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peaceloveandstarrs · 1 year ago

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Starring with 29

(anon sent "starrison" in a different message!)

i never knew you could make such sweet sounds. me either.

1966

“Lock the door, Richie, c’mon…”

George and Ringo hurried into their shared hotel room, high on adrenaline from their last show. The energy had been incredible, full of energy from the fans. Okay, so it had been loud to the point where they couldn’t hear themselves, but still. The energy was palpable. And it was going to be a very late night. And they knew exactly what to do with all of this energy.

Ringo quickly locked the door behind him. He was excited, yes, but he was also slightly nervous. Usually, George was the one that took charge of things in the bedroom, but tonight, Ringo felt bold. In one quick move, Ringo had George pinned against the wall. George smirked up at him with a wicked, lusty glint in his eyes.

“Feelin’ bold tonight, eh?” George teased.

“Mm,” Ringo hummed as he ran his hands down George’s body, resting them teasingly on his lover’s belt. “Can’t help it, watchin’ you on that stage, so fuckin’ sexy, y’know? Been wantin’ to get me hands on ye all night…”

Before George could reply, Ringo had him in a deep, heated kiss. It caught George by surprise, but it didn’t take long for him to melt into it, sliding his tongue into Ringo’s mouth. They stayed like that for a few moments, teeth nipping at lips and tongues gliding over each other in desperation as the tension grew. Ringo groaned into the kiss. He was hot. Far too hot. He pulled away and took off his jacket, haphazardly tossing it into the room, George quickly following suit.

“Bed,” Ringo said breathlessly, a heated demand. “And get rid of all those clothes…”

George didn’t need to be told twice. Both men hurried to the large bed, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. And he knew that Ringo was in charge tonight. Which was incredibly sexy to him as well. He palmed his half-hard cock through his underwear, pressing up to try and get some friction as Ringo straddled George’s thighs.

“Mm, did I say you could do that?” Ringo teased, rubbing at his chin. George shook his head. “Didn’t think so… I also said I wanted all of your clothes off, did I not?”

George nodded and looked down. “Can’t finish with you straddlin’ me like that, now can I?”

Ringo obliged the subtle request, moving aside so George could lift his hips and pull off his underpants. He nearly moaned when he saw George’s cock, thick and nearly fully hard. Part of him wanted to suck George off right there, but he’d waited too long to get his hands on his lover just to give him some head. He wanted more. And with both of them already turned on from adrenaline and lust, there was no need for much foreplay. Normally, Ringo enjoyed foreplay, teasing or being teased until he couldn’t take it anymore, but tonight, he was glad they didn’t need it.

Ringo opened the nightstand drawer and found the small bottle of lube he’d brought with him, sitting back and uncapping the bottle so he could coat his fingers in the slick substance. He knew he was big and that George didn’t bottom all that often, so he would make sure to prep him thoroughly.

“Safe word?” Ringo asked.

“Red,” George said.

“Good boy,” Ringo replied.

He felt his cock twitch when George bit his lip at that response. He knew George had a strong praise kink, so of course, he brought it into play now. Rubbing George’s chest to help him relax, Ringo pressed the tip of his index finger against George’s hole and slowly slid the tip into him. George tensed slightly.

“Shh, love, it’s me, relax…” Ringo breathed as he slowly slid more into him. “That’s it… you’re doing so good, love…”

George moaned as Ringo thrust his finger in and out, moving it side to side to start stretching him. It was a slight sting, but nothing too painful… and then…

“Fuck!”

Ringo found George’s prostate, gently massaging the little bundle of nerves and sending jolts of pleasure over George’s body. It felt incredible, making George crave more, more, more… but before he could get too worked up, Ringo began to slide another finger in to join the first one. He gave George a few more moments to adjust before spreading his fingers apart, really opening him up. He scissored them, delighting in each whimper and moan that he got from his lover. He was achingly hard but had just a bit more to go before George was ready. Or until George deemed himself ready.

“Richie, please, just fuck me,” George begged as he pressed back against Ringo’s fingers, trying to guide them towards his prostate again.

“Sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure I’m ready, just please…” George whined, gripping the sheets in desperation. “Need you. Need you inside me. Please…”

Ringo chuckled. George knew better than anyone, he supposed. He pulled his fingers out, leaving George whining at the empty feeling. Ringo grabbed the bottle and slicked his cock thoroughly with a deep moan. He wanted to slam into him, but he knew it would take some adjustment on George’s end, no matter how prepared he was.

