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October always brought a heavy chill with its arrival. The rain clouds would gather heavy in the sky, threatening to downpour any given second, a stark contrast to the ever simmering days of September. Autumn leaves swirled in the streets, following the trail of car tires making their way up the street. By this time of night, young children were tucked fast asleep in bed, cradling stuffed animals under their chins while adults stepped onto the pavement, relishing in the freedom sunlight could never bring.
The invitation read 8:30 PM.
A friend of a friend was hosting a ghoulish night of festivities where costume attire was necessary for admission in the spirit of All Hallows Eve coming up. The only reason any of them decided to attend was for the free alcohol and food provided, that, and the insistence by their partners that they needed to stop turning down social gatherings so frequently.
Arriving at least an hour after the party began, John, Paul, George and Ringo slipped past the blitzed attendees with shallow greetings as they entered through the open front door. Surely that was a hazard waiting to happen, thought a couple of them, but now wasn’t the time to worry.
Cocktails were handed out at the door by a cheery woman with her hair in an up-do, make-up smudged, looking very much like Priscilla Presley, or a cheap imitation of her. She welcomed the group with a bit too much teeth and handshakes that made their hands cramp.
“Quite the grip you got there, Ms. uh---” Paul tried to ask, voice almost completely drowned out by the record cranked up past comfortable listening volume.
“Oh sorry!” The woman apologized, bringing her hand to her chest as she laughed. “Did I break your fingers?”
“No, not at all”
“Thank God” She wiped her brow in exaggeration, giving another laugh as she sipped on her cocktail. “The last man’s hand I shook ended up in hospital”
Another person tapped her on the shoulder before Paul could try to inquire for her name again, swept away without a second thought. They looked over to one another, deeply confused whether that woman had been the host or not, before pushing further into the home.
Given it was a costume event, the four of them scrounged together a semblance of something that could be labeled a ‘costume’. Halloween hadn’t ever been important in their lives, so it was the first time they ever properly celebrated or dressed for the occasion. Ringo and Maureen were the most elaborate of the group, coming in a couples costume that had been meticulously planned since the invitation reached their mailbox. Wearing a long flowing dress that trailed on the floor, Maureen donned a witches hat with deep red lipstick, dark eye shadow and liner that made her appear mysterious, even a bit intimidating. At her hip stood Ringo, happily holding onto the long sleeve covering her hand with a paw-glove, receiving compliments for his one piece cat outfit. A perfect duo, they led with a confident stride.
George followed behind, batting at the stupid faux collar that kept smacking his face. He didn’t need a pair of plastic teeth given how sharp his canines appeared but carried a pair in his pocket at the insistence of Pattie. What a shame she couldn’t make it, they had planned to be Dracula and Lucy, yet a last minute modeling gig put a damper on that arrangement. So he walked awkwardly, head ducked low to prevent catching anyone’s eye unintentionally. He was in no mood for conversation.
John and Paul took up the rear to walk together, practically shoulder to shoulder, making the odd snarky comment here and there about décor, costume choice or how dreadful the mix in their drinks were. They too were alone without their significant others. Cynthia having stayed behind to care for Julian, mostly using it as an excuse to get out of attending. Parties weren’t much of her scene anymore, not when she was so tired on her feet it felt like she was hardly alive anymore. Jane hadn’t even been aware there was an invitation as she was across the pond, stuck in the middle of filming her latest feature. The two scrambled last minute to piece together something coherent, eventually landing on a joint costume of their old teddy boy wear. Gelled to the heavens, clad in near decaying leather jackets and pants, they looked ripped straight from the late 50’s.
Rounding a corner, the group stumbled into the kitchen quite literally. Maureen’s train was stepped on by a passing boot, nearly launching her headfirst into the countertop. Ringo caught her by the waist, going to wipe some strands out hair out of her face before stopping midway as he realized that paws weren’t going to accomplish the task. George followed by bumping into Ringo, stumbling back a hairs length away from crashing into John and Paul. A near disastrous chain reaction.
