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The cold night air sends needles poking up John’s spine, shivering while he walks down the grimy streets of Hamburg. Exhausted from the girls and prellies, there was one emotion he found himself falling back into as the novelty of the city wears off: boredom. Luckily, he had Paul by his side.
Paul looks like he is contemplating something in his mind, eyebrows pinched together with his eyes darting from store to store. Anything with Paul would be fun at this point. So, wondering what’s going on in Paul’s strange little head, he nudges his arm. “What’s on your mind, Son?”
Paul shrugs, staring at the ground and biting on his lip absentmindedly. Noticing the pictures of prostitutes on the ground–a common sight in Hamburg–John picks one up at random, flashing Paul an immature grin, “Thinking about prossies, Aren't you? Naughty boy,’ John teases, wagging the picture in Paul's face.
“Sod off, Lennon,’ Paul laughs, swiping the photo out of John’s hand and letting it flutter back to the ground.
John shoves his hand into his pockets and reaches for a cigarette, lighting it in between his lips. He doesn’t make any move to offer Paul any, he likes to make Paul ask for it. To John’s surprise, he doesn’t see the wide eyed glance at his cigarette as usual. Paul instead keeps walking beside him, pulling a finger up to his mouth and biting at a thumbnail. What is Paul so caught up about? John fidgets with the cigarette and takes a drag, exhaling with a small cough.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Paul looks up at him and asks, “D’you remember how I’d sneak out of the house in these dranies?”
John huffs out a laugh, “Do I? Course I do, you were scrambling out of the house like a madman.”
John reminisced on watching Paul run out of the house in said dranies, definitely not focusing at the way his arse looked in them. Paul moved his thumb away from his lips, hesitance in his voice.
“I wanna do something like that again, you know? Something that shows..I don’t know, that I can rebel from him if I want to.”
John hummed, “Like what?”
John looked at the shops around them, a cheeky smile appearing on his face when he spotted one of those shady sex shops. Pointing in its direction, John says, “You thinking about finally fetching something from the sex shop, aye? You never run out of surprises, Paulie.”
Some part of him was hoping that’s what Paul was referring to, maybe picking up a thing or two for them to mess around with and forget about. The way Paul looked at all of the leathers, lace, and toys in the display case made a heat pool in his stomach. He’d let his mind wander on what he and Paul would play with from the shop later.
“No, I’m thinking of something I can have on me, if only you could take off tattoos with soap and water.” Paul shook his head, “Something I could get rid of before we go back to Liverpool.”
John tilted his head, watching Paul’s eyes flicker to the tattoo parlor. John couldn’t say he was surprised, not being able to imagine Paul with any tattoo on him.
“Could tattoo my name on your arse, not like your dad would notice.”
Paul chuckled and shoved John in the shoulder, “I'm sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“You know me so well,” John held his hand up to his heart, watching the flush on Paul’s face.
They walk past the bright neon sign that flickers every few seconds, and then Paul’s eyes gaze up to read it. He wasn’t seriously considering that tattoo, was he? Not that John would mind, though.
“Could always get a piercing.” Paul says to himself, stopping in front of the sign. “You can take them out, right?’
Paul with a piercing, that's a new one. John’s eyebrow perks up, stopping beside Paul to read the sign, which indeed mentions piercings. John is immediately curious at the idea of Paul walking into a shady tattoo parlor and getting a needle stuck through him.
“Yeah, could get your ears pierced like a little girl, if you want.”
“Not when you put it like that, I mean. It’s just a thought.” Paul had a flash of embarrassment on his face, getting ready to walk off.
John wasn’t opposed to the idea, of course. The image of Paul with an earring in was growing onto him quickly. And besides, what else is there for them to do? He puts a hand on Paul to stop him from walking away.
“Not saying you shouldn’t, imagine the look on your dad’s face if he saw you with that.”
Paul paused, turning around to face John, eyes briefly going back to the sign, “Pretty pricey, though. Maybe you could…” Paul trailed off, an unsure look on his face.
“Maybe I could.. What?”
Paul looked like he made the decision in his mind, “Maybe you could do it for me.”
John’s breath died out in his throat. What did he just say? John blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, caught completely off guard, “What?”
Paul’s cheek’s pinkened, “You know, stick a needle in my ear or something.”
He didn’t mishear Paul. He wanted John to give him a piercing? He felt a flush rise up in his cheeks, Paul trusting him like that. The air was suddenly warm, he shifted his feet and cleared his throat. Paul kept looking at him, a sense of hesitancy blowing in the wind around them.
