all things must pass » the beatles, queen and the backstreet boys

11- John Lennon

"I'll go take a shower, love," he softly said, interrupting my scratching of pen against paper, and causing me to look up from the sports review of last weekend's Everton vs Liverpool game I was currently writing at the last minute.

"Alright," I hummed with a half-smile, continuing my writing as I so much preferred that over using a typewriter (for reasons unknown).

A minute or so passed and his shadow was still lingering, and confusion wormed its way into my head as his hand gently clasped mine, asking, "Come with?"

"I'd love to, John, but I really need to finish up this report. Deadline's tomorrow, you know," I scratched my cheek a little, frustration seeping a little through my words.

"That's just the point, isn't it?" his soft hands went up to brush at my flattened hair, "You've been at this all night. You deserve a break, just for a while before you go on. That ok?"

I pondered the idea for a moment, before realizing that it seemed wiser to unwind before I went nuts at 1 AM.

Nodding my head in approval, he pulled on that sweet schoolboy smile of his, tugging me up and bringing me close to his chest, his smile never faltering once as he kissed me.

Making our way to the bathroom, he dimmed the lights a little (seeing as he didn't want the neighbors to see anything they shouldn't), and turned to kiss me once more, his hands tracing circles on my shoulders, mumbling against my lips, "Relax a little darling, will you?"

"I'm always laidback with you," I hummed as I kissed him back, only pulling away so I could take off my clothes.

He did the same, and soon we were two naked people in every sense of the word---but it wasn't the literal meaning that mattered. In reality, the fact that our souls were entirely naked seemed to be the most enticing thing about each other.

Like the gentleman he is (though he'd never admit it nor let it be known outside these 4 walls), his soft hand in mine guided me to step over the edge of the bathtub. Following me afterwards, he turned on the hot water, switching the showerhead on as he did so.

The drizzle of steamy water fell on my shoulders and rolled off my back as I closed my eyes, swaying a little as I became a little imbalanced.

"Steady there, darling," came John's chuckle from behind me, as he firmly grabbed my waist, pulling me close against his soft skin, feeling every inch of him mould against my back, "Let me help you relax."

Delicately, almost as if he feared I'd break, he began to massage my scalp with the shampoo, easing out any knots in my hair and teasing out the pounding headache bit by bit.

With a touch as fleeting as a butterfly would, he traced his hands all over every crevice and curve in my body, lathering my skin with a mix of shower gel and just pure, innocent love---a mix so wonderful one must never take for granted.

Turning around, I began to return the favor, absolutely in awe of the quiet smile he gave me as I tousled his auburn hair while washing it, plastered against his forehead under the shower water.

Before our skin could get wrinkly (though we had already been showering for far too long), John took the liberty of turning off the water and proceeding to dry us both off with a fuzzy white towel that could easily wrap around us both---and that's exactly what he did, causing me to giggle as both our naked bodies meshed together.

"Hi," I stifled a laugh as his light brown eyes seemed a little out of it, wriggling my arms out of our cocoon to take his glasses from the sink and perch them on his face.

"I can see your beauty much clearer now," he said as he nudged his nose against mine, causing me to subconsciously kiss his growing smile.

"I love you, John Winston Lennon. I genuinely do," I whispered, as I pulled him close in our toweled embrace, resting my head on his still-damp chest, and swaying to the sound of his heartbeat.

¤¤¤