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Damp. That’s all Paul could really feel at the moment. Everything was humid, strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his body shaking and weak as he stumbled around like an idiotic fool. His clothes stuck to him like glue, the feeling of his skin making him want to implode from the inside out. What on God’s green Earth did he take?
He cursed himself at first, with the very little functionality he had left. Why would he take that much? Why would he trust strangers with obscure little pills and tablets in a foreign country? Pure stupidity, Paul thought. It was like his father's voice was reprimanding him in his head.
The expression held on his face was blank, his gaze aimlessly directed to the hack of a paint job on the bar wall. Paul pursed his lips, swaying slightly as his vision pounded with speckles of black.
“Christ, Macca, you’re not looking too good,” John came into his field of vision, his hand resting firmly on Paul’s shoulder. “How much did you drink? How much did you take?” His brow furrowed with concern.
“Mhh, don’t remember, took whatever I found,” Paul gulped like there was molasses stuck in his throat, “Can we just call it a night, please?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” John heavily exhaled, “Come on, hold onto me, there isn’t a chance in hell you can walk on your own.”
All Paul did was murmur in response, one eye blinking at a time as he put an arm around John for support. “Fuck, my stomach…” He guided Paul out the pub door, the fresh air hitting both of them. Paul couldn’t tell if it made him feel better or worse.
Luckily, their hotel wasn’t that far away, all they had to do was walk a couple of blocks, which felt like hours on poor Paul’s end.
“Really didn’t think that you would be this stupid, Paulie,” John laughed to himself, not being able to properly judge if cracking jokes was the best idea in this situation. “Usually you're the one trying not to get into too much trouble.”
A long and irritated groan left Paul’s lips in response, his feet shuffling against the concrete as his head began to throb in intervals of pain, his stomach churning along with it. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this sick, not even with the flu or some sort of stomach bug. It was like his body was giving out on him, finally getting revenge after all the relentless partying they had done over the last few weeks in Hamburg.
It wasn’t like he was incapable of holding his own liquor, or drugs in this case. He certainly was, but this time around it just decided to finally fuck with him. He just got unlucky. The only remotely positive thing about this was John, if he wasn’t there practically dragging Paul through the street he probably would have passed out in the bar. However, there was also John’s gentleness, his hand placement, his slow and careful movements, the concerned, loving look he’d give to Paul every minute or two. And it wasn’t like he was trying to be overly pressing about making sure Paul was okay, It probably wouldn’t even get to that point, Paul was totally fine—
“Oh— Fuck—“ Paul clutched his stomach as he gagged, quickly bolting away from John as his hand pressed against the roughness of the brick wall.
John watched as Paul heaved, the contents of his stomach pouring out onto the concrete below. He wasn’t grossed out, he’s seen people vomit their brains out before, but for some odd reason, it was difficult to unglue his eyes from Paul. A boy who was so pretty, poised, cherubic, turning into nothing but a puking mess in front of him.
“You alright?” John peered over slightly, hands in his pockets as he listened to the wet hacking and whines of swears stringing out of Paul’s mouth. “Paulie?”
“D-does it look like I'm alright?—“ There was annoyance laced in his voice as he spat, John found it charming. “Ugh, it hurts, John...”
John held back a small grin with a pinch of shame, his best friend was in pain, suffering right in front of him, but the way the spit around Paul’s redened lips shined under the light of the street lamp, the pale almost sickly green tint of his skin being on full display— It was hard not to admire how he still managed to stay beautiful in John’s eyes right after being sick on the street. His sickness was weirdly elegant.
“Quit looking at me like that, just take me home,” Paul couldn’t even look at John, he was obviously humiliated.
John’s eyes searched helplessly over Paul’s still hunched over body, “Yeah, sorry, c’mon.”
—
It only took a few more minutes to get back to their hotel, John opening the door to their not-so-luxurious room, the small lamp in the corner being the only source of illumination. Paul groaned again, benounced to John whether it was out of relief or discomfort. The rest of their group must have been out still, as the place seemed to be empty.
