Pretty Boy [j.l + p.m]

viiii

"Aye Paul, you wanna wear somethin' for me?"

Paul sat up on the bed and gripped the sheets. "'s not lingerie right?"

"As much as I'd like to see you in lingerie," John placed the shopping bag at the end of the bed, "no it's not. Why?"

"It's embarrassing."

"Awww baby. I bet you'd look great regardless." John crooned as he removed the tissue paper from the bag.

Paul shoved the covers off of him and crawled towards the end of the bed. "What's it?"

"Something for me to look at, luv."

"So that's all I am to you?" Paul teased, feeling giddy that John had bought him something.

John finished taking the tissue paper out, all of the pieces scattered on the floor, and passed the bag to Paul. "Mmm. I'd rather feel you with me hands."

Paul ignored his comment in favour of shoving his hand inside the bag, and pulling out a piece of clothing that made him laugh. "You want me to wear shorts?!"

"Yeah. Just those shorts. Nothing else."

Paul held the maroon shorts up in the air. "These are really short, no?"

"You've got the legs for it."

"Do not." Paul scoffed, holding the shorts against his waist. "I don't even know if I'll fit this."

"Well it'd fit if you didn't wear underwear."

"But then I would be cold." Paul protested. "Plus, I've got-"

"I don't give a shite 'bout whatcha got, as long as it's not a disease. Which you don't have, right?"

"Yes, but me-"

"Go get dressed for me, baby."

Paul bunched the denim in one hand and frowned. "I've got hairy legs though."

"The washroom is that-a-way." John pointed to the door, looking uninterested at Paul's confession.

Paul rolled his eyes as he got off the bed, not like John would notice though, because he was too busy picking up the pieces of tissue paper on the floor. "If you want me to wear it so bad why don't you dress me."

"As much as I would love to play dress up, I'd rather undress you."

Paul shook his head. "Good God."

After Paul had gotten dressed he looked at the mirror hung on the door sighing,  the shorts were a tight fit, and John was right suggesting that Paul shouldn't wear anything under them.

It had taken an incredible amount of time just to get them zipped up, because Paul wanted to make sure he wouldn't pinch anything.

"Paul, honey, you could've warned me that I wouldn't see you until next year."

"You don't like the suspense?" Paul asked, attempting to pull the shorts down.

"No. I was never one for thrillers."

Paul opened the door just enough to peek his head through. "The shorts don't even come down to half of me thigh."

"All the more reason for me to see you, so let's get a move on. Yeah?"

Paul shut the door, glancing at the abundance of hair he had on his legs, and reopened it. "Tada." He mumbled.

When John didn't say anything Paul looked up from the floor to him. "Jo-"