“And anyway” Paul added on, “don’t trust these German piercers, might poke me in the eye.”
John felt the tension go away for a moment and laughed, “You think they’d go for your eyes first?”
Paul fluttered his eyelashes at him, “Who could resist them, John?”
John pushed him away with a grin. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, trying to seem casual about Paul letting him pierce his skin, trusting him not to mess it up. An uneasy feeling laid low in his gut. What if he hurt him? John shook the thought out of his mind. It wouldn’t happen, it couldn't. How hard could piercing an ear be, anyway? Birds do it to each other all of the time.
“Should we go inside? They might have something that you can give yourself a piercing with in there.” Paul asked, looking inside the palor’s windows wide-eyed and curious.
John nodded, “Couldn’t hurt, unless you want to use Mimi’s sewing needle. Might have a pearl earring hanging around for you too, Paulie.”
Paul giggled and playfully hit his arm, opening the door.
He is immediately smacked in the face with the smell of smoke and leather, the sound of tattoo guns buzzing in the poorly lit room. He can sense Paul’s hesitance, looking like a lost puppy. Anticipation danced in John’s stomach. The tattoo parlor was not much different from the rest of Hamburg: dark and grotty, with a musty odor hanging in the air.
He followed Paul around as they browsed the shop, which wasn't much to begin with. John’s eyes land on something that vaguely looks like a piercing kit, although the German label made it unreadable. They relied on whatever picture was printed on the box like it was their very own and much less remarkable rosetta stone.
John picked up what he thought could be a piercing kit and waved Paul over, who was trying to discreetly look through the dirty magazines they had up front. Paul grabbed a magazine, eyes darting around nervously as he walked over to the back of the store.
Paul talked in a loud whisper, “They have mags with naked birds in them!” giggling like a teenager who just saw a girl’s panties for the first time.
John took the magazine from Paul’s hands, flipping through the flashes of nude women, before rolling it up and hitting it over his head. Paul winced, a coy grin on his face.
“Remember what we’re here for, Paul.” John spoke with a smile, handing the small box to Paul and slipping the magazine up his jacket sleeve.
Paul examined the box, eyes almost bulging out of his head as he looked down at the price. Paul coughs off-handedly, looking up at the front counter to the shopkeeper, who could care less at what two teds were doing; fumbling around the store.
“Would cost less just to have someone pierce myself here, John,” Paul swallowed, a small frown on his face.
Paul almost sounded disappointed that John wouldn’t be the one piercing him, biting down on his bottom lip and flipping the box around in his hand. And John, always eager to spoil Paul, began fishing through his pants for money.
“John–it’s fine, we don’t have to pierce my ear, you know. It was a stupid idea anyway.” Paul began, voice slightly louder now.
John shook his head, suddenly determined to pierce Paul’s ear himself, not let some random person do it. They share experiences like this, like they alway do, so this wouldn’t be any different. When John pulls his hand out of his pocket, he knows it's not enough. He hides it from Paul, an idea popping into his head.
“Paul, go up there and grab another mag for me.” John whispers, eyes boring into Paul. “Take your time, too. Chat up the shopkeeper or something.”
Paul looks confused initially before a mischievous smile curled up on his lips. He nods, walking up to the front of the store and grabs one of the magazines at random. Thinking quickly, John shoves the small box down the front of his pants, zipping up his jacket to cover it up.
Thrill blooms up his body as he walks over to Paul, one magazine in hand and pretending to be intently browsing the rest.
“Ready to check out, Paulie?” John asks, loud enough so the shopkeeper can hear them.
“Didn’t see any tattoos you wanted? Paul tries sounding casual and fails, getting a small laugh out of the two of them.
“Don’t think they’d want to tattoo Mimi on my chest.” They both started cackling and tried to relax themselves as they went up to the shopkeeper.
Paul–with full confidence–sets the magazine on the counter, proud of his taste in women.
The bloke who worked there eyed both of them up and down, and John fetched the change out of his pocket. He glanced at the man, Paul, and then down at the magazine; and John felt his stomach completely turn over.
Paul quirked up an eyebrow then realized what John was looking at, all of the color leaving his face. The cover of the magazine was a bloke, shirtless and sweaty. He couldn’t believe out of all of the magazines Paul could’ve grabbed to distract the shopkeeper from John stealing, it was the queer one.
His body felt tensed up, handing the change over to the man and sliding the magazine over to Paul. He tries to ease his rapid thoughts, thankful that the shopkeeper hadn’t even acknowledged the fact. And if he did, he didn’t care enough to prod them about it. It was in his shop, anyway.
