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07 September 2005 @ 01:46 am

Title: I Need You (afasfgga I'm sorry I couldn't think of anything better.)
Pairing: Paul/George
Rating: PG-13 for language and naughtiness.
Summary: Chocolate is the ultimate Aphrodisiac, and combined with George it's fairly deadly.
Author Notes: Ok, so I was working on 3 different stories at the same time; this, another John/Paul, and my first George/Ringo. Ideally I wanted to finish the G/R one first as a belated birthday present for the lovely and wonderful highregister, but my P/G obsession demanded attention, and it won. So here it is. I've been wanting to do an OMGSEX fic for quite some time,but I need, er, shall we say practice? This is the practice ^^ Enjoy! And don't mock me if it sucks.



George casually strummed out the A chord, picking and plucking at notes as he pleased hoping inspiration would hit. It was a quiet afternoon at Abbey Road studios, and he was waiting for his band mates to return to finish recording for the day. He knew Ringo was complaining about hunger that morning, after stupidly skipping breakfast, and George assumed he was most likely pissing away his earnings on decent steak sandwich. John said he’d be late because he promised to spend some time with Cynthia, and Paul was no where to be found.


“Hullo, George.” Speak of the devil; the guitarist glanced up to see the bassist strolling cheerfully through the door, loosing his tie and shooting his friend a grin as he entered. George let a faint smile graze his lips in acknowledgement when Paul passed, but kept his attention on the instrument in his lap. “Been here a while?”


“Nah, only ten minutes or so. Were you with Jane, then?” The question was mostly out of habit, for the sheer sake of being polite, but when Paul made a face and dropped exasperated into the seat adjacent George, he knew he was in for a rant and internally groaned. Paul opened his mouth to vent his frustrations with his often-absent girlfriend, but upon noticing George’s change in disposition he held back.


“We had another fight.” He said simply, dropping his gaze and his hands to the amp next to him. George looked up again, realizing that without anger fueling him, the subject made Paul uncomfortable, and it was instantly dropped.


“I’m working on a new song.” He said suddenly to change the course of the conversation. Paul hummed as a response, semi interested, and slid out of his seat to sit cross legged on the floor and put his full focus into readjusting the dials on the amp.


“What’s it called?”


“I Need You.”


“Can I hear it?” George bit his lip self consciously and took the time to tune a stubborn string.


“It’s...not quite done. I still need to work out the melody. You’ll be the first person to hear it once I finish, I promise.” Paul, having completed whatever he was doing, beamed sincerely and twisted to face his companion, snatching up his bass and plugging it in as he did so. There was an awkward silence between them as George plucked meaninglessly at his guitar and Paul plucked meaninglessly at his bass. The conversation couldn’t be carried any further, and neither could come up with something compelling enough to say; George couldn’t bring up Patti without making Paul feel bad, and Paul couldn’t bring up women in general without venting about how his had wronged him this week.


George didn’t understand why the air was so thick with unease. He and Paul had been alone together countless times, and never before had things between them seemed so forced. He almost wanted to call it sexual tension, but he didn’t like using the s-word in the same sentence as one of his male mates unless a bird had managed to tangle her way between the two. A piercing thought, one George had not willingly conjured, of Paul straddling his hips and feverishly ripping off the buttons of his shirt with his teeth popped into his head, and his face heated up and he felt filthy for even thinking it.


“George?” He nearly jumped at his name and gripped his instrument closer to his chest for protection, because his last thought was so utterly despicable that Paul surely must have sensed it and was now going to kill him.


“Yeah?” He replied, surprisingly (to himself, anyway) calm and steady.


“Y’ever get the feeling that things are too...I don’t know, humdrum around here? Like we just do the same thing every time we come in?” George avoided eye contact, lest another dirty thought decided to appear.


“I...suppose. I mean we really only come in to record. Nothing breaks it up.”


Paul whistled softly and George swallowed. Another forced attempt at conversation, another awkward silence, and another missed note thanks to George’s clumsy fingers.


“Hey Georgie? Mind if I ask you something?” God, this was getting insane. Paul was eventually going to say something about the fact that George had been plucking the same three strings throughout the entire duration of Paul’s stay, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go without looking up.


“Sure, Paul. Ask away.”