Ringo lined up, pressing the head of his cock at George’s hole. He slowly slid into George, hissing softly at the warmth and tightness. No matter how many times they fucked, this would always feel incredible. He gave George a few moments to adjust to the sensation before pulling out almost all the way and slamming into him with a groan. Ringo quickly established a steady rhythm with his thrusts as George wrapped his long legs around Ringo’s waist.

And George, oh fuck. George was a needy mess beneath Ringo, gasping and moaning with each powerful thrust. And the sounds were oh, so sweet, music to Ringo’s ears. Part of him was amused. Who knew The Quiet Beatle was so noisy in bed? The other, more significant part was aroused, using those noises as encouragement. And he knew just how to get more.

As he slammed into George, Ringo carefully leaned down and kissed down George’s neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin below the collarbone. And sure enough, George’s moans got even needier, higher-pitched, and breathless as his body began to tense.

“Fuck, Ringo, fuck, fuck, yes, c’mon, please… more… ‘m so close… please…”

Ringo shifted his angle some, slamming into his prostate with each powerful thrust. George moaned constantly, desperate to cum… Ringo was close too, but he wanted his love to come first. And how better than to praise him?

“Cum for me…” Ringo whispered, giving George one last nip on his neck. “You’ve done so good, love, c’mon and let go…”

“Fuck, oh, god, fuck, Ringo…!”

Arching off the bed, George came hard all over his own stomach, a string of incoherent moans and swears escaping from his mouth as he rode out his powerful orgasm. Ringo followed shortly after, quickly pulling out and shooting his own release onto George’s chest, George’s name the only word on his lips.

Both men rode out their aftershocks, gasping for breath as they collapsed wordlessly onto the bed, unable to speak or move. God. They’d really, really needed that. When he felt like he could walk without falling, Ringo got up and grabbed a rag from the bathroom, soaking it in warm water. He went back to the bed and smiled at the sight. George, completely blissed out, smiling dazedly at him.

“Hello, handsome,” Ringo said gently as he carefully cleaned their combined releases off of George’s chest.

“Hello yerself,” George teased.

Chuckling, Ringo took the rag back to the bathroom and joined George on the bed, softly kissing his cheek as he pulled George into his arms.

“I never knew you could make such sweet sounds,” Ringo said with a grin.

“Me either.”

“We’ll have to see what other sounds you can make.”

George gave him a teasing, playful smirk. “Good thing we’ve got all night then…”

Ringo kissed George deeply and lovingly. They did have all night to explore each other, but for now, he was content to hold the man he loved in his arms. He sighed happily. Yeah. This was perfect.

#starrison #george x ringo #ringo x george #beatles fanfiction #beatles fanfic #beatles slash

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harrisongslimited · 8 months ago

Text

George Chapter of the Day. March 13, 2024

Greetings my dear tumblr and Beatles' families! Happy to announce I'm popping a foot into the fanfiction pool and seeing 👀 what happens. Your comments are more than welcome!!

All the important stuff:

Title: I Saw Her Standing There

Story Description: John, Paul, George and Ringo meet Joie Armagh, a strong willed American girl, who influences their lives more than they wanted.

Trigger Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, drug references, adult situations and behavior, M/F smut, fluff, falling in love, tense arguments, angst.

**18 only please***

**This is a work of fiction. As such, it should not be read as a factual account of events or as biography. While many characters of the story bear the names of actual people, they and their actions have been imagined by the author and should be considered products of the imagination. This story is fictional and the events did not happen. It is written and re-produced here online for the purposes of entertainment only.**

Author's Note: I've noticed many fanfics have a Starrison or a McLennon flair, but this story will be M/F interactions including smut. It's just how I see them! Now if you're under 18, just move yourself right along. As I'm not there to patrol over you, just be strong and pass this up. I had to wait to read adult material and so do you!

Thank you to gif artists and photo owners.

Phew! That's over....

She was across the room from him; he could barely see her without his thick, black rimmed glasses. He felt her. Felt her as if she were standing within inches of him. His skin was hot. The light brown hair on his arms came alive – his stomach grumbled with a feral intensity.

