Work Text:
"What on earth are you thinking about?" John laughed at the zoned-out ravenette.
Your arse. Paul shook his head and blushed slightly.
"Nothing, sorry. Was miles away," he ruffled his own hair and looked back down at his bass, thankfully situated over his lap. John made a silly face, and reached across the hotel coffee table situated between them to grab the piece of paper they'd been scribbling on for the last hour or so. It had been a very rough hour, full of writing and re-writing, but it was looking like a playable song now, which was a good sign.
"Sure. Anyroad, I don't hate it anymore," John said, strumming a D7 thoughtfully before setting his guitar down against the wall. "Anything bugging you, princess perfect?"
"Nope, I think I'm good," Paul hummed, choosing to ignore his boyfriend's teasing. "Raunchy, but I've come to expect that sort of thing from you," he chuckled. John smirked and stood, walking over to take the younger boy's bass and set it against the wall with his guitar, swinging his hips just slightly. Paul crossed his legs.
"Baby, you can drive my car," he stuck his tongue out playfully, moving to sit next to Paul on the couch. The bassist snorted.
"Cheeky," he chided, smiling. John hummed, getting up halfway to maneuver himself into straddling Paul's lap, one knee on either side.
"Cheesey," Lennon corrected, shifting around to get comfortable and accidentally rubbing against his partner's semi. "Mmm. Somebody in the mood for a drive?"
"Um..." Paul bit the inside of his cheek, chuckling slightly. "I'm fighting the urge to say 'beep beep,'" he admitted, grinning as John laughed and leaned down to kiss him. A pleased humming sound escaped the both of them as their soft lips met, gently and slowly moving against each other. Paul slid his hands up John's thick and soft thighs to a resting place over the back pockets of the older boy’s jeans and squeezing gently.
A soft, elated moan fought its way out of John’s chest, and the guitarist in question ground his hips down against Paul’s just slightly in retaliation. Paul purred lowly, and slipped his tongue out to lick across John’s plump bottom lip, who easily opened his mouth for his partner, slipping his hands into his black hair.
Paul swirled his tongue teasingly around John’s, a soft whimper escaping the auburn-haired boy as he struggled to keep up, most of his focus on how uncomfortably tight his pants had gotten. Pushing his arse directly onto Paul’s clothed dick, he earned a soft groan and used the moment to take some control over the kiss, flicking his tongue just slightly, the way he knew Paul loved it. And he sure did, gripping John’s arse tighter and bucking up just slightly. It was heaven, but they were both drowning in it. Lennon broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Paul’s and taking shallow, gasping breaths as he reached down to fumble uselessly with the taller boy’s belt buckle.
“Oh, Johnny,” Paul husked condescendingly, tapping his partner’s thighs, “Up, go on. Get on the bed for me, and behave,” he warned, smirking as John practically scrambled off his lap, pulling his t-shirt hastily over his head and throwing it haphazardly by their suitcases on his way to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and staring at Paul excitedly, practically thrumming with excitement.
The bassist licked his lips as he undid his belt with one hand, deliberately raking his eyes over John’s body, the older man swallowing hard under the scrutiny. “Pants off, boy,” he commanded, sliding his belt free and popping the button to his slacks. John stared for a moment before remembering himself, his face burning red as he struggled with his zipper, sliding the tight jeans off his legs and sighing with relief as most of the uncomfortable pressure on his dick vanished, rubbing himself through his thin boxers.
“Mmngh,” he keened, just loudly enough for Paul, -- otherwise invested in unbuttoning his shirt and stepping out of his pants, -- to notice.
“Ah, ah, ah!” he tutted, stepping forward and snapping up John’s wrists, pushing the redhead over and onto his back, pinning his hands above his head.
“Macca!” John gasped, writhing underneath his boyfriend, trying to break free of the tight grip. Paul didn’t let go, though, looming over him and getting up on the bed, one knee on either side of the smaller man. “Please, I’m sorry, just fuck me,” he complained, arching his hips upwards and falling back down in frustration when he wasn’t met with any of that delicious friction he craved. Paul chuckled darkly and ducked his head down by John’s ear.
“What kind of precedent would I be setting if I didn’t properly punish you for being bad, hmm? I told you to behave, didn’t I?” he chastised, ghosting his lips over John’s cheek and ear, his hot breath driving John almost insane. "You'll have to beg for it if you want it," he prompted teasingly. Well, John could play that game for sure.
“Please, Paulie, please!!” he begged, eyes wide. “It was a mistake, I swear, I’ll be so good, I will, I just need you so bad, please no punishment, I can be good, I’ll be good, God, please, ” John whimpered, straining against Paul’s grip. He really was a slut for Paul, wasn't he?
