Bandom One-shots book 3

Thank You Canada ! Request ! (Starrison)

~Requested by lynn_mm2~

~Toronto, Ontario, Canada. 1968. George Harrison POV~

Thank god, just thank god! Paul got Allen to get us a Canadian tour, I only asked for it because Canada has legalized same-sex relationships. Ringo and I aren't seen as queers, fairies, or homophiles, we're seen as normal. It's such a breath of fresh air compared to everywhere else. 

The lamp light of the hotel flickered, casting long shadows across the room. I leaned against the desk, my fingers idly strumming the strings of my guitar. The air was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and the faint tang of spilled whiskey. Ringo sat on the couch, his drumsticks tapping a restless rhythm against his thigh. The silence between us was heavy, charged with something neither of us had dared to name.

I glanced up, my dark eyes catching Ringo's. There was a moment—just a moment—where everything seemed to stop. The guitar slipped from my lap, the sound of it hitting the floor barely registering. Ringo's drumsticks stilled. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as I took a step forward, then another, until I was standing in front of Ringo.

Ringo looked up at me, his blue eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. My hand reached out, trembling slightly, and brushed a strand of hair from Ringo's forehead. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down Ringo's spine. He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into it, his breath hitching as my fingers trailed down his cheek, his jaw, his neck.

"George," Ringo whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heart. I didn't respond with words. Instead, I leaned down, my lips brushing against Ringo's in a kiss that was tentative at first, then deepened as the tension between us finally snapped. Ringo's hands came up to grip my shoulders, pulling me closer, our bodies pressing together as the kiss grew more urgent.

My hands slid down Ringo's back, pulling him up from the couch until we were standing chest to chest. Ringo's fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as our tongues met, exploring each other with a hunger that had been building for far too long. My hands found the hem of Ringo's shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one swift motion. The cool air of the hotel hit Ringo's skin, but he barely noticed, too focused on the heat of my body against his own.

My lips left Ringo's, trailing down his neck, his chest, his stomach. Ringo's breath came in short, ragged gasps as my hands worked at the button of his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear. I dropped to my knees, my hands gripping Ringo's hips as I took him into my mouth. Ringo's head fell back, a moan escaping his lips as my tongue worked him, my hands moving to grip the back of the couch for support.

My mouth was hot, wet, and relentless, driving Ringo to the edge with a skill that left him trembling. Ringo's fingers tightened in my hair, his hips bucking involuntarily as the pleasure built, threatening to overwhelm him. "George, I'm—" he started, but the words were cut off by a strangled cry as he came, his body shuddering with the force of it.

I pulled back, swallowing as I looked up at Ringo, my lips glistening. Ringo's legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the couch, his chest heaving. I stood, my own arousal evident as I stripped off my shirt and jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor. I climbed onto the couch, straddling Ringo's hips, my cock pressing against Ringo's stomach.

I sank down slowly, taking all of Ringo in one smooth motion. We both gasped, eyes locking as we savored the intense sensation of finally being joined. I started to move, setting a deep, sensual rhythm as I rode Ringo. The hotel filled with the sounds of our bodies meeting, soft moans and sighs of pleasure, and the occasional lewd slap of skin on skin.

Ringo gripped my hips tighter, fingernails digging into the firm flesh as he thrust up to meet my downward motions. The pleasure was incredible, unlike anything he'd felt before. It was more than just physical - there was an emotional component, a rightness to it, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

I leaned down, capturing Ringo's lips in a searing kiss. My tongue plunged into Ringo's mouth, dancing with Ringo's in a passionate duel. Ringo's hands slid up my back, feeling the muscles flexing under his skin as I moved. He tangled his fingers in my hair, tugging gently as the kiss deepened.

My pace increased, my hips slapping against Ringo's harder, faster. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure shooting up Ringo's spine with each thrust. Ringo could feel another orgasm building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing. He knew I was close too, his breathing ragged, his movements growing erratic.

"Fuck, Ringo," I gasped, pulling back to look at him. "You feel so fucking good." My voice was rough, gravelly with desire.

"Don't stop," Ringo begged, his own voice strained. "Please, I'm so close." He bucked up harder, desperate for release.

I obliged, slamming down hard and grinding my hips. That was it - Ringo came with a roar, his cock pulsing as he spilled into me. I followed a second later, throwing my head back with a cry of Ringo's name as I came too.

We both collapsed together onto the couch, my full weight on top of Ringo. We were both breathing hard, our skin slick with sweat. I rested my forehead against Ringo's, our noses brushing. In the afterglow, we just looked at each other, a silent acknowledgement of the incredible moment we'd just shared.

Ringo and I lay tangled together, limbs entwined, basking in the warm afterglow of their passionate lovemaking. My hand absently traced patterns on Ringo's chest, while Ringo's fingers played with the hair on my chest, twirling the sweat-dampened strands around his fingertips.

As our breathing slowly returned to normal, a comfortable silence fell over the hotel room. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex and the lingering aroma of cigarettes and spilled whiskey. The only sound was the distant car passing by and the occasional soft sigh of contentment from one or the other.

I propped myself up on my elbow, looking down at Ringo with a crooked grin. "That was... wow," I murmured. Ringo chuckled softly, his own smile mirroring mine. "Me neither," he admitted, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. It was our first time and god was it amazing.

~Thank You Canada ! Request ! ~