Little Darling » mclennon au ✓

1

It wasn't like Paul wanted to be this way. He naturally wanted to be taken care of by somebody. That somebody would have been Mick Jagger, but of course the cynical git shoved past him as if he were a ghost.

For Paul, most nights were spent at Starrison Pub, where most rich men hung about to get plastered. The English bar was run by Richard Starkeys and his husband, George Harrison. They have been together for at least ten years, and whenever Paul saw them together he found their loving gaze admirable. It was as if they never lost the spark.

The young lad wished he had somebody to take care of him. And by taking care he meant someone to buy him things, someone to whisper sweet sentences to him for when he couldn't sleep. Basically what Paul wanted to feel was wanted.

He wanted to feel loved.

Because he visited Starrison Pub so often, George already knew what drink to get him the minute his perky bum walked inside. Pouring a glass of Jack Daniels, he set it on the countertop; wiping down one side of the table as he looked up to see the doe-eyed lad sit in his usual chair.

"Let me guess," George began, his frown evident in his facial expression. "ye came 'ere to find love again?"

Paul sighed, shaking his head. He was still hung up on Mick and what had happened between the two. It was simply a one night stand taken out of context--- it meant nothing to Mick, but it meant something to Paul.

"I came to get fuckin' plastered." he took the glass of the alcoholic beverage and swallowed it whole; letting the dense drink linger its warmth inside his throat.

George nodded, tending to his need. He poured another glass and handed him the shot of whiskey.

"I understand, mate." George replied. "Just give it a rest, yeah? Someone will find ye and will love you just the way you are."

Paul stayed silent. His eyes trailed over to Keith Richards, Mick's best mate. Now, Keith had a kind heart, but once he was committed to someone, he would stick to that person. Paul's guess that person was Mick. For some reason, Paul felt dirty for allowing Mick to fuck him in that sleezy hotel for a night. Although it still didn't change what he felt for Mick.

To Paul, Mick was special.

------------------------------------------------------

"Staring at people like him won't get ye anywhere, kid." a voice said from behind Paul. Paul snapped out his trance, turning to his right to see a man sitting adjacent to him. The room was darkened by the dim lighting of the pub, so Paul couldn't make out much except for the fact that the bloke had tossled auburn hair and was wearing a gray blazer.

"What are you talkin' about?" Paul asked, trying to cover up the fact that he was staring at the haughty mess that happened to be Mick Jagger.

The auburn-haired man chuckled, placing his brewer glass down on the countertop once he had finished taking a swig.

"People like Mickey over there only fuck around," his Scouse accent replied. "yer jus' another number to 'im."

Paul felt his heart crack. He knew it was true, but he didn't want to realize it.

"I suppose yer right." Paul breathed, finally letting the truth engulf his tainted heart. The man adjacent to him felt sorry for the younger lad.

"I see ye 'ere all the time," he said, placing his elbow on the wooden surface of the table. "I don't know why ye keep trying to get his attention when ye can have someone else that will treat you better."

Paul furrowed his eyebrows, not buying his statement. "You're drunk." he remarked.

The auburn-haired man snickered, then brushed his fingertips underneath Paul's loose hand; holding his four fingers with his thumb while keeping them in place.

"I'm John," he leaned forward; the neon-blue lighting revealing his face. John had pale skin, thin lips and chocolate-brown orbs. His smile was the most beautiful smile Paul had ever witnessed.

"Paul."

John stroked Paul's fingers with his thumb, his eyes never leaving Paul's baby face.

"Want to come to my place?" John asked, motioning to the door. "I got some Frank Sinatra records we can listen to."

Paul didn't know what to say. For all he knew, this man who claims to call himself John could be an ax murderer.

"I don't know. I don't know ye very well and I--"

"I won't hurt you," John said, cutting him off. "I promise I won't hurt you."

Paul looked up to meet John's face. He saw the sincerity in his eyes and believed him.

"Alright," Paul said. "I'll go."

John's eyes squinted when his lips tugged into a warm grin. He got out of his seat, his hand still holding onto Paul's hand.

Once Paul had gotten down from his stool, he allowed John to escort him out of the pub. As they neared the door, John let go of Paul's hand and wrapped his arm around the younger lad. He glared at Mick as the fucker sent daggers at the two men walking out.

John opened the door for Paul, following after the man he held onto.

They began to leave Starrison Pub, allowing the cool breeze to greet them to a night ahead of them.

Paul had no clue what he got himself into, but he hoped John wouldn't hurt him.

° ° °

New story.
I hope you all like it.
Vote + comment.
I love you all.

- Valerie.