Ain't He Sweet - McLennon and Starrison One Shots

Bigger Than...Who?

1966

"Really, John? Bigger than Jesus?"

"Aren't we?"

"You're missing the point here." Paul put his head in his hands. "They're burning our records."

"Bastards." John lit a cigarette. "Don't they know they might be valuable years from now?"

"Yeah, but they don't care." Paul lit his own.

"They must have a ticket to ride, then." He tapped the cigarette, dumping ashes onto the carpet.

"Ha, ha, very funny. And do that outside!" He recoiled, then frowned. "Seriously? What am I going to do with you?"

"The question is," John threw down the cigarette and crushed it with his heel, "what I'm going to do with you, Macca."

"D - don't try to talk your way out of this!" Paul sputtered.

"Oh, right. Less talking, more of this." He crawled into his lap, kissing him deeply.

"John," he gasped, pushing on his shoulder.

"I know you want this, Macca." He didn't budge, only becoming more aggressive in the kiss. He bit down on his lip, making him whine. "That's right, make more of those sounds, love."

"A - ah!" Paul gasped as John nibbled on his ear. "Quit changing the subject!"

"Make me," he growled, scooping him up in his arms. "Bedroom." He carried him off, the record-burning long forgotten.