“Hmm, you’ll have to prove that. Only good boys get fucked, okay?” he warned, pulling back. John nodded vigorously, trying to free his wrists from Paul’s grip again. Paul didn’t let go for a moment, nipping and kissing at his boyfriend’s jaw playfully before letting go. John immediately began working on the rest of Paul’s shirt buttons, impatiently pushing it off the ravenette’s shoulders. Paul chuckled and threw his shirt off, John surging up to push his nose into Paul’s chest, inhaling his musky and wonderful scent, pressing a kiss to his sternum.
“A- ah!” John fell back at the happy, pleasurable sensation of a hand in his boxers and around his cock, pumping him just slightly. “God, fuck,” he whined, bucking into Paul’s hand helplessly, craving the delightful friction of the bassist’s callused palm and fingers against his hot flesh. He moaned louder as Paul swiped his thumb across the tip, collecting the precum and swearing around the crown of his swollen cock.
“Shh, shh. George and Ringo are next door, hmm, we don’t want them to hear. Good boys are quiet, isn’t that right?” he teased, beginning to loosen his grip on John’s cock just slightly, relishing in the high-pitched whimpers that escaped John as the pleasure began to dissipate.
“Ah, ah, yes. Please, please, Paul,” he begged, arching up into nothing now. McCartney chuckled darkly at that, pulling back up and smirking at the frustrated groan that escaped the redhead.
“Come on now, Johnny. On your knees,” he ordered, pointing towards the foot of the bed. The smaller man obeyed, crawling off the bed and kneeling between Paul’s legs. He stared up at the younger man through his eyelashes, already looking wrecked. “Go on,” the ravenette coaxed.
And that was good enough for John.
Hooking his fingers under the waistband of Paul’s boxers, he dragged them down the taller man’s legs, Paul lifting his hips a little to help him. With practiced patience and a lick of his lips, he wrapped a hand around the base of Paul’s cock, bringing his mouth to it. He nuzzled the tip just slightly before licking a long stripe up the base of his straining erection.
John couldn’t help but take pride in Paul’s sudden gasp, smiling just slightly as he kissed the head, before wrapping his lips around it. McCartney hummed, sliding a hand into John’s soft hair, helping to guide him down his length.
John moaned softly, taking as much as he could before pulling back, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head along Paul’s thick cock, groaning as Paul’s hand tightened in his hair. The vibrations caused even more pleasure for the bassist, who bucked just gently into John’s mouth.
John pulled backwards to swirl his tongue around the head before flattening his tongue against the tip, earning a moan of satisfaction and another tiny thrust into his mouth. He let go of Paul’s dick with a soft popping noise, his reddened and shiny lips quirking into a grin.
“Wanna fuck my face?” he asked mischievously, pumping Paul’s cock slowly with his hand.
“Mm, as wonderful as that offer sounds, I have some better ideas.” Paul smirked at how positively wrecked his boyfriend looked. “Lose the pants, come here,” he commanded, and so John ditched his boxers and crawled up into Paul’s lap, grinding their cocks together as Paul kissed and bit at his neck hungrily. John whimpered out as Paul’s five o’clock shadow scratched the sensitive skin of his throat, a hickey forming where Paul latched his teeth onto John’s collar.
“Ah, Paul, please…” John whined, rocking irrhythmically. “Please, please fuck me,” he begged, his voice high and breathy. Paul smiled. This was a version of John he liked best, a John that was completely his -- needy and wanting.
Who was Paul to deny him?
“Okay. You’ve been good,” Paul praised, enjoying the full body shudder that wracked through John. The guitarist wordlessly climbed off of his boyfriend’s lap, moving to lay back on the bed while Paul retrieved the lube from the nightstand.
“Thank you,” John whispered reverently as he spread his legs for Paul to sit between them. He smiled.
“You’re very welcome, John,” Paul purred, popping the cap and coating his fingers in it. “Now,” he cooed, setting the bottle aside, “be good and relax for me, hmm?” John nodded, squirming ever so slightly at the sensation of a finger swirling teasingly around his hole before breaching him.
“H- hahh…” he gasped, as Paul gently worked him open with one finger.
“Shh, shh, shh,” Paul murmured against John’s stomach, nipping at it for good measure. John writhed, breathing hard.
“M- more,” he stuttered, trying to push his hips down onto the tiny sensations. Paul obliged, slipping a second finger in and pumping them, scissoring them just slightly. “Mmh!” John mewled at the stretching, filling sensation, rolling his hips down onto Paul’s long fingers.