“Y’alright, sweetheart?” He asked her, readjusting her hat to the best of his abilities, giving her cheek a gentle pat.
“’m fine. Stupid bastards need to watch where they’re goin’” Maureen replied with a glare toward the man responsible for nearly cracking her head open. She gave him a kiss on the nose.
“Way to rub it in, Mo” John called from behind, tipping back the last of his cocktail before setting it down with a sea of other empty glasses. “Some of us are without a bird to cuddle”
“Not my fault is it, Lennon?” She answered, slinging her arm around Ringo’s waist, head laid against his shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re getting a refill then finding the nearest dance floor”
She gave a little finger wave as she dragged her beau off, vanishing into the fold of people. George split off a little while after, clutching his glass to his chest, mumbling something about finding a seat. That left John and Paul standing in the kitchen, resting with their backs against the countertop, surveying the scene. The record had been swapped at some point, an artist neither had the slightest clue as to who’s light voice floated into their ears. Paul took tiny sips, tapping his fingers along to the beat of the song. For a party meant to celebrate the scariest holiday American’s could conjure up, the décor left much to be desired. He noticed strings of paper bats hung end to end overhead, held up precariously by small strips of tape. A gourd with a carved face stared, flickering internally from a small, half-melted candle. Somewhere in the house a fog machine hummed, churning out a rather thick cloud that hugged the ankles, still easy to navigate but potent when hitting the eyes. Needless to say, it was a flimsy excuse to get together in stupid outfits and drink till everyone forgot their names.
“What a drab party, eh?” John nudged Paul’s shoulder, motioning with his head toward the dim living room.
Party goers danced in the cramped space, bleary eyed and unbalanced. It looked more like zombies risen from the grave, trying to get their bearings. They spotted George on a couch with a collection of women practically crawling all over, some twirling strands of his hair or giggling at nothing. Poor man was being swallowed whole, Paul had half a mind to go and rescue him from the situation. Yet, he remained in his spot, nodding at John’s comment.
“Can’t get them to string a sentence, and I don’t think I’ve even see the hostess once” He finally set his drink down, tired of the bitter, nasty taste left in his mouth. There had to be something stronger hidden somewhere.
“Bunch of incoherent drunks they are” John chuckled, arm bumping into Paul’s. “And it’s not even been that long!”
Paul rolled his eyes, knowing full well the amount of staggering drunkards wasn’t the issue. The warmth of John’s arm continued to press into his, fingers resting on his wrist. He tried not to focus on it as he continued. “You say that, but we’ll be just as incoherent as them in a few hours”
“Not with these shit drinks” John’s thigh pressed to his, which made him suck in a breath.
The casual touches had built up over the course of the day into the car ride over; from placing his hand on his knee as they talked to the others in his living room, to guiding him with a touch to his lower back, and now it was the wrist and thigh. The sensation tingled in his skin, unsure why it worked him up so much. This was nothing new, certainly not since the beginning of their friendship, or whatever tangled web made up their connection. So why tonight? A brief exchange they’d had in the car came to mind.
“I can’t believe you still have this dingy thing laying around” He had remarked, tugging at the deteriorating leather jacket’s sleeve.
