Help! | McLennon

Weakness

"Martha, my dear!" Paul laughed as his new friend jumped onto him. The dog was so huge that he couldn't help falling to the muddy ground. They were just coming back from a long walk, something Paul had fallen madly in love with over the last month. Walking Martha was not only a neccesity for the lad, it was pure pleasure.

"Martha, you silly girl! Look what you've done!" The dog just continued to lick his face happily. "Martha, my dear," he sang as he proceeded to push himself up. "That actually sounded good, don't you think?" he asked and earned a bark in response. "Ah, you and me were just meant to be." Paul petted Martha on the head one last time before they continued to head back home.

When he put his hand on the door handle, they swag open imediately. A shade of suspicion crossed his mind, because he was pretty sure that he had locked them before leaving. He felt his heart rate jump as he walked in, starting to think that perhaps somehody had broken into the house. He hoped that his joke about Martha having to protect him from crazy people wouldn't come true so soon.

Everything was in its place, but the anxiety didn't leave Paul. He took Martha off the leash and bolted up to the living room. A laugh parted his lips as he saw the reason why the door was open.

"John, you scared the shit out of me!"

He had forgotten that John still had the key. The memory of them living together made him feel a little sad, but he quickly came back to Earth. Paul and John were in a good place now, where they could be around eachother and not let their past feelings take over. There would be some awkward moments, but even those were becoming less frequent. None of them had mentioned the fact that John had a drug problem again and Paul was slowly recovering from the shock of finding out about it.

John was leaning against the wall with his eyes darting up and down Paul's figure. He didn't look high, he looked like he was actually experiencing serious withdrawal and that cought Paul's attention.

"I was out for a walk with Martha, I thought somebody was hiding here, waiting to attack me or something," he chuckled. However, John only kept staring at him. "John?"

Everything seemed a bit unreal, but Paul shook that feeling off. Suddenly, John took the first stept towards him. From that moment it all felt like in a movie. Their bodies pressing together heatedly against the wall, while their lips pressed together too. John's lips were sore, but warm and somehow soft at the same time. Because Paul had been missing it so badly, with his mind blinded by the bliss of kissing John again, he parted his lips slightly, allowing the lad's tongue to slip inside. He didn't want to think about why was it happening or if it was the right thing to do.

Paul's heart pounded in his ribcage as his knees got weeker. John let out a silent moan, followed up by a louder one when Paul's hand moved all the way down to his ass. Paul's whole body tingled as the beautiful sound reached his ears. When John pulled him closer he couldn't get over how amazing it felt to have his frame leaning on him. Paul wrapped his arms around John's weist now, sloppily looking for a way to remove the shirt from his body. In the meantime John had already managed to slip his fingers under Paul's sweater.

"Oh, Macca..." John babbled as the two of them managed to get out of their shirts. "You look bloody amazing with the beard, just so you know."

In response Paul pushed John in the direction of the couch and when the lad landed there, Paul crawled onto him and latched their lips together fervently. It made the already panting hard John to let out a gasp, but he gladly welcomed Paul's tongue.

"You're driving me mad, John..."

John responded with a smug grin and pulled Paul back in. Their rapid breathing seemed to be conected in one and steady rhythm while they carried on kissing. After some touching here and there they both came in their pants, causing Paul to fall to John's chest helplessly. He could feel the lad's chest moving up and down as he breathed. John ran his fingers through Paul's hair as soon as he gained proper control of his body after the gut-wrenching orgasm and Paul hummed softly at his tender touch.

When the intense feeling of pleasure and desire for John started to leave Paul's body, his mind started wandering. What the hell had just happened?

"What does this mean?" he questioned, keeping his voice silent. Half and hour ago he was causally walking Martha and now he was laying on the top of John Lennon, resting after one of the best make out sessions in his lifetime.

"I'm sorry," John mumbled, pushing Paul off himself rapidly. It was the last thing the other had expected, so he barely managed not to fall to the ground. "Fuck, I'm so sorry!"

"What the hell does that mean?!" Paul asked, ignoring the horrible feeling of rejection trying to devour him from the inside. He watched John as the lad began to search for his shirt, looking quite panicked.

"Why did you bloody kiss me, Paul?!" He suddenly turned around and threw Paul a furious look.

"You started it! For fuck's sakes, John, you broke into me house! Why on Earth would you do that?!"

"I don't know! But this was a mistake, I don't fucking love you!" John yelled out in frustration and hid his face in his shaking palms. "I don't love you," he repeated, bluntly.

Paul swolled the sob that rose in his throat as he heard those words again. Instead, he burned with resentment and his expression darkened. "Do you still have the need to throw that in me face?! I thought we were in a good place in our relationship, but you ruined everything!"

"Good place?! Are you fucking joking?! I kissed you, fine, that was a moment of weakness! But you were happy about it! You shouldn't have let this happen!" John spat out his rage while carelessly trying to throw his shirt on.

"Oh, like you didn't enjoy it!" Paul fired back. "Moment of weakness as in 'I'm not on drugs for the first time in months'?!"

"Shut the fuck up, alright?" John growled. He was in the middle of butting up the buttons of his shirt, so Paul realized that he would leave as soon as he was finished. He used it as a chance to talk to him some more.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up! How could you do this to me?! After all we've been through—" He breathed an sigh of annoyence, when John let out a dissmisive grunt. "What the hell happened to us?!"

"You!" John's voice trembled with anger. "You started all this shit! You and your bloody heroin! In this fucked up love triangle, I became the less important one!"

"Get out of me house of I'll kick you out me-self!" Paul yelled, tears starting to distrupt his eyesight. "Get back to Yoko, I bet she and your cat really fucking misses you! A fucking cheater is who you are John Lennon, get the hell out of here!"

"Fine!" was the last word John yelled out on his way out. He shut the door so angressively that Paul could nearly feel the whole house shake. An uncontrolable mix of anger and sorrow simmered in him. The moment he became sure that John was definetely not coming back, he reached for the phone, ready to dial a number that he hadn't dialed in a very long time. Nevertheless, he had no trouble remembering it. It all proved what he had been thinking the whole time. He would never escape his drug related past.