“Hey, at least we’ve got the room to ourselves, right?” John smiled sheepishly, trying to make Paul feel at least a little bit better despite his declining state. John heard him mumble in agreement, alleviating him of some worry. “We should probably get to bed, just lie on your side, I don’t want you choking on your own spew or something.”
John hauled him into the bedroom, slowly sitting him down against the narrow mattress, Paul’s droopy, tired eyes gazing up at him with a sense of longing. “John, it hurts, everything hurts…” He blinked slowly, voice shaky.
The mattress lightly squeaked as John sat down beside him, hand calmly caressing Paul’s leg. “I'm here, don’t worry. I kind of like this— taking care of you, I mean.”
Paul rubbed his palms across his face, lightly smiling beneath the cover of his hands, “I’m surprised, thought you’d be scolding me more.”
“Well, I definitely will in the morning,” he snickered. “Just not now, would rather just make sure you feel better.”
An audible, thick swallow came from Paul’s throat, but he was blushing, “Mm, thanks, Johnny.” Paul leant over for a moment, resting his head on John’s shoulder as his face scrunched up, “God I just wish this would go away— My stomach…”
John didn’t respond, he couldn’t, he was still caught up with the whole “lighting up inside when seeing his best mate puke” thing. It was weird, he had heard stories of prossies being asked to hurl for their clients' pleasure, surely he wasn’t one of them, right? Maybe he was overthinking it, or was Paul just so enticing that he could get hard just by watching him gag and choke on his own sick—
Then it happened, again.
Paul rushed up, not even shutting the bathroom door behind him before aggressively coughing into the bowl of the toilet, his body rejecting his own insides at this point. John ran in after and crouched down near Paul, gently stroking his back as he just watched again. He couldn’t help but look, couldn’t help but watch Paul’s helpless gagging and spitting, his watering eyes, his trembling, weak body.
“Jesus, you poor thing…” John cooed without thinking all that much beforehand.
A sob was heard in response in between each throttle, Paul’s face only growing redder and paler.
John’s hand moved down slightly, closer to Paul’s ass, he couldn’t control himself, Paul just looked so easy to touch like this. “Just let it out, come on, love.”
John inched his hand farther down, lightly palming Paul’s groin, his own lips parted as arousal seemed to overtake him. “Look at you,” He said softly as Paul squeaked below him, clearly overwhelmed. “Still so pretty even when sick.”
Paul spat, “Johnny, what are you doing?”
“It’s alright,” his teeth nibbled at his bottom lip, “just making you feel better, Macca.”
Paul’s grip tightened against the porcelain, the sound of liquid sloshing as he heaved, his hips jerking as John played with his zipper.
“Johnny, Johnny wait—“ His voice was high-pitched and urgent, face bright red as his eyes watered from all the gagging.
Paul didn’t know how to feel, it felt so ridiculous. John’s hands on his groin, the repeating floods of vomit burning his throat like hot lava, it was all so vulnerable, so dirty. But maybe it was, well— a good kind of dirty.
“Mmh— John please,” Paul whined as he could feel himself harden, whether he wanted to or not. “Isn’t this a bit, uh, unsanitary?”
“You seemed not to care all that much about sanitary when you took those pills,” John’s hands tugged down at his trousers, exposing Paul’s half-hard cock to the cold bathroom air. “I think you like being unsanitary, or at least your little prick does,” he smiled to himself, John was having the time of his life.
“Shut up, d-don’t say it like that,” Face only flushing more, he buried his face in his arms that were resting against the toilet seat, John’s warm palm stroking him slowly. “Ahn, please just— Mnnf…”
John quickened his pace, using his other hand to fully expose the rest of Paul’s behind, the curve of his ass only being accentuated by the pressure of his waistband against his upper thigh.
“Please what, hm?” John bent over him to whisper, his free hand tracing two fingers across his entrance. “Use your words, dear, or are you too sick?” He mocked, those two fingers pressing quite roughly while he teased.
