Be Happy, Baby (Chapter 16)
Title: Be Happy, Baby (Chapter 16)
Author: samberrie (itsa me)
Pairing: All George/Ringo for this chappy.
Rating: R
Warnings: Naughty language, crude humor, sexual mentioning’s
Time Frame: Second American Tour, 1965.
Summary: In this chapter, George makes it up to Ringo for ignoring him.
Disclaimer!: I own no Beatles. None of their songs and none of their pretty faces. None of this ever happened. ‘Tis fiction my dears.
A/N: Chapter 16! Er, here is some confusing and utterly sloppy smut.. *offers chapter on a silver platter* enjoy, eh?
Chapter 1 Find the other chapters yourself. Or just be lazy and look in my journal.
No lyrics again, bitch...
CHAPITRE SEIZE
Evening before Concert 2..
George pulled out a little scrap of paper from his pocket and scribbled down some lyrics, adding on to his list of incomplete or rejected songs. He put it back and resumed plucking at his guitar, his fingers already halfway numb by now. Anyone who took one look at the skinny man would be able to see the care he took when handling his guitar though, it was his like ultimate escape of reality. It came in handy all day, every day. The possibilities were endless, really.
Feeling low? Pick up your guitar and play it out!
Just bored? Pick it up! Play a song! Have a ball!
John and Paul think your song is shit? Pick up that guitar and make it better until your fingers bleed!
One of your best friends is lusting after your other best friend but keeps getting rejected? Pick up that guitar and wait it out!
..He should really look into doing an infomercial on the wonderful uses of a guitar if this Beatles thing doesn’t work out. He’d be swimming in money.
But on a more serious note, now that the latest reason to pick up his guitar had been settled by the x-rated musical he’d heard coming from John and Paul’s general direction earlier, he still couldn’t seem to put it down.
His Gretsch was like comfort food without the risk of overeating. It helped him reach a certain level of tranquility that even marijuana couldn’t bring to him anymore. The novelty of the drug had worn off after a while, and no longer did he feel the need to roll a joint every chance he got, he’d much rather just pluck at his trusty strings.
George felt like he was always searching for something, anything, constantly picking up routines and habits. Cigarettes had probably been his first one besides music, there was a point when he’d be pulling his hair out until he could pick up one of those friendly white sticks and soothe his nerves but nowadays, it was less of a habit and more of a routine.
No matter what he’d start up though, he’d always end up crawling back to his guitar on his hands and knees like an ex-lover begging for forgiveness. But he was back in that mood again; the usually comforting stiffness of the strings was no longer doing it for him. He was all too familiar with this feeling and knew he’d probably find a new habit soon without even trying. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even realize it was a habit until he was already getting sick of it.
He vaguely wondered what it’d be this time before his eyes kept getting drawn to the couch where the Ringo was still snoozing. George glanced at the clock and was amazed by how much the drummer could sleep. They’d gotten back to the room at eight this morning, and now it was about eight in the evening. Now George wasn’t an expert on these things, but if it was anybody else, he’d be sure they wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink tonight after sleeping the day away. But since it was Ringo, he probably wouldn’t have any difficulty sleeping nine to twelve more hours.
He also realized that while the older man had slept through the day, George’d pretty much played the day away with his guitar. He really needed to cut it back a little bit; his fingers would be no more than ugly stubs if he kept this up too much longer and his eyelids would probably get stuck open.
The guitarist quickly set his guitar down before he had time to change his mind and wondered if Ringo was going to wake up anytime soon. There really wasn’t much to do when you were the only one conscious.
He stood up and walked over to the couch, feeling taller than usual while looking down at the sleeping drummer. George stared intently at the man’s face, convinced that he would somehow feel the guitarist’s eyes on him and suddenly awake. George could always tell when Ringo was staring at him, in fact the older man had woken him up this morning by doing just that, so it probably went both ways.
He gave the most intense stare he could manage without busting an vessel in his brain, but it still wasn’t working even after a good thirty seconds. George bent over and lightly patted the drummer’s cheek. “Ringo? You awake?” He asked softly, realizing the stupidity behind his question. Obviously the older man was completely unconscious. The guitarist suddenly wondered if Ringo would get mad at him if he woke him up.. He decided he probably wouldn’t.
In fact, the drummer was probably so bored while George had been playing his guitar that he’d just ended up going to sleep by default. George felt a little guilty for ignoring Ringo like that right after having a night like last night; it was a pretty big deal, having sex with your best mate. And now, Ringo probably thought it was a onetime thing or something after George had literally wasted a whole day that they could’ve filled with debauchery.
George felt like a dirty, hairy, smelly arsehole. Fuckin’ John and Paul, making him worry about them instead of himself. It was always about them…
He didn’t want to waste more time fuming though; he’d already wasted enough with that stupid guitar. He looked at the clock again, realizing it was already a quarter passed 8. They had a concert tomorrow, so Brian would probably come by in a bit to make sure they went to bed like some sort of babysitter.
George was starting to really get pissed at himself for being such an airhead, imagining ripping his brain from his head and dragging it in for a few rounds in the boxing ring. It’d be an unfair fight, seeing as his brain had no hands for boxing gloves, but he’d still probably end up losing when the pink blob literally used mind control.
Okay, no more of that, he thought to himself, you’re only wasting more time.
George looked back down at Ringo who was still sound asleep. He couldn’t help but think back to a few weeks earlier in a hotel room much similar to this one when he’d walked in on that delightful discovery that had gotten him here in the first place. Well, it was mostly John who’d gotten him here from that one thing. What’d he do again? Something with a shoe?
Wait. You’re getting off track again. You’ve got three hours tops, George.
First priority: wake up Ringo.
George sorted out his variety of options on how to do this well. He could always jump on him again like the last time he woke Ringo up, but
that was kind of boring. It was fun at the time, but now it would be unoriginal. His eyes landed on Ringo’s face. Kiss him, maybe? Like that one storybook about the princess with a pea stuck in her arse or something? No.. that’d take forever. Plus, he wasn’t sure about Ringo, but George would be a little weirded out to be woken up like that no matter who was doing it.
His let his eyes travel down past the drummers face and stopped abruptly once they’d reached the bulge in the older man’s trousers. A light bulb seemed to light up above his head filled with the luminosity of an idea. Maybe he could... yeah, that’d be clever wouldn’t it? Not to mention a lovely way to be brought back to consciousness. Plus, it’d probably give them both a little head start for what George had in mind.
**
Ringo usually made it a priority to not pick up girls that were taller than him.
…But let’s face it; that would get exhausting with all the effort that took.
