Chapter Text
August, 1962
“I just don’t know her enough yet,” Pauline shrugged, gesturing to the girl who had replaced Petra during their Hamburg stay.
Ringo smiled awkwardly and looked around the group. She was unusually awkward. She got on well enough with everyone, but not enough to make the sleeping arrangements an easy decision. Before, Georgia slept next to Petra, but Georgia didn’t know Ringo enough either. They were about to pull straws until Joan groaned.
“You two can sleep together, no need to hide it,” she smirked, sliding next to Ringo on the couch, “We’ll have a nice night, won’t we Rings?”
That night, they tumbled into their small rooms, a mixture of drugs and alcohol flowing through their systems. Joan flopped face-first onto the small bed in the back of the cinema they stayed at and kicked her boots off. Ringo sat next to her and did the same. Joan looked up from where her face was pressed into the bed and watched her take off her jewelry, setting it neatly on the nightstand. A collection of rings, bracelets, and necklaces made a pile on the table, and she wondered if it would tangle.
She bet it wouldn’t. Ringo seemed to know how to do things. Like an adult. She held herself in a refined, but like… sexy way. Joan felt the same about Ringo as she did for Bardot, quiet confusion she could rub out in the dark. She knew on a deeper level that her admiration for Ringo’s adultness was undeserved; the woman was only a few months older than her. But she got the feeling that Ringo hung out with older people. The Rory Storm group seems to be like… 23 at least.
As Ringo took off her large earrings, she let out a sigh. “It gets heavy throughout the day,” she hummed. She runs a hand through her short hair, everything falling back into place as her hand goes back to her side. She seemed so put together.
Immediately, Joan’s eyes shot to her chest, something else that made her mature. Still out of it, Joan asks, “The, uh, your…” she lazily points at her chest.
Ringo nods, not looking at her, “Yeah, the bangles are cute, but not great for my technique,” she giggles. She stands up, “Is it okay if I change?” she asks. Joan nods and starts trying to roll on her back, in a subtle, nonchalant sort of way. She does it, but probably lets out a few sickly groans during the move.
Ringo is the only one of the four of them who wears a dress. It seems counterintuitive, as she is the only one who sits with her legs open the whole time she’s on stage, but somehow she’s never flashed anyone. There must be a secret to that, and cracking that code sounds like a good reason to watch her undress.
Ringo reaches behind herself to the zipper at the nape of her neck, struggling to get a hold of it. She approaches from a few different angles but is still unable to find a grip. She quits with a huff of frustration and turns to Joan, “Can you help pull this fucking thing off?”
Joan’s eyes widened; she hadn’t expected to be involved. She rose slowly, steadying herself on her feet so she wouldn’t fall. She walked over to the shorter woman and raised her hands tentatively, found the metal zipper, and pulled it down slowly. Ringo caught the dress in her arms as it fell from her frame. She turned to Joan again and smiled, “Thank you!”
Joan gazed down at Ringo, standing in her bra and black shorts (the secret!), looking up at her. The bra was pink, and the straps dug into her, making the extra skin on her back and chest spill from its confines. Her skin was tan and dusted with freckles, soft and shiny like her hair. She could imagine it longer, spilling over her body in loose curls like a waterfall, but her bob was adorable, and the way her hair curled into her face made her look like a doll. Ringo cocked her head to the side, “You’re staring.”
Joan shook her head, “No, it's just – erm, your hair. I like it! What, uh, shampoo do you use?” she asked, her voice squeaking at the end of her sentence.
Ringo’s eyebrows furrowed together as she gazed up at her face, “I just use soap,” she says, pulling the nightgown on over her. Joan nods and turns away, grimacing at how stupid she is all the fucking time. She gets her old school shirt and shorts she wears to bed and starts undressing.
She’s not… totally flat-chested. It’s a sore spot for her, but not sore enough to wear a bra every day or try to make them bigger. Those are all myths anyway. Either way, she tries to hide herself while she pulls her shirt from the day off. Her arm crossed over her chest as she pulled the nightshirt over her head. She replaced her jeans with the loose shorts and climbed onto the small bed. She joined Ringo, as comfortable as she could be in a bed like this. She smiled at Joan and lifted the blanket for her.
As she lifted the blanket, she noticed Ringo must’ve taken her bra off, too. Stupid of her to think Ringo would sleep in the thing, as scratchy as it looked. Stupid Joan, so fucking stupid all the time. Nevertheless, she crawled into the invitation of Ringo’s arms and nuzzled into her neck as if she belonged there. She curled her legs up, making herself small enough to be held by Ringo.
