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This had to be a joke. George’s steady noises were meant to be a part of the song, but Ringo had thought they were going to be cries and weeps. Not straight up moans. And it wasn’t clear he knew what he was doing, either. He seemed really into putting on such a show for them all, and even Paul and John were cackling.
But behind his drum set, Ringo couldn’t help but notice the tightness in his trousers as his mind wandered. Before too long, his thoughts began to consciously come to him. Is this what George really sounded like in bed? If it was, why was he so comfortable doing it right here? And right now of all times, while the mic was recording?
He watched as George positioned his hands over top of his headphones, gripping tightly at them as if somebody were trying to pull them off. His erection began to throb when George squirmed in place, shimmying his bum.
Fuck, Ringo thought as he grew impossibly hard, knowing very well this wouldn’t go away by itself. He wished he could just tell George to stop but he knew that if he did, George would make a huge deal about why he wanted him to, and he would end up having to tell him the truth. If there was one thing George wasn’t, it was stupid.
When he felt his heart beat in his dick again, he decided that was enough, standing up and pulling a jacket around himself to pull down in front of his crotch. He hurried out of the room, trying his best not to disturb any of them, but the second he locked eyes with George, he lost the composure he had over his emotions and face.
George only glanced down for a second, but it was enough to make him stop moaning and raise an eyebrow. His action spoke a thousand words, but the only ones Ringo picked up on were, where are you going?
“I’m just going to the loo,” he muttered, and there was a curse from John across the room.
“Really?? You couldn’t have waited like thirty seconds? Now you’ve ruined the take and we’ve got to sit here and listen to him do it all over again.” George wanted to retaliate and tell John that he was being rude, but he couldn’t keep himself from staring at Ringo’s flushed face.
“S-sorry, I’ll be right back—”
“Wait, Richie—” But Ringo slammed the door to the studio shut and was down the hall and in the toilet within seconds. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he contemplated what could possibly save him from this situation. After a few moments of thinking and realising that nothing could, he sat down on the closed toilet seat and unzipped his trousers. He may as well take care of this now.
But as he pulled his dick out of his pants and began to stroke it, he heard a knock at the door. Rolling his eyes, he continued.
“Richie! Can I talk to you for a second?” He didn’t respond. “Come on! At least answer me!” Ringo began to stroke himself faster and harder, hoping that would get it done quicker. “Look, I’m sorry! I didn’t know that was going to… I didn’t know you—“
Ringo blocked out what he was saying, though he sounded quite genuine.
“Are you even listening??”
“What do you want?!” Ringo exploded. “You saw what’s wrong, just give me a minute!” There was silence on the other side of the door. “George—” Ringo tried to speak, but before he could reach out, George tried to open the door. Thankfully, it was locked, but Ringo’s heartbeat went up tenfold.
“Can you let me in, Richie? I just need to talk to you.”
“Talk to me? About what!” The door rattled again, so Ringo rolled his eyes and shoved his nearly fully hard member back into his pants. He stood up from the loo and walked over to the door, hand hovering over the lock.
“Please. Just let me in.”
Without a second thought, he unlocked it and opened the door. George immediately barged in around him and shut the door. Ringo locked it. “What do you want, George?”
Within seconds, George had him pinned to the wall, suddenly realising just how turned on Ringo really was. “Oh, you’re really…”
Ringo wasted no time leaning over and kissing him right on the lips. George didn’t object to it, either, allowing it to happen. He did, however, start to rub his hand against Ringo’s crotch, feeling his own pants grow tighter by the second.
“R-Richie, do you think that maybe we should talk about this before we—”
“Do you w-w-shite!!” He closed his eyes, but as George put his hand around Ringo’s neck and began to rut against him instead, Ringo stilled.
“Rich? God, what have you stopped for??” Ringo’s eyes slowly cracked open, and George saw guilt in them. “What—”
“I just came in me jeans, George.”
The slightest hint of a smile appeared on George’s face, but a knock on the door made them both jump. “What are you two doing in there?! Come on, let’s finish this goddamn song!”
George backed away from Ringo, grin now so wide, it touched his ears. “Coming!” he responded to John. “Why don’t we finish up the song, and we can head back to my place, yeah?”
Ringo nodded eagerly, and George wandered out of the toilet.
“Better hurry up and meet us out here, then!” With one final wink, he shut the door, and Ringo relaxed against the wall. Whatever on earth had just happened, he wasn’t complaining.