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iheartjohnlennon · 5 months

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The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Paul

@heiterhund <<< co-writer xxx🩷🎀

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...)

• Paul's very chatty with you at the end of it, then after that he just lies with you.

• Sex takes all of his energy and he can barely move himself. While he still has you, he’ll talk your ear off about everything and anything, important or not.

• And he 100% asks you how the sex was and how it felt - he wants a review.

• After you guys talk, he just stares up at the ceiling, daydreaming, dazed. He looks lovely, you just sit up and stroke his face, your breasts in his face as he mumbles how much he loves you.

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours)

• Your breasts win everything for him.

• He just thinks they sit so prettily, he loves the curve of your chest - the underside of them. How soft they feel in his grasp. They get him so distracted.

• He also loves the way your tits bounce when he’s fucking you.

• He can grab them, suck them, squeeze them, fuck them, finish on them. They're just...everything.

C is for Cum (Where he likes to cum)

• Paul adores cumming on your breasts, no matter the position you do.

• He loves the way it looks - your tits being covered in his white, glistening seed.

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did/or does/or wants to do behind your back.)

• Sometimes Paul will either purposely let his friends hear you get fucked or just tell them about what you both get up to.

• It started off as a joke when George made an off handed comment about the marks on Paul’s skin, usually the dark love bites littering his neck.

• Due to this, Paul really, really feels the need to tell his bandmates how well you guys fuck. Their reactions just fuel their ego.

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

• Those prostitutes in Hamburg taught him a lot, a lot.

• Not to mention he's a bit of a whore anyways so he picks up knowledge and stuff.

• Paul knows and has experience past mere orgasm. He could be a sex therapist or something at this point.

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you)

• Paul really likes anything where he doesn’t have to put in much work. He’s honestly a lazy lover. He doesn’t mind topping though, you just have to ask.

• He prefers cowgirl, because he gets to have his hands on your pretty hips and watch your tits bounce as you do it.

• But that’s not to say he won’t do any other positions! He just has to admit that watching you, watching your face, is his favourite thing to do.

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?)

•Sex with Paul isn’t long enough for a full conversation, let alone smart quips.

•He might laugh if he can’t get it in the first time, or if he hits himself or something. But other than that, he just isn’t silly during sex. He takes it very seriously.

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex)

• His goal is to cum! To cum everywhere and anywhere you will let him.

• He obviously cares about your orgasm, but… he feels like he should finish first, y’know?

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• This depends on the era, really.

• Early 1960s Paul would be very well groomed, neatly trimmed and not too long. Just a pretty thing that frames his cock, really.

• Going to 1966 and up? Yeah…maybe it would be a little unruly, but not like a jungle.

• After 1968 though…he just stopped caring!

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• His intimacy depends on your relationship.

• If it’s a fling, expect him to hump and dump within a day. If you’re his girlfriend though? Expect him to be as caring as he can be, for the moment, anyways.

• There’s really no big scene in the bedroom, no music, no romantic lighting - just him being slower and taking his time. Your hands intertwined as he mumbles and tells you how much you mean to him.

• It doesn’t happen often, but he does want it to be often. So long as your relationship develops.

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

• Paul loves to jerk off.

• He thinks it’s the easiest thing to do. Plus, it focuses solely on his pleasure.

• He thinks about you when he does it, usually with his back pressed against the headboard cock in hand, as he tugs and twists until his hand is covered in his release.

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you)

• Paul has a huge breeding kink. He gets so hard when he thinks about knocking you up. It makes his cock throb and ache with need. He usually tries to cum inside you, hushing your muffled concerns with his hand over your mouth as he keeps thrusting into you.

“Shh, it’s alright, I think you’ll be a great mother. Don’t you want me to be a father, love?”

• Usually that’s his attempt at soothing you, and it makes him even more excited.

• His other kink is cross dressing… nothing too extreme, but he loves when he’s able to wear something frilly and girly. He loves the way he looks in panties, it makes his dick look bigger, which is more of an ego boost.

• One word: pegging. He loves feeling like the bitch in the relationship. He makes cute little whimpers, hands fisted into the sheets as he tilts his head back. He refuses to take it on all fours, though. That's too much for him. He prefers being on his back, legs wrapped around your waist as you ease the tip of the strap into him. His pouty lips part as he lets out a shaky breath - cheeks flushing pink.

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed)

• The comfort of his own home just brings him a peace he rarely feels since he's constantly bombarded with fans and press and money.

• Doesn't matter where in your home, just as long as it's there.

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..)

• Paul loves the faces you make during sex.