She fell asleep not long after. Ringo was soft when she needed to be. This was different; she’d never been in this position before, the cuddled one. The small, safe enclave between someone’s arms. Cyrus, back home, tried to cuddle with her, but Joan could never get comfortable with him. She would shift around and change positions until she got too hot and had to roll out of his arms. It’s not that she didn’t love him; she did plenty. He just wasn’t… what she wanted. But he was nice, and she knew he wanted to propose. If the band didn’t work out, at least she was married.
The room was still pitch black when Joan woke up, still wrapped in Ringo’s arms. She felt a buzzing between her legs and tried to ignore it; she couldn’t wack off right now. It wasn’t the time for a jerk circle, and you can’t have one without Pauline and Georgia, then it was queer.
She tried to shuffle out of Ringo’s arms, possibly make it to the bathroom and fix her problem there, but as she moved, her core grazed down on Ringo’s knee. She clung to her tighter in her sleep, causing Joan to slide up her thigh. The sudden movement and pressure caused Joan to let out a yelp too loud for the situation. So stupid all the fucking time.
Ringo furrowed her brows, and Joan stayed still, didn’t even breathe, until Ringo’s face rested again. Joan steadied her breath and tried to leave again, only to be met with the same fate. It was less of a surprise this time, so she could muffle her noise. This could work; she could grind on Ringo’s knee, but she would feel like a creep. The lady was sleeping, or at least she thought she was, until she caught the glimmer of her eyes in the dark room.
“Are you awake?” Ringo’s grovelly voice asked. Joan hummed in response, nodding slowly. Ringo wrapped her arms around Joan’s waist tighter, rubbing her thigh against her core again. She looked up at her shadowed face, choosing to let Ringo decide what to do with her.
Ringo leaned in close to her, her hand sliding up Joan’s back and to her burning cheek. Joan flinched at the touch but stopped herself from pulling away. Ringo was so comfortable that she could be close with her without all of the complicated feelings being close to Paul had. Ringo leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Joan’s lips, making her feel like she was floating.
Joan’s eyes flutter closed as Ringo kisses her deeper, the blush spreading down her chest. She had to pull away; she was suffocating. She’d never kissed a girl. Ringo must still be drunk. She thought Joan was whatever man she had at home. Joan looked up at her, “What are you doing?” she asked, still processing the kiss.
Ringo waited a moment before saying, “Sorry, I thought that’s what was happening.”
Joan took a moment to collect herself before leaning back in for another kiss. She decided to use the scientific method, experiment, and come to a conclusion. Repeat as needed. As her lips meet Ringo’s, she feels the floaty feeling from the first time; she’d never felt this before either. Definitely not with a man. What’s she going to tell Cyrus?
Fucking nothing. Whatever happens in Hamburg stays in Hamburg. She pulls away again, still undecided. Ringo puts a hand on her chest, “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know, I have a lot of thoughts right now.”
Ringo nodded, stroking her face again, “About what? Paul?”
Joan shook her head quickly, “No,” Why would she bring up Paul? What the fuck? That hadn’t even factored into her thoughts until just now. Does she act queer with Pauline? “No?”
Ringo hummed, “You’re sleeping with her, too, right?”
“What? No! I’m not – I haven’t – I don’t do that,” she sputters, eyes bulging out of her head.
“Sleep with Pauline? Or sleep with women?” She tried to keep a calm demeanor, but Joan could tell Ringo wanted to laugh at her reaction.
“Either. Yet. I don’t know,” She buried her face in her hands as the blush crept up her face again, this time with a pit sinking into her stomach.
Ringo nodded in understanding, “It's okay if you don’t know.”
Joan groaned and hid her face in Ringo’s chest, taking a moment before admitting softly, “I think about women, but it’s just so new.”
Ringo hummed softly, “Doesn’t have to be,” she said, pushing Joan’s hair behind her ear again. “Women can do anything a man can do.”
Joan looked up at her, “What do you mean?” she asked.
Ringo brought herself up, steadying on her elbow, “Well, I have a mouth and hands. My fingers work, and so does my tongue.”
It was far from Joan to feel scandalized; that was an emotion reserved for her Aunt Mimi. Ringo sounded like Joan trying to flirt with a man, but this was believable. Joan would state facts. Her fingers and tongue do work, but Ringo held a much more honest intent in her words. Ringo was going to enjoy it as much as Joan would.