Chapter 1

There was something about her. Something, he figured, she didn't know about yet, something she didn't know how to use – yet – but it made John Winston Lennon rearrange his slumped body to a nearly half-attentive position.

John watched her as best he could without his glasses. He was nearly blind without them, but acknowledged only to himself that he was far too vain to wear them in public. Besides, if he had to see something that important, Paul, George or Ringo would alert him. But at this moment, they were too interested in their own orbits to notice much.

She was talking to someone. Someone he didn't know – which he didn't care much about. From her body language, he could tell it was tense. She ran a hand through her short, auburn hair, and he continued to watch as she pointedly aggravated the man she was talking to.

This, to John, was great entertainment.

She turned in John's direction, although he couldn't tell if she saw him or not. It was nice she wasn't straining to scope out a look at the four of them , like they were the side-show freaks they felt like – or make a mad dash for the table to try to touch him like he was some bloody good luck charm. He liked that. Maybe she didn't give a shit who they were. THAT, he nodded to himself, would be refreshing for a fucking change.

She was, however, very pissed off at the little runt who was running the audition and had he been asked, John would have agreed with her. The whole scene was outrageously idiotic, as were their whole lives now, but he had danced with the devil and this was payback time.

The little moron in charge, whom John was introduced to but couldn't have cared less about, was a highly paid ass-kisser with a slimy handshake and badly manipulated crew cut. John might have the appearance of someone who didn't give a shit, but he took in everything. Every person, every nuance, every sight and smell and sound. Nothing got past him, unless he wanted it to. And the little California-tanned wild bird was giving it to the little pisser and John couldn't take his eyes away from her. It made him jealous and angry and aroused that she could do what he wasn't allowed to.

Brian was about to intervene, as the pisser/wild bird barney was holding up the whole show. He wanted to tell Brian to leave her alone, that she was practically giving him a hand job from across the room, but he also had an immediate urge to get the hell out of this place. He didn't like the United States. Too much fucking sunshine and not a decent cup of tea within 10,000 miles. But, as was his current circumstance, money, the promise of women and fame had too much a hold on all four of them for anyone to say "piss off" and head back home to England. Because as sure as the sun rose in the east, if one went home, they'd ALL go home.

John watched as Brian interrupted the moron and the woman of his dreams. He threw an elbow into Paul's side to wordlessly alert him to the situation. Paul lifted up his brown eyes and tried to force a smile.

"Another one?"

"No man. Totally different. She's cutting that audition manager a new asshole."

"Good. Maybe we can get the fuck out of here. I'm beginning to think I made a wrong move when I chose a band over plumber's apprentice."

John looked at Paul. "You? A plumber? I'd pay to see your ass rooting out some loo in the low rent district."

"Piss off....," he answered. "So what's going on?"

John filled him in. Ringo and George were both still half asleep, cigarettes hanging off their lower lips. No one made any attempt to pay attention when their manager approached them.

"Get those bloody fags out of your mouths," Brian said to them. "You are all clean cut, working class boys from across the pond – and well paid to act your parts. So sit up and pay attention."

John made an obscene gesture. Ringo turned his back to him continuing to smoke and George leaned forward and gazed at Brian with his middle finger slowly working its way up to his temple.

Paul, ever the diplomat, made a valiant attempt to appear slightly more involved. "Look Brian, we aren't trying to make your life hell, but this is getting out of hand. We've spent 2 hours evaluating 200 girls who want to have a role in this movie. Really, it doesn't matter. We don't even know what the movie is about. Just have that little audition manager pick out the best of the bunch and send everyone on their way."

Brian sighed and pulled up a chair. John knew they were about to be lectured from the Brian Epstein Guide to Managing a Famous British Band. John wished he could order about a dozen Scotch and Cokes and call it a day.

"Boys," he started.

Ringo, George and John turned the switches off and began cruising down the avenues of their brains. Paul pretended to listen and caught the gist of the whole thing.

They were famous. Yes, he remembered that. There were politics involved in being famous. Yes, he remembered that. It was sometimes necessary to go through these things for the publicity. Yes, he remembered that.

"Just like a politician. You have to, figuratively speaking, kiss the babies and hug the old ladies. Half these girls are daughters of Hollywood big-wigs. We can't piss them off. We must pretend we are gentlemen."

