Never Regret
Pairing: Ringo/George
Rating: R
Warnings: Naughty stuff like hand job, and blow job. ♥
Summary: Ringo falls for George right from the begining.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles. SADNESS.
A/N: Thank you sambarrie for the beta-ing! You are the bestest. ♥
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It was something about his dark eyes I just couldn't get over. They seemed to pierce, not only right through me, but also through my soul. His thick eyebrows just deepened his dark look, and lack of smile made me shutter from time to time. I saw through that, and found a beautiful man. I knew why he didn't smile- he was always hated his teeth, and how messed up they looked. I didn't care at all about them; I had seen much worse. So, with deep brown eye's and a tucked away smile, he captivated me.
I can remember the first time I had ever laid my eyes on him. His hair was all greesed up, and was wearing leather attire, strumming away at his guitar up on stage. He was good, very good actually. Extremely talented. He played solos like he was born with a guitar in hand. His long fingers easily fretted notes, and created complicated chordes.
I even remember the first time I ever spoke to him. I was at some gig (I can't for the life of me remember which one, too many I suppose), and I was sitting with my mates after our show, drinking a glass or two of some cheap cruddy beer, when I felt a tap on the shoulder. I turned to see a teddy that I had seen on stage, and had been staring at previousely. His cheeks were red, and seemed a more then a little nervouse. I smile, trying to put his at ease, alas the lad was still a bit put off. Studdering a bit at first, he finally managed to say, "Hi, are you that 'Ringo Starr', fellow?"
I nodded and said, "Yeah, want an autograph or something?" My friends and I laughed, but the poor guy just stood there smiling awkwardly.
"No..." he said with a seriouse look coming over his face, "I was hoping you could help us out."
My laughter came to a slow stop, and I asked, "Oh? And how can I be a service to you and yours?"
Rubbing his arm, he bit out, "Our stupid fucking drummer isn't coming in because he sick or something..." I couldn't get out what he said, due to his mumbling, but I thought I heard him say "Stupid bloddy git", or something of the sort. "So I was wondering", he continued, while wringing his hands feverishly, "Could you maybe... take his place...?"
This kind of request wasn't anything new to me, sinse I was well known through the Liverpool music scene, but playing right after a show wasn't something I liked, or cared to do. I always got tired after and sitting, chatting, and downing a pint or two was the only thing I had any energy for. I was one to party, don't get me wrong, but doing a gig was a lot of work. One made me tired, but two would get down for the count. I figited with my rings, not wanting to say no, and not wanting to say yes.
"We'll pay you!" he spoke up, breaking the silence. "It won't be anything impressive, but that is at least something, yeah?"
Gave a good head-to-toe look at the boy, taking in his good looks, and grinned, "Aren't you from that band called 'The Beatles'?"
"Yes." he simply said.
I laid my hand down on the table, and clacked my rings on it, as I made my final decision. "Alright. I don't usually like to do two shows right after another, but I can make an exception."
His eyes lit up, and finally a smile broke out on his face, "Thanks!" Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself, "I'm George, George Harrison."
I took his hand in mine, gave it a good shake, and said, "You can call me Ringo Starr, but my mum calls me Richard Starkey."
From then on, we were always together. Side by side. Him and I. We always tried to help each other along with mutual praise for each others work, and accomplishments. Even when we became the big Beatles everyone had come to know and love, we never left each others side. Unfortunetly for me, I became completely enamoured with him. I loved it when, during a show, he'd turn to look and smile at me while we played. I loved when he would sit next to me, and nudge me just so he could whisper some strange joke, or thought of his in my ear. I loved it when he'd let me listen to his newest song before anyone else. I guess I just loved him.
Unable to keep it from him any longer, too many close calls when I was drunk and horney, I finally told him while we were in America for the first time. He took it... quite well...?
"So... You, like me? Like, like-like me?" He asked with eyes wide open.
"Yeah." I mumbled
"Like, you'd do me, kind of like, or-" A blush creeping into his cheeks.
"I... I dunno I guess so..."
"Oh. I guess thats okay. I mean, it's not like you'd just up and grope all the time, right?"
"Well, not unless you want me to."
"Good to know."
He then went on to talk about how he thought thunder storms reminded him of bowling alleys, then went on to explain why. I wasn't all to interested in the conversation, due to me being flabberghasted at what had just been said. A guy admitting he liked another guy usually ended up with a black eye (who would end up with it depend on how it all plays out), but nothing? I knew something just wasn't right. The subject, though, would be put off for weeks, and it seemed as if it never even happened. It would, though, come up again.