“Could say the same about you” John lifted an eyebrow, smacking the back of his hand against Paul’s chest. “Should’ve thrown it out after the last trip”
“Hey!” He smacked him back, earning a laugh. “I saved up all my shillings so I could buy one, it’s sentimental”
“Yeah? Well it makes ye look washed up” John closed his eyes, listening to the gentle hum of the car’s engine and the faintest wisps of the other three’s conversations before opening one eye to add. “But still every bit as handsome”
Before the implications could even sink in, they had arrived. Everyone climbed out, electric and ready to take on the night. His body shook with those first few steps, which he chalked up to the drop in temperature. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Maybe we should leave, get a car and head back” John leaned to speak in his ear, most likely so he could be heard better. “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey sitting pretty at home with our names on it”
Paul’s heart thumped a steady, increasing beat. It was an innocuous offer, an escape route from a dreadful evening that promised to drag on and on. Yet, something in the twinge of his voice brought on the implication of something else. He needed an out, to clear his head, and fast. “I’m goin’ to find Ringo, see if he found a better mix than whatever they poured out the tap”
He left John to laugh, carefully maneuvering bodies as if in a maze. Politely he declined offers to dance, replied half-heartedly to comments on his costume and waved off a few women who yanked at his jacket to join them in idle chatter. The crush of sweat mixed with cheap alcohol filled his lungs, breathing shallow to keep from continually inhaling. A dizzy sickness crept up into his throat, verging on the edge of vomiting. Ringo and Maureen had to be lurking nearby, how was it he hadn’t yet found them? Paul emerged in front of an unknown closed door in a part of the house that was unfamiliar. Without another thought, he flung the door open and slipped inside. Felt-like material thwacked him directly in the face, leaving little balls of fuzz in his mouth. In the darkness his hand searched for a switch, eventually flicking it on.
In his immediate line of sight hung a black raincoat, barely clinging to its hanger. After some space were more coats interspersed with button-up shirts or dresses.
This was not, in fact, a room but a closet.
The back of his head hit the door. If John caught wind of his little mistake, there was no hearing the end of it for weeks. He could hear the conversations ensuing after.
“Wait’ll ye hear about the party we went to, Paul got so plastered he ended up in the closet all night!”
An embarrassment he did not want to endure, even if it was playful. Turning to leave, a slip of white caught the edge of his vision. Off to the right, resting on a pile of shirts, pants and socks, laid what appeared at first to be a dress. When he picked it up to examine better under the dull light bulb, the length appeared shorter than the average dress. Trimmed lace was sewn to the collar and around the bottom edge. The straps were impossibly thin, looking as if they may slide constantly. Worst of all, it was translucent, leaving nothing to the imagination. A chuckle escaped his lips, amused by such a find. Whoever owned such a garment must’ve forgotten to stow it away in a more private, less accessible area of the house. Then again, she probably didn’t expect anyone to stumble into her closet on a random Friday night to begin with.
Placing the nightie up to his body, its end sat not even midway up his thigh. A thought came to him randomly as he toyed with the fabric; how well would this fit on him?
He shook his head. No, no there was no way in hell he was putting on some random nightie that may or may not have been already worn. The best course of action was to return it back to its original place, wipe his hands clean and claim plausible deniability if someone were to ask. What? Him, wearing women’s garments? Preposterous! No proper gentleman would ever stoop so low.
Yet, the itch to feel its satin against his skin grew ever present to the point of overwhelming.
It couldn’t hurt...if he kept it on for a short while.
A little pile formed in a corner of the closet where no one would see, not unless they had a sharp eye. His jacket, shirt, belt, shoes and socks came off easily enough, it’s the pants that gave him trouble. Given he wasn’t a lithe teenager anymore, it took some effort before departing to pull the stupid thing up over his ass, nearly splitting at the seams. Several minutes passed as he struggled with first sliding the waist band past his hips, then hopping on one foot at a time as the pant legs clung tight. The sweat certainly didn’t help either. He knocked against the sides of the closet multiple times, thankful the music covered any noise that might’ve given his position away. Finally, with a satisfying swish, Paul removed his pants, flinging them with the rest of his clothing. He promptly made an internal note to toss them when he had a chance.
His heart raced, thumping harsh against his chest, hands shaking as he held the nightie in front of him again. Was he really doing this?
It slipped on easily over his head, stretching to fit his frame with some strain. The hairs on his arms stood on end, prickled with goose flesh. This was crazy, a crazy idea with an outcome that ended badly. If anything, he hoped the boys would get a kick out of his sudden costume change. He thought of John, left abandoned in the kitchen, probably scanning around wondering where he’d run off to. Getting a refill doesn’t take this long. Paul knew he had to find him first, which meant taking that first step. Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob, returning to the chaos.
A wave of music smacked him at once, anxiety welling in his chest with every step he took. People parted for Paul to let him through, giving confused stares or whistles. The women who had yanked him earlier cheered, raising their glasses to the ceiling.
