Work Text:
A warm, sunny saturday afternoon was a rare occurrence in the middle of January in London, and everyone was taking advantage of it. The tube was packed with families on their way to whatever exciting activities they had ahead of them, teenagers hanging out, up to no good but having a blast, and apparently everybody else and their mother all wanting to make the best of the sunshine. Making noise, smiling, living life. You almost wouldn’t even notice the brooding young man on the bench, waiting for the train with a scowl on his face. He had a guitar case and long hair, and looked incredibly unapproachable. As the train pulled up, the man left the bench and pushed his way to the front, paying no mind to the people in his way as he made his way to a seat and sunk into a seat. Dirty looks flew his way but none of them reached the long haired boy as he closed his eyes and prayed for this train ride to be as short as possible.
The train came to a screeching halt, flinging the guitar case onto the ground. The man quickly picked it up, but realizing this was his stop he quickly grabbed it and escaped the noisy, overstimulating prison. Practically running home, he finally unlocked his door and let out a breath. Peace and quiet. Finally.
Opening the door, he is immediatly assaulted by the strong smell of pot and the sight of his roommate laying on the couch, smoking in their living room. God damnit.
“John your home! How was the studio?”
*Loud. So loud. But Paul hasn’t done anything wrong, so I better try and not be a wanker about it*
“Well obviously George turned the bloody backtrack to max volume with my headphones in, so i’ve got the biggest goddamn headache in all of London. So if you could keep your noise down and maybe stop bombarding my nose with smoke, that would be splendid.”
*So much for not being a wanker about it*
Paul raises his eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He looks like he’s gonna put his fag down, but instead ashes it, thinks for a second, and takes another drag. The long haired man really isn’t in the mood for this right now, so he lets it go and goes to put away his guitar.
Paul watches with amusement and John sulks past the couch. He knows John and George’s bickering will die down once the single is done, so Paul isn’t too worried “You know, he only does that stuff because he knows it bothers you. He’s doing it on purpose to put you in a pissy mood,” Paul comments as he takes another drag.
“It’s bloody infuriating when I’m trying to focus on recording and getting the hell out of there,” John complains as he opens up his guitar case. As he continues his little rant, he abruptly stops, staring at his guitar. Paul can’t see what’s got his attention, so he peeks over John’s shoulder to see John’s guitar has cracked right down the handle.
“How did you manage that?” Paul inquires as he leaned back into his place on the couch. John just sits there, staring at his guitar. Paul can’t see his face but he swears there is steam coming out of the long haired man’s ears. Then, John simply gets up, walks to his room, and shuts the door.
Paul knows John probably WANTS to be alone, he’s had a shitty morning. However, the best medicine for being uptight and pissed off is a nice marijuana cigarette. At least in Paul’s opinion. So he rolls a fag, grabs the lighter, and makes his way to John’s room.
John sits on his bed, defeated. That was his favorite guitar. Of course he has others, it’s not a big deal, but he’s been having a bloody terrible week. George annoying him, his guitar breaking, and everybody being so loud making his headache worse usually wouldn’t phase him, but everything has been so stressful this week already that he’s just done. Of course, right as he lays back in his bed and closes his eyes, John hears a knock on the door. Fucking Paul.
Paul waits a few seconds, but after realizing John is definitly ignoring him, he lets himself right in.
“Hey bud. You doing okay?” Paul says as he waltzes in.
“Dont patronize me.” John is not in the mood to explain why he’s being a pissy little baby.
“Okay okay, I brought something to help you chill out,”
John rolls his eyes as Paul reveals the fag. It does sound nice though, so he silently scoots over, inviting Paul to lay in bed with him.
Paul smiles, knowing he always gets his way when it comes to John. George somehow manages to push all his buttons when John’s in a mood, but the second Paul starts bugging him he always comes around.
“Excellent choice.”
Paul hops in bed with John and joyfully lights his fag, sticking it right in Johns mouth. One long drag later, John is feeling much better and his headache in already wearing off. He closes his eyes and breathes out, letting all his worries of the day dissapear.
“You know, you need to listen to me more often. I clearly know what you need better than you,” Paul quips, taking the fag from Johns mouth and taking a fat hit. John opens his eyes just in time for Paul to blow all the smoke right in his face. Wanker.
“Yeah, sure you do.”
“I bet I could make you forget all about your pathetic, whiny little troubles,” Paul said with a smirk, knowing that John can’t resist taking the bait.
Paul has wanted to fuck John for months. At first he tried ignore it, but the more John bitches and moans about how stressed and overwhelmed he is, the more Paul is convinced he can fix that. Or at the very least chill him out enough that him and George will stop their damn bickering. John can be quite possessive when it comes to Paul, especially when it comes to George.
“My troubles are not pathetic, that was my favorite guitar. And anyway, I highly doubt you could do that, considering the more you talk the faster my headache comes back,” now vaguely annoyed with Paul again, John goes to take the fag back when suddenly there’s a body on top of him and lips on his neck. John ghasps in suprise before the shock wears off and confusion replaces it.
“Paul what the hell are you doing?”
“Shhh… wouldn’t want my talking to make your headache worse,” he smirks into John’s skin as he begins nibbling his ear.
“Seriously, what are you trying to do?”