Still, if he did by chance end up taking home a bird who was indeed a few inches taller, he’d usually try and pick at least a 7 or an 8 on the fit-scale depending on how high he could score that night. But this one… she was probably a 3 and a half.
He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten here, but Ringo walked behind her into his hotel room and sized her up.
No tits, flat as a drumskin.
No ass, bony as a.. bone.
And she had virtually no curves worth mentioning. Nothing about this chick was appealing.
What kind of joke was this? She was even one of those mega fans with a mop-top, though he couldn’t really tell which one of the Beatles she was trying to imitate with that ‘do.
It was a nice chestnut color though, he’d give her that..
Alright, Ringo definitely couldn’t do this. No way was he shagging this manly chick tonight, not even if she paid him.
“Er, listen…” He started to kick her out but didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Ringo wasn’t a completely heartless bastard after all. He walked
up behind her and laid a hand on one of her shoulders. “You can stay but… m’not having sex with you.” He said gently. That wasn’t too harsh, right?
The girl suddenly burst out crying but nodded. Ringo tried to look over her shoulder at her face by standing on his tip toes but the girl kept her face hidden behind her hands.
Very nice hands, he noted.
Ringo felt awful for making her cry, but not bad enough to change his mind. “Why don’t we just, er, watch telly? Alright?”
The bird stopped her sobbing abruptly. “Alright.” She said with a sudden Scouse drawl.
What the hell? Since when was she British?
Ringo furrowed his brows and watched as the girl turned and started towards the couch. Now that he thought about it, he really couldn’t remember what she looked like. He took a few quick steps and cut her off, grabbing her shoulder and whipping her around.
“What Ringo?” The girl with George’s face and voice said, looking irritated. The girl, who was obviously just George, shrugged Ringo’s hand off and continued over to the couch.
So this supposed 3 and a half ‘chick’ he’d picked up from some club he couldn’t remember was really just a 10 and a half guitarist named George. Ringo probably should’ve seen that one coming.
Obviously, this was just another one of his fucked up dreams.
By now, you’d think he’d be an expert at cracking the code and figuring this stuff out sooner, but it was always a surprise to him. Every time the girl, or on some scary occasions.. guy, he picked up in his dreams was revealed to be the skinny guitarist it would catch him off guard.
Up until then, his brain wouldn’t even realize the whole wacky situation was nothing but a dream, instead being completely convinced that in the world he lived in everything was always hazy with ridiculous time gaps and laspes.
And George always seemed to appear completely out of nowhere, usually initiating sex. Very realisitic, right?
His last dream from a couple nights ago had been in the middle of a club in Hamburg, where he’d barely ever seen George before he joined the band. Yet there he was, suddenly on the stage attacking the Hurricanes’s unguarded drummer in the middle of a song.
That had been a particularly good one, though Ringo had kind of felt like a pedophile after he had woken up and realized he’d just fantasized about fucking George as a 17-year old who happened to look like a 12-year old. It had been oddly realistic as well, when he’d opened his eyes he could still smell George’s greased up hair piled up into a messy quiff and leather.
George didn’t always turn into some sort of sex fiend in his dreams though, much to Ringo’s relief. Ringo had worried he was obsessed with sex or something until one particularly awful dream set in the early years of his life. He liked to refer to them as his years spent in hell, although most people would just call them hospitals.
It could probably be classified as a nightmare though.. his mum crying when the doctors told him that he most likely wouldn’t make it to 15 and Ringo left lying there alone thinking about his impending doom and all those hopeless feelings. Then suddenly there was George with a smile and his guitar and played dozens of songs for him. No sex whatsoever, but Ringo still woke up with warm feelings in places other than his pants for once.
Now here he was again. But this was a brand new occurrence, him rejecting the sex. Sure it was an accident, but it still had never happened before. The awkwardness he was feeling was so terribly real. Even in his dreams, he never just went up to George and asked for sex, his worrisome mind just wouldn’t let him.
He blinked and was next to George, not even weirded out by the fact that he hadn’t been anywhere near the couch just a second ago. Ringo stared at the younger man and waited, sure he was about to have that sudden mood change the drummer had come to know and love any minute now.
“Ya said ya didn’t wanna have sex, Ringo.” George suddenly said, looking at him accusingly.
Ringo continued to stare and wait, sudden;y feeling some unpleasantly prickly sensation on his little Richard but he tried to ignore it. The guitarist squinted his eyes and crossed his arms, staring back stubbornly. “What? Now ya want to?”
The drummer decided not to say a word and let this dream work itself out the way it was supposed to in the first place. George raised his eyebrows and grinned, though it seemed like he had a dozen extra sharp fangs instead of teeth. The prickly sensation made him flinch like just looking at those teeth hurt.
“Fine.” Ringo didn’t have enough time to really think before George was already between his legs undoing his belt. It probably wasn’t a very good idea to let a George-with-fangs anywhere near his dick, but his mind was trying and failing to pull itself out of its dreamy fog and think clearly.
Sharp teeth… plus a blowjob… equals.. p..potatoes? No, that’s not right.. no vegetables are involved when sucking somebody off, are they?
George was unzipping his zipper now and the distracting noise was not helping Ringo’s brain straighten itself out.
Was it pain…t? No, that was wrong as well… the paint in this room was fine and had absolutely nothing to do with anything. It was something with a p though… P-p-…pa? Pa-pa-pa-pai..
Ringo looked down and started to panic when George grinned up at him, and although he was looking absolutely delectable and sweet as usual, his teeth were still very, very sharp.
The drummer watched as his lap disappeared under George’s thick hair.
..Ringo should probably stop him, shouldn’t he?
…
“OW!” Ringo gasped. His eyes shot opened as he jerked his hips away from whatever had just caused the sharp pain in his crotch. The world came into sharp focus quickly, and he realized he was sitting up halfway on the couch in his hotel room.
“Sorry..” George said from his place on the carpet, looking like he just watched his puppy get shot in the head multiple times after it was already dead. “I didn’t mean to! I just dunno how with, er, my teeth, y’know.” He pointed to the long, skinny white things in his mouth as if
Ringo didn’t know what they were. “M’sorry. I was just tryin’ to wake ya up, ‘cos, y’know, you’ve been sleepin’ all day and… yeh.”
Ringo had to pause and think for a moment before he fully understood the situation. His fly was wide opened with his half-hard glory hanging out - with no teeth marks, thank the Lord - and George was on the floor on his knees looking embarrassed. He put one and one and one together to make three, and figured it all out. Ringo obviously didn’t want to make this anymore awkward than it already was, so he decided to say something quickly.
