Paris '61 (McLennon smut)

fifteen **

[A/N: smut

info;
• John deflowers Paul now
• while revising I made john nicer x100
• it's long (3700+ words)]

Back in the room, Paul bought the birthday boy a hamburger for his gift; it was a classic that John couldn’t deny loving, and he thought it was quite funny at the time of receiving it. Paul ordered a small spaghetti for himself, and though it was offered to Lennon as well, John of course didn’t end up having barely any of it. He ate some garlic bread and a few bites of the main dish but other than that he just didn’t care about it all that too much. Paul on the other hand ate plenty, stating something along the lines of ‘why not eat it if nobody else will?’

“Bloody gear, that was,” Paul laughed when he finished a second helping. “You need t’eat now.”

“I’m not hungry no more. M’full.” John stood up, walking away like he was leaving the room. “Nothing sounds too appealing anyway, you know? Nothing ‘cept for you.” John smirked, leaning his weight against the door frame in a pose.

“Mm. I sound appealing to ya that much, eh?” Paul tried to sound like he didn’t get intrigued by those words when in reality he definitely did.

“Yeah, you do. In that case, I’m fuckin’ starving.” He didn’t give up. Testing the waters with how different it was to flirt with a mate, John hoped Paul wouldn’t try and turn him down.

“How do you reckon we satisfy that hunger then?” Paul’s eyes seemed playful and he sounded amused with this new side of things. They’d never felt so much sexual tension before.

John gave him a look up and down of pure need and lust as he bit the inside of his lower lip. He thought about what he should say in response thoroughly. And Paul would have never guessed a man would give him more satisfaction with words alone than he’d ever get from a woman.

“Why don’t you let me have you?” Lennon wondered aloud.

Paul shuddered in his given spot on the smaller-sized love seat. The way it was said so genuinely made him weak; his heart felt like he had just fallen off a cliff, falling in deeper and deeper.

“I…I want to,” Paul said quietly, never once looking him in the eye due to the embarrassment he felt discussing the topic, “I’m jus’ scared, Johnny.”

John approached him slowly, tilting up Paul’s chin to look him in the eyes. “I know what to do now. I’ll take such good care of ye, I promise. You’ll never look at it the same once I show y’how…how fantastic it feels.”

Paul nodded then, tilting his head to the side in thought for a moment first. “Okay…but,” he started, face all flushed. “Can we…can we talk about us first? It’s…not real clear as t’what uh…what we’ve been doing. What are we aiming for, here?” Paul didn’t like revealing his emotions often, so he hoped John wouldn’t want just sex. In private, McCartney wished to be with Lennon.

“What do you want to aim for, Paulie? Do you want this to keep happening?”

Paul hesitated in fear of being seen as stupid, but he ultimately shook his head to show in fact he did want this. He didn’t like words too much, anyway. Words weren’t his thing. Paul was so used to keeping it all in that he was afraid of letting this tall, strong wall of emotions down. With John he was slowly beginning to let it happen, for the first time.