i'M FiNE | Starrison [✖️]

Chapter fourteen

It's been two weeks.

14 days.

14 days of not cutting. Not even once.

It was good progress until---

"I can't take it!" Ringo yelled. His nails dug into his skin, leaving red-pink scratches across his pale skin. "I need... I need..."

The itch washed him away like a tremendous wave, leaving him to suffer in the great sea, drowning and coughing up sea water. He couldn't breathe and he scratched at his arms helplessly.

George gently but firmly took his hands away and held it in his. He kissed the knuckles and looked at him seriously.

"It's going to be fine, Ritch." He insisted, placing a kiss on a fingertip. "I'm here if you need anything, okay?"

"I need a blade," Ringo mumbled weakly. "I can't stop thinking about it and when I do it's... It h-hurts..."

George kissed the top of his head. He felt a little better.

"It'll hurt even more if you cut yourself,"

He sighed deflatedly. "I know."

"I'll gladly take your mind off things." He purred before kissing him deeply on the lips.

"I'd like that very much George---"

The bed squeaked when Ringo dropped into the bed with George on top of him, pressing their lips together. He entangled his fingers in his messy moptop. George sat on top of him, a trail of saliva connecting their lips. A wolfish grin formed in George's lips. He gripped Ringo's wrists and held it above his head. He licked and nibbled on the side of his neck. A soft moan escaped the other's lips when their crotches grinded against each other's.

His nails dug into back George's shirt. He felt his palm against his dick and gave it a squeeze. A whine escaped the drummer's lips. George growled back in reply. His toes curled as George's hand rubbed against his crotch.

His face was flushed. "I-I'm close---" He was cut off by the guitarist's lips back on his. He gasped out, leaving a trail of saliva between them. He uttered a high-pitch whimper when he felt his hand tighten on his crotch. George felt himself harden in his briefs. Ringo took his spare hand and licked and sucked on the fingers. He bobbed his head on them, rubbing his tongue on the tips of the middle and pointer finger.

"I swear to you, Richard Starkey," His chocolate brown eyes darkened to a hue almost black. "I will make love to you so much until you can't even walk. I fill fucking drill your arsehole and make you beg underneath me. I make you scream so much you can't remember your name anymore---"

The couple turned to the door when someone finally knocked. Ringo removed the fingers from his mouth with a pop and licked his lips with a small smirk.

"Guess we gotta answer that," He gave him a quick peck on the lips and got off the bed.

George glared at the door. "Bloody git." He stood up and swung it open. "If you don't mind, John, we're a bit busy."

"Yeah, we could hear it from downstairs." John shot back. He grinned at the glare he received from the younger. "Eppy wants us all in a suit and all neat in two hours. He's meeting us at a restaurant somewhere. Probably for a album release yadda yadda."

"I get to shower first!" Ringo called from the bathroom.

"How're you and Paul holding up with this new "queer" thing?" George asked, making connotations with his fingers. "Have you... you know?"