“Oh, well.. that was a much better way to wake me up than jumpin’ on me.” Ringo grinned and laughed in hopes of easing George’s tension.
The younger man still looked worried but smiled back a little bit. “No it wasn’t, at least I didn’t bite you then.” His face was flushed and his hair mussed, looking pretty similar to how he did the last time Ringo had woken up to George’s ‘unconscious-Ringo’ antics.
“Actually, ya did kinda dig into my hips a bit. Yer very bony ya know.” Ringo joked, though that was mostly truth.
George finally grinned. “You liked it.”
Ringo chuckled and shrugged, blushing slightly. “Well.” Now that he thought back to it, he’d obviously liked it. Waking up with George on top of him had only fueled the fantasy he’d been having moments before, even if they had been more or less fully dressed in real life. But
Ringo was much too paranoid on where they stood to reveal that and all his other secret desires to George so soon. They’d only shagged a couple of times and that was all in the span of a few hours, it was way too soon to start asking for sexual favors left and right. George might not even like half of the stuff Ringo wanted to try and no way was he going to jeopardize it all just to get off in a different way. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and started to do up his pants.
“Sorry..” George was frowning again, still in his position by Ringo’s legs.
“It didn’t hurt that bad George… just surprised me. It’s fine, really.” It was quite a way to try and wake someone up after all, giving them a blowjob. Who was he to complain?
The younger man nodded and looked up at him with those giant pools of chocolate for eyes. “Alright… I can keep goin’ if you want?” George scooted over closer and laid a hand on his thigh.
Ringo tried not to show his horror as he shook his head. He’d gotten lucky once leaving with his dick intact, no need to push that luck it again. “No! No… just, er, that’s okay.” He was almost finished with his belt when George shifted between his legs pushed his hands away.
“Why not? I want to.” George told him, opening his belt back up “I won’t bite you. I was gettin’ much better at it, I promise..”
Ringo’s cock seemed to somehow harden with a mix of fear and arousal when George popped his button open and smiled at him. Dear God, it was happening all over again.
He smiled back nervously, drumming his fingers on the cushion under him, contemplating running into the bathroom to hide. Ringo wanted to believe him, he really, really wanted to believe him, but George had shown some awful skills, or lack thereof, with his earlier attempt. And although practice does make perfect, Ringo would rather not have bruises tomorrow from being George’s chew toy.
“You don’t have to George..” He tried, brushing the man’s hand from his lap. “How about we just, er, y’know?”
“No, I can do it. Really.” George assured him and resumed the task of getting Ringo’s trousers undone.
The guitarist obviously wasn’t going to give up too easily, but neither was the drummer. He thought on his feet, blurting out whatever came to his mind. “I had a dream about you.” Ringo said without thinking, immediately wanting to kick himself for it. His creep alert was flashing bright red and pointing right at his guilty mug.
George had his pants wide open by now but stopped abruptly and looked up at him innocently. “Oh? What kind of dream?”
Ringo looked up at the ceiling like the answer was hidden somewhere up there. “I dunno, just a dream y’know..”
“A dirty dream?” The drummer looked down and saw that George was smirking up at him. “It was, right?”
Ringo wasn’t sure how to answer, surprised by the question itself. “Sometimes.” He said before he could stop himself, making it obvious that this wasn’t just one dream he was talking about. “Not all the time though.”
The younger man stared silently at him for a moment before breaking into a grin and pulling himself up onto the couch. Ringo was relieved that his distraction had worked and the guitarist had seemingly forgotten about his determination to suck him off. “What about the one in the other hotel? When I jumped on ya and stuff.”
Ringo immediately knew which one he was talking about, that having been one of his weirder ones that seemed to correspond with real life. Kind of like today’s, George-the-shark in his dream had actually been George-using-teeth in reality. Somehow his mind translated real life into his dreams while the events were happening.. maybe he was psychic! Ringo Starr the psychic drummer for the Beatles! Translates real life into dreams? No that’s kind of lame..
“So?” George leaned over and brought his face close to the drummers to talk like he always did. “What was it?”
Ringo scratched his head. “I don’t really remember, old age y’see..” He chuckled, suddenly nervous. Why was he nervous? He had no idea.
“Don’t lie, liar.” George jabbed his chest playfully.
“Well it’s nothin’ special or anything George.”
The younger man sighed impatiently. “Just tell me.. “
Ringo bit his lip, seeming to debate his options.
“Alright, here..” George twisted around and brought his legs up onto the opposite side of the couch so that his back was to Ringo. He scooted down a little and leaned back so his head was laid across Ringo’s lap. “I’ll close my eyes an’ you can paint me a picture.” George folded his hands across his chest and grinned. “Then afterwards we can do it, okay?”
Ringo looked down at the younger man, a spike of excitement shooting through him at his last words, and nodded. “Okay, close yer eyes.”
George was still grinning as he did what he was told and shut his eyes.
The drummer went back to that dream and tried to piece it together as well as he could. “Well, I was coming back to the room to get a sock..”
“A sock?”
“Yes, a sock.” George giggled and moved his head in what looked like a nod. “Anyways, so the door was already wide open so I walked in. I couldn’t see anything ‘cos it was really dark..”
“And a monster jumped out, right?” The younger man teased cracking open one of his eyes.
Ringo laughed and shook his head. “Hey, do ya wanna hear the dream or not?”
“Sorry.” George closed his eye again and smiled.
“Right, so then I asked if you were in there because I needed my sock.” George snickered but the drummer kept going. “Then all the lights turned on and there you were with my sock, but you were naked.”
“Hang on a minute.” George opened both of his eyes and raised a finger. “Why would I be naked?”
Ringo sighed. “George, you said you wanted me to tell ya, so that’s what I’m doin’. Does it matter?”
“Yeh it matters, I need details.” He could tell George was just being silly but decided to humor him.
“Alright, um, ya just got out of the shower. Better?”
“..Hot or cold?”
“Very hot.”
George smiled and closed his eyes. “Okay, go on.”
The drummer was starting to loosen up thanks to George’s easy-going attitude and started running a hand through the younger man’s hair, bringing his voice down to a lower tone. “This is where it gets good.” He paused for a moment when his heartbeat quickened. “So I asked for my sock but you wouldn’t give it to me unless I did something first.”
“Uh huh..” George seemed to sense that something good was coming as he shifted on Ringo’s lap a bit. “What was it?”
“You said I couldn’t have my sock unless I fucked you first.” He told him, getting aroused from the memory.
“So?”
“So I did! Good right?” Ringo joked; acting like that was the end of the story.
George reached up and pinched the drummer’s hip. “Ringo.. yer not stoppin’ there..”