He smiled, tugging the edge of the nightie down to keep some modesty about him. Slowly, he started to head toward where he and John stood earlier, only to be intercepted by a stumbling Maureen, hat long abandoned, make-up smeared from sweat.
“Woah!” She laughed, placing her hands sloppily onto his cheeks, accidentally poking a nail into his jaw that made him wince. “Oh sorry, love. Where’d ye get this?” She slipped a finger under one of the straps.
A soft blush tinted his cheeks. “Well—I nicked it from a closet somewhere ‘round here”
Maureen laughed again, taking him by the wrists. “Sneaky bugger, are you tryin’ to steal the attention off of me? Gracious, ye look like a right bird with those hips”
Paul smoothed out the fabric bunching at his waist, getting a proper look at himself in better lighting. Did he really appear that feminine? It lingered with him as he was yanked by the arm, conversation drowned out by the music’s volume increasing. Maureen called to George, who had since busied himself in being engulfed by yet another group of women.
“Look who I found!” She raised his arm like he was a treasured stuffed bear.
George stood with mouth agape, drink nearly falling out of his palm. He approached carefully, surprise morphing to curiosity. Paul felt like a circus attraction, or more accurately a slab of meat, as a swarm of people reached out touch or made colorful comments about his physique. He waved the majority off except for George, who’s eyes were glued to the floor, a growing blush spreading past his cheeks to his ears.
“C’mon, lets have a dance!” Maureen urged, dragging him off once more. George stood rooted in place, quietly mumbling to himself before shuffling to the kitchen.
“What about Ritchie?” He inquired, now having to raise his voice to be heard.
“Oh he’s havin’ a rest” She waved dismissively in the direction where Ringo sat, head laid against the back of the couch, eyes shut. “Got a bit overheated in that cat costume of his. Now, enough chattin’! Let me see ye shimmy!”
Clapping her hands in time to the beat, Maureen began to dance. Her hips swayed, hair bouncing all over the place, and at once he understood why Ringo was so deeply in love with her. Paul followed her lead, twisting his hips in such a way that earned him a whoop. He was beginning to loosen up, probably a side effect from the alcohol sitting for so long in his system, carrying his inhibitions past the front door, onto the street, and letting go of the clinging worry that he looked ridiculous. He completely forgot about finding John, enraptured by Maureen’s beautiful radiance, infectious with every word of praise that fell from her lips. They laughed, mirroring each other’s moves. He gave her a twirl but failed to catch her before she fell.
“Are you alright?” He asked, raising her back onto her feet.
“Better than ever!” She replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “But next time, try actually catchin’ me! Floor’s not as comfortable as it looks”
They danced a while longer, working up a sweat that rolled down his skin, thighs chaffing uncomfortably. As he turned toward the newly formed circle, the familiar form of John leaning against the farthest wall caught his attention. He looked dead on at him, an unreadable expression on his features, clutching another drink. Sound faded into the background, replaced by the familiar hammering of his heart, unable to tear his eyes away from him. For whatever reason, Paul had assumed that John would remain in his spot by the kitchen, waiting for inevitable return from wherever he’d been whisked off to. Now they were stood, separated by a wall of bodies. A slower song switched on then. Couples paired off, swept up in each other’s embrace, rock and roll fizzling into a romantic sway.
Feeling the beat surge through Paul, his body moved on its own volition. Without taking his eyes off John, he swung his hips agonizingly slow. The motion he tried to make purposefully hypnotic, willing all the attention from John to remain on him, only him, which seemed to work. John shifted his position, lips parted as he watched Paul squat, rising slow with a hand dragging up his thigh, sliding briefly between his legs. He imagined John’s breath getting caught in his throat, blood pumping as his pulse beat rapidly, the beginnings of sweat forming along the fringe. At first, he assumed being so exposed would freak him out, cause him to retreat into his shell for the rest of the evening, hidden locked in a room until he had to be pried forcefully out. All in practical fun ending in a nightmare. Yet, Paul couldn’t shake how good it felt, soaking in the attention head to toe. In fact, it excited him, a thrill he hadn’t explored in ages, not since the wild days of performing in Hamburg. Looking over his shoulder, Paul nodded for George to come over, an idea springing up.
