Title: My Crazy Mind
Pairings: J/P
Rating: R
Warnings: Cursing
Summary: John talking to himself about Paul.
Disclaimer: My mind comes up with this while I sleep
A/N: This is just a real short thing I came up with in like five, maybe ten minutes? I dunno, but I hope you like it.
I know how much he hates it. How much he gets annoyed when I bring it up. But I can't help it. He's fockin' James Paul McCartney! Well just Paul McCartney if you ask Mr. Perfect himself. Though he loathes when I call him that, despite the fact that it's all fockin' true. He isn't talkin' to me at the moment. I kinda ticked him off with callin' him a baby face cry baby, which resulted in a famous McCartney rant, some yellin' then he stormed outta the room. Where's he at? Probably down in the hotel bar drinkin' like he normally does when I tick him off. I can't help it, he takes the piss out of everythin' I suggest we try.
Just because I'd like to tie him up and watch him squirm 'bout, curse 'nd yell at me till I give the bloody wanker wha' he wants. Which is me penis buried deep within that tight rectum of his, poundin' his damn brains out.
Oh? So he returns now. Lookit him. Swayin' those tantalisin' hips as he makes his way over to his side of the bed. He'll sit down 'nd discard his boots then his jacket 'nd tie, followed by those darn tight arse trousers, till he's in those adorable briefs of his. Adorable? Really Lennon? Sexy briefs. Thata boy! Ah look at him silently climbin' into bed, snugglin' under the covers, the bloody tease.
"Hey John?"
Ah, 'ere it comes. "Yea Macca?"
"I love you, y'know? 'nd....'nd I'm sorry alright? Just get that warm arse body of yours over 'ere to keep me warm."
Don't you just love how he apologises? Still has to be a stubborn git 'bout it all.
"Of course, babe."