• He thinks you look so pretty fucked out and flushed. Your cheeks are so flushed, he thinks it looks better than any makeup you’ve ever worn.

• Your lips are so swollen from all the desperate kissing shared between you two, usually glistening with saliva (It’s Paul, he’s a messy kisser and that won’t ever change.)

• Eager humping, harsh gripping, and loud pants are usually Paul's tell tale signs that he’s about to cum.

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..)

• Paul isn’t too thrilled at the idea of threesomes. He doesn’t like the idea of sharing you because what’s his is his.

• But if John asked or any close friends, he probably wouldn’t mind too much… No one else though, he’s the only one who knows how to fuck you. So why would you want someone else to join in? This is why he's so possessive, he wouldn't be able to even bear the thought of any other cock being inside of you.

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?)

• He prefers getting head than giving head.

• He likes the way your lips wrap around his dick, tongue lapping the underside of his head - before you graze his shaft with your teeth. It sends a deep chill down his spine…

• When your nose nuzzles what pubic hair he does have, he’s about ready to cum down your throat. His hand usually finds its way to your hair, making a fist into it - pulling you up and down until he’s reached his climax.

• He does like eating you out though! It’s just not his preference. you might have to ask once or twice, unless he’s high or drunk.

• If that's the case, then he’s on you like some animal in heat. Sloppy kisses pressed against your clit, tongue dragging down to your entrance before he wiggles his tongue into it.

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Etc)

• It’s not slow, like, at all.

• He's on you until he’s cumming inside of you.

• It's very fast, rough, desperate humping, like a rabbit. Sometimes he’ll hold you in place, hips jerking in quick messy directions.

• It can be romantic! Just…usually it isn’t.

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• Oh, he LOVES quickies.

• That’s usually what sex is like with him anyways! There may not be long rounds, but there’s usually so much fucking throughout the day.

• The beds too far away? Don’t worry, he’s already lifting up your dress, tugging down your stockings, and sliding his dick into you.

• He’s backstage during a performance? he already has you in the supply closet, hand over your mouth as he has his way with you.

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• Paul is 100% a pregnancy risk kind of guy.

• He kind of gets off on it as well, getting you pregnant “accidentally”.

• He'll not want to wear a condom and you'll ask him if he's sure, he just shrugs like...how bad can it be!

• He does want you to have his children eventually, he just likes the idea of having them unplanned.

• He just wants to raw dog you in peace, okay?

Paul finally had you to himself.

The long day of answering the media, signing autographs, shaking hands - it was all so monotonous.

But he’d do it all again if it meant he’d get to come home to you, naked, on his bed spread beneath him.

His dick was shoved into you, hands shoving your knees up to your chest - as he gave harsh, short thrusts.

You let out soft whines, eyes rolling back as you took it like the good girl that you are.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Y’know, ‘m not wearing a rubber,” he huffed out in your ear, the smirk evident in his tone.

Your eyes shot open as you tried to turn your head to speak into his ear.

“B-But, Paul,” you tried to speak, words getting caught in your throat as he continued to fuck you. Your nails dug into his back, leaving scratches as you tried to focus and tell him about the obvious risk.

“Easy now, quiet down, I wouldn’t quite mind getting you pregnant y’know…”

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• He’s like a rabbit, he can and will fuck everyday if given the chance.

• He can’t do long rounds, each round is about 10-15 minutes. but there’s at least four rounds before he gives out and feels like he's been drained of his cum and will never cum again.

• Paul can cum in five minutes if you let him, but he’s always edging himself so you can enjoy sex as well.

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?)

• You both have used your dildo, but not in the way where Paul just uses it by himself. You had to share it for the moment when you first tried pegging him.

• He asked one day if you guys could try something new. He and John were talking over lunch about sex - and John brought up something about the prostate, just a silly thought.

• Paul had to pretend he wasn’t interested, joking with John how stupid it sounded!

• But it’s all he could think of until he was home with you. He was nervous to ask about, thinking you’d see him as some sort of homosexual. You didn't, you have such an active sex life that trying new things in the bedroom never seems like a bad idea.

• Safe to say, Paul loved his prostate being stimulated. Due to that, you now own a strap on.

• Paul also doesn’t mind you having toys. He personally buys you them as well and likes watching you unbox them.

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..)

• He’s extremely unfair, but not in the teasing sense.

• Paul simply adores you, but he’s extremely selfish when it comes to pleasure. If you don't finish but he's tired and can't go on, he'll make you beg to finish. A lot of begging.

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..)

• He doesn’t make loud sounds, but he is pretty noisy.