“Dance with me, son” He said in his ear, trailing the back of his hand against his cheek.
“What?” George raised an eyebrow in confusion, face very, very warm.
“Just follow my lead and try to keep up”
Paul wrapped his arms around George’s neck. His hips swayed from side to side, met with George’s hands resting on them. He was quick on the pick up as they danced on, aware of the eyes all on them but keeping the focus strictly to themselves. The thrum of the drums signaling the approaching climax of the song propelled him onward despite the gathering exhaustion. He needed to do this, needed to keep John’s gaze at all costs, and what better than to make him green with envy at what he was missing out on. George went in for a dip, more successful than Paul had been with Maureen, catching him with a flourish. Paul’s leg stuck out dramatically, nightie slipping up to reveal more of his briefs than what could already been seen.
Paul rested his leg against George’s hip as they straightened out, bodies flush against each other. “Sink your fangs in me”
Poor George was breathing heavy, sweating through his shirt, hair sticking out in all directions. He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea”
“Please, George” He pleaded, pressing his pelvis into George’s, feeling the growing half-chub straining against his pants. “I’ll pay you back in full later”
George stood unsure what to do until it seemed he finally worked up the courage, hand dropping to hold Paul’s thigh as hot kisses trailed up his neck. Teeth scraped at the tender skin, sending a shiver down his spine, fingers spread through George’s hair. His head lulled, allowing better access, lips parting in a soft sigh as the kisses reached underneath his jaw.
The promised bite did not occur as the two were interrupted.
A hand grabbed Paul’s wrist, yanking him free from George. Startled, he was met with John, lips in a tight line and brows furrowed. Next thing he knew, they were trudging off from the dwindling crowd, who at that point excused themselves to another activity or buried their noses in the collar of their partner’s shirts. The worst of them chugged their drinks, wobbling off as they loudly vocalized disdain for “dirty queers” mucking up the night. Stupid gits, the lot of them, they were playing voyeur so why complain? A path cleared quickly, many afraid to get caught in John’s way. The women who had cheered earlier huddled close, heads swiveling from themselves to him, unsure if they needed to call someone or not.
Winding around for what seemed like forever, John eventually shoved Paul into an empty bathroom, shutting the door behind, taking an extra second to see it locked.
Descending upon him, he was pinned with his back to the sink. They stared at each other for a while, the muffled lyrics of the next song leaking through. Soon enough, John was the one to break the silence. “Thought we were matchin’ tonight. Where’d this come from?” He nodded toward the nightie.
Paul shrugged his shoulders, trying to play the innocent boy role as best he could. “Stole it from a closet. Reminded me of that night in Hamburg, remember? With the piano?”
John laid his hands atop Paul’s waist, sliding them down to toy with the laced edge. His eyes roved over his body, able to soak in the details better now that he was closer. “Yeah? And what about that scene ye caused?” He made his tone sound accusatory, biting, like it was meant to hurt.
“I didn’t realize you cared so much” Paul held onto the edges of John’s leather jacket, rubbing his thumb against the zipper line. He kept his demeanor nonchalant, a tactic he knew would create agitation.
John pulled his hips forcefully to his own. His voice came as a hissing whisper. “What I care about is you bein’ a bloody tease”
Their lips smashed together in a desperate kiss. John’s fingers threaded through Paul’s hair, gripping to hold him place. His skin felt feverishly hot, burning against the cool hand that traveled between his thighs to dig the heel of his hand against his clothed erection. Paul rut into the touch, moaning into John’s mouth.
