Creep [j.l + p.m]

in which he wins over

John hadn't realized it was raining until there was a loud rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. He stopped scribbling down amounts of money he owed and glanced at the clock, frowning when he noticed it was three in the morning, which meant Paul had been avoiding him for a solid hour.

John stood up, going to the kitchen and making a sandwich for Paul. He hoped that Paul would come to his senses and realize forgiving John was the best outcome for the both of them.

John put away all of the left over ingredients he used for the sandwich and picked the plate up. John first checked the bathroom, surprised to see Paul's clothes still skewed on the floor.

"Paul?" John called out, inching towards his room. He pushed the door open, almost dropping the plate when he spotted Paul. John gawked at him, wondering why he would only be wearing a towel.

"Paul, love... you hungry?" John came into the room and set the plate on his nightstand next to the bed. His eyes traveled up Paul's calves, halfway up the backs of his thighs and inwardly groaned when he couldn't see the rest of him.

Paul lifted his head from where he had buried it in a pillow, turning on his side so his back was facing John. "I'm not in the mood to eat."

"Oh, come on. Brooding isn't going to change anything, what happened fucking happened. I didn't poison this sandwich, so eat it." John commanded, sitting down on the bed next to Paul's back. He picked up the plate from his nightstand and nudged Paul with it.

"I'm not hungry, honest." Paul protested, shuffling away from John.

John put the plate on the nightstand again and lied down next to Paul. "I know you hate me right now." John reached out and traced the curve of Paul's spine, lightly running his finger along the towel. "But, shit, Paul... I'm not going to stop."

Paul rolled onto his other side, making the hand on his towel disappear, facing John. "What? Stop what, John?"

"I'm not going to stop pursuing you, even if you don't want me to." John admitted, his hand on the towel again. He wanted to pull it off and open Paul's legs and fuck him good, but didn't want to deal with the repercussions of his actions afterward.

Paul stiffened, his breath hitching when John loosened the towel around his waist. "J-John, I'll let you do what you want jus' don't fuck me, please. I'm not ready for that."

"I won't, I won't. I promise." John slowly pulled the towel off of him, moving closer to Paul. "I want to touch you, 's all. Get on your back for me, love."

Paul rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, shivering when he felt his thighs being spread apart by two warm hands.

John settled between Paul's legs, balancing on his knees between them. He rubbed circles into Paul's thighs, silently coaxing him to relax. "So pretty..." John trailed off, bringing one of his hands to Paul's chest and rolling one of his nipples.

Paul whimpered, the two fingers playing with his nipple made him notice how easy he made it for John to get what he wanted. Paul had accepted John's request without resisting, without even thinking about it, like a dumb bitch. Shame pooled in his gut while tears pricked his eyes at the realization.

"Paul? What's wrong, baby?"

When Paul broke down underneath him, sobbing uncontrollably, John quickly pulled him to his chest. "Fuck. I'm sorry. Shh, I'm sorry for everything, luv. Please stop crying." John clutched Paul's back, kissing his temple repeatedly.

He knew that the lack of tears since Paul had woken up meant it was building up inside of him, now being unleashed after John had taken one last stab at his dignity.

Paul felt his head throb as he cried, the pressure against his skull only making him cry louder. He was a dumb bastard who just lets people use and degrade him.

John became more concerned when the man in his grip wailed out loudly. "Calm down. Shit, you need to calm down. You're going to make yourself sick."

"I c-can't!" Paul choked out as his throat constricted on its own and began clawing at the body keeping him up. "I'm dying! Help me!"

"Paul, you need to relax." John's voice wavered despite the stern tone he used. Tears were soaking his shirt and Paul's nails were embedded into his of chest, slowly melting his calm resolve.

Paul inhaled deeply, shaking in John's arms as he fought to control the pain in his chest. The exhaustion from crying hit him hard once the tears stopped, making John's warmth appealing enough to relax against him.

"There we go." John whispered after Paul went quiet. Although he knew having Paul like this was temporary, John buried his face in Paul's hair and closed his eyes, wanting to stay like this.

Paul sniffled and rubbed one of his eyes. "I'm hungry."

John pulled away from him, remembering the sandwich he'd made sitting on the nightstand. "Good, you can eat what I brought you."

Paul was presented with the sandwich, slightly soggy now that the juices had seeped through but still edible. Paul took a large bite of it, humming in satisfaction before he could stop himself.

John watched Paul devour the sandwich and began wondering how long had it been since the last time he ate. One thing that John noted was that Paul had downright unhealthy habits, especially when it came to showing emotion.

"Who's that lady?" Paul asked, jutting his chin at one of the many framed pictures in his house.

John focused on the picture, frowning at the woman in it. "That's my wife. She, uh, temporarily left me, as you can tell."

Paul's eyebrows raised in shock, swallowing the last bit of sandwich before speaking. "You've got a wife?!"

"And a son." John added, keeping his tone neutral to hide the fact he misses Julian.

Paul gaped at him. Never in a million years would he think that John had a kid and a wife. John didn't look like someone who'd want to live a nuclear family lifestyle.

"I think my wife wants a divorce soon, though. So I'm basically-"

"Does your wife know about what you did?" Paul lied the plate down next to him, unintentionally leaning forward towards John.

John carded his fingers through his hair at the memory of her reaction. "Yeah. I guess that's what ruined our relationship, once she found out."

"How'd she take it?" Paul was shocked that someone would stay with someone who murdered another person willingly.

"Not lightly. She called me every slur in the book, then she gave me the cold shoulder for most of our first year 'ere in the states." John kept his mind occupied from reliving the memory by taking the plate off the bed and lying it down on the floor instead.

"You're not going to kill me like that guy, right?"

John looked up and noticed the fear in Paul's eyes, making uneasiness sit in the pit of his stomach. "No, Paul. I've done enough damage to you already." He knew that he finally got Paul to break, finally got him to start obeying and not resist.

"I'm tired." Paul stretched and yawned. "Let's go to bed, yeah?"

"You want me to sleep with you?" John quirked his eyebrow, watching Paul burrow under the covers, still naked.

"It's better than sleeping alone."

John crawled into the covers next to Paul, put his glasses on Cynthia's nightstand and reached over Paul to turn off the lamp before covering them in darkness. "Sweet dreams, Paul."

Paul turned towards John, throwing an arm around his waist. "I forgive you, Johnny."