• He groans and whines, huffs and pants as he’s inside you.

• He’ll usually lean down next to your ear and rasp and breathe out how good your pussy feels.

• But that’s probably the most coherent sentence he’ll make out. Most of the time it’s just his gasps and sighs.

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

• Paul never thought he’d agree to this. His jealousy made him an extremely bitter lover. Which was super ironic considering you always saw him flirting with fans.

• Though that’s not the point.

• John came over to visit one day, the group was taking a break from playing.

• Paul saw the way John was eyeing you, his brows lowering each time John complimented you - or would place his hand on your knee when talking.

• He couldn’t take it anymore and when you went upstairs to grab something, Paul approached his friend.

“Are you serious?” He asked through gritted teeth, ensuring you didn’t hear.

“Well, no, I’m John.” He responded, a shit eating grin plastered across his features.

His attitude was making Paul more pissed, “Can you please drop the act for one second? You cannot be hitting on my girlfriend in my home!”

John didn’t look amused, his eyes fixated on Paul as he debated about his next step.

“Well, if I can’t be hitting on her in your home - can I be fucking her?”

And so there he was, sat across in the chair that your clothes usually laid on, facing your bed. He was being cucked by Lennon, and honestly? It wasn’t as bad as he thought.

Each time John rammed himself in you, he would ask: "Is this good? Do you like it-" and each time you would whine, teasing him, saying how Paul could do it better.

X is for X-ray (His cock.)

• Okay…so…5 inches solid, extremely average.

• He's circumcised at least! That's one plus! And his balls are good enough, a nice round pair.

• And dear God, is it a good 5 inches though. In spite of his size (which doesn't bother him too much) he knows exactly how to use it, and use it he fucking does.

• Size matters unless you're called James Paul McCartney.

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?)

• He's like a dog in heat when you are both alone.

• In fact, even when you aren't alone, he'll still want you. Little touches under the table, spontaneous quickies, grabbing your arse and your tits.

• Paul is absolutely insatiable.

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• He falls asleep after at least 40 minutes of talking to you and daydreaming.

• You watch him doze off slowly before sleeping yourself.

• He sleeps like a baby unless he's stressed or has to write or produce.

The other two coming soon x

John's here

#the beatles #george harrison #60s rock #the beatles imagine #the beatles smuts #the beatles x reader #vintage #paul mccartney #the beatles fandom #the beatles fanart #the beatles art #john lennon #ringo starr #paul mccartney x reader #paul mccartney imagine

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 6 months

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Do You Want To Know A Secret (Teen!George Harrison x Teen!Lennon!Reader)

A/N: Hello, Happy Easter! I'm posting another oneshot, because why not? I feel like it could have been a little better than what I wrote, but I was in a bit of a rush to get it out. Who doesn't love some George?

Summary: It's 1961. You're John's sister and he refuses to let you talk to anyone in his band (and vice versa) despite your house being their practice location. George scores some alone time with you one day, and sings you a little song he composed for you.

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOUR; the reader is pretty confident in this oneshot. Mentions of sex, but nothing further than a heated make out session/ neck kissing really occurs in this. Swearing, probably, but I could be wrong. George starts out shy but he is not by the end. There are probably some typos as well oops.

This one is T rated, but just read at your own risk because as mentioned, sex is discussed

It was 1961, a relatively warm Friday evening after dinner, where an eighteen year old George Harrison was accompanied by a nineteen year-old Paul McCartney, on the way to the Lennon household.

Band practice was that night, the newly renamed "Beatles" preparing for their next gig at the Cavern Club just that following evening. George had his guitar case in hand, and Paul, his base, as they walked and talked.

John's house could be spotted from where the two were now, and George, who was talking in that moment, lost train of thought when he spotted someone just outside the front door.

That someone was you. John's little sister. Aged eighteen; like George.

George could feel his heart fluttering as he watched you move around the front garden, watering can in hand as you tended to the little flowers in the window planters.

"Don't stare," Paul lightly chided in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger at George when he came back down to earth, cheeks flush at the idea of having been caught looking.

"But look at her," George groaned, hand gesturing towards you haphazardly before dropping it down helplessly at his side. "Just look at how perfect--"

"And off limits," Paul added quickly.

"... she is," George sighed as he finished his sentence, a rather upsetting frown on his face. The boys had since halted walking, making sure to be far enough away that you weren't in earshot of their conversation.

"Look, Harry," Paul rested a hand on the younger boy's shoulder in comfort. "I know how you feel. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think she was a looker, y'know?"

Paul and George glanced over at you for a moment, before he continued.

