George Harrison smut (requests!)

Your Love Is Forever 1

A summer-themed smut today! This is a miniseries, expect a few more chapters to this.

Hamilton island, 1988

"George." I mumble, nudging his arm with my elbow. His eyes remain closed, chin resting on my shoulder, breathing deep and low. "For Christ's sake, George, wake up!" I say, louder this time, shaking my shoulder.

Finally, he grumbles lowly and lifts his head up, eyes groggy. "Y/n..." George groans, running his hand through his hair to tame the sleepy mess, "what is it?"

He looks exhausted and bothered at being awoken, but I grin at him anyways. "We're landing in a few minutes!"

I'm full of excitement. George was taking me down to his vacation home on Hamilton Island, Australia, for two weeks. Two week to be completely alone with him, swimming, gardening, hiking, meditating, and- of course- other things as well. This was the first time since the beginning of our relationship early in the year, and I was delighted.

George gives me a sleepy, crooked smile. "Fantastic, love." Sitting himself up, he checks his appearance in the mirror. "How long was I out?"

"A couple hours. I don't know how you managed to stay asleep during a good patch of turbulence over the Indian Ocean."

He smiles at me again and grasps my hand in his, resting it on the large armrests between our two seats.

"Hate this fucking first class seating, how did I even manage to get my head on your shoulder across this chuck of metal?" George grumbles, motioning to the armrest. I don't know either.
We've been sleeping on and off during the twenty one hours and two layovers it took to get here.

I giggle and lean over, kissing the side of his mouth briefly. He stirs, and gently grabs the back of my head with his free hand, pulling me into another kiss. It's deeper, his tongue finding its way into my mouth.

We kiss for a minute before I break away, blushing furiously. No matter how long we've been together, he still makes me red like a schoolgirl.

I cast a look around the plan to see if anyone noticed. Most people hadn't realized an ex-beatle was on the plane, save for a man about George's age and one of the stewardesses. That was ideal, since our romantic involvement was still under the wraps. If my father ever found out how long I had been sleeping with one of his closest friends, I think he might kill me. But who could blame me? George was a very attractive eligible bachelor with a knee trembling smile.

When the plane lands, George hides under a hat and large sunglasses, head cast down as we navigate through the airport.

It's early in the morning in Australia, but my internal clock is all over the place so I pass out on the private plane we take to Hamilton island, where his home is located.

He holds my hand protectively following this flight to our taxi. I am overwhelmed by the beauty of this island, the crystal blue waters and rich vegetation.

By the time we arrive, we are both exhausted, but rejuvenated to be in such a rich place. Excitedly, George shows me the property- and I am blown away.

He designed the spot nearly two years ago, detailing a large bungalow decorated with Australian art and aborignal culture. The hut is spacious and cool, a fine break from the heat outside.

There is a spa and a private garden- not to mention the pool- designed to flow naturally throughout the grounds and even into the house, where there is a bridge that crosses over it.

There are two guest huts, thankfully empty. It is just the two of us, even his staff have been directed to come only twice during the stay to clean and deliver food.