“What a right slag you are” John mumbled against Paul’s lips, giving a slight squeeze that made his eyes flutter. “I’ve barely had to touch you ‘fore you’ve started fallin’ apart on me”
The nightie road up as his hips moved in time with John’s touches, the clench in his gut tightening with every pant, legs starting to feel like jelly. A few knocks threatened to interrupt, but were largely ignored. Surely there were other bathrooms, the flat was about the size of a miniature mansion after all. John bit Paul’s bottom lip, dragging out a loud moan as he sucked his tongue, dipping past the waistband to grasp his leaking cock and give a few strokes. Paul’s nails dug into the leather, on the verge of tearing the jacket to pieces. He thrust into the circle of John’s hand, whining insistently that he go faster.
“Please, Johnny” His voice squeaked a bit, a low noise of want resounding from somewhere in his throat.
“I’ve got the reigns, love” John’s voice was low as he dragged up the shaft, teasing his thumb over the tip that was met with a buck from Paul’s hips. “You’ll come when I say you do, alright?”
Paul’s head went dizzy, every word shooting straight into his cock. His jealousy was thick on his tongue, it was everything he had wanted from the moment they had locked eyes, from when he was pressed against George. The only thing he could think of was John in his stead, ready to sink his teeth and leave his mark. When he didn’t answer immediately, John took his hand away and stepped back, much to his whining protests.
“Alright?” He asked again, sliding his jacket off to toss into the tub.
“Alright, just—for gods sake, don’t stop touching me” Paul spread his legs, aching to feel John all over.
A tingle shot up his spine as John slotted himself in the space between his legs, hefting his thighs to wrap them around his waist, pressing his bulge hard against Paul’s. “Look what you’ve done to me, leavin’ me standin’ there hard as I had to watch you twisting yer body all around like that. It was fucking torture”
His head was yanked forward, forced to watch John grind into him. It was unbelievable that just his body alone had caused such a reaction, that gyrating hips could drive a man to become so horny they just had to get it out in a bathroom of all places. Far dirtier implications than if it were a spare bedroom, it wasn’t meant to last. Paul’s breath punched out of him as he grabbed at the collar of John’s shirt, pulling him back in for a deep kiss, running his tongue along the roof, flicking at the teeth. He heard John groan into his mouth, which only made him clench onto his waist, pulling him in with his legs to feel him better.
“Did that on purpose” He admitted, voice a bit ruined. “I wanted your eyes on me”
“Yeah?” John’s breath hitched, bucking hard into his pelvis. “Should’ve come over there and fucked you right in front of everyone, teach them to stare when I’m around”
“Ah—fuck” He buried his head into the crook of his shoulder. “I’m close”
John released his grip again, letting Paul slide to stand on the floor once more. “Not yet. Not until I say”
The build up was killing him, standing there so hard it strained against his briefs, sensitive to the slightest touch. His kiss swollen lips parted with pants, struggling to keep steady as he went to finish himself off, not even giving a care anymore. He wanted to come, and it was going to happen one way or another. John swatted his hand with a tsk, bringing it up to plant a kiss on the knuckles.
Backing up, John kept his attention solely on Paul as he began to undo his belt, letting it clang onto the floor. He watched him slide the waistband of his pants down, revealing that he hadn’t bothered with wearing briefs again as his cock sprang forth, hard and leaking pre-come down the tip. Paul bit hard on his lower lip till it turned bright red, heady with the lust that coursed through his veins. God he wanted to take him into his mouth, suck him off so he could know what he tasted like, feel his hands yank at his hair to urge him on. Maybe if he asked nicely enough.
John spit into his palm and stroked himself slow, a sigh escaping as he kept his eyes still on Paul. “Ye want me?”
“Yes” Paul nodded, shifting his thighs so they would brush against his bulge.
“How badly?” His strokes increased a bit, dipping low at the base with a squeeze that dragged out a groan.
“More than I can stand”
“That so? Turn around, then” John demanded.