"... but if I had a sister, and three lads who couldn't keep their eyes off her, I couldn't say I wouldn't be doing what Lenny's doing right now."

George knew that Paul was right. As much as he hated it, John loved you very much, and was cautious of any guy trying to be near you, especially now that you were a young adult, and not some child.

Every time the band gathered at John's house, everyone seemed to be under a microscope-- including you. The boys weren't allowed to talk to you, and you couldn't even look at anyone without your brother hollering at you to get upstairs, or to refocus back to your homework, or whatever task you had at hand.

But in moments like this, where the protective older brother wasn't around, George took every chance he could to greet you with a smile on his face.

And he wasn't going to stop now.

"I get it, mate. I just... there's something about her." That's the simplest George could have explained it to Paul. He wasn't about to disclose that he dreamt of you almost every night, or that he relished in the moments of excitement and anxiety of being able to see you, if only for five seconds out of his entire week.

And he certainly would not have told him about the songs he was composing; his muse being you, of course.

It was all just one giant secret, and as much as George wanted to tell you, all he thought of were downsides in result of revealing such a thing to you.

George thought that you, for starters, were leaps and bounds out of his league, he was scared of being laughed at, and he would have been absolutely horrified if John were to ever find out.

The negatives drastically outweighed the positives, so he was better to keep his mouth shut.

George and Paul continued their trek to the building, and when they finally made it to the walkway leading to the door, you turned your head, smiling gently and waving to them once you realized who it was.

"Good afternoon, lads," you greeted politely, and George nearly melted at the sound of your voice.

"Hello, Miss Lennon," the boys responded in unison. George cringed a little at that, pushing through the door with Paul following close behind. As much as he wanted to stick around, he knew it would have been too risky.

And thank God he made made that choice. John was waiting for them in the main foyer, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't seem too happy, but he wasn't quite pissed off, either; almost as if he were in limbo of the two.

"'Bout time yous showed up. Me n' Pete've been waiting forever. C'mon, now." John waved his hand as he headed for the basement stairs, and the boys wordlessly continued on so they could begin their practice. George only looked over his shoulder once before descending the steps, hoping to have caught just one more glimpse of you, but to no avail.

"We have a show tomorrow, and you boys decided to be a quarter of an hour late!" John complained on as he threw his guitar strap over his shoulder. Pete was in the corner of the room on his drum set just shaking his head as he grabbed his drumsticks and tapped a little on his instrument. he must have been there for a while already.

Paul and George hurriedly grabbed out their instruments, apologizing so the older boy's complaints would cease. "As long as you're ready to play now, I don't care."

John always got sort of tense when the other three boys were over, hyper-focussed on keeping you away from them and vice versa. He was more or less worried about Paul trying to flirt with you, so a lot of John's poor behaviour stemmed from that.

Little did he know that it was actually George who'd fallen head over heels for you.

But that wasn't something to worry about in that moment. What was important was that practice began, and that they had to see improvement before their show just that following night.

Practice was going well. They had been at it for nearly an hour at that point, and the more they worked, the more pleased each boy was with the sound. They took a brief pause for some water, and John was rifling through his pile of lyrics sitting on a table in the corner of the room, trying to decide which one to practice next.

As George finished the last drop of water in his glass, John piped up, "I don't have all my songs here. Must've left them in my room."

"Which ones?" George asked, empty glass still in-hand. "I'm running up for a refill, might as well grab that for you as well."

"I think I left them on my desk at the side. You sure you don't want me running up?"

George swatted his hand as he started for the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout it. Be back in a jiff."

George hopped up the stairs, leaving his glass on the kitchen counter next to the sink before moving down the main foyer. He paused at the front door to peek out the window to see if you were still outside, but he didn't see you from where he was standing. He sighed gently before turning and making his way up to the second floor.

George made his way down to John's room at the end of the hallway. It was the only room with the door open, and before he even made it into the room, he could see the pile of lyrics on the desk, right where John said they'd be.

He picked up the pile, shuffling through them and counting the pages as he did so. He took one more brief glance around the room to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. When he decided this was all he needed, he turned on his heel and headed out to the hallway.

George was just about to make it to the stairs when he felt someone take hold of his arm, and swiftly tug him into one of the other rooms. The moment was a blur for him, and it took him a second to piece together what happened. He was standing in the middle of the room-- your room.

And you were only three feet away from him, back against the door, and cheeks glowing pink.

"Hello," you smiled gently, and George had no clue what to say, pages clutched tightly against his chest as his brain swirled with millions of thoughts.