The moment they get outside Paul shoves the magazine in his jacket, taking John for surprise. “Christ! Wanted the mag that badly, didn't you?”
Paul gives him a look that threatens to cut him in half. “Shut up! I just picked a random one, I don’t want…” Paul looks around to see if there was anyone around them, before leaning into John’s ear and speaking in a hissed voice. “I don’t want people to see us walking around with a queer mag.”
Paul clears his throat and changes the subject, thankfully. “You got the piercing kit from the store, right?”
John had almost forgotten about the box in his trousers, taking it out and handing it over to Paul. He holds it, running his fingers over the label with a small and shy smile. John remembers what they are going to be doing with it, heat rising on his face again. It's not like John was scared of seeming queer to Paul, the things they did with each other was far enough. It’s good to touch, isn’t it? But this was another level. He’s piercing Paul’s skin, putting a ring in there, and Paul wanted him to do this. He trusted John.
John should be embarrassed that he's so fixated on the idea of giving Paul a piercing, horrified, even. And he is, of course. But he can't shake off the fact that he gets to do this to him, Paul handing him a bone: sitting down all nice for him and squeezing onto John’s hand as he–with the best of his abilities–pierces his ear. Paul probably noticed the jealousy rising in John’s stomach when he said he might have to get it done at the shop.
Paul handed it back to John, “You might want to hold onto this, you know, for when we get home.”
“Oh, right–yeah, for when we get home. Yeah.” John nodded too eagerly, trying to see normal about the way Paul flashed him a smile.
***
Paul sat on the bed, John locking the door behind them. John felt restless, anxiety dancing in his stomach, like butterflies. He wanted to see what else Paul would let him do. To keep Paul in this room, all to himself, and for Paul to want the same. The bloke at the tattoo parlor would’ve messed it up anyway, probably would’ve given him an infection too. Paul went with the best option, afterall.
So he opens the box and sets it down on the table. He took out the piercing needle and sat on the bed with Paul, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to hurt Paul, ruin his ear. What if it got infected? Would Paul be disgusted with him if he saw how badly John wanted to do this?
John looks up at him, “I don’t know how to pierce ears, Paul.”
“Are there instructions in there?”
John remembers the paper he tossed to the side when opening the box. He gets up, grabs it off of the floor and hands it over to Paul.
“Hope you can read German.”
“Hold on,” Paul examines the paper, “They got all different kinds of piercings, look,” he holds out the paper for John, one side in English and one in German, describing all of the different ones they could do.
John squints and takes the paper from him, seeing the words “tongue piercing” on the list made him blush. He thought about what it would be like, Paul’s little pink tongue stuck out for him, John holding it carefully in his fingers and–he shook his head, waving the daydream away from his mind.
“No instructions, though.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard, right? Birds do it to each other all the time.” Paul was biting at his thumbnail, something he did when he was anxious.
He wanted to reassure Paul, but John didn’t know if he would not mess it up himself either. But John wanted to do this so badly, he knew Paul did too; and he would never say no to a new experience with Paul.
He agreed just to make Paul feel better, “Shouldn’t be hard, yeah.”
John fidgeted with the needle, and Paul shifted on his thighs impatiently. “Come on, then, Johnny.”
He moves closer to Paul, repositioning themselves so that John is sitting to his side, facing his right. John started praying that he wouldn’t pop a stiffy while piercing Paul’s ear. Having Paul pliable and willing in his hands. Possessiveness tingled John's nerves, he's the only person Paul would let do this.
Paul’s face was flushed, silently waiting for John to do anything. The needle felt slippery in John’s hands, breathing on Paul’s neck. What would Paul let him do there? He could let him mark it up, like the piercing in a way. Maybe John could wrap a hand or two around it, see how long he can press his fingers into his skin before Paul would tell him to let go, then after he’d lay kisses where he left any bruises. John tried to ignore the heat rising in his groin.
He holds the needle up to Paul’s ear and can feel his own heart thrumming in his chest. Paul’s earlobe was pink and impossibly soft, warm in between fingers. How is every part of him so pretty? Fondness for Paul bloomed through him, pinching down on Paul’s earlobe without realizing. Paul let out a little gasp, and that was all John needed to take his ear in between his teeth, biting and kissing at it.
“John…” Paul breathed out, eyes closed in pleasure, “Please.”