Obediently, Paul faced the mirror, taking in the state of himself for the first time the whole night. His hair was a complete mess, sticking up at ends toward the back. The straps had slipped off, dipping low to reveal his chest. Cheeks flushed bright red. John came up from behind, cock brushing the back of his thighs. His briefs slid down to meet his ankles, freeing his cock from its confines with a smack to his stomach. With a few cursory strokes, Paul moaned John’s name to his reflection, watching his face contort from the pleasure, eyes fluttering.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” John kissed the dip between his shoulder and neck, skimming his teeth along the sensitive surface. “Say my name again”
“Mmm John” He watched his lips form the words. “John, John, Johnny, I need you” He’d say his name a million times if he was asked.
“Hang on, I’m getting there”
Pushing at Paul’s thighs to force them together, John brushed his hand up and past the crease a couple times. His skin tingled, feeling the brush against his balls a couple of times that made him want to press into the touch. But he kept still, waiting eagerly until John was done.
“Bend over, baby”
Paul did as he was told, bending to the right angle. John sighed, kneading at the soft flesh of his ass.
“Too bad I didn’t bring anything for the occasion” His fingers traced the rim of his hole, eliciting a shudder. “Next time, I promise”
Next time. It meant this wasn’t just a one off to be forgotten with the breeze. A passing incident at a party once upon a time. There would be more, and he could hardly wait. Paul bit his bottom lip with anticipation.
He guided his cock to the crease, poking the tip just a few inches in with a soft moan in his ear. “Ready?” He asked, caressing his side.
“Please” Was all he could say before he felt the shove of John’s cock, sliding as far as he was able.
The noise he made surprised him, somewhere between a moan and yelp. Even though he technically wasn’t inside, the fact that he was thrusting with the same amount of vigor made his head spin, the spiral in his gut wound into the tightest ball. John groaned into his skin, biting down on the spot he once kissed, certain to leave a bruise. Paul gasped, tilting his head back to see himself again, flushed, sweating, open mouthed and pathetic. The mirror fogged with every hot breath, obscuring the two of them even more into a blur of one body.
“Y’know when ye wore a nightie in Hamburg?” John straightened up a bit, holding onto Paul’s hips to control the thrusts. “That little pink one?”
He nodded, though the memories were hazy after all those years. They had been performing with Gerry and the Pacemakers drunk out of their wits. Someone had the bright idea to go out wearing unusual attire, shake it up a little for the crowd. While everyone was changing, he went and stole the pink nightie he’d seen on Fred’s drums, laughing wildly as he slipped into it, finding it to be a perfect fit. The rest is a mishmash of scenes scrambled out of order; laying across the piano upside down, someone (presumably John?) blowing terribly into a saxophone, and other such blips. John jolted him back to the present by gripping the hair at the base of his skull, giving a quick yank.
“I wanted to shag ye so bad that night, fuck” He groaned, increasing his pace, the slick sound of skin hitting skin growing louder. “Bend ye over that fucking piano and slip meself right in. Sure the German’s would’ve gotten a kick out of that performance”
Paul whined in response, shutting his eyes as he rocked in time with his thrusts, taking his abandoned cock and stroking in the same rhythm John had before. “Why didn’t you?”
John slowed his intensity, clearly contemplating his words before finally stopping to say. “Because I didn’t wanna scare you off”
A glance caught in the mirror, they stared at each other. A bloom formed in his heart, beating against his rib cage uncontrollably. The attraction had gone deep into their history, long before Key West, long before now. He wanted to crawl underneath his skin and make a home in his marrow, cradled close to John where it no longer mattered that there was a space after the “and” in their names. John and Paul. JohnandPaul. JohnandPaul. Altogether one entity that breathed with one breath, saw with two eyes and loved with one heart. Paul’s breath caught in his throat, stuck on the sentence before he spat it out.
“I would’ve let you, jus’ had to ask”
John froze, lips parted. For a second, it felt as though he’d said something wrong, that his intentions were warped as they came through. That was, until John smiled, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing his kisses down the jaw, underneath the earlobe and resumed his thrusts at a bit rougher pace. Paul gasped as his hand was replaced by John’s, squeezing at the base before sliding up the shaft, feeling the calluses that formed from years of plucking away. Their moans mixed together, sounding as one voice that echoed against the walls, bleeding through the music at this point, he was certain. His eyes shut tight, knowing he was approaching the edge again.