"Hi," he squeaked, face burning in humiliation at his flustered state, but he was in your room, for Christ's sake. Your room! He had no clue what to say to you, mouth hanging open as he tried to search his brain for some other words.

"Look, I know we're not supposed to be doing this," you expressed, and George could feel his heart doing violent flips in his chest, especially when you pushed yourself off the door to take a step or two closer to him. This was the longest conversation he had with you, to date.

"Johnny would kill me if he knew I had a boy in my room, you know," you took a moment to pause, and all George could do was nod his head in agreement, intoxicated by the way you walked, and the way you talked. There was a hint of something in your voice... but the boy couldn't quite place what it was. Yearning? That couldn't be right... could it?

"But where's the fun in that, huh?" You asked, hands clasped behind your back, eyes staring right back into his, and George couldn't help but break his gaze first, utterly intimidated by your confidence. His eyes fixated to the dress you were wearing, and he could see a playful smile dancing on your lips in his peripheral.

"... You like what you see, Georgie?" You asked lowly after a moment, and his stare shot back up to your face again, certain his legs were numb. The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, so perfectly. The things it was doing to him...

"I..." he could barely speak, breaths ragged. Not one coherent thought was at the forefront of his brain, other than one simple word.

"Pretty." Your smile was a little more genuine now after he said that, and you reached a hand up to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear.

"You think I'm pretty?"

George just nodded again. It was only now that he realized how much shorter you were compared to him, as you were only a foot away from him; the closest you'd ever been. He was looking down at you, but you were, in no way, intimidated by him. It was actually quite the opposite.

"You know, Georgie, you're pretty handsome, yourself," you professed, smiling wider as George's face burned even hotter.

He couldn't even thank you, scared of what would have happened if he tried to utter any kind of response to you. You reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and your smile faltered just a little.

"You're really tense... am I making you uncomfortable?" George's eyes widened, swallowing nervously as he shook his head 'no' as quickly as he could. He didn't want-- whatever this was-- to stop. The sincere upturn of your lips returned, and George couldn't help but flit his gaze down to your lips.

If only he had as much confidence as you, he might have just dipped down to have a taste...

"Look, I don't wanna keep you any longer. I know Johnny's gonna be looking for you soon." You thought for a moment before mentioning, "usually after you boys leave, he's down there for another hour or so practicing his own songs. Come back and see me after, yeah? Get to know each other a little more?" You raised an eyebrow expectantly, and George nodded his head again.

"Okay," he managed to whisper, resulting in you rising to your toes, and wordlessly pecking him on the cheek.

He felt like he was dreaming.

"Run along now, before they get suspicious!"

George's feet, though seemingly glued to the floor moments before, took off quickly, opening the door, and disappearing out into the hallway, shutting it closed behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he sighed heavily, the rush of oxygen in his lungs making him feel light-headed.

For someone who seemed so innocent in the open, around others, George could never have guessed how much of a minx you were behind closed doors. One part of him was still in denial that his interaction with you was even real, let alone meant to be flirtatious in any way...

But man, he would have been stupid not to take you up on your offer. It was just another hour he had to spend practicing, and he'd be right back in there, hopefully earning another kiss on the cheek from you.

George looked at the lyric papers in his hands one last time before sighing one more time, and going back downstairs. He passed his forgotten water glass in the kitchen, mind on an entirely different planet.

He returned to the basement, handing John the papers. He thanked the younger boy, pausing for a second to watch him move to grab his guitar.

"Where's your glass, Harry?"

George tensed when John asked that, hand on the neck of the guitar.

"... Left it upstairs," he responded.

"Thought you were grabbing a refill?" John's inquiries had George grasping for what to say next, but he was quick enough.

"Refilled the glass up there, drank it, and figured I'd be fine for the rest of practice."

His confession, though a lie, was believable enough for John, who just nodded his head slowly and drew his attention to the papers after a second, discussing which song they were going to practice next.

George just flew under the radar then, and he mentally cursed himself for being so careless. He look a quick glance at Paul, who was giving him a look; almost as if he knew something happened up there.

But he would never know the truth.

The shared glance fell apart when John advised everyone to get into position for playing, and they did just that.

The hour seemed to drag, George felt; but as time moved on, the more anxious he began to feel again. By the time everyone was packing up to leave, he was almost vibrating with anxiety.

He wanted to be close to you again so badly, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself as he had in the last interaction.

Pete, Paul, and George wished John a good night, and climbed the stairs to the main floor in that order, leaving John alone to continue practicing. Pete left Paul and George in the main hallway with a little wave, and a short "see yous tomorrow," before taking off out the front door.