“Okay, okay.” The younger man relented his pinching when Ringo continued, watching George’s face as he spoke. “Before I could answer though, you tackled me to the floor and started ripping my clothes of.”
Ringo noticed the guitarist had dropped his pinching hand to his lap instead of his chest. “Yeh? Then what?”
“Then, since you were already naked and stuff, you took my pants off..”
“Did I suck you off then?”
“Oh god, no.” George scrunched his brows together at Ringo’s less sensual tone. “I mean.. no. Ya did something even better.” He said, brining his voice back down to its better storytelling tone. “Once my pants were off, we kissed and touched a bit..”
“Mhm..” George encouraged. Ringo lost his train of thought as he watched the younger man touch himself through his trousers.
“Keep goin’.”
Ringo swallowed down the sudden dryness in his throat and shifted so he wouldn’t poke George in the eye or something with his hardening member and tried to remember where he stopped. “Right, so then, you sat up and did everything yerself.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“I mean you were on top.”
George raised his eyebrows but kept his eyes closed. “Did ya like it?”
“Oh yes, it was great seeing you on top of me.”
George opened his eyes and smiled up at him. “We should do that then.”
Ringo’s stomach fluttered when George wiggled his eyebrows. “Right now?” He asked hopefully. It would be a great ending to a boring day, indeed.
George sat up, his hair sticking up wildly, and looked over at the clock. “I think we have enough time. I probably won’t be able to suck you off..”
“Aw..” Ringo tried to sound sincere with his fake disappointment.
George turned to him and grinned, already unbuttoning his shirt and swiftly pulling it off. “But we can do the rest.” The younger man leaned over and connected their lips, pushing at Ringo’s chest until his back was propped against the arm of the couch. The drummer’s cock was already standing at full attention by the time George had gotten his shirt off and started working on his belt. Ringo decided to speed up the undressing process by tugging down George’s own pants at the same time without breaking their heated kiss. They were probably both fully naked in record time, both equally as eager to be connected again like the night before. Ringo’s developed roaming-hands syndrome as he let them caress each body part they came across on George’s.
George pulled away first after a few minutes of groping, ready to initiate the next step. “Where’s that stuff?”
Ringo waved over towards the beds, too breathless to speak. The younger man peeled himself out of their tangle of limbs and padded out of view behind the couch. The drummer sat up a little against the arm of the chair, little sparks of excitement igniting flames across his body. He felt like the luckiest man on earth, about to fuck a willing George for the third or fourth time. He didn’t debate whether he was queer or whatever like some would in this situation, convince that George’s sexiness was universal and it would be impossible for anyone of any gender to say no. But it wasn’t just the sex he craved; just being in the younger man’s presence was just as satisfying.
Ringo’s heart swelled when George skipped back into view looking completely okay with doing this.
“Okay, how do I do this?” George said, inspecting the little bottle curiously. The drummer held his hand out and the younger man placed it in his palm. He flicked the cap open and grabbed George’s wrist, squirting some into his hand. He leaned back and figured there was no more needed explanation, but George was still looking at him questioningly.
“You’ve gotta slick me up so it won’t hurt..” He told him slowly.
“..Ohh.” George laughed and wrapped a hand around Ringo’s cock, carefully spreading the lube around it. Ringo flinched at the coldness, forgetting to tell him to warm it up with his hands. “It’ll still hurt no matter what, ya monster.” The younger man said grinning at him.
Ringo smiled back, once again feeling that spurt of affection for the younger man. George took his hand away and observed his work. “Good?”
Ringo sat up a little more so that he was barely slouching to make room for the younger man. “Perfect.”
George man climbed back onto the couch and clumsily straddled the drummer’s hips, using his shoulders for balance. Ringo, seeing his lack of coordination, positioned himself so that he was right under George’s hole and waiting. The guitarist’s nails were digging into his shoulder as he lowered himself down onto him slowly. Ringo bit back a moan as he felt himself pushing into George, almost forgetting how tight the younger man still was. He heard George suck in a breath and ran his hands up and down the guitarist’s sides in an attempt to soothe him.
Ringo stopped his instinct to move his hips and fully sheathe himself, letting George go slowly inch by inch. He had to stop and calm down for a second when the younger man’s ass was finally settle down on his thighs as all the pleasurable sensations built up in his balls, obviously not wanting to cum so quickly.
He slowed down his breathing and looked up at the younger man. “You alright?” George didn’t look like he was having fun yet with his eyes screwed shut and a frown playing across his face, but he nodded anyways. Ringo could feel the man’s muscles tightening and loosening around his cock as he tried to relax. He pulled the younger man’s face down for a gentle kiss, silently encouraging him to move. George stayed still for a few more seconds kissing him back, before lifting up an inch and settling back down, the tension easing a bit each time. His movements grew less perfunctory and more enthusiastic as he quickened his pace, finally starting to look like Ringo felt. Ringo helped guide his hips to a more suitable angle, presumably brushing against that spot that drove George mad.
George swore under his breath and tightened his grip on the drummer’s shoulders, grinding down onto him with newfound vigor. Ringo’s bliss heightened when there was an added soundtrack to their love-making from George’s mouth. He couldn’t understand half of what was being said, but he sounded great. If Ringo could somehow capture all the noises George was making and put it on a record, it’d be number one on the charts in no time, he was sure of it.
Ringo wasn’t going to last much longer with all of his senses being tickled like this. He was ready to help George get off first, but opened his eyes when the younger man let out a hair-raising noise and started cumming onto Ringo’s stomach seemingly out of nowhere, still pounding down on him almost painfully. He leaned down and crushed his lips against Ringo’s, muffling his orgasmic moans. The drummer reached up and tangled his fingers in George’s hair, feeling the tip of the iceberg finally break through the surface as he too came with a spectacular boom.
Ringo felt like he was ready to pass out from the exhausting feelings ripping through his body, but as soon as he reached that familiar line of ecstasy and unconsciousness, his body backed off at just the right time and let him come back down for air.
George, in his less than coherent mind, started to roll off of him thinking there was more couch to his right but ended up falling onto the floor with a thud.
Ringo sat up in a rush, afraid he’d hurt himself or something, but when he looked down George was in one piece giggling madly.
They laughed like psychopaths for a few moments, sharing their mutual feelings of post-intercourse-bliss, before George caught his breath and looked up at the drummer and smiled “That was fun.”
Ringo nodded, smiling back
“So was it as good as yer dream?” George asked curiously.
The drummer stared at him thoughtfully for a moment before breaking into a grin and answering. “Better.”
**
A/N2: Sorry if that seemed rushed, because… it was.