John broke away, pressing a chaste kiss to Paul’s lips. His need for all of Paul was eating him alive, wriggling deep under his skin. Only they could have each other like this. His fingers trailed down to Paul’s chest, feeling Paul’s rapid heartbeat bounce around his ribcage.
He brings the needle up to Paul’s earlobe, hand shaking. “Are you sure, Paul?” John swallowed dryly.
Paul nodded, “Yes, John, come on,” he took in a shaky breath, fingers snaking into John’s free hand.
He should put the needle in slowly, so it should hurt him less. He held it against Paul’s flesh, trying to jab it into his lobe. Heat jolts up John’s body, drawing his hand away when Paul lets out a pained noise.
“Jesus–John, stop, wait!”
Paul is shaking. The needle lies heavy in John’s hand, dark and accusing. “Paul?”
Paul paused for a moment, but there wasn’t anger in his eyes. He sucks in a tight breath, nails stabbing sharply into John’s palm.
“You’re supposed to do it fast, I think. So it’ll be less painful.” Paul said, looking up at John.
“Take a deep breath in,” John’s jaw tensed, trying to make his hand as still as possible
The air in the room was thick and hot, temperature steadily increasing the closer and closer John brought the needle to his ear. His hands were so clammy he was sure he was going to drop it. He glanced over to Paul one last time, who gave him a small reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze of his free hand.
The needle hovered over his skin dauntingly. He can't believe this is actually happening. In a flash he stabbed it through Paul’s earlobe, piercing through him. Blood runs cold through John’s entire body as Paul gasps, cursing sharply under his breath. Paul’s eyes are screwed shut, biting down on his lip while John reaches for one of the earrings, a little sliver hoop; like a wedding ring.
“Fuck, John, Hurry up,” Paul hisses, eyebrows pinched together.
John delivers him, kneeling before Paul, devoting himself. He takes the needle out and sets it on the bedside table, then sliding the ring into Paul, a vow. Hamburg was their church, and the bloke working at the tattoo parlor was their priest. The grip on his hand loosens and he looks up at Paul, eyes batted down.
He ghosts his face over Paul’s, who is still biting down on his bottom lip. John holds a tentative hand up to his face and he opens his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek. John wipes it away and closes the space between them, heat laying low in his groin. John was tainting him, leaving a mark on him, a crack in the porcelain.
He isn't responsive to the kiss, lips unmoving. “Paul,” John mutters, kissing the corner of his mouth.
John is overexposed, naked, bleeding out infront of Paul as a plea to make sure that he won't drive him away. John got too comfortable, too trusting,
“Paul, look at me, please ,” John murmurs, aware of how desperate he sounds. And then Paul looks up at him. A hand creeps up to John’s nape, sending goosebumps up his body; and then he pulls John into a kiss.
He draws John in closer, breaking away briefly to press his forehead against John’s. They breathe in utero, becoming one. Paul smiles at him, and a relief washes over John completely.
“Does it hurt?”
Paul nods, “It wasn’t too bad, just a pinch, you know.”
John can read the embarrassment in Paul’s voice and leans in to kiss him again. Paul’s hands wrap around him and John deepens the kiss, running his tongue over Paul’s lips and into his mouth. He lets himself fall into the feeling of it.
Paul hums and John shifts around so he's facing the front of him, angling his head and licking into his mouth. Paul lets out a little noise and continues kissing him messily, tongues running over each other’s teeth. Paul broke away with a quiet gasp, like he was coming back up from under the water.
“What other piercings did you see on that paper, then?” Paul teases.
John huffs out a quiet laugh and grabs the paper, trailing his finger down the list, and then he gets an idea. “Do you want me to show you?”
Paul takes the paper from him and lets it fall to the floor, “Have to know our options here,” even though both he and John know that they won't be piercing anything else.
Paul lays back on the bed, giving himself over to John. Something low and hot burned in John’s groin, shifting his position so that he is now straddling Paul. He leans down, running his thumb over Paul’s lip.
“You can get one right here.”
He takes Paul’s lip into his mouth, lightly biting down and tonguing at it. His hand comes up to Paul’s neck, pressing his fingers down onto his pulse. He arches up, rutting against John’s arse. Paul makes sweet little sounds with every desperate thrust, fingernail’s digging into John’s back like knives. His eyes darken, just looking at him so affectionately that John thought he might explode with it.