Paul grabbed the door handle next and turned back to George, who stood in one spot a little too far away from the door.

"... Not walking home with me?" He asked in confusion, and when George didn't have a disposable answer, the pieces seemed to be finally clicking for the other boy.

He opened his mouth as if to lecture George on how bad of an idea sticking around would be, but instead, he tightened his jaw, shook his head, and waved to him.

"G'night Harry," he tossed a little wave out before taking off into the dusk.

He was alone now.

That could only mean one thing.

George eyed the stairs, knowing that if he turned on his heel and walked out right then, it'd be one of the biggest mistakes in his life. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was nervous; intimidated by you, and your assertive, rather sexy behaviour from earlier.

He took a deep breath, grabbing the railing, and hiking up the stairs slowly.

He stood outside your bedroom door much longer than he would have liked to admit, taking deep breaths and reciting words over and over again in his brain, as if this whole interaction were scripted-- as if he knew what was going to happen.

When he finally composed himself properly, he rapped on the door gently, hoping you would hear his presence on the other side. When you finally came around to open the door, his heart skipped a beat.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," you voiced softly, leaning against the doorframe, handle still in hand. You sounded a little relieved, almost, seeing the boy on the other side of the threshold.

You were in your pyjamas, a set that showed enough skin on your arms and legs that it made George, red-faced, shake his head to reactivate his brain, which pretty much short circuited.

"You goin' to bed?" His words left his mouth faster than he realized he was even saying them. Sure, it was getting late out, but would you have really changed if you were expecting company?

"Well, that depends. Will you be joining me?" You were so quick on your feet in response that it honestly impressed George, the heat returning to his face as he tried to think of what to say next, not daring to drop his line of sight below your chin.

"I'm only teasing you," you laughed after a moment of watching George squirm, pushing off the doorframe and allowing him to enter your bedroom again. As he passed you, he caught sight of you gazing up his body, shrugging and adding a little "... maybe," to the end of your sentence.

You were such a tease, and George set his guitar case off to the side, facing away from you, so he could hide just how giddy and flushed he was just being in there with you again. He rose to his feet and turned to face you. You were only a few feet away from him again, eyes on him intensely, smile still present.

"... I hope you know just how glad I am that you came back," you expressed again, honestly. George raised an eyebrow at that, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wanted to tear his gaze from yours so badly, but your face was just so gorgeous to look at, and he didn't want to be caught looking at your outfit again; he knew some more teasing would surely ensue if he was caught staring.

"Why wouldn't I come back?" George replied bashfully, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Wouldn't miss a chance to be here, with you, for the world."

Your stare softened at his words, beaming as your own cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. George wasn't sure you were really expecting something like that coming from him. "... You really mean that?"

George desperately wanted to elaborate a little further, but he just settled on giving you a little nod, smiling back shyly at your question.

"Maybe I thought I might've scared you off for being so forward earlier," you admitted timidly as you turned on your heel. You took a seat at the edge of your bed, and George surveyed your movements, eyebrows lifting a little when you reached out to pat the empty space next to you on the mattress after a moment.

"Care to take a seat?"

George accepted the invitation, and you felt the bed dip when he sat down. His eyes cast down to the floor, face still red at the idea of being in your presence; having your attention.

"You know, Georgie... my brother can be pretty stupid sometimes. But making this house the place for band practice, I think, was one of the best decisions he's ever made."

His eyes met yours again at your words, and you shrugged one of your shoulders.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't been dying to talk to you. Or get to know you. You seem so kind, and you're so attractive, and John wants to keep you away from me, and I'm so sick of him deciding what's best for me."

Your eyes cast down between the both of you for a moment, and George could feel his heart trying to leap out of his chest. His fingertips felt numb, mouth hanging slack as you continued your profession.

"I knew the only way to get close and alone with you was to bring you in here. And I saw the way you were looking at me earlier, and I had to get you to come back."

It felt like the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Was he really that obvious when he was in here last?

"It's thrilling... having a boy like you in my room, while John's clueless out there as to what we're doing. What we could be doing..."

George's mind was going places he was never expecting it to that evening, especially with the help of you voicing it aloud. He was in utter disbelief of what you were telling him, convinced he'd fallen asleep throughout the day, and he was caught in some blissful dream he wished would never end.

"I feel a little selfish, springing so much information on you at once... but every time I see you, I desperately want to be with you; and today, I had to jump to take that chance. I couldn't wait another week, another day."

