Paul & John

[Chapter Fourteen - Four AM Kisses]

-- J O H N --

"Fuck!" John moaned as he gripped onto Maggie May's hips, the bed squeaking with each pounding thrust.

"Oh, John!" Maggie cried out, scratching his back with her long fingernails. She was loving this. She hadn't had a good shag in so long, and John was the best so she had heard from Brenda Welsh.

"Yeah, ye like tha', don't you?" John growled huskily into her ear, "You like it when I fuck you with my cock, hm?"

"Yes, John!" Maggie whimpered, "Harder!"

John gripped onto her shoulders and hammered his length into her rapidly; grunting as he did so.

His Elvis-like hairdo was falling onto his forehead from sweating so much, and Maggie thought he looked really hot.

John bent down and sucked onto her neck, causing Maggie May to moan. She clawed at his back, arched her back and smiled in a naughty manner.

Flipping them over, she began to ride John Lennon and she did it until he was the mess everyone said he'd be.

----

"That was great, love." John smiled as he watched Maggie May get dressed to leave. Maggie chuckled, then turned on her heel as she pecked John on the cheek, walking over to the door.

"See you later, Lennon."

With a click to the door, she was gone.

John sighed, laying back with his hands behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling and allowed his thoughts take course.
He thought about the stars, the illusion of becoming famous. He thought about Uncle George, his mother. Then the last thing he thought about was Paul.

Suddenly his heart began to sink at the realization that he hurt the pudgy lad. All he wanted was a kiss, and it wasn't like no one else was going to know.

Stop it you twat! John snapped at himself. You aren't a queer and you know it, too!

Paul was a special person, John knew. He was special in the sense that he has been nothing but kind to the older lad. With his cheerful grin, beautiful blazing hazel orbs and lilting voice. Paul was beautiful. . .

John didn't even bother fighting back that he found the young lad attractive. The voices continued to urge him to stop, but his heart was racing in fear and in love.

Groaning, John got out of bed and got dressed; slipping on his jeans and tank top with his flannel hung over his shoulder.

With his combat boots trudging down the wooden staircase, John quietly passed the living room where Mimi was sleeping and went out through the back door.

-----

-- P A U L --

[4:00 AM]

Paul laid in bed that night, his fist resting underneath his cheek as he stared at the closed door adjacent to him. He hadn't slept in past six hours, he was afraid to fall asleep.

For the past couple of weeks, all Paul dreamt about was John. He dreamt of John kissing him, even before they kissed, he dreamt of buying ice cream with John. He dreamt of many things. All of them included the older lad.

He didn't know it, then, but a tiny teardrop fell from Paul's eye, trailing its wet texture down his face. Paul took the tear and wiped it off; examining it under the moonlight. He sighed as he then let the bottled up emotions burst. He covered his face in his arms; curling up into a ball as he quietly wept.

Paul ran a hand through his hair in utter frustration. He hated his heart for being infatuated with John. The lad was clearly a cynical asshole.

"F-fuck," Paul whimpered. He wiped his face once again, only this time he getting up to go to the restroom to grab toilet paper so he can wipe away his tears properly.

He was grateful that Mike was out at someone's house. He hated it when Mike slept. The bastard snores like a trumpet.

Paul did what he had planned to do, then returned back to his room. As he attempted to lie down, a series of knocks came at his window.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Paul trekked over to the glass opening. He pushed the curtain to the side, eyes widening.

It was John. He was standing outside with his hands stuffed inside his pockets.

Paul sighed, opening the window upward. He bit his lip, unsure of what to say.

"What do you want, John?" Paul asked bitterly.

Without warning, John cupped Paul's face harshly; bringing his lips onto the younger lad's mouth, tongue exploring his without a hesitant prestige.

He continued to kiss Paul, his left hand roaming through Paul's hair.

John pulled away, panting.

"I'm sorry, Paul."

He turned on his heel and left.