Pretty Boy [j.l + p.m]

x

Paul gasped as he felt a cold cloth on his bare thigh and opened his eyes, looking down at a hand lazily wiping his release.

"Look who's actually alive. I 'ad to wank in the bathroom." John titled his head towards the open bathroom door. "Thought I was gonna have to bury you."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Paul asked, rubbing his eyes in a half attempt to wake up.

"Because I didn't want a blowjob," John shrugged as he moved to Paul's right thigh, "besides, you look adorable as you sleep."

Paul snorted. "Don't tell me you didn't want a blowjob, John. I know that's a lie."

John tossed the cloth into Paul's stomach. "It's not that hard to believe. There are some people in this world who do not let their libido run them."

"I know tha'. I just feel like you've been given the short end of the stick." Paul grabbed the cloth and cleaned up the remaining traces of whipped cream.

"Paul, honey, I'm fine." John hastily yanked his shirt off. "I'm fuckin' exhausted though, so let's get some sleep yeah?"

Paul nodded as he placed the rag onto John's counter. "Yeah."

John crawled onto the bed and gripped Paul's forearms. "You're okay, right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Paul raised his eyebrows.

John ran his hands up Paul's arms. "No reason. I'm just making sure you're fine."

Paul smiled. "You are cute when you're sentimental."

"I'm not cute. I'm handsome." John moved to the empty side of the bed.

Paul lifted the covers from under him. "You're right. 'm clearly the cute one."

"No one asked for a cheeky git, Paul."

Cynthia crinkled her nose at the sight of John entering the kitchen. "Paul needs to be out of this house by three, I'm bringing a friend over."

"Ah, so I assume you've spoken to Ringo." John mumbled, throwing Cynthia an unimpressed look.

Cynthia crossed her arms. "Yes, I have. And I don't like the way you underestimate me, John."

John straightened his stance. "You can't blame me for it though. I do a lot more shite than you do 'round here."

"Like you are any better John,  you're just an idiot who sleeps with-"

"Keep Paul out of this." John warned.

"He's half your age John. You are the literal definition of a pedophile." Cynthia spat. John needed to see that it was wrong.

"Fuck you. I can do whatever I goddamn please, you know why? Because I'm an adult. Think whatever you please, Cyn, but don't tell me. I don't give a shite about your opinion." John clenched his jaw and glared at Cynthia.

"How do you know Paul won't cheat on you?" Cynthia asked.

"How much did Ringo tell you?"

"I told him I wouldn't tell you;" Cynthia leaned against the wall, "you're unsure about Paul's loyally, aren't you?"

"And? I'm unsure about a lot of things. You can't scare me with uncertainty." John scoffed.

"I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to get you to see that you're making a mistake."

John shook his head. "A mistake? Cyn, you clearly 'aven't seen Paul well enough. The risk I'm taking is worth it."

"You're bound to get caught." Cynthia pointed out.

"Get caught." John narrowed his eyes. "Trust me, whoever catches me and 'im won't tell."

"This thing you've got with him," Cynthia gestured towards John's door, "it needs to end before people take notice, John."

"People are gonna notice regardless of when I choose to end it, Cyn."

Cynthia sighed. "I'm aware of that, John. But it's in your best interest to end it before important people notice."

"If only I cared enough to end it. News flash, if I get fired I can fuck him all I want and it would be legal." John grinned.

"That'll ruin you, and you know that."

"I am just proving a point, love." John opened the fridge. "Either way I win. So no, I won't end it even if important people notice."

Cynthia clicked her tongue in disapproval as she moved away from John. "It's your funeral."

    George peered through the window and frowned at the unfamiliar car that drove off, leaving Paul at the drive-way.

George was glad his parents weren't home when Paul arrived, knowing they would have freaked out over Paul getting dropped off by some stranger.

George moved away from the window and unlocked the house door before sitting on the couch.

The door opened, signaling Paul's arrival, and George was pissed at the ungodly amount of hickeys that covered Paul's neck. "Wha' the fuck, Paul."

"Aye, at least I'm here." Paul sat beside George.

"But you let whoever you were with fuckin' douse you with marks. Paul, you shouldn't allow that." George reprimanded, examining the bluish purple hickeys.

"I know. I almost cried at the sight of them. J- the lad I was with really outdid himself." Paul touched his neck.

"You better hope my parents don't notice. That shite'll give them a heart attack. They'll probably think you got choked."

Paul dropped his arm onto his lap. "I should've been paying attention."

"Did you even know who you were with?"

"Umm. Kinda." Paul looked down at his hands.

"He doesn't go to our school, does he?" George scouted closer to Paul, attempting to get his attention.

Paul met George's eyes. "It's hard to explain, really."

"So he does go to our school."

Paul bit his lip and nodded.

George clasped a hand around Paul's back. "I mean as long as it isn't an administrator or anythin'. Is he in our grade?"

"Not really, no."

"He's younger than you?" George furrowed his eyebrows.

Paul closed his eyes. "No. Older."

"Paul if it's our gym coach-"

"Good God no." Paul scrunched up his face. "He's a different teacher."

George opened his mouth in shock. Paul was with a teacher. A male teacher dropped him off and left him with a neck covered in hickeys.

"Which teacher is it, Paul?"

"You won't cause trouble, right?" Paul asked, ducking his head.

"No. I don't even no what you guys did. I jus' want to know who you were with." George squeezed Paul's back.

"I was with John. John Lennon."