You smiled sheepishly, not really expecting George to say anything after that. You were honestly just trying to get your thoughts off your chest, and now that you had, you felt a lot better. You were also pleased with the little look of shock on George's face. You liked doing that to him.

You decided to break his trance by nodding over to his guitar case sitting on the floor. "So... You have plans to serenade me, Georgie?"

Your question definitely brought him back down to earth, and he took a quick glance at the case before looking back to you. Your confession was still ringing clear in his head like a bell. He felt he didn't have the words to admit his feelings as clearly as you had right on the spot...

He did, however, have the words pre-planned as lyrics, in a multitude of original songs he wrote for you.

"... I do, actually," he agreed, standing up to open his case and retrieve his instrument. George was feeling a little more excited now, knowing any girl these days would swoon at the idea of having music written for them, and he just hoped you would too.

He returned to the bed, deciding against tossing the strap over his shoulder. He faced you so you could hear and see every little thing he did. He was at least glad he didn't get performance anxiety on the guitar.

He gently strummed out a few different notes, deciding in his head which song he wanted to perform for you. One in particular stuck out in his mind, and he couldn't deny that it was the perfect choice.

He was a little worried about how you'd feel about his playing, and the lyrics, but he wanted to show you that he could be confident about this, especially since he was nearly certain now that his feelings were reciprocated. But he had to play it cool.

"It is a work in progress. I've only half of it written, but I really think you'll like it," George explained to you before allowing the notes to fill the air around you both.

"Listen,

Do you want to know a secret?

Do you promise not to tell?

Closer,

Let me whisper in your ear,

Say the words you long to hear,

I'm in love with you."

It was only then that you realized this was the first time you'd ever seen, or heard George play. This beautiful genius was being hidden away from you this whole time, and it was a blessing to see his work up close.

His left hand slid along the fretboard so easily, thumb and fingers on his right tickling the strings as if it were second nature to him. You couldn't decide which hand you wanted to look at. His digits were skillful on the instrument, and George made sure to almost exaggerate his movements to impress you.

He pretty much had you in a trance, now, daydreaming about what else those hands could do...

"I've known a secret for a week, or two,

Nobody knows, just we two,"

George had been worried the whole song about messing up the notes, eyes so focused on where his fingers were going... But he glanced up at you, realizing how hypnotized you were, like putty in his hands, and he decided there was nothing to worry about.

He decided to sing right to you now, soft eyes on your face, and when your field of view locked with his, he knew he wouldn't dare break the stare.

"Listen,"

This wasn't a song anymore.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

This was his confession.

"Do you promise not to tell?"

His way of showing you what you really meant to him.

"Closer,"

He wasn't clouded by any insecurities or doubt anymore.

"Let me whisper in your ear,"

Your gaze flitted down just enough to watch George's canines poke out from behind his lips as he sung, and your eyelashes lowered at the sight of his beautiful mouth.

"Say the words you long to hear,"

Your mind was absorbing the lyrics like a sponge in water, every single word eliciting a feeling so strong in your heart, you could hear it pumping in your ears.

"I'm in love with you."

George hummed away as he played the final notes, a little smile still on his lips when he let the last chord ring out into a room of silence.

When that stillness remained for a moment, George couldn't help but ask with a little bit of hesitation, "Well... what do you thi--"

He couldn't even get the rest of his question out before you darted at him, lips smashing into his as if he were about to disappear forever.

He let out a little surprised hum before he pulled the guitar out from between the both of you, and you took it as an opportunity to push your body closer to him, arms wrapping around his collarbone.

He blindly set the guitar down to lean it against your bed, and when he let go of the neck of the instrument, his hands went for your hips, squeezing your sides gently before pulling you right up into his lap. your actions bloomed a type of self-assurance within him he had no idea he could even possess.

It was your turn to squeal excitedly, but George's lips on yours muffled the sound. One of his hands snaked around to the small of your back before it slipped under your shirt, his palm dragging up your spine. His fingertips took note of each vertebrae it dipped up and down into, like the frets on his guitar.

This, George decided, was better than a dream. This whole situation unfolding around him made him feel as though he died and went to heaven.

He pulled his lips away from yours, free hand reaching up to grip your chin and directing you to tilt your head up. His lips suckled on the side of your neck, and the sound coming from your mouth was absolutely euphoric to him. But he removed his palm from your chin to cover your mouth, his other hand still feeling and memorizing every curve and dip in your back.

"You must be quiet, Love. Wouldn't want your brother knowing about all this fun we're having up here, eh?" Your eyes rolled back at his words, groaning into his hand as you felt George drag his teeth gently along the column of your throat.

