I don't know how I feel about this chapter, really. Not what happens in it, just the writing... oh well. The sex turned out okay I think lmao.
Chapter 6Paul woke up and immediately wished he hadn’t. He rubbed his forehead, and sat up, shrugging off the arms that were wrapped around his middle. When he was right-side up, his stomach lurched, and he ran from the room. The door across the hall was ajar, and he could see it was a bathroom.
He didn’t have time to thank his good fortune. In a matter of seconds he was emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
With his stomach now mostly empty, he realized his head was pounding, and groaned as gravity pulled him back onto his ass. He flushed the toilet from his spot on the floor, somehow managed to rinse his mouth in the sink, and crawled back across the hall into the room he’d woken up in.
John was propped up in the bed, almost completely clothed, with a concerned frown on his face. Paul looked down at himself and noticed he was dressed in all undergarments.
“Are you alright?” John asked.
“Not really. What the fuck happened last night?” Paul laid back down onto the bed and put his head on John’s hand, closing his eyes to block out the light coming in through the curtain.
“Nothing really. You got pissed, so I drove you back to my place.”
“This is your new house then?” Paul opened an eye and smiled. He hadn’t had time to come visit John’s new house yet.
“It is.” John smiled. “This is the guestroom. I wasn’t able to sleep the night in here with you, sorry. Cyn’s home, you see.” He half scowled.
Paul closed his eye again and nodded, smiling as he inhaled the scent of the room. “I want to see the rest of the house…”
“No, go back to sleep. You’re hung over.” John said, covering Paul’s head with the pillow from his own side of the bed. Paul nodded his thanks and snuggled up in the sheets. “I’ll wake you in a bit.” John said, and then got up and closed the door.
----
Paul woke up on his own a few hours later, feeling much better. There was still a pain in his head, but it had dulled considerably.
When he opened his eyes, he’d forgotten where he was for a few moments. He sat up, confused, and looked around. Then he remembered the quick conversation he’d had with John that morning and got up to find some clothes. He pulled on a pair of jeans that were folded in a chair, and decided his undershirt would be fine as is.
He left the room, and realized he’d never been here before and had no idea where anything was. Across from him was a bathroom. To his left was a long hallway with many rooms and an open area he could see light coming in from. To his right, he saw a shorter length of hallway, and an elegant stairway going down to the first floor. He decided that’d be his best bet.
“Paul! How are you doing?” Cynthia called to him with a smile. Paul looked down to her, startled, from the center of the stairway, but then returned her smile.
John was reading the newspaper. Or, pretending to, rather. Paul laughed at his bored expression. John shrugged, never faltering in his act and put the paper down, crossing his hands in front of him on the table.
“How are ya, son? Answer the woman!” John exclaimed. Paul gave him a look and chuckled.
“I’ll live.” Paul ignored John’s antics and smiled at Cynthia.
“It’s a little late for breakfast, but I’d be happy to make you something to eat if you’d like.” Cynthia offered, and Paul’s stomach lurched slightly in warning.
“Err…I’ll just have some tea, thanks.”
----
Paul once again was the one to remember they had to be at the studio. He managed to get both himself and John dressed and ready, though John insisted no one would be there on time and they could stand to be a bit late wink-wink.
“Why didn’t we just fool around last night, you horny bastard?”
“With my wife in the house? You fuckin’ sicko.”
They got to the studio at the exact time they were meant to meet there, and as John had said before, the place was empty. Paul turned on the lights to the big, empty room and turned to face John.
“Shut up, John.” Paul said, pointedly, as John chuckled. “When do you think the others will get here?”
“No clue.” John stopped laughing, but smiled calmly as he fingered the strings of his guitar. Inspiration struck and he looked up, trying to meet Paul’s line of vision. “Paul…I’ve written something. I want you to be the first to hear it.”
“Well, that’s how this Lennon-McCartney thing tends to work.” Paul laughed, but stopped when John continued looking at him seriously. “Okay, then, want me to take a look?” John bent down to his guitar case and took out a wrinkled piece of paper. He read over it quickly, squirming around in his chair, and then passed it over to Paul.
Paul read the words. No, he felt the words, and it made him want to cry. Beautiful. He read it again, and then a third time. By the time he looked back up to John, he was smiling widely. “Play it for me.”
John hesitated at first, but then nodded to his partner. He coughed nervously and picked his acoustic back up. He strummed it slowly, and then broke into the song.
“If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me understand? Cause I’ve been in love before and I found that love was more than just holding hands…” His eyes closed involuntarily, and his voice caught when he realized how exposed he was.
“If I give my heart to you I must be sure from the very start that you would love me more than her…” The song went on, and then ended with John’s voice cracking nervously as he thought about how he now had to face Paul. He looked up to see Paul’s eyes glistening.
“Paul…?” Paul hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. And he didn’t stop to acknowledge it. He closed the space between them and crushed his lips into John’s, wanting to taste the words that had been written for him. Their mouths fought, and Paul’s was winning, leading John backwards and nearly pushing him off the stool.
