St. Peter's Church

20

John's POV

It was getting late, and I was absolutely wore out from performing all day. I knew at an instant that the first thing I wanted when I got off that damn stage was to go to sleep.

I was by my bed, kicking off my shoes, yawning and damn near half asleep when Paul approached me, just as drenched with sweat as I was.

"The lads ran off with some birds for the night; I don't even know where the lot of them went," he stated. "Ran off with them? To shag?" I asked. "Yes, of course. Think of it this way, though- at least they've cut it down to every other night instead of every single night."

"They're getting more women than I can," I said with a chuckle, "I usually can't seem to get past a brief greeting with one before they run off, uninterested." "Well to be fair, you don't speak German worth a shit," Paul responded, laughing at his own words.

I wasn't looking at him, too busy changing into comfortable clothes to pay attention, but I could feel Paul's eyes searing into my skull.

I was in an Elvis T-shirt I'd had since I was a teenager, and alongside it wearing some plaid pajama pants, and taking off my socks along with the rest of my sweaty clothes.

When I finally looked at Paul, his face sent a message I had a hard time reading. That's been happening a lot these past few nights, and it was honestly rather distasteful.

"What do you think about last night?" he asked randomly, taking me by surprise. "Why? Did I make you uncomfortable?" I asked him. "No, uh-" he cleared his throat, "-I was actually wondering if you would be down to do something."

Now this was really bothersome.

The way he cleared his throat and looked away when he spoke- his body language alone, honestly- made me feel like he wanted to ask about it, but decided to change the subject.

"Do you need me to help you restring your bass?"

Paul looked at me through his eyebrows, an amused grin popping up on his face. He sat down on my bed, patting between his legs. "Come. Sit," he asked of me rather nicely, and I felt inclined to listen, sitting casually.

Slowly as to not startle me, he pulled my body up against his chest, resting his hands on my hips. His touch grew more promiscuous as I felt his cold hands trail down very, very slowly, the tips of his fingers just below my waistband.

I felt my masculinity diminish so quickly that even knowing that he was just an inch taller than me felt so damn humiliating.

He started to leave small kisses along my jawline down to my neck. I closed my eyes and welcomed the feeling- but was snapped out of my dream state when he kissed my adam's apple, nibbling at it gingerly.

Soon, he had started to slip my shirt up over my head, leaving my entire upper body bare to the cold room, making me shiver for a moment.

That had distracted me slightly, and I didn't even notice that Paul had slipped his hands down my front, until I felt his thin, icy index finger run up and down my cock a few times.

I could feel my cock twitch, and from the tight feeling I had, I knew I was getting a hard-on; but I should've known it was just a tease, because he was quick to pull his hands out of my trousers when he could feel me grow under his touch.

I thought it was over, but that loss of contact made me momentarily blind to the fact that his arms were wrapped around my waist. When I finally realized, I submitted to his touch, letting him toss me down on the bed on my stomach.

"That's much better."