"Thank God we've had lessons...." John piped in. "Now shut the hell up and tell me who that bird is."

"Who?"

"The one who is still going off on the audition manager."

Brian turned and jumped up. "Oh shit."

John sat totally upright for the first time all day as he saw her coming towards them at a determined gait. The audition manager followed her, mumbling.

Brian was about to intercept her when John looked at him sternly. "Back off, big man. Let her have her say."

If there was one thing Brian knew, it was when to absolutely listen to John. He could manipulate the other three on an individual basis, but John alone or the 4 of them enmasse, well, that was the ballgame. He let out a heavy breath.

John stood to watch her walk towards them. He had seen plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous. He had HAD plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous, but this pissed off bird was in a class by herself. She was nothing like the girls he normally went after – nothing like the birds of his own turf. He was, at this stage of his life, attracted to "bee-bees", Beautiful, Brainless and Sexy chicks who knew better than to open their mouths for anything except a blow-job. After a brief affair consisting of plenty of sex and perhaps a late night supper or two, maybe an autograph or an album, it was less of a problem to diplomatically dump a BB than it was a hometown girl or some mate's sister.

John had his exit line and delivered it with the precision of Olivier playing Hamlet. He could conjure up this little boy lost persona, with a pained "this is going to hurt me more than it is you" look and begin his speech. "I'm SOOO sorry, but I've realized that I really DO love my wife and I don't know how to thank you for helping me see the honest truth. I have to go back to her. Your unselfishness and honesty showed me what I must do. I know you'll understand. I can't tell you what you have done for me. I will never forget you (insert name or not). "

And it worked. 99% of the time. The other 1%, Brian took care of.

All at once, she was in front of them. Directly in between Paul and George. John shifted in his chair to look at her.

"Look, I know this is all fun and games, but it's 95 degrees out there in the hallway and girls are dropping like flies. There's no water, no air. C'mon---hasn't everyone had enough?"

Brian walked over to her and extended a courtly British hand. "I'm sorry Ms. but you will have to get back into line or leave the audition. You are causing a disruption."

The young woman looked at Brian then beseechingly at the four English lads that were sitting before her. John, for once in his life, was speechless.

Paul stood and faced her. "We didn't know..." was all he could muster. She was not amused. Not amused at all with any of them. George turned his eyes toward her and remained quiet.

"Well, now you do," she said without emotion, then sighed. "Look, I know you are the biggest things to come out of England since Earl Grey, but it's really hot out there. Can you put an end to this?"

George finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Her brown eyes flashed at him. "Does it matter? I'm just trying to get those other girls out of the heat."

"Why do you care?" John blurted out, his cigarette smoke exiting his mouth.

She sighed and was going to speak when Brian returned with a police officer and the audition manager.

"Hold off...." John eyed him.

The police officer stared at the woman for a minute before saying, "Joie?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. It's me. I'm just trying to get those girls out of the heat, Mr. Watson. Or get them some water or something. I know they are all probably daughters of movie studios, but they are melting just the same."

Officer Watson turned to Brian. "I know this girl. She doesn't mean any harm. And after all, she has a point...."

John and Brian exchanged looks. Brian knew it well.

"We will get the girls out of the heat and move this along...." He answered properly.

"Thank you." Was all she said. And she turned to leave.

She didn't give a shit that they were the Beatles. She didn't give a shit if she got a bit part in their first movie. She just didn't give a shit about them. What she cared about was 90 remaining strangers, struggling in the heat.

John was enamored.

The audition manager was sweating profusely. He was too old for this shit. He had been around the greats---Barrymore, Hepburn, Gable. These punks from somewhere in England might make every girl wet her pants, but all they were was trouble to him.

Brian pulled him aside and a plan was made to move the line of girls along so they could get a look at the Lads from Liverpool and Brian would pick the 15 or so they needed in bit parts. The others would be given a ticket to the final concert in the film. All Brian knew for sure is that there was going to be a concert at the end. And 100 seats were to be occupied by the offspring of Hollywood elites. The other seats were to be auctioned off to fans through the fan club.

This is what he knew....as the screenwriter typed away, tucked safely back in London.

"Mal...." John groused at their assistant. "get her number....."

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #beatlemania #Beatles fanfic #george harrison fanfic #i saw her standing there

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