Click the next entry ho.
Author: samberrie (itsa me)
Pairing: All George/Ringo for this chappy.
Rating: R
Warnings: Naughty language, crude humor, sexual mentioning’s
Time Frame: Second American Tour, 1965.
Summary: In this chapter, George makes it up to Ringo for ignoring him.
Disclaimer!: I own no Beatles. None of their songs and none of their pretty faces. None of this ever happened. ‘Tis fiction my dears.
A/N: Chapter 16! Er, here is some confusing and utterly sloppy smut.. *offers chapter on a silver platter* enjoy, eh?
Chapter 1 Find the other chapters yourself. Or just be lazy and look in my journal.
No lyrics again, bitch...
CHAPITRE SEIZE
Evening before Concert 2..
George pulled out a little scrap of paper from his pocket and scribbled down some lyrics, adding on to his list of incomplete or rejected songs. He put it back and resumed plucking at his guitar, his fingers already halfway numb by now. Anyone who took one look at the skinny man would be able to see the care he took when handling his guitar though, it was his like ultimate escape of reality. It came in handy all day, every day. The possibilities were endless, really.
Feeling low? Pick up your guitar and play it out!
Just bored? Pick it up! Play a song! Have a ball!
John and Paul think your song is shit? Pick up that guitar and make it better until your fingers bleed!
One of your best friends is lusting after your other best friend but keeps getting rejected? Pick up that guitar and wait it out!
..He should really look into doing an infomercial on the wonderful uses of a guitar if this Beatles thing doesn’t work out. He’d be swimming in money.
But on a more serious note, now that the latest reason to pick up his guitar had been settled by the x-rated musical he’d heard coming from John and Paul’s general direction earlier, he still couldn’t seem to put it down.
His Gretsch was like comfort food without the risk of overeating. It helped him reach a certain level of tranquility that even marijuana couldn’t bring to him anymore. The novelty of the drug had worn off after a while, and no longer did he feel the need to roll a joint every chance he got, he’d much rather just pluck at his trusty strings.
George felt like he was always searching for something, anything, constantly picking up routines and habits. Cigarettes had probably been his first one besides music, there was a point when he’d be pulling his hair out until he could pick up one of those friendly white sticks and soothe his nerves but nowadays, it was less of a habit and more of a routine.
No matter what he’d start up though, he’d always end up crawling back to his guitar on his hands and knees like an ex-lover begging for forgiveness. But he was back in that mood again; the usually comforting stiffness of the strings was no longer doing it for him. He was all too familiar with this feeling and knew he’d probably find a new habit soon without even trying. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even realize it was a habit until he was already getting sick of it.
He vaguely wondered what it’d be this time before his eyes kept getting drawn to the couch where the Ringo was still snoozing. George glanced at the clock and was amazed by how much the drummer could sleep. They’d gotten back to the room at eight this morning, and now it was about eight in the evening. Now George wasn’t an expert on these things, but if it was anybody else, he’d be sure they wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink tonight after sleeping the day away. But since it was Ringo, he probably wouldn’t have any difficulty sleeping nine to twelve more hours.
He also realized that while the older man had slept through the day, George’d pretty much played the day away with his guitar. He really needed to cut it back a little bit; his fingers would be no more than ugly stubs if he kept this up too much longer and his eyelids would probably get stuck open.
The guitarist quickly set his guitar down before he had time to change his mind and wondered if Ringo was going to wake up anytime soon. There really wasn’t much to do when you were the only one conscious.
He stood up and walked over to the couch, feeling taller than usual while looking down at the sleeping drummer. George stared intently at the man’s face, convinced that he would somehow feel the guitarist’s eyes on him and suddenly awake. George could always tell when Ringo was staring at him, in fact the older man had woken him up this morning by doing just that, so it probably went both ways.
He gave the most intense stare he could manage without busting an vessel in his brain, but it still wasn’t working even after a good thirty seconds. George bent over and lightly patted the drummer’s cheek. “Ringo? You awake?” He asked softly, realizing the stupidity behind his question. Obviously the older man was completely unconscious. The guitarist suddenly wondered if Ringo would get mad at him if he woke him up.. He decided he probably wouldn’t.
In fact, the drummer was probably so bored while George had been playing his guitar that he’d just ended up going to sleep by default. George felt a little guilty for ignoring Ringo like that right after having a night like last night; it was a pretty big deal, having sex with your best mate. And now, Ringo probably thought it was a onetime thing or something after George had literally wasted a whole day that they could’ve filled with debauchery.
George felt like a dirty, hairy, smelly arsehole. Fuckin’ John and Paul, making him worry about them instead of himself. It was always about them…
He didn’t want to waste more time fuming though; he’d already wasted enough with that stupid guitar. He looked at the clock again, realizing it was already a quarter passed 8. They had a concert tomorrow, so Brian would probably come by in a bit to make sure they went to bed like some sort of babysitter.
George was starting to really get pissed at himself for being such an airhead, imagining ripping his brain from his head and dragging it in for a few rounds in the boxing ring. It’d be an unfair fight, seeing as his brain had no hands for boxing gloves, but he’d still probably end up losing when the pink blob literally used mind control.
Okay, no more of that, he thought to himself, you’re only wasting more time.
George looked back down at Ringo who was still sound asleep. He couldn’t help but think back to a few weeks earlier in a hotel room much similar to this one when he’d walked in on that delightful discovery that had gotten him here in the first place. Well, it was mostly John who’d gotten him here from that one thing. What’d he do again? Something with a shoe?
Wait. You’re getting off track again. You’ve got three hours tops, George.
First priority: wake up Ringo.
George sorted out his variety of options on how to do this well. He could always jump on him again like the last time he woke Ringo up, but
that was kind of boring. It was fun at the time, but now it would be unoriginal. His eyes landed on Ringo’s face. Kiss him, maybe? Like that one storybook about the princess with a pea stuck in her arse or something? No.. that’d take forever. Plus, he wasn’t sure about Ringo, but George would be a little weirded out to be woken up like that no matter who was doing it.
His let his eyes travel down past the drummers face and stopped abruptly once they’d reached the bulge in the older man’s trousers. A light bulb seemed to light up above his head filled with the luminosity of an idea. Maybe he could... yeah, that’d be clever wouldn’t it? Not to mention a lovely way to be brought back to consciousness. Plus, it’d probably give them both a little head start for what George had in mind.
**
Ringo usually made it a priority to not pick up girls that were taller than him.
…But let’s face it; that would get exhausting with all the effort that took.
