Paris '61 (McLennon smut)

sixteen **

A/n; idk how the telephone situation worked back then too well to write it in this chapter book; just pretend you could call a number you knew to get ahold of a landline ? Sorry. It is confusing for me

Highly suggestive dialogue warning; graphic language is used.

John and Paul laid there, talking and loving on each other for about two hours. They flipped on the hotel's television and watched some comedic show, and soon John kept the extremely overwhelming feeling that he had been forgetting something back home. His mind went through all the different things he had that were of importance to him in Liverpool, and then it hit him what the pair had forgot collectively. He reminded himself that George must be pissed! The other bandmates were never alarmed of John and Paul's departure! He hopped out of the bed, looking for the telephone.

“What is it?" Paul sat up, confused at what had just peaked John's full attention. He looked genuinely concerned and acted frantic whilst putting in someone's phone number on the rotary device.

“The shows, you know?! I know George has got to be fuming! He might think we're coming to the set tonight, n' we're clearly not. Fuckin' forgot to tell him!" John exclaimed, finally putting the phone up to his ear.

“I tried to remind you, remember?” Paul said, and John nodded. Nothing could be done about it now, nine hours away, except being told over a phone call.

“Harrison household," greeted an older gentleman after it rang for a few seconds. “Harold speaking."

“Yes, this is John Lennon, George's bandmate. Is he around?" he asked in a rather too polite mannerism, not that George's father could tell that, though.

“Yes, in fact he is. But just a moment. Glad you caught him. He was just about to head out." Harold laughed. John heard the man soon call for his son to answer the phone.

George put it to his ear, rolling his eyes at how his father informed him it was John who was calling.

“Glad you could find it in ya to finally call..." he spoke low so his parents wouldn't question him. George was upset at John and Paul for not making it to practice yesterday, and he only could assume that he was calling to cancel the gig tonight.

“I'm sorry, Geo! I really am. Paul, too. We've...we've hitched all the way to Paris. I meant to call ye last night n' tell ya but I got busy."

“Busy doing what? Snogging Paul?" George tapped his foot on the floor. John felt his heart flutter at Harrison hitting the nail on its head. "Whatever it was must’ve been something proper important for ya not to tell us."

“No, a'right? Get off me back. God, George..." John ran a hand through his hair in anger. He needed to keep it together. Paul watched in fear that George said something hateful. “We're writing songs and trying to promote our sound.”

George rolled his eyes, annoyed. “I'm broke, John. You don't care though, do ya? Ye two just keep having your fun."

“Go ‘round all the pubs. Maybe someone needs a fill in. I can give you some money when I get back. It'll be fine, a'right? Please," John pleaded, “M'sorry. Please don't hate us."

George sighed, knowing that this holiday probably had some significance to the older man. He could tell in his voice and how sincere he was being behind it. Didn’t know what this had in store for the group if Paul and John were to suddenly be closer after this experience. He just had this feeling. Something was changing in the duo and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

“Look... I couldn't stay mad at ye," George sighed after a short period of silence overtook the two. “I guess, uh, just bring us back somethin' prim n' proper, yeah?" he wanted to keep it cool and lightly humorous for the rest of this chat, knowing that John and Paul had definitely won this time around. There was hardly anything he could do but just sit back and wait for them to return. Without them, he could continue his guitar playing at a pub no matter what since there was always a band short of one. John was right about something. He hoped he knew the songs the other bands would play.

“I will," John was so relieved to hear that George wasn't livid anymore. He didn't get angry with George for getting explosive for a moment; they had literally taken off without alerting the other band members. He knew George was going to be some sort of way about it. So John was just glad that he knew he could make it up to the younger lad somehow. “Again, m'sorry. I'll...I’ll tell you about the trip when we get back."

“A'right, tell Paul I said hey. 'Cause I gotta go if I wanna find a spot in someone's shite group." he snickered.

“Yeah, bye Geo." John hung up after George returned the farewell. He then let out a sigh. Paul's eyes were transfixed on the telly and he hardly listened in to the conversation. After he'd figured out that he was only calling to remind the bloke that they weren't coming, he found that it wasn’t the most interesting of conversations.

“So?" Paul spoke out after John sat back on the bed, this time on the edge instead. “Is he right pressed?"

“Not now," John replied, “Although...I think I’ll owe 'im some money." he finished with a smirk. John laid his back down in his sat position, puckering his lips out as if he wanted Paul to kiss him upside down. Paul giggled before he did just that, crossing his legs and leaning his face towards John's upside down lips.

They kissed in such a way for only a few seconds, but Paul couldn't contain himself and practically jumped to straddle his lover's waist. John's hands found their rightful place on his arse, each hand cupping a cheek. They were both finding this comical, smirking at each other's reaction to what they did to one another.

“It is so different taking on this...like...role. I'm usually in your spot, me hands on a bird’s arse, y’know." Paul sheepishly admitted as if that was on Lennon’s mind at the moment. Just being next to the lad was enough to have him in the mood for another round. No wonder he has that role, John thought to himself, making him chuckle at his thoughts and laughed at Paul's words.

“How could that be? You fit that role so perfectly," John stroked Paul's soft hair back so he could see his whole face fully. “Baby, you're me princess… I mean, yer a lad, don't get me wrong. But — I just, I think I saw you taking that role eventually. And you do enjoy it. I can tell."

Paul blushed and rolled his eyes, hands flinging to the middle of John's chest. He sort of held him down, but it wasn't to overpower him. Was just desperate to hover over John so that he could kiss him deeply. “How do you know I enjoy it so much, hm?" Paul snickered when he moved his soft ghost kisses down to John's jawline.

“I already know you'll love it if I did this," John pushed his hips up against Paul's crotch at emphasis of the last word, cocks roughly rubbing against each other. Paul gasped, moving his left hand to try and slide under the belly of John's shirt. John could tell he wanted more roughness by the way Paul's breathing pattern changed from calm to lustful. Needing to keep showing McCartney what he knew he’d go crazy for, he continued on. “I know you'll go mad when I do this," John pinched Paul's inner thighs, causing the slightly younger man to moan rather lightly. “And I know for a fact you crave how hard I c'n pound me cock deep in your tight little hole. Don't you?”

“Mm, fuck, yeah. Please…”