“I told you, I’m gonna make you forget about your pathetic whiny troubles. Here, take a this and just let me give you what you clearly need.” Suddenly the joint is in Johns mouth again and Paul’s lips are back on his neck. John contemplates for a moment if he’s really gonna let his friend continue with this, when Paul’s hand finds his jeans and starts rubbing him through his clothes. With the joint in his mouth he can’t do anything to stiffen the sudden moan that erupts from his throat
“See? I told you I know better. If you really want me to stop, I will. But I dont think you really want me to,” Paul challenges as he continues to palm John’s dick. John would like to think he responsibly contemplated this decision to let his friend do whatever the hell he’s planning, but really the second Paul started touching him he was doomed and he didn’t even know it. He’s never been this hard in his life. No woman has immediatly gotten him this turned on as fast as his best friend laying in his bed, shoving a fag in his mouth, and barely touching his cock. To nobody’s suprise, John gives in.
Paul keeps his cool on the outside, but he’s so releaved that John has decided to go along with this. It would be really awkward to casually take his hand off his pants and act like there isn’t a hickey already visibly forming on Johns neck. Paul can’t resist going back in and continuing his work, pulling noises from John that Paul wants to engrave into his brain.
Grinding down onto John, Paul starts a rhythm that John seems to enjoy as he takes to fag back, finishing it off and putting it out. The body high and the friction of Paul’s movements drives John crazy as he goes for Paul’s trousers, trying to unzip them but failing miserably. Paul lets John struggle for a moment, amused by his desperation, then swiftly takes his and John’s bottoms off, tossing them across the room in a frenzy. The moment they were off, Paul couldn’t resist taking John’s cock out and giving it an experimental tug. Of course they’ve all seen each other naked, even participating in the occasional bus circle jerk, but the feeling of it in his hand was a million times better than just looking at it.
Paul continued working on John, milking moans and whimpers from his as he got closer and closer. John cries out as Paul takes him in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip of his cock before lowering down and taking it all in.
“Holy fuck Paul,” John breathes “How the hell are you so good at that,” his breath hitches as Paul moves up and down, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing, and John almost comes right there
Paul decides John doesn’t need to know about his and George’s little experimentation phase. That would probably remind him that he’s supposed to be annoyed right now.
“Don’t cum yet, I want you to wait until i’m inside you. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your shitty mood,” he opens Johns nightstand drawer and grabs the lube that’s conveniently right on top. Completly undressing them both and tossing their clothes to the side, Paul takes his places back on the bed between John’s legs, which are now spread open waiting for him.
Paul pauses for a moment. Damn, this was really about to happen. He was about to lube his fingers up and stick them in his best friend, who already looks positively fucked out right now. He’s been having dreams about this for weeks, and now John was willingly spreading his legs wide open just for him. Heaven is real.
Squirting a generous amount on his fingers and rubbing it a bit to warm it up, he looks John in the eyes for the first time since their clothes came off. John’s gaze is soft and trusting, nothing like the uptight and overstimulated man who walked in the front door an hour ago. They hold eye contact as Paul finally presses his finger to John’s entrance, slowly pushing in as John closes his eyes and tenses up. Paul rubs his thigh, silently telling him to relax, and after a few moments John does.
“You can move, just go slow,”
“Of course babe,” Paul slowly begins pushing his finger in and out, and as he feels John relax more, he adds another. Pushing deeper, Paul curls his fingers and John cries out as Paul hits his prostate. John begins panting and moving himself up and down on Paul’s fingers, fucking himself on them. Paul adds a third finger and John moans out at the stretch, the pain completly gone and replaced entirely by the pleasure of his best friends fingers moving inside him. Quickly he gets tired of this and needs more, grabbing Paul’s previously neglected dick and sloppily jerking him off. Paul throws his head back and moans, he’s been so focused on John that he almost forgot about himself. Almost.
“I need you in me. Now.”
“Be patient, you’ll get what you want babe.”
Paul quickly grabs the lube again and spreads it on his dick, closing his eyes and rubbing it up and down as John watched, clearly impatient.
“Seriously get on with it!” John complained as Paul took his sweet time. Paul smirks at the desperation in John’s voice as he lines himself up and slowly pushes in.
“Oh bloody hell. Holy fuck Paul. Jesus, keep going” John whimpered as Paul filled him up. He stayed still for a moment after bottoming out, and once John seemed comfortably stretched out and Paul wasn’t gonna immediatly bust his nut, he started fucking in and out of John at a brutal pace.
No comprehensible words were coming out of John’s mouth as he laid there in bliss. Paul hit his postate dead on and John screamed out, experiencing the most mind blowing orgasm he’s ever experienced in his life. Paul continued his fast pace, letting John ride out his high. Just as it became too much for John, Paul pulled out and added to the mess on John’s stomach with a groan as he buried his face in John’s neck. They lay there like that for a moment, before Paul rolls over and grabs a rag to wipe them off. He then grabs his jacket, pulls out a fag, and lay back in Johns bed.
Lighting it up, he takes a long drag and then offers it to John, who looks at him for a moment then takes it. Now that it’s over, John doesnt know how to act around Paul. Paul, however, is acting as if what just happened was incredibly normal. He has to admit though, he definitly feels better than he did this when he got home. Actually, he feels better than he has in a few weeks. John takes a long drag and closes his eyes, deciding that if Paul thought this was normal for whatever reason, then he really doesn’t care.
“I told you I knew exactly what you needed.”