It took Joan a second to find her response, but she finally let out a small, “Okay,” and leaned up to kiss her again. Ringo pushed her down onto the bed gently, crawling on top of her. She kissed down her neck, Joan beginning to squirm under the light touches.
Ringo’s hands slide up under her shirt, causing Joan to flinch away from her touch, “I’m not impressive,” she warns. The thought of someone with a body like Ringo appreciating hers was foreign to her. Ringo had enough boobs for the two of them; there was no reason to undress and embarrass herself further. A man would fuck anything that asked, but she assumed women held higher standards.
Ringo furrowed her brows, “You’re very impressive. So beautiful,” she purred. Her hands went down to hold her hips. Joan needed to stop fucking men immediately. This level of flattery and attentiveness had rarely been given to her before.
Joan let out a small, desperate sound and lifted her back up off the bed, “Take it off before I change my mind.”
Ringo chuckled and pulled Joan’s t-shirt off, throwing it onto the floor. Ringo leaned down to pepper her chest with kisses, migrating to one of her nipples to lick it gently. Joan threw her arms over her face and groaned softly. She planted her feet on the bed to have some sense of grounding.
If this is the beginning of lesbian sex, where would she be at the end? Ringo sucked the nipple into her mouth, and Joan let out a cry, “Fuck, Rings, oh my god.”
Ringo hummed, pleased by the reactions she caused, “Calm down, baby, you’ll wake up the girls.”
Joan hadn’t even thought about her volume, bad idea, as she seemed not be in control of herself when being kissed by a woman. She bit down on her forearm and let out a grunt, a signal to tell Ringo to continue.
Ringo let one of her hands travel down her skin to the hem of her shorts. She doesn’t notice, as Ringo has moved onto sucking her other nipple, letting her get used to the feeling before moving onto the next thing that would make Joan whine. Ringo’s fingers went down to her core, rubbing gently through her shorts and underwear. Joan’s leg kicked out as she groaned.
Ringo leaned up and pushed Joan’s arm away from her face, kissing her softly. She pushed her hand under Joan’s shorts, rubbing her clit through the fabric of her underwear. Joan’s mind went blank as Ringo touched and kissed her. It was all becoming too much. She tried to find a nice rhythm with her hips as she ground down against her fingers.
“Slow– slow down, Rings,” Joan whined, grabbing her wrist loosely. She put her hand over Ringo’s, giving her a moderate pace to follow. She mewled softly, soon getting lost in the touches and the slowly returning kisses again.
Joan realized that there was a gorgeous woman on top of her that she hadn’t been touching, and she needed to make up for lost time. She glides her fingers through Ringo’s hair and down her shoulder before travelling down her neck, pushing one of the thin straps of her nightgown down. She moved to cup one of her breasts, rubbing her nipple with the side of her thumb. Ringo let out a small groan against Joan’s neck before biting it softly. “You’re so sweet, baby,” She cooed as she pulled away.
Ringo pulled her hand away from Joan’s covered cunt, causing Joan to whine at the loss of sensation. Ringo hummed comfortingly, pulling her shorts off. Sitting up and positioning herself over one of Joan’s legs, she grinds her covered pussy over the other woman’s, eliciting a gasp from her. Joan slotted her legs with hers, trying to get as close as possible to Ringo’s core.
The friction from their underwear and the weight of Ringo on top of her was too much to handle; her cunt clenching around nothing every time she rutted against it. Her eyes kept threatening to shut, but she didn’t want to miss out on the beautiful girl on top of her, panting and sweaty, her nightgown falling down her chest. She watched as Ringo moved, her short hair bouncing as she thrusted. Joan’s hips started to shudder, her climax coming ever closer. This was almost like being fucked, but somehow more intense. Joan arched her back up off the bed, her eyes welling with tears as she tried to form the words to warn Ringo of her coming climax.
Joan could only let out a few tiny noises as she felt her orgasm begin to flood through her. Her face curled up in pleasure, trying to keep quiet. She shook, wrapping her arms around Ringo’s shoulders to ride out her high. She panted softly, her body calming down as she hung from the other girl. A small “F-fuck!” tumbles from Joan’s lips as she tries to find more words.
Ringo chuckles and lies half on top of her, their legs still tangled. She turns her head to look at the still-dazed Joan. “You alright?”
Joan closed her eyes and nodded, shifting back to cuddling in her arms like before. She buried her head between Ringo’s breasts and let her hands travel down her waist to her ass, squeezing it gently.
Ringo smiled, kissing her head and closing her eyes, she fell asleep with her.