“John, please, I wanna come. Let me come” He pleaded, arching his back.
“Yeah, yeah, fuck--- Come for me, princess” John responded, groaning as he was close himself. “Come in me hand”
God the nickname was the icing on top, he knuckled gripped the sink. It wouldn’t have been any fun to reach pure euphoria alone, so he pressed his thighs tighter together around John’s cock to allow for better friction, which he seemed to appreciate. “Oh god, Paul”
His hips stuttered, riding the wave of pleasure as come covered his thighs. Paul pressed his head down against the porcelain, fucking in time with John’s strokes until he too was coming, spilling all over the tile floor.
They stood this way for a while, breathing heaving, John’s chest resting on his back. Eventually he moved off, allowing Paul finally turn around and face him again. They both looked a right mess, but John even more so. He was red in the face, sweat sticking to their skin, hair having lost its volume ages ago and flopping down close to its regular style. His cock twitched at the sight, taking mental notes to save in the banks of his mind for later. Reaching up, he cupped the other’s cheek with a soft, tired smile.
“C’mere, rocker boy” His voice was small, still recovering.
John stepped closer, pressing their foreheads together, eye to eye. The party outside raged on, coming back into view as they came down from their high, reminding them that they’d been in there an awfully long time, someone must be concerned or looking for them. Paul chuckled, tiredly mussing up his hair even more. John tried to fend him off, only to give up and lay his head on his shoulder.
“Jesus Christ…” John exclaimed, placing a gentle kiss to the spot he’d bitten, now a shade of deep red. “Didn’t think I had it in me”
“Think I need to make you jealous more often” Paul trailed two fingers up John’s shoulder, moving up the neck to brush the hair on his neck, feeling him shiver under the touch. “If this is the kind of response I’m going to get”
“That so?”
Paul hummed, feeling his legs finally give out as they lowered to the floor, cuddled up in a tangle of limbs. He pet John’s hair for a while, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the steady beat of their hearts sync together. Shadows slid past the slip under the door, stopping briefly as if contemplating before moving on, repeating in a cycle over and over until there were none left. Just flickering lights. After a bit, he looked down at him and whispered. “Maybe next time you should wear the nightie and I can take a turn on top?”
At the mention, John shot up to face Paul, bringing him in for a deep, hungry kiss, despite having just finished mere moments ago. Already raring and ready to go for round two.
“Lets get goin' then” John nodded toward the door, shuffling to gather his forgotten items, fumbling with his stupid, small leather pants. “What’re we doin' here?”
“But what about the rest of them?” Paul raised his eyebrow, sliding his briefs back up from his ankles.
“They’ll find their way back fine” He stated dismissively, combing out his hair with his fingers, extending his hand toward Paul to help him up.
Taking the hand, he raised to stand, tugging the edge down over his thighs to cover the come still dripping down, trying hard not to get turned on from the sight alone. “And me clothes?”
“It’s not like you were plannin’ on saving those, were you?”
Fair point.
“Let me grab my shoes, I’m not goin’ out there barefoot”
John grabbed his wrist excitedly, barely able to contain his grin as they exited back into the party proper, evading the strange stares and giggles behind hands directed their way. Everyone had to know, there wasn’t a shot in hell they didn’t. Yet, the sliver of being judged retreated as they weaved through the crowd. It wasn’t like they were planning on staying long anyways, probably an hour or so, but it felt strange to leave with only one instead of five. Paul spotted Maureen on the way, giving her a small wave only to be met with a wink and thumbs up. Ringo was beside her, chatting with some other bloke and not paying attention. He decided not to give it any mind and went in through the familiar door to pick up what he needed. Wandering out into the cool October air with a shiver down his spine, Paul held tight to John’s hand, fingers entwined, struggling to slip on one of his shoes.
His eyes kept catching glances of John from the corner of his vision, smile still plastered on his features. As they hurried on, Paul felt a giddy flutter in his heart, excited for the rest of the night ahead, so long as they were together.