Knowing you were enjoying this as much as he was only brought more confidence to his actions, and he let his tongue poke out to leave a large, wet kiss on your collarbone.

You were squirming in his lap, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging so he knew he was doing everything right.

He groaned at the friction you were creating at the hips, and he pulled away from your neck to kiss your lips again after removing his hand and placing it on the back of your neck.

You swallowed his moans as you continued to grind in his lap, but both of your movements paused when you heard the guitar come crashing down to the carpeted floor. It wasn't as loud as it could have been, but it was loud enough.

You both kept an ear out, knowing that might have caught the attention of someone downstairs, and when you began to hear footsteps shuffling around, you began to panic a little, eyes wide and darting back to George, whose face was flushed from the assault of your kisses, and hair was a tangled mess from your fingers.

"You gotta hide," you rushed out quietly, and though you tried to climb out of George's lap, his hands kept you planted right where you were.

"What are you doing?!"

"... What if I didn't?" He challenged you a little, a daring smirk at his lips.

"Had you not been so naughty, with all that moving and teasing, the guitar wouldn't have fallen, eh? And we wouldn't be in this situation at all." The points of his canines were showing again, and you groaned at his words.

"George, I'd love to continue this, but John will kill you if we're caught, and we can't do this if you're dead!"

"Well then we just won't get caught," he responded simply. He was blinded by desire, his confidence seeping out of him like sap from a tree as he placed his mouth back on your neck.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and you both heard a knock, George not showing any sign of stopping his actions.

"Don't come in, I'm-- I'm not wearing any clothes!!" It was the first thing you could blurt out to whoever was on the other side.

"Oh, baby, that'd be a sight to see," George mumbled against your skin, pulling your top down just enough so he could suck a dark spot just above your left breast so you could easily hide it away, and you sighed heavily at the contact, face burning red.

"Just heard a loud thud. Just making sure all is okay," it was John on the other side; completely oblivious to the actual scene occurring on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, a book from my shelf was knocked over! N-nothing to worry about!"

George grabbed your chin again when you were finished talking, shoving his tongue right into your mouth as you both heard John respond with, "oh, okay. Just making sure you're alright. Have a good night."

You listened closely as the footsteps quieted, and when there was no sign of anyone else on the second floor, let alone at the door, you pulled away from George's kiss.

"Well... how was that?"

"Risky," you replied, a rather unimpressed look on your face as you unraveled your arms from George's shoulders and crossed them over your chest.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, Love," he tried to give you another kiss, but you placed your fingers against his lips. It was your turn to smirk mischievously.

"You know what, Georgie... I think you've had enough action for tonight."

You could see the smug grin fall right off George's face as you removed your hand. Surely you had to have been joking. But when you pushed a little to get off him, his arms fell to his side, a little pout on his face.

"You're serious? Love, you got me all hot and bothered..."

"George, you really thought we were going to go all the way tonight with other people in the house?" You laughed out loud at that; and when you said it like that, he would have had to agree that it did sound ridiculous.

"Trust me, Georgie, I want to," you placed a hand on his cheek in comfort, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he looked up at you as if he was the shy boy you interacted with just an hour before.

"But we both know doing that in an empty house would be far better than having to keep quiet about it, huh?"

All George could do was imagine that situation, eyes drifting shut, and tilting his head into your caressing hand.

"You're such a damn tease," he mumbled, eyes blinking back open after a moment.

"All good things come to those who wait," was all you said, leaving one, sweet kiss on his lips before pulling away, and nodding to his guitar. "We better pack you up and send you home."

You watched as George situated himself, placing his guitar back in the case, closing it and picking it up. You wrapped your arms around him gently, planting another kiss on his cheek.

"By the way... I think that song was beautiful," you whispered to him, and when you pulled away to see him smiling at you, you couldn't help but match the grin on your own lips.

"See you next week? Same time?"

"You don't even have to tell me twice," George responded with, and you just had to lean in for one more smooch on the lips, to which he eagerly reciprocated.

He then opened your window up, and took a step out. You watched as he climbed down the corner of the house slowly, and before he took off down the road, he blew you a kiss, to which you mimicked catching with your hand.

As George headed home, the sun now fallen over the horizon, those intimate moments he shared with you were at the very forefront of his mind. His hands could still feel your bare skin under his fingertips, and his mouth tingled as he remembered what it was like to have your lips on his.

He was just craving for the next moment he had alone with you.

______________________________________

A/A/N: And there we are! hope you all enjoy this, and I hope your Easter weekend was full of sun, and fun! Please let me know if you want to read more so I know it' worth it to post!

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