Pretty Boy [j.l + p.m]

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    Paul was not going to have sex with John. No matter how hard John was now, or will be.

He was determined to not fuck up this thing with John, whatever this was, because John Lennon is the first male in his life to actually care about him. And if they were to have sex John would realize that he could do way better than Paul.

Then Paul would be left without someone to generally care about him, again. Which was pretty pathetic, Paul noted, how easily he relied on others.

But after they had ate at a diner near the school and got checked into the hotel that they agreed on, not turning into the slut he knew he was proved to be difficult.

Paul felt the temptation to do something with John the moment he stepped foot in the room, and with John being tipsy from the wine that he had generously sipped on at the diner gave way to a very touchy John.

They were both sitting up on the bed, John with his back up against the headboard and Paul had sat criss-crossed in between John's open legs facing him.

John was going on about something he saw on the telly about drugs, Paul had zoned out and watched as his lips move instead.

John could do more with his mouth than just talking, Paul realized.

God, he really is a slut.

A no-good for nothing cheap whore.

Someone who shouldn't be with John, in this hotel, wanting to have sex with him just because he felt like he owed John.

"And I think it's crazy because... Paul. Paul. Oh shite! Are you crying?" John asked, bringing Paul out of his thoughts.

"I am?" He quickly swiped the backs of his hands against his cheeks. "Sorry, I was thinking about-"

John quickly pressed an index finger to his lips.
"You don't have to tell me, Paul."

"Right." Paul mumbled as John removed his finger. "So.. Have you kissed a lad before?"

John widened his eyes at the question and sat up straighter. "Not something that I've felt curious to do, no."

"Do you want to kiss me?" Paul asked innocently.

"Listen, Paul, if you think I brought you here to sexually gratify me you're sorely mistaken."

Paul bent forward. "I don't think that," he whispered, "I am just curious, s'all."

John glanced down at Paul's lips. "Just because I want to.. Doesn't mean anything, anyone would want to with a pretty face like yours."

    George was angry.

After their fight, Paul hasn't gotten in contact with him at all.

Which not only aggravated him beyond belief, but also made him worried sick, knowing what Paul does almost every bloody day.

Hopefully whoever he was with didn't kill him already. Fuck, Paul better not be dead.

George paced in front of the horrid place he had dropped Paul off a few days ago, after finding out he left early on Saturday and hadn't been seen since, thinking of where else he could be.

If he was with someone there would be no luck finding him, Paul could be anywhere then.

George froze with worry. Shit, who could he be with? For all George knew Paul could be fucking some cannibal who is planning on- No. He needed to calm down.

Maybe Paul is just having some time alone somewhere, and accidently fell asleep so George was worrying for nothing.

"Yeah right, like Paul of all people would be alone." George grumbled as he walked up to his car.

Damn Paul for always having a person to go to. It seemed like every time they have a falling out he goes and leaves George in the dark about his whereabouts.

"Where the fuck could he be?" George asked to no one as he started the car.

(A/N Sorry for the short chapter, but this was to start things up again after my long break from this book, hopefully now I'll update more frequently)