Be something simple. Something about women. Tits. Ask me about tits. Tits will divert my thoughts from the fact that all I want to think about is you without anything-


“Did you eat chocolate for lunch?”


THANK YOU GOD. “Uh, yeah. I had a slice of cake for dessert. How’d you know?” Paul’s gaze fell heavy on George, and he couldn’t avoid it anymore. He glanced up somewhat sheepishly, reluctantly holding eye contact. Paul shrugged, sitting back and resting his weight on his arms.


“You’ve got some still on you’re cheek. Right there.” He gestured to the area on himself, pointing to an obscure spot to the right of his upper lip. George flushed a little, embarrassed by such a juvenile thing, and wiped aimlessly at his entire face with his sleeve.


“Got it?” Paul’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.


“Nope. Still there.” George’s eyebrows sank and he grumbled, a little less embarrassed and a little more annoyed. He clapped his hand over his face and rubbed so hard his face was red for a while after.


“How ‘bout now?” Paul had a difficult time hiding his amused smirk, biting his tongue as he shook his head in the negative. “Damn it all!” George cried, frustrated, and nearly dropped the guitar as he used both hands to literally peel his own skin off.


“Whoa, hold it Georgie.” Paul said, giggling as he rose. “Yeh’ll hurt yourself that way, love. Here, lemme get it...”


Paul had been the one who had said things were too humdrum. He had brought it up, he had been the one to address the boredom. The icing incident was actually exciting in comparison to what had been occurring. This was a story he could go home and tell the wife; there was a dollop of icing so stubborn that he couldn’t get rid of it and Paul was required to stand up and wipe it off with the pad of his thumb. Laughs, chuckles, and more silliness in the world of Beatledom.


Of course he would have to censor the part that Paul actually removed the icing with his tongue.


The moment the slick, wet organ grazed his skin he jumped, shivering and yet burning up in the same moment. He let out a high pitched yelp like that of a dog whose tail had just been stepped on and pressed back into his seat. The guitar was abandoned and hit the floor with a loud bang but at the moment George didn’t care; his mind was reeling with bewilderment and he was still trying to fully understand what was going on. Paul stood up, wiping his mouth in a completely unintentional (or was it intentional?) sexy way, as if licking friends was a natural sign of affection.


“...What the fuck?!” George wished his voice hadn’t come out as screechy and panicky as it did, but he decided to wait til later to question his masculinity. Paul stuffed his hands into his pockets, obviously not as jarred by the experience as his counterpart.


“I got rid of it.” He answered nonchalantly, removing a hand to pick at the debris beneath his nails. George stared at him, completely shell shocked, and worked on steadying his breathing. He’d never actually been licked by another human being before, save for a few nasty incidents on the playground as a child when girls would clumsily try to teach him how to kiss behind the jungle gym. It was...weird. And a little unsanitary. Yet somehow he found it a little, what was the word, erotic? And why was it the tension seemed to dissipate between them?


“Hey Georgie?”




If George thought having another man’s tongue on his face was weird, having another man’s tongue inside his mouth was the most fucking insane thing in the history of man.


He wasn’t entirely sure when Paul had kissed him, the thing occurred very quickly. Paul was swift, and George couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact moment when his lips collided with his own. George felt out of his body, like his spirit lifted out of him the moment Paul started kissing him and now he was watching the event from above. Instead of the broken record HOLYSHITWHATTHEFUCKISGOINGONWHYISHEKISSINGMEWHATTHEFUCK running repeatedly through his head, he found himself absently wondering where to put his hands and if he was up to par with Paul’s kissing.


Paul’s tongue slid gracefully across George’s lips, requesting entrance and George willingly complied. Paul’s tongue unabashedly darted in the moment George’s lips parted, forgoing experimentation and sloppily climbing the ridges along the roof of George’s mouth. George felt a weight shift, vaguely aware of something heavy settling onto him, and then felt Paul gently tugging at the hairs on the base of his neck. He didn’t want Paul to think he wasn’t enjoying this, and before he realized he had moaned, MOANED, into Paul’s mouth and probed his tongue gently with his own. Paul bit down lightly on George’s lower lip, somehow managing to keep his tongue twisted with George’s, and when he released George responded by nipping innocently at Paul’s jaw. He pulled away entirely, letting his body do as it willed, and found himself sucking at Paul’s neck and making a steady path downward. Paul cupped George’s chin in his hand, commanding and stern, and nudged his mouth back to his own for a moment longer, savoring the taste of George’s saliva mixed with his before pulling away entirely and sitting back.