“It’s too much, I can’t—“ Paul stammered, eyes shining as he gagged again, clearly overwhelmed while his cock twitched desperately, John moving all his attention to his hole. “It’s gonna hurt, I-I’m not wet enough…”
John shivered at the word, ‘wet’, his own dick firmly resting against his underwear, a small wet stain forming on the front just from seeing Paul like this. Perfect little Paulie becoming completely undone, grotesque, in front of him.
“Well then, let’s make you.” The moistness of John’s tongue caressed Paul in places he never thought it would, his sore body bucking forward as John held him by the hips, moving his tongue in and out. John groaned, burying his nose as Paul choked, expelling his stomach acid another time.
John removed his head, his touch still clinging to paul in the most vulnerable spots before moving a finger inside. The spit didn’t do much, Paul could only cry out in both discomfort and pleasure, pre cum beading from his tip.
It was hard to tell if he was enjoying this or not, nothing felt real. The only thing he could sense within himself was an immovable burning ache, unable to move or move away even if he wanted. At least it was John, he thought, at least it was someone he loved.
John seemed to be completely lost in his own arousal, his voice tauntingly low, his presence behind Paul feeling so possessively hungry. Although, his movements were still gentle, still making sure that Paul was relatively taken care of.
“See, it’s not so bad,” John spoke softly, adding a second finger as he spat in between his digits and Paul’s ass. “You’ll feel all better once you get it out of your system. This will only make you feel better, Paul, me touching you will only make it easier…”
He trailed off, lips parted as he moved his fingers in and out, making sure to curl them and hit the sweetest spot inside of Paul.
The younger boy could feel his stomach churn again, the conflicting feelings of puking his brains out while being fingered shooting through his body. “John, it’s so— this is so strange…”
“I know, just trust me, it will be all right,” he shushed Paul like he would a crying child, “My pretty boy, so fucking ruined.” John was rutting against his free hand now, deeply murmuring in satisfaction as Paul shook against his fingers.
“I need to be inside of you— Just tell me you want me to fuck you,” The tone in John’s voice was urgent, wanting nothing more than to just empty himself inside.
Paul squeaked, confused as to whether or not he should play into this, but something was keeping him from saying no, something deep inside his body just itching for him to agree, “I— fuck me, just do it, Johnny, mmph— please…”
Paul was a panting mess, occasionally spitting to get rid of the taste of vomit lingering in his mouth, it was beautiful, John couldn’t help but smugly grin. “Such a good lad, so good for me…”
Listening carefully, Paul heard John’s trousers and belt hit the ground, stifling a groan from escaping his mouth. John spat in his palm, trying to lubricate himself the best he could.
Slowly, the tip of John’s cock slid in through Paul’s entrance, a hefty, low groan coming deep from John’s throat. Paul squirmed slightly, squirmed as his hands gripped the toilet seat, his head still looming over the pile of his own sick.
Beginning to thrust, John held onto Paul’s hips, the gentle guiding contrasting heavily with the confusing vulgarity of wanting to see Paul in such a revolting and humiliating situation. Deep down, for some god-forsaken reason, Paul knew that he was enjoying it.
Whining like a female dog in heat, Paul began to rock back and forth against John while his brain worked both over and under time, trying hardly to figure out how he could be enjoying the state of being so uncomfortable and disgusted. Was it simply because it was John? Was it because he knew that they could do anything to or with each other that wouldn’t shake their bond in the slightest? Would this actually ruin everything in the end?
John let his body fold over the body under him, using his mouth to lightly nip and suck at the nape of Paul’s neck. “You’re so bloody tight, Paulie. God, you’re so— perfect.”
“John, oh Johnny,” Paul bit down roughly on his lip, fingers and body fidgeting as John’s weight eventually secured him into place, the pace of thrusting becoming faster. “Oh— Fuck! Mm, Hah!”
John was letting out animalistic sounds at that point, his arousal still taking control of him, all sense of rationality completely gone. He just wanted to keep fucking Paul, keep using him while aiding him, completely having him wrapped around his finger.
“Don’t you ever— Ah— go, Paul,