowly began to stroke it, his gasps turning into quiet moans. “Do you imagine me doing this? Tossing off while moaning your name?” George asked.
“Yeah,” John admitted breathily.
“Oh, John, yes. That feels so good,” George moaned as he gave his erection a light squeeze. John’s own cock was twitching. However, George made no effort to acknowledge it. He moved to bend over on the chair, exposing his bottom to the older man. “Do you want to fuck this?”
“Please, Geo, please let me. I swear, I’ll make you feel good.”
“Oh, no, Johnny. I’m going to make you watch…” George licked one long finger, flicking the tip with his tongue, “as I fuck myself.” At the words he pushed a finger in, letting out a gasp as he did so. He pushed it in as far as it would go before slowly extracting it. “Oh, John, I’m so tight,” he teased, and John’s cock twitched again. He pushed the digit back in, slowly gaining a rhythm as it disappeared and reappeared before John’s eyes.
John tried to struggle against his bonds; his cock desperately needed tending to. His erection throbbed painfully, only being more enticed by George’s playing. John groaned gutturally as George slipped another finger into himself, the younger man’s moans becoming louder with each passing second. John couldn’t pull his eyes away from the sight before him.
“Fuck, John, you’re so big,” George moaned as he slipped another finger into himself. “You feel so good inside me.” He paused momentarily to sit on the chair, his legs spread wide so he could watch John watch him. He continued to fuck himself, his other hand moving to stroke his erection. “Oh, fuck, John, I think I’m going to come!”
With a cry George ejaculated, the white liquid landing unceremoniously on John’s stomach. John looked up at George eagerly, waiting for his turn. George took several moments to collect himself and control his breathing. After a minute, he straightened and stood, bending down to grab John’s jacket. Using to wipe himself off gently, he tossed the dirtied clothing on the ground before pulling on his own clothes.
When he finished dressing, he turned his attention back to his prisoner. “You love me, right, John?” he asked again. John, confused at George’s clothed nature, nodded numbly. George gave him a smile and leaned in to John, his lips brushing the older man’s ear. “Well, it’s too bad you’ll never have me,” he whispered. He pulled back and pressed a bruising and cruel kiss on John’s lips; holding in it nothing resembling love or affection and acting more as a slap than anything else.
George straightened and headed to the hotel door. “Ta, John. I’m off to the bar. Tell my regards to whoever finds you,” he said indifferently before exiting. He smiled to himself bitterly as he heard John’s anguished cry through the closed door.
George beat against John’s arms, chest, stomach. He tried to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat. John gave him an evil grin as he turned him around, bent him over and shoved him against the brick wall. George felt a whimper escape his lips as his pants were pulled down. He felt frightened and numb; who was this man? It wasn’t John, surely not. John wouldn’t do this to him, he wouldn’t rape him, especially not in front of-
John’s cock pushed into him roughly, causing him to cry out in alarm. The pain was blinding him, and he was vaguely aware of the jagged brick wall that was cutting into his palms. “John, please, don’t!” he cried, his body beginning to shake. He could hear howls of encouragement and cruel laughter from behind him; George realized he must’ve started crying.
“Fuck, Geo, you’re so fucking tight,” John grunted behind him as he rammed into him. George let out a strangled sob, his eyes shut tightly.
Why him? Why in front of everyone? If it had been anywhere else, at any time, with no one there, he might have been a bit better about it. “Why?” he croaked out, and he felt John lean into him.
“Mach shau, Geo. These Germans want a show, I’ll give them a fucking show. Plus, didn’t you say you love me?” he asked before grabbing George’s hair and pulling the younger man into a rough kiss.
George slowed his pace until he stopped completely. He paused and dragged a shaking hand through his hair, briefly noting the cold sweat that had gathered on his brow. He glanced back at the room. He could imagine John, betrayed and humiliated, just as he was back then, back in 1960 in Hamburg.
George had gotten what he wanted. He had waited patiently for revenge, and, just as he had hoped, it had come. And the plan, the execution was more perfect than he could have ever hoped for.
Yet George didn’t feel any better.
He had imagined he would feel that great weight on his heart lifted, like he was being freed from that evil that plagued him for four years. George had told John he loved him, he would do anything for him, and John had killed him.
But George didn’t want revenge, he realized slowly. He hadn’t wanted to hurt John. He wanted John’s love, his affection, his attention. He had wanted John to say he was sorry and that he accepted him and that they could mend the past.
George turned and stared at his hotel door, only a few feet away. It was so close. He could walk in, apologize, untie John, tell him he loved him still. They would talk about Hamburg, about what had happened, and they would be better. And John would remove the darkness that lingered in George’s soul, that had rattled him to the core. Or he could be a coward and leave and live with the guilt of what he had done.
After a few seconds of deliberating, George bit his lower lip. He knew what he had to do. What needed to be done, what was the right thing to do if he ever hoped for anything to be normal between him and John.
And yet, fifteen minutes later, Paul McCartney walked into the hotel room and saw a broken John tied to a chair.