When George had regained full control of his senses, he realized that Paul was sitting in his lap, legs on either side of his hips, and his own hand had managed to find its way underneath the cloth of Paul’s shirt and onto the warm skin beneath.


And then he realized that he had just spent a large portion of time making out with his best friend. His best MALE friend. And he flipped.


“What the fuck did we just do?!” He shrieked, nearly dropping Paul with the sound. Paul raised an eyebrow, questioning George’s reaction, untangled his legs from George’s waist and stood up, offhandedly brushing his hair down and buttoning his collar.


“It was good.” He said simply.


“What do you mean it was good?! I’m married! You have a girlfriend! And...And we just snogged! And we’re BLOKES! Doesn’t it bother you?!”


“The chocolate.” Paul continued, ignoring the guitarist’s outburst. “The chocolate off your cheek was really good, and I wanted to see if I could still taste the rest on you. I could, and it was good.”


And then he just walked away, leaving George completely dumbfounded and idiotic stuck in his chair. His jaw was left hanging open and his posture was shot to hell. He stared at the wall for a moment and then averted his gaze to the bassist’s depleting form.


“Hey Paulie?” He stopped in the doorway, turning to acknowledge his name. George took a breath and straightened up the best he could.


“...If I promise to eat that cake again tomorrow, will you promise to do that again?” Paul couldn’t resist beaming, cutely biting his lip and lowering his chin.


“George, you can eat week old tuna fish and rotten eggs and I will STILL do that again, and again, and again.” He laughed and George smiled as he watched him leaving, picking up his guitar and starting to play it again.


Well, at least he couldn’t say it was boring anymore.


Current Music: My Sweet Lord- Eric Clapton and Billy Preston
(Deleted comment)
hollywood_song on September 7th, 2005 09:22 pm (UTC)
Thank you!

I share your exact sentiments; Lord knows I loves me some John/Paul, but I can't. keep. away. from. PAUL/GEORGE! It's too wonderful!
the heart collector: coldplay lyricssummersiren on September 7th, 2005 08:35 am (UTC)
Ohh that was wonderful and sweet! Hehe. I loved it.
It was very hot! Hmm chocolate... hehe
hollywood_song on September 7th, 2005 09:22 pm (UTC)
the_scouserthe_scouser on September 7th, 2005 03:15 pm (UTC)
Oh my goodness.

If I eat some chocolate cake, will Paul McCartney make out with me?



Anyways I loved this. Gingo is my favorite, but I have such an overwhelming P/G passion too. They are just so damn HOT!
Excellent job, mate.
hollywood_song on September 7th, 2005 09:23 pm (UTC)
XD If that were the case, I would easily be 818759875061264702 million pounds overweight.

Thanks a lot!
whatsherass on September 7th, 2005 11:13 pm (UTC)
NICE, dude! Can I just say? I LOVE your Paul. He's kinda arrogant and irritating, yet cool and sexy and strong-willed, too! :)

I love your stories! More, more!
hollywood_song on September 8th, 2005 02:23 am (UTC)
:D Thank you so much! From you that's like getting cookies from Mrs. Field herself!

Tee hee, I do <3 me some Paul, and it's fun to change him around XD
willy__wonka on September 8th, 2005 02:04 am (UTC)
Cute! Your take on Paul is pretty unique and I love George's initial reactions to the whole licking/kissing thing.
hollywood_song on September 8th, 2005 02:24 am (UTC)
Thank you! :) Paul = awesome. And George = insanely amazing. So it's so fun to write them XD
Katiebonshaybon on September 10th, 2005 02:28 am (UTC)
*tries to hold in the SQUEE*

oh. muh. GOD.

I love you. So hard. That was like, the best... ever. INY is my favorite song. So I loved the title, even if it is overused at times. :D
hollywood_song on September 14th, 2005 09:02 pm (UTC)
XD Thanks a lot!
Appyhighregister on September 13th, 2005 12:48 am (UTC)
hollywood_song on September 14th, 2005 09:03 pm (UTC)