Still, if he did by chance end up taking home a bird who was indeed a few inches taller, he’d usually try and pick at least a 7 or an 8 on the fit-scale depending on how high he could score that night. But this one… she was probably a 3 and a half.
He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten here, but Ringo walked behind her into his hotel room and sized her up.
No tits, flat as a drumskin.
No ass, bony as a.. bone.
And she had virtually no curves worth mentioning. Nothing about this chick was appealing.
What kind of joke was this? She was even one of those mega fans with a mop-top, though he couldn’t really tell which one of the Beatles she was trying to imitate with that ‘do.
It was a nice chestnut color though, he’d give her that..
Alright, Ringo definitely couldn’t do this. No way was he shagging this manly chick tonight, not even if she paid him.
“Er, listen…” He started to kick her out but didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Ringo wasn’t a completely heartless bastard after all. He walked
up behind her and laid a hand on one of her shoulders. “You can stay but… m’not having sex with you.” He said gently. That wasn’t too harsh, right?
The girl suddenly burst out crying but nodded. Ringo tried to look over her shoulder at her face by standing on his tip toes but the girl kept her face hidden behind her hands.
Very nice hands, he noted.
Ringo felt awful for making her cry, but not bad enough to change his mind. “Why don’t we just, er, watch telly? Alright?”
The bird stopped her sobbing abruptly. “Alright.” She said with a sudden Scouse drawl.
What the hell? Since when was she British?
Ringo furrowed his brows and watched as the girl turned and started towards the couch. Now that he thought about it, he really couldn’t remember what she looked like. He took a few quick steps and cut her off, grabbing her shoulder and whipping her around.
“What Ringo?” The girl with George’s face and voice said, looking irritated. The girl, who was obviously just George, shrugged Ringo’s hand off and continued over to the couch.
So this supposed 3 and a half ‘chick’ he’d picked up from some club he couldn’t remember was really just a 10 and a half guitarist named George. Ringo probably should’ve seen that one coming.
Obviously, this was just another one of his fucked up dreams.
By now, you’d think he’d be an expert at cracking the code and figuring this stuff out sooner, but it was always a surprise to him. Every time the girl, or on some scary occasions.. guy, he picked up in his dreams was revealed to be the skinny guitarist it would catch him off guard.
Up until then, his brain wouldn’t even realize the whole wacky situation was nothing but a dream, instead being completely convinced that in the world he lived in everything was always hazy with ridiculous time gaps and laspes.
And George always seemed to appear completely out of nowhere, usually initiating sex. Very realisitic, right?
His last dream from a couple nights ago had been in the middle of a club in Hamburg, where he’d barely ever seen George before he joined the band. Yet there he was, suddenly on the stage attacking the Hurricanes’s unguarded drummer in the middle of a song.
That had been a particularly good one, though Ringo had kind of felt like a pedophile after he had woken up and realized he’d just fantasized about fucking George as a 17-year old who happened to look like a 12-year old. It had been oddly realistic as well, when he’d opened his eyes he could still smell George’s greased up hair piled up into a messy quiff and leather.
George didn’t always turn into some sort of sex fiend in his dreams though, much to Ringo’s relief. Ringo had worried he was obsessed with sex or something until one particularly awful dream set in the early years of his life. He liked to refer to them as his years spent in hell, although most people would just call them hospitals.
It could probably be classified as a nightmare though.. his mum crying when the doctors told him that he most likely wouldn’t make it to 15 and Ringo left lying there alone thinking about his impending doom and all those hopeless feelings. Then suddenly there was George with a smile and his guitar and played dozens of songs for him. No sex whatsoever, but Ringo still woke up with warm feelings in places other than his pants for once.
Now here he was again. But this was a brand new occurrence, him rejecting the sex. Sure it was an accident, but it still had never happened before. The awkwardness he was feeling was so terribly real. Even in his dreams, he never just went up to George and asked for sex, his worrisome mind just wouldn’t let him.
He blinked and was next to George, not even weirded out by the fact that he hadn’t been anywhere near the couch just a second ago. Ringo stared at the younger man and waited, sure he was about to have that sudden mood change the drummer had come to know and love any minute now.
“Ya said ya didn’t wanna have sex, Ringo.” George suddenly said, looking at him accusingly.
Ringo continued to stare and wait, sudden;y feeling some unpleasantly prickly sensation on his little Richard but he tried to ignore it. The guitarist squinted his eyes and crossed his arms, staring back stubbornly. “What? Now ya want to?”
The drummer decided not to say a word and let this dream work itself out the way it was supposed to in the first place. George raised his eyebrows and grinned, though it seemed like he had a dozen extra sharp fangs instead of teeth. The prickly sensation made him flinch like just looking at those teeth hurt.
“Fine.” Ringo didn’t have enough time to really think before George was already between his legs undoing his belt. It probably wasn’t a very good idea to let a George-with-fangs anywhere near his dick, but his mind was trying and failing to pull itself out of its dreamy fog and think clearly.
Sharp teeth… plus a blowjob… equals.. p..potatoes? No, that’s not right.. no vegetables are involved when sucking somebody off, are they?
George was unzipping his zipper now and the distracting noise was not helping Ringo’s brain straighten itself out.
Was it pain…t? No, that was wrong as well… the paint in this room was fine and had absolutely nothing to do with anything. It was something with a p though… P-p-…pa? Pa-pa-pa-pai..
Ringo looked down and started to panic when George grinned up at him, and although he was looking absolutely delectable and sweet as usual, his teeth were still very, very sharp.
The drummer watched as his lap disappeared under George’s thick hair.
..Ringo should probably stop him, shouldn’t he?
…
“OW!” Ringo gasped. His eyes shot opened as he jerked his hips away from whatever had just caused the sharp pain in his crotch. The world came into sharp focus quickly, and he realized he was sitting up halfway on the couch in his hotel room.
“Sorry..” George said from his place on the carpet, looking like he just watched his puppy get shot in the head multiple times after it was already dead. “I didn’t mean to! I just dunno how with, er, my teeth, y’know.” He pointed to the long, skinny white things in his mouth as if
Ringo didn’t know what they were. “M’sorry. I was just tryin’ to wake ya up, ‘cos, y’know, you’ve been sleepin’ all day and… yeh.”
Ringo had to pause and think for a moment before he fully understood the situation. His fly was wide opened with his half-hard glory hanging out - with no teeth marks, thank the Lord - and George was on the floor on his knees looking embarrassed. He put one and one and one together to make three, and figured it all out. Ringo obviously didn’t want to make this anymore awkward than it already was, so he decided to say something quickly.
“Oh, well.. that was a much better way to wake me up than jumpin’ on me.” Ringo grinned and laughed in hopes of easing George’s tension.