He hissed when he felt the guitar strings dig into him through his shirt. John noticed and took the strap off himself, tossing the guitar aside carelessly. The clash of the guitar hitting the floor scared the sense into Paul’s lust filled mind, and he pulled back. He hadn’t realized his hand had managed to travel up John’s shirt, and retracted it when he noticed.
“Anyone could come in at anytime.” Paul panted. John frowned, but nodded, knowing it was pretty stupid to just start going at it where they were. “But I need you right now.” Paul squeezed John through his trousers and moaned just from feeling how hard he was already.
“What do we do?” John asked. He felt strangely submissive and docile, and he was liking it.
“We find somewhere a bit safer. And we fuck.” Paul breathed into John’s ear and got up. John trembled and clasped at his back, but Paul pushed him away and got up, straightening out his clothing and looking around.
There were two booths in the studio. Both were completely soundproof. One of them was where George Martin sat to remix their work and listen in to the sessions. The other was small and built for single-person recordings of parts to be overlapped later.
Paul grunted and walked towards the latter-mentioned booth. John got up and followed him, looking disheveled. They got to the black booth and opened the door. It was very small and dark, and was cluttered with recording material and microphones.
They removed the microphones, leaving them right outside, and quickly pushed the boxes of materials underneath the countertop.
“This should be safe enough, right?” Paul walked in and looked back to John, biting his thumb nail nervously, but showing no other signs of doubt. In fact, his gaze was predatory and sent a shiver through John’s entire body. “Come on in.”
John entered the booth, prepared to pounce on Paul and take the upper hand, but was instantly pinned to the wall, his neck being ravaged by Paul’s hungry mouth.
“We need to fuck right now.” Paul said, pulling away and unbuttoning his pants. John chuckled with amusement, but Paul gave him another look and he went to work on his own buttons.
Paul didn’t even bother removing the rest of his clothes, just slid his trousers and pants, turned around and bent over the small countertop. It really was cramped in there. So much so that with Paul in that position, there was only about a foot or two between the other wall and Paul’s ass for John to stand. John went to remove his clothing, but was stopped by Paul’s hand.
“We don’t have a lot of time. Just-just get on with it. I fucking need this.” Paul groaned. John nodded, feeling his arousal grow more and more pronounced at hearing Paul admit to him so wantonly.
“Paul, I don’t have anything…I mean, what are we gonna use to…” John motioned with his hands to get the point across. Paul thought about this for a second and then turned around. He dropped to his knees and was face to face with John’s midsection. He pulled his trousers to right below his pelvis, removing his cock and staring at it.
He was torn between needing John badly and not being completely prepared for what he was about to do. Closing his eyes, he let need take over and let John’s member slip between his lips. John moaned loud and outwardly with pleased shock at having Paul’s plush lips around his flesh so unexpectedly. Paul took him in as much as he thought he could handle, swirling his tongue around the shaft, coating it with spit.
The blowjob didn’t last long seeing as it was just preparation for something else. Before John’s mind could even start to function again, Paul was stood back up and kissing him gently.
“Do it.” Paul said, eyes dark and needy. John nodded and grabbed Paul’s hips. He spun him around and, grabbing his own cock, moist with saliva and pre-cum, pushed in slowly. Paul groaned with pain and anticipation, tensing up and moving his hips back to meet John.
“Do you want it?” John asked, sadistically, running his hands over the top of Paul’s naked ass. He pulled out, leaving just the tip in. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me…” Paul whined. John smiled and tore into him, pumping in and out and driving them both wild with pleasure. “Shit, John, harder.” Paul propped his leg up onto the counter. It was way too small for him to lay down against, so they moved against each other at an incredibly awkward angle, moving back and forth and moving as one person. It was desperate and needy, almost just a fuck for the sake of release, and it didn’t last long.
Paul came in his own hand as he beat himself off, the tension of his muscles practically milking the orgasm from John, who then shot into Paul’s body. Paul sighed, satisfied at the feeling.
John immediately pulled out and fell to the floor in exhaustion. Paul’s hands grasped at the counter and wall, his knees buckling as he slid onto them and to the floor. When he hit the ground, he slumped over across John’s leg.
“We can’t stay here long.” John mumbled sleepily as Paul was trying to shimmy back up into his pants from his position on the floor.
----
By the time they were composed and calm enough to go back into the main room, nearly everyone had already arrived. George and Ringo were talking about the party from the night before, and GM was in the large booth overhead, setting up for the session.
“Okay good, we’re all here.” Ringo said, spotting John and Paul coming in from the direction of the door.
“Wait, where’s Brian?” John asked.
“Brian doesn’t need to be here for the recording, necessarily, boys. Let’s just see if we can get something done.” George Martin called down through the loudspeaker.
“Well, okay, then. What are we doing today?” John asked stupidly.
“I think we were going to record Harri’s song today, right?” Paul said quickly. “You’ve got a song for him?”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” John smiled at Paul and got his papers out. “I’m not completely sure on the arrangements yet though. It still needs a bass riff.” John handed the lyrics he’d written for “I’m Happy Just To Dance With You” to George as Paul got his bass from his case.
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Subject: Chapter 6 - NC17 
