Work Text:
Ringo laid his head against John’s stomach to help soothe him to sleep. He’d been having a bit of a rough time with it because of the tour, so when he discovered a restless and upset John in their hotel room that night, he figured it was the least he could do.
It only took a few moments for John’s legs to stop wriggling about and for his breathing to even out, and that’s when Ringo buried his face just a bit further into his stomach. John didn’t move at all, so the drummer decided he was asleep, placing one of his hands near his belly button and smiling to himself.
He loved John’s tummy. He loved the way it moved when he breathed and when he laughed. He loved the way it spilled over the waistband of whatever pants he was wearing, no matter how much he tried to cover it. He didn’t know why John didn’t like it, though, as it was one of Ringo’s favourite things about him.
As he adored the younger man’s stomach, he couldn’t help but press a small little kiss to it, just to see how it felt. John was asleep, anyway. He wouldn’t notice at all.
Until one kiss became two, and then three, and four, and soon, Ringo was practically snogging John’s stomach while he was asleep, and that had to be something he shouldn’t be doing, right? He needed to stop, but when he felt a hand on his neck, his heart stopped.
“Richie…” John’s voice kept him frozen in place. “What’re you doing?”
Fuck. He wanted to sit up and look at John to be sure he wasn’t angry or anything, but he couldn't get himself to move at all. Had John been awake this whole time? Why hadn’t he stopped him before he humiliated himself?
Then, there was a hand in his hair, and he leaned into the touch, glancing up at John’s face in the process.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, absolutely mortified. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.” But John then leaned forward, and whatever space there was in between their lips disappeared. Ringo gasped and pulled away. “John!”
“Shite! Did you not--? Christ, I--”
Ringo pressed their lips together again for a moment to shut him up. “Why’d you do it?” he asked shyly.
“You were making out with my stomach!” John hissed at him. “I thought that meant you were even just a little bit interested!”
“I’m sorry, really. I just… I really like it. I’ve always liked it.” John stared at him intently. “It’s so pretty, I mean, I know I shouldn’t have done that while you were asleep--”
“I wasn’t, if it makes you feel better,” John muttered, and Ringo just groaned, hiding his face behind his hands and apologising once again. “It’s alright, Richie. It felt nice.” He motioned down a bit further, and Ringo moved his fingers to notice that there was a tiny hint of arousal in John’s pants.
“Oh, god. And to think you were just trying to get some rest. I’m sorry, I didn’t even--”
“Don’t apologise, love.” John kissed him again. “I’m gonna try to get to sleep, alright?” Ringo nodded at him. “Goodnight, Richie.”
“Night, John.”