The younger man still looked worried but smiled back a little bit. “No it wasn’t, at least I didn’t bite you then.” His face was flushed and his hair mussed, looking pretty similar to how he did the last time Ringo had woken up to George’s ‘unconscious-Ringo’ antics.
“Actually, ya did kinda dig into my hips a bit. Yer very bony ya know.” Ringo joked, though that was mostly truth.
George finally grinned. “You liked it.”
Ringo chuckled and shrugged, blushing slightly. “Well.” Now that he thought back to it, he’d obviously liked it. Waking up with George on top of him had only fueled the fantasy he’d been having moments before, even if they had been more or less fully dressed in real life. But
Ringo was much too paranoid on where they stood to reveal that and all his other secret desires to George so soon. They’d only shagged a couple of times and that was all in the span of a few hours, it was way too soon to start asking for sexual favors left and right. George might not even like half of the stuff Ringo wanted to try and no way was he going to jeopardize it all just to get off in a different way. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and started to do up his pants.
“Sorry..” George was frowning again, still in his position by Ringo’s legs.
“It didn’t hurt that bad George… just surprised me. It’s fine, really.” It was quite a way to try and wake someone up after all, giving them a blowjob. Who was he to complain?
The younger man nodded and looked up at him with those giant pools of chocolate for eyes. “Alright… I can keep goin’ if you want?” George scooted over closer and laid a hand on his thigh.
Ringo tried not to show his horror as he shook his head. He’d gotten lucky once leaving with his dick intact, no need to push that luck it again. “No! No… just, er, that’s okay.” He was almost finished with his belt when George shifted between his legs pushed his hands away.
“Why not? I want to.” George told him, opening his belt back up “I won’t bite you. I was gettin’ much better at it, I promise..”
Ringo’s cock seemed to somehow harden with a mix of fear and arousal when George popped his button open and smiled at him. Dear God, it was happening all over again.
He smiled back nervously, drumming his fingers on the cushion under him, contemplating running into the bathroom to hide. Ringo wanted to believe him, he really, really wanted to believe him, but George had shown some awful skills, or lack thereof, with his earlier attempt. And although practice does make perfect, Ringo would rather not have bruises tomorrow from being George’s chew toy.
“You don’t have to George..” He tried, brushing the man’s hand from his lap. “How about we just, er, y’know?”
“No, I can do it. Really.” George assured him and resumed the task of getting Ringo’s trousers undone.
The guitarist obviously wasn’t going to give up too easily, but neither was the drummer. He thought on his feet, blurting out whatever came to his mind. “I had a dream about you.” Ringo said without thinking, immediately wanting to kick himself for it. His creep alert was flashing bright red and pointing right at his guilty mug.
George had his pants wide open by now but stopped abruptly and looked up at him innocently. “Oh? What kind of dream?”
Ringo looked up at the ceiling like the answer was hidden somewhere up there. “I dunno, just a dream y’know..”
“A dirty dream?” The drummer looked down and saw that George was smirking up at him. “It was, right?”
Ringo wasn’t sure how to answer, surprised by the question itself. “Sometimes.” He said before he could stop himself, making it obvious that this wasn’t just one dream he was talking about. “Not all the time though.”
The younger man stared silently at him for a moment before breaking into a grin and pulling himself up onto the couch. Ringo was relieved that his distraction had worked and the guitarist had seemingly forgotten about his determination to suck him off. “What about the one in the other hotel? When I jumped on ya and stuff.”
Ringo immediately knew which one he was talking about, that having been one of his weirder ones that seemed to correspond with real life. Kind of like today’s, George-the-shark in his dream had actually been George-using-teeth in reality. Somehow his mind translated real life into his dreams while the events were happening.. maybe he was psychic! Ringo Starr the psychic drummer for the Beatles! Translates real life into dreams? No that’s kind of lame..
“So?” George leaned over and brought his face close to the drummers to talk like he always did. “What was it?”
Ringo scratched his head. “I don’t really remember, old age y’see..” He chuckled, suddenly nervous. Why was he nervous? He had no idea.
“Don’t lie, liar.” George jabbed his chest playfully.
“Well it’s nothin’ special or anything George.”
The younger man sighed impatiently. “Just tell me.. “
Ringo bit his lip, seeming to debate his options.
“Alright, here..” George twisted around and brought his legs up onto the opposite side of the couch so that his back was to Ringo. He scooted down a little and leaned back so his head was laid across Ringo’s lap. “I’ll close my eyes an’ you can paint me a picture.” George folded his hands across his chest and grinned. “Then afterwards we can do it, okay?”
Ringo looked down at the younger man, a spike of excitement shooting through him at his last words, and nodded. “Okay, close yer eyes.”
George was still grinning as he did what he was told and shut his eyes.
The drummer went back to that dream and tried to piece it together as well as he could. “Well, I was coming back to the room to get a sock..”
“A sock?”
“Yes, a sock.” George giggled and moved his head in what looked like a nod. “Anyways, so the door was already wide open so I walked in. I couldn’t see anything ‘cos it was really dark..”
“And a monster jumped out, right?” The younger man teased cracking open one of his eyes.
Ringo laughed and shook his head. “Hey, do ya wanna hear the dream or not?”
“Sorry.” George closed his eye again and smiled.
“Right, so then I asked if you were in there because I needed my sock.” George snickered but the drummer kept going. “Then all the lights turned on and there you were with my sock, but you were naked.”
“Hang on a minute.” George opened both of his eyes and raised a finger. “Why would I be naked?”
Ringo sighed. “George, you said you wanted me to tell ya, so that’s what I’m doin’. Does it matter?”
“Yeh it matters, I need details.” He could tell George was just being silly but decided to humor him.
“Alright, um, ya just got out of the shower. Better?”
“..Hot or cold?”
“Very hot.”
George smiled and closed his eyes. “Okay, go on.”
The drummer was starting to loosen up thanks to George’s easy-going attitude and started running a hand through the younger man’s hair, bringing his voice down to a lower tone. “This is where it gets good.” He paused for a moment when his heartbeat quickened. “So I asked for my sock but you wouldn’t give it to me unless I did something first.”
“Uh huh..” George seemed to sense that something good was coming as he shifted on Ringo’s lap a bit. “What was it?”
“You said I couldn’t have my sock unless I fucked you first.” He told him, getting aroused from the memory.
“So?”
“So I did! Good right?” Ringo joked; acting like that was the end of the story.
George reached up and pinched the drummer’s hip. “Ringo.. yer not stoppin’ there..”