John breaks away, giving his bottom lip a quick kiss before taking the hems of Paul’s shirt in between his fingers. He leans back, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor. Paul is spread out across the bed, skin bare and flushed, and John’s stomach coils when the silver ring glistens in the light. He presses himself onto Paul, hearts against one another, beating together so that it was the only thing that either of them could hear
He begins laying kisses down the paleness of Paul’s neck: kisses turned into bites, and bites turned into bruises. He knows that he should be more careful, especially with a show tomorrow; but he doesn’t care. He wants people to see his neck, he wants people to see his ring, a display of them for everyone to see. That no one else could have either one of them like this.
He moves down, licking at the dip of Paul’s collarbone. Paul shivers, hands coming up to John’s back then tugging at John’s shirt.
“Shirt off, John.” He says breathlessly.
John stills, sitting up and waiting for Paul to do anything. “Come on then, Paulie.”
Paul huffs out of his nose impatiently and shifts up, lifting the shirt off of John as he holds his arms up for Paul. He then comes down, drawing circles around Paul’s chest.
“And you can get another one here too,” John says, watching Paul intently before giving his nipple a kitten lick.
Paul exhales sharply, and John takes it into his mouth, making sure not to bite down on him too hard. He flicks his tongue, feeling it stiffen as the insistent press of Paul’s erection digs into his thigh.
He moves down Paul’s torso, lower and lower until he meets his navel, running his index finger down the dark trail of hair that leads down to his groin. Paul runs a hand through John’s hair, looking down at him. John loves every single inch of Paul.
“You could get one right in here, Paul.”
John kissed at him softly before curling his tongue into Paul’s navel, licking in and out of him. John’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of Paul’s stomach before biting at the skin around his belly button. Paul let out a quiet moan and pulled at John’s hair, laying one final kiss at his navel.
John fidgeted with the zipper of Paul’s fly, basking at the pleading look Paul was giving to him. He wished he could have Paul like this all the time, and for Paul to have him like this too; desperate and squirming under each other’s touch.
“Saw this one on the list, do you know where it is, Paulie?”
Paul shook his head, “Where is it?”
John unzipped his trousers, watching the way Paul’s hips buck up for any form of relief. He dragged Paul’s pants off of him, legs seeming to go on and on with no end, pale and covered with dark hair. Paul’s legs part open for him, allowing John to wrap them around his head. He wondered if those very same legs would squeeze around him while he would take his pretty little prick into his mouth.
Instead of going for the obvious tent in Paul's briefs, John couldn’t help but bite and lick at his thighs. Paul fell back, clearly annoyed with the change in path John was taking, but still continuing to make quiet sounds at every mark John made.
When John decided he was done, his hand crept up to Paul’s waistband. Paul sat up on his elbows, waiting for what John was going to do next. He hovered over Paul’s clothed erection, mouthing over the curve of his cock, sucking ever so slightly at him through the cotton.
Paul took in trembling breath, “John, Johnny, please,” as he dug his fingernails into John’s scalp.
He tugs Paul’s underwear down with two fingers, watching as it curved up, red and leaking for him. Paul was fully hard, the deep and angry color from all of John’s teasing. Paul was always so eager, so needy for John. There wasn’t a great difference in their size, Paul’s being slightly smaller in girth and length. Not that he minded at all, the opposite, in fact. It was so sensitive, making Paul gasp at the lightest touch. The pre-cum pearled in the slit of his head, already dripping down his length, and John gave him a small lick.
Paul let out a whimper, encouraging John to lap at the pre-cum collecting there. John gave a few more abortive flicks of the tongue before taking the tip into his mouth.
“Fuck, Johnny,” Paul moaned.
John hummed, spitting onto the head and then slowly sliding down his cock. Paul’s hips bucked up but John held him down with his hands, fingers pressing into him deeply. He opened his mouth wider, getting more and more of him in, nose pressing into Paul’s pubic hair. The musky scent of Paul drove him mad, looking up at him, tear prickling in his eyes from how far Paul was in his throat.
Paul opened his eyes, pupils blown and face a shade of red. Paul brings a hand down to John’s face, caressing his cheek fondly. John flushed, moving up a few inches and getting a desperate noise out of him. Paul tugged at his hair, and John began moving up and down. He slid back up to the head, hollowing his cheeks and diving down again. Paul squirmed, saying his name over and over like it was an incantation, moaning and whimpering whenever he wasn't. When his hips threatened to buck up again, John took his hands off of his hips and let Paul shove his cock into his mouth. John almost gagged at the sudden pressure to the back of his throat, pulling back and coughing into his hand.
Paul looked up, an apologetic look in his eyes, “Shit, Johnny, sorry.” He held his hand up to John’s face again, “I got ahead of myself.”
