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Language:
English
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Published:
2020-03-19
Words:
638
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
7
Kudos:
29
Bookmarks:
2
Hits:
346

For You Blues

Summary:

Partly inspired by Bluets. George works out his feelings.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

1. Blue, the absence of warmth. His side of the bed cool and rumpled to the touch. His callused fingers seek the remnants of their passionate lovemaking the night before, perhaps their last in this bed, in this home that bears traces of things she left behind. A 1962 copy of Civilizations and Discontent, a pocket-sized notebook that contains passages of discarded lyrics, a bent guitar pick that reminded him of her eyes. A lie.

2. The Germans are rowdy. The pub is dank and smells of stale beer and cabbages but the owner, a jolly geezer who spoke passable English paid well. George keeps the wad of bills that a young man passed him following a night spent exploring things that would make his aunt reach for her wooden cross smoothened by her constant use. The Catholic in him is repulsed at his occasional bout of explorations but his growing body wants answers to questions that only an experienced lad slightly older than he could satiate. The blond lad who traveled from Munich turned out to be the last - technically the fourth- who was willing to teach him things he dare not ask John.

Enter Ringo - the harbinger of nights that sent George in ecstatic bliss followed quickly by a gaping sense of confusion.

Your blue eyes would end me. George thinks.

3. He kisses Ringo behind an alley before they parted ways. Not really an ideal place to kiss, he tells Ringo, but the older man shushes him and tips his head for another searing kiss that settles deep in him, warm. When he opens his eyes it's those blue eyes darkening that he recalls when he finally tips in the edge of orgasm in his clumsy fingers. He slumps into his bed, reaching for the closest thing he could get to wipe his cum off - it was Ringo's handkerchief. He spent the next hour washing off the cum in his bathroom sink.

4. The first time he sinks into him, Ringo hides his face in his hands. Don't. He tells the drummer. I like to see your face. He says, fearing that he's ruined things somehow. Belatedly realizing that fucking your drummer could poss as a problem later on when things go awry. He files that thought for later, smiling when Ringo drops his hands to his side, clutching the sheets in earnest, blue eyes, darker like the color of the summer sun, urging him faster, deep, so good, George please again and again like a litany until Ringo's breath hitches, coming with a soft cry, it takes a few more thrusts before George follows groaning in Ringo's ear. He hums at the shiver it elicited from Ringo, whining when Ringo swats him. Come on Georgie, let's get you cleaned up.

 

5. He feels bad when he crossed out the counter melody

And I need her all of the time.

And you know what I'm telling to you

That woman, that woman don't make me blue - writing instead the chords that corresponds to it, thinking maybe a guitar solo would work better. For when he thinks that it should be about her, he thinks of somebody else in her place. The warmth of somebody else's body next to his.

 

6. Shortly after he's changed the sheets and kept (he didn't have the heart to throw away the book) the copy of Civilization and Its Discontent, he steps out of the room, pleased at the sight that greets him: Ringo curled up in the couch, looking at him beneath a pile of blankets, and for the first time since his divorce, he laughs, crossing the short distance between them so he could pull the drummer back to the bedroom to sleep. He wakes up again later to the sight of those blue eyes that promises mischief.

Notes:

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