“Okay, okay.” The younger man relented his pinching when Ringo continued, watching George’s face as he spoke. “Before I could answer though, you tackled me to the floor and started ripping my clothes of.”
Ringo noticed the guitarist had dropped his pinching hand to his lap instead of his chest. “Yeh? Then what?”
“Then, since you were already naked and stuff, you took my pants off..”
“Did I suck you off then?”
“Oh god, no.” George scrunched his brows together at Ringo’s less sensual tone. “I mean.. no. Ya did something even better.” He said, brining his voice back down to its better storytelling tone. “Once my pants were off, we kissed and touched a bit..”
“Mhm..” George encouraged. Ringo lost his train of thought as he watched the younger man touch himself through his trousers.
“Keep goin’.”
Ringo swallowed down the sudden dryness in his throat and shifted so he wouldn’t poke George in the eye or something with his hardening member and tried to remember where he stopped. “Right, so then, you sat up and did everything yerself.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“I mean you were on top.”
George raised his eyebrows but kept his eyes closed. “Did ya like it?”
“Oh yes, it was great seeing you on top of me.”
George opened his eyes and smiled up at him. “We should do that then.”
Ringo’s stomach fluttered when George wiggled his eyebrows. “Right now?” He asked hopefully. It would be a great ending to a boring day, indeed.
George sat up, his hair sticking up wildly, and looked over at the clock. “I think we have enough time. I probably won’t be able to suck you off..”
“Aw..” Ringo tried to sound sincere with his fake disappointment.
George turned to him and grinned, already unbuttoning his shirt and swiftly pulling it off. “But we can do the rest.” The younger man leaned over and connected their lips, pushing at Ringo’s chest until his back was propped against the arm of the couch. The drummer’s cock was already standing at full attention by the time George had gotten his shirt off and started working on his belt. Ringo decided to speed up the undressing process by tugging down George’s own pants at the same time without breaking their heated kiss. They were probably both fully naked in record time, both equally as eager to be connected again like the night before. Ringo’s developed roaming-hands syndrome as he let them caress each body part they came across on George’s.
George pulled away first after a few minutes of groping, ready to initiate the next step. “Where’s that stuff?”
Ringo waved over towards the beds, too breathless to speak. The younger man peeled himself out of their tangle of limbs and padded out of view behind the couch. The drummer sat up a little against the arm of the chair, little sparks of excitement igniting flames across his body. He felt like the luckiest man on earth, about to fuck a willing George for the third or fourth time. He didn’t debate whether he was queer or whatever like some would in this situation, convince that George’s sexiness was universal and it would be impossible for anyone of any gender to say no. But it wasn’t just the sex he craved; just being in the younger man’s presence was just as satisfying.
Ringo’s heart swelled when George skipped back into view looking completely okay with doing this.
“Okay, how do I do this?” George said, inspecting the little bottle curiously. The drummer held his hand out and the younger man placed it in his palm. He flicked the cap open and grabbed George’s wrist, squirting some into his hand. He leaned back and figured there was no more needed explanation, but George was still looking at him questioningly.
“You’ve gotta slick me up so it won’t hurt..” He told him slowly.
“..Ohh.” George laughed and wrapped a hand around Ringo’s cock, carefully spreading the lube around it. Ringo flinched at the coldness, forgetting to tell him to warm it up with his hands. “It’ll still hurt no matter what, ya monster.” The younger man said grinning at him.
Ringo smiled back, once again feeling that spurt of affection for the younger man. George took his hand away and observed his work. “Good?”
Ringo sat up a little more so that he was barely slouching to make room for the younger man. “Perfect.”
George man climbed back onto the couch and clumsily straddled the drummer’s hips, using his shoulders for balance. Ringo, seeing his lack of coordination, positioned himself so that he was right under George’s hole and waiting. The guitarist’s nails were digging into his shoulder as he lowered himself down onto him slowly. Ringo bit back a moan as he felt himself pushing into George, almost forgetting how tight the younger man still was. He heard George suck in a breath and ran his hands up and down the guitarist’s sides in an attempt to soothe him.
Ringo stopped his instinct to move his hips and fully sheathe himself, letting George go slowly inch by inch. He had to stop and calm down for a second when the younger man’s ass was finally settle down on his thighs as all the pleasurable sensations built up in his balls, obviously not wanting to cum so quickly.
He slowed down his breathing and looked up at the younger man. “You alright?” George didn’t look like he was having fun yet with his eyes screwed shut and a frown playing across his face, but he nodded anyways. Ringo could feel the man’s muscles tightening and loosening around his cock as he tried to relax. He pulled the younger man’s face down for a gentle kiss, silently encouraging him to move. George stayed still for a few more seconds kissing him back, before lifting up an inch and settling back down, the tension easing a bit each time. His movements grew less perfunctory and more enthusiastic as he quickened his pace, finally starting to look like Ringo felt. Ringo helped guide his hips to a more suitable angle, presumably brushing against that spot that drove George mad.
George swore under his breath and tightened his grip on the drummer’s shoulders, grinding down onto him with newfound vigor. Ringo’s bliss heightened when there was an added soundtrack to their love-making from George’s mouth. He couldn’t understand half of what was being said, but he sounded great. If Ringo could somehow capture all the noises George was making and put it on a record, it’d be number one on the charts in no time, he was sure of it.
Ringo wasn’t going to last much longer with all of his senses being tickled like this. He was ready to help George get off first, but opened his eyes when the younger man let out a hair-raising noise and started cumming onto Ringo’s stomach seemingly out of nowhere, still pounding down on him almost painfully. He leaned down and crushed his lips against Ringo’s, muffling his orgasmic moans. The drummer reached up and tangled his fingers in George’s hair, feeling the tip of the iceberg finally break through the surface as he too came with a spectacular boom.
Ringo felt like he was ready to pass out from the exhausting feelings ripping through his body, but as soon as he reached that familiar line of ecstasy and unconsciousness, his body backed off at just the right time and let him come back down for air.
George, in his less than coherent mind, started to roll off of him thinking there was more couch to his right but ended up falling onto the floor with a thud.
Ringo sat up in a rush, afraid he’d hurt himself or something, but when he looked down George was in one piece giggling madly.
They laughed like psychopaths for a few moments, sharing their mutual feelings of post-intercourse-bliss, before George caught his breath and looked up at the drummer and smiled “That was fun.”
Ringo nodded, smiling back
“So was it as good as yer dream?” George asked curiously.
The drummer stared at him thoughtfully for a moment before breaking into a grin and answering. “Better.”
**
A/N2: Sorry if that seemed rushed, because… it was.
Click the next entry ho.