Paul ran his thumb over John’s bottom lip, and he gave him a small lick. Paul’s breath hitched, running it over John’s lip again, and then John took him into his mouth. Paul’s mouth went slack, watching as John circled his tongue over the pad of his thumb, then breaking away to give it a small kiss.
John smiles at him coyly, bringing Paul’s two fingers to his mouth, pressing his tongue to him. “You know, there was one last piercing I wanted to try, Paulie.”
Paul looks at him like he knows the answer, “What is it?”
John didn’t answer, taking the two fingers into his mouth, a hint. Paul asks again, more needy this time, “Johnny, come on, what is it?”
John hums, he wants to make Paul beg for it. He slides his tongue in between his fingers, and Paul looks like he might go mad.
“Please, Johnny…” He trails off.
John pulls away from Paul’s fingers, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips. He had almost forgotten about his own erection, pressing painfully against his trousers. He takes in a shuddered breath, tugging away at his pants and briefs and settling back on top of him, watching Paul’s eyes go straight down to his cock. As much as John wants to take the two of them into his hand, he didn’t want to come yet. So he held off, determined to go through with what he had planned in his head. To show Paul how much he meant to him, so his own prick didn’t matter right now.
He meets Paul’s lips, letting himself get lost in it for a few moments before breaking away, “Turn over for me, on your stomach.”
Paul looked confused, but got on his hands and knees for John regardless, trusting him. John brought his hands down the dip of his back. He went for the curve of Paul’s arse, laying a kiss and biting down on him.
“Look so pretty laid out like this, Paulie,” his hands went up to Paul’s hips, then trailing down to his arse cheeks, spreading him apart.
He brings his tongue up to his hole, licking at him slowly but not breaching him yet. He can feel as Paul relaxes into it, allowing John to flick up, the tip of his tongue just barely entering him. He starts licking deeper, hearing Paul let out a quiet moan. They hadn’t tried this before, but John was glad for the positive feedback. He licks into him further and further, letting Paul’s hips buck into him. His nose is pressing into Paul’s skin, spearing his tongue up into him and falling into a steady pace.
Paul was panting, rocking back into John’s tongue, which was fully inside of him at this point. John knew that this had been going on for too long now, but Paul was just enjoying it so much.
“God, Johnny,” Paul moaned out, voice keened.
Paul’s hands twisted as he gripped onto the bed sheets as John continued to fuck him with his tongue, writhing under him. John wasn’t sure how much longer Paul would be able to last, pulling out at thrusting back, trying to curl his tongue up against his prostate. Spit dribbles down from his hole, tonguing into him faster and faster at every jerk of Paul’s hips.
“John, wait–fuck, I’m close,” Paul whines into his hand.
He licks in a couple more times before Paul’s hips begin to shove back into him frantically, back arching as Paul’s legs shake, riding his tongue. Paul tries to warn him again but he lets it happen, he wants it to happen. Paul moans his name as he reaches his limit, hips still moving before he collapses onto the bed.
John pulls away, turning Paul onto his back and laying on top of him. He brought his hand up to Paul’s face, who was looking down at him languidly. John’s own erection laid heavy against his stomach, but he reminded himself to ignore it. The fact that Paul trusted him this much was enough to sustain him, away.
Paul pulled him in for a kiss, making John melt completely. He breaks away with a small smile, looking at John in a way that would make anyone fall head over heels for Paul. He brought a hand up to John’s face, running a finger up and down his temple.
“What do you want to do now?” Paul asked him, in reference to John’s cock basically stabbing into his stomach.
It made John’s stomach swoop, knowing that anything he’d ask Paul for he would eagerly do. He took this chance to be grateful for both of their libidos. John hummed, in all honesty, he would be happy if Paul gave him a quick handjob; but he wanted to be inside of him.
“Want to fuck you, Paulie.” John closed the space between them, pulling him into a slow kiss. Paul’s tongue slipped into his mouth to taste himself, making a jolt of heat shoot up John’s groin.
Paul pulls away, “Why’d you let me come already then?” Teasing John, who can already feel Paul’s prick beginning to stiffen again.
John shrugs, kisses his cheek, and lets his hand trail down to the Adam's apple of Paul’s neck. “Love seeing you all worked up like that.”
He watches a flush creep up onto Paul’s face as he gets off of him, fishing up the vaseline in the bedroom drawer and seeing the needle laid out on the counter; a looming reminder of their devotion to each other.