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It was rare for me to be rooming with George, or Paul for that matter- John being the only one who could stand my awful snoring. But, George insisted that him and I room this time. It made my heart skip a beat. I loved hanging out with George. But, apparently he had secret reasons to why he wanted to room with me. Very suprising secret reasons. Very wonderful suprising secret reasons.
As we finished unpacking our things, I told George that I wanted to take a quick shower. George nodded, and I grabbed my necessities, and did just that. As I was rinsing the shampoo (strawberry shampoo, mind you), I heard the bathroom door open and close. Assuming it was one of the lads needing to piss, or any other kind of bathroom doings, I didn't think twice about it. Suddenly, though, the curtain opened up, reveiling, not only a naked me, but a naked George.
Blood flooded into my cheeks at mach speed, as George stepped into the shower, and closed the curtain behind him. Speachless, I just stood and stared at George's thin, boney, and sexy body. As my eyes went more downward, I could feel myself getting harder and harder. When my eyes met with George's private parts, I felt a hand on the back of my head, and the next thing I knew, I was kissing my man-crush on the lips. My head was spinning as his lips moved against mine. I kissed back, obviously, but when I did I wrapped my arm around his waist, and pulled him against me. He didn't fight, or back away.
Instead, he rammed his erection (which came out of nowhere) onto mine, and moaned. I never thought I'd be doing such things with a man, but holy fuck was it good. My crush on George was sensual, but to actually have sex with him, I could never let my mind get to into much detail with without feeling like some poof. At the moment, though, I could care less how queer this made me.
After some mind-blowing rubbing, George backed away, and got on his knees. I can't even begin tell you how euphoric I felt when his beautiful lips felt on the tip of my prick. And when he licked it, and took it into his mouth... Sweet Jesus. Nothing in the world could top it.
My knees nearly gave out as he took me whole. I tangled my fingers in his dark, wet hair, and just let my orgasm come, not thinking about how quickly it came, or what it produced would go into. George took it well- sucking each drop out like honey, and swallowing after. He then stood up, grabbed my hand, and wrapped it around his dick.
I was a little stunned at first, but I quickly recovered, and began to stroke him. Despiretly needing a release, he thrusted into my hand, groaning and swearing as he did it. I squeezed him a little, and crammed my tongue deep into his mouth. Our kiss didn't last long- George flew his head back as he came.
Thinking it was over, I turned off the shower, and tried to muster up some words to try and figure out what just happened. Before I could, George pulled me out of the shower, opened the door, rushed into our bedroom, and threw me on the bed. As I layed there, once again stunned, he closed, and locked the door behind him.
A smirk played on his lips, as he crawled on top of me, his eyes never leaving mine. As his face aligned with mine, he leaned his down, and carefully kissed my lips. It felt so innocent, so preciouse... My heart fluttered as his lips slowly moved against mine. I lifted my hand, and caressed George's hair, as our kiss deepened. Just as the moment couldn't get any better, he got up, and walked over to his dresser. He threw clothes on his bed, and closed the drawers.
I could smell the disbelief on my face. Stinky, dissapointing disbelief. As he got dressed, I crawled off the bed and stood awkwardly. "Uhm... George...?" I whispered loud enough for him to hear.
"Yeah?" he said not skipping a beat.
"Uh... what... what was, uh- what was that...?" I studdered.
Pulling up his underware and pants, George shrugged. "I guess... nothing?"
My feet felt heavier when my heart fell on them, but I still managed to walk over him and place my hands on each side of his face. My eyes searched his, looking for an answer. All I could find was confusion, and pity. He grabbed my hands, squeezed them, then put them at my sides.
"You should put some clothes on, wouldn't want to be caught all naked, now would you?" he chuckled as he put a shirt on, and walked out of the room.
I guess you could say it was a bad ending, but to me, it wasn't at all. Our friendship never faultered, or faded. Up until the day of his unfortunate passing, we were always together. Even though I never got to experience George sexually again, it didn't matter. Being around him was enough. Although, I'll never quite know why he did it- whenever I asked him, he would just get flustered, and change the subject. Something tells me, that he wanted something he forced himself not to have. It pains me to think that, but sometimes I hope it to be true. The thought of us actually being together helped me fall in love with him every time I saw him.
Even this broken heart of mine will never regret that.