“Behave now, darling, relax for me,” Paul muttered, spreading and crooking his fingers.
“Gah!! Oh God, Paul, please!” he pleaded, still trying to fuck himself on the fingers, which were now abusing his prostate head on. He keened, arching his back off the bed helplessly. “More, I, ah, I need more, Paulie! Please ,” he almost sobbed.
“All you have to do is ask, princess,” the ravenette teased, adding a third finger. John let out a wanton noise as Paul spread and crooked his fingers inside of him, pleasure absolutely frying his nerves. He felt so good, the stretch was so amazing and his ragged breathing and moans were easily indicative of the white-hot pleasure coursing through his veins.
“Ah, ah, ah!” John cried out, on cloud nine. And then the feeling was gone. “H- hey,” he whimpered, his hole hungrily clenching around nothing.
“Be patient,” Paul instructed, pouring a generous amount of lube on his own cock.
“Wait,” John panted, weakly getting up, “let me ride you. Please,” he offered, putting his hands on Paul’s shoulders. The younger boy smirked, pumping his lubed-up dick and moving to sit against the headboard.
“Be my guest!” And then John was hovering over Paul, rubbing the tip against himself before slowly sinking down on him. A groan of satisfaction rolled out of both of them, John slowly lowering himself completely onto Paul’s length, a shaky sigh rolling out of him as he seated himself.
They sat there for a moment, John with his hand flat against Paul’s chest, both of them panting. John ground down slightly, just shifting and trying to get accustomed to the wonderful filled sensation he was feeling. Placing both hands on John’s shoulders, he raised himself up onto his knees and sank down again, a long moan punching out of him.
Paul grabbed his hips, helping him raise up and letting him sink down. They fell into an easy rhythm, John picking up the speed until he was practically bouncing on Paul’s cock, the muscles in his thighs rippling as he worked them, high-pitched moans escaping him as his head rolled back, his mouth open and eyes shut.
“Paul! Oh fuck, oh God, yes!” he yelped, his face flushing so red. The bassist groaned softly, enjoying the show, and smirking as John’s head dropped forward, his hair falling into his face, his pace faltering slightly.
“Hmm, need some help?” McCartney grunted, massaging John’s aching thighs. The smaller man nodded helplessly, still riding Paul’s dick, but the soreness overtaking the pleasure he was feeling. Paul helped John off of him, ignoring John’s whimpers for a moment as he laid him back and then pushed into him again.
“God, yes! Yes, oh fuck, harder, Paul! Please!” John moaned, spreading his legs as wide as he possibly could, in sheer euphoria. Paul fucked him hard, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into him, hitting his prostate head on. Lennon gasped and whined, arching his back up as he reveled in the pleasure.
“You’re so pretty, so good for me. Taking me so well, yeah? You love it, my cock in your arse, right? Say it,” he demanded, their skin slapping slightly as he pulled John’s hips down to meet him with every thrust.
“Fuck, I- I do! Ahnn, I love it so much, love it when you fuck me! You’re so, ah! So big!” he practically sobbed, completely alight with searing pleasure. “Touch me, please, I- I- ah, I’m close!” John’s begging was pure music to Paul’s ears, and so he obliged, wrapping a hand around John’s leaking prick and wanking him roughly.
“Go on then, Johnny. Cum for me, cum on my dick, that’s it,” he coaxed, knowing how much John loved filthy words, and earning a high moan to prove it. “That’s right,” Paul smirked, speeding up his thrusts and jacking John off in time. John moaned louder, bucking into Paul’s hand as a hot feeling in his stomach coiled pleasurably.
“Ah! Ah, ah!” he almost howled with pleasure, so loud that Paul had to slam their mouths together to quiet him as he came all over Paul’s hand, relishing in the shockwaves of the ravenette fucking him through his orgasm. John desperately clenching around Paul in his haze brought Paul over the edge too, and he groaned lowly as he came deep in John, burying himself to the hilt as he claimed his boyfriend, catching his breath.
After a minute, Paul pulled out of a completely spent John and stood up to get a washcloth from the bathroom.
“You okay?” he asked, kissing John’s forehead sweetly as he wiped him down.
“Yeah,” John said hoarsely, a sated smile on his face. “I’m great,” Paul smiled and finished cleaning them both up before tossing the washcloth and pulling back the covers for them both to get under.
“I love you,” Paul whispered, pushing his face into John’s hair. John purred and snuggled back into him.
“Maybe I love you,” John joked, turning his head to kiss Paul gently on the cheek.
“Beep beep,” Paul deadpanned, unable to fight the smile on his face as he reached over to turn out the light. John laughed, snuggling into Paul’s warmth for a good night’s rest.