Ideas
Title: Kissed
Author: ME, spirit414
Pairing: Paul/Ringo. (I know right?? What's come over me??)
Rating: I'd say R. Just to be safe.
Summary: They never kissed, Ringo noticed, becaue Paul wouldn't let him.
Author's Notes: Okay, so this one just hit me randomly, and P/R has been dominating my brain for like, two whole weeks now so I HAD to write this. I hope you all like it!!
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of FICTION. Meaning, it never happened. I don't mean anything by this, so please don't sue.
They never kissed, Ringo noticed.
In the heat, in the middle of it all, Ringo would offer his lips to the bassist, full, parted, and begging for needed contact, but they never kissed.
His lips screamed at him, begged to be pressed against the full ones before him, craved to have his tongue explore the contours of Paul's mouth and memorize each and every crevice, the jagged teeth, the very taste of him.
But Paul wouldn't let him.
Paul would downcast his eyes, turn his head, shy away from those lips He'd push Ringo away while drawing him closer, thrusting faster and moaning louder, and Ringo would only falter for a moment before the sight of Paul, sweaty and desheveled underneath him was simply too much to bear.
The urge grew inside of him, every day, every time he saw Paul drag his tongue over his full bottom lip, when he curved them up into a sly smile, or when the shuddering gasps and moans escaped them. Every time they were together, Ringo squirmed and fantasized about what it would feel like to fill the hole in his heart that only those beautiful lips could.
Until he was fisting his hands in Paul's hair, bringing their faces closer, crushing their lips together and moaning loudly, obscenely into those soft, tender lips. He felt his heart fill with warmth and something else, something dangerous that scared him beyond belief, the thing that would dance around in the edge of his consciousness whenever the thought of Paul crossed his mind.
The bassist tensed, pulled away and stared at Ringo with seemingly angry and accusing eyes, as if he needed some sort of explanation as to why the drummer had stepped over that seemingly invisible boundary.
"I'm sorry." It was the automatic response; the one that spilled from Ringo's lips before he could register what he was saying and realize that no, he wasn't sorry. Although his entire heart shattered when those guarded, disappointed eyes met his, Ringo wasn't sorry.
"We can't do that."
Ringo swallowed thickly, another realization coming fast, washing over him in a wave of grief. He slid off the bed, casting one more look at Paul's perfect body sprawled over it before walking out the door and shutting it quietly behind him.
They fucked, shagged, had sex. Whatever the word for it, Ringo knew it most definitely wasn't love.
Because they never kissed.
[Hopefully you like it, I just sorta whipped it up when the thought crossed my mind.]
Author: ME, spirit414
Pairing: Paul/Ringo. (I know right?? What's come over me??)
Rating: I'd say R. Just to be safe.
Summary: They never kissed, Ringo noticed, becaue Paul wouldn't let him.
Author's Notes: Okay, so this one just hit me randomly, and P/R has been dominating my brain for like, two whole weeks now so I HAD to write this. I hope you all like it!!
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of FICTION. Meaning, it never happened. I don't mean anything by this, so please don't sue.
They never kissed, Ringo noticed.
In the heat, in the middle of it all, Ringo would offer his lips to the bassist, full, parted, and begging for needed contact, but they never kissed.
His lips screamed at him, begged to be pressed against the full ones before him, craved to have his tongue explore the contours of Paul's mouth and memorize each and every crevice, the jagged teeth, the very taste of him.
But Paul wouldn't let him.
Paul would downcast his eyes, turn his head, shy away from those lips He'd push Ringo away while drawing him closer, thrusting faster and moaning louder, and Ringo would only falter for a moment before the sight of Paul, sweaty and desheveled underneath him was simply too much to bear.
The urge grew inside of him, every day, every time he saw Paul drag his tongue over his full bottom lip, when he curved them up into a sly smile, or when the shuddering gasps and moans escaped them. Every time they were together, Ringo squirmed and fantasized about what it would feel like to fill the hole in his heart that only those beautiful lips could.
Until he was fisting his hands in Paul's hair, bringing their faces closer, crushing their lips together and moaning loudly, obscenely into those soft, tender lips. He felt his heart fill with warmth and something else, something dangerous that scared him beyond belief, the thing that would dance around in the edge of his consciousness whenever the thought of Paul crossed his mind.
The bassist tensed, pulled away and stared at Ringo with seemingly angry and accusing eyes, as if he needed some sort of explanation as to why the drummer had stepped over that seemingly invisible boundary.
"I'm sorry." It was the automatic response; the one that spilled from Ringo's lips before he could register what he was saying and realize that no, he wasn't sorry. Although his entire heart shattered when those guarded, disappointed eyes met his, Ringo wasn't sorry.
"We can't do that."
Ringo swallowed thickly, another realization coming fast, washing over him in a wave of grief. He slid off the bed, casting one more look at Paul's perfect body sprawled over it before walking out the door and shutting it quietly behind him.
They fucked, shagged, had sex. Whatever the word for it, Ringo knew it most definitely wasn't love.
Because they never kissed.
[Hopefully you like it, I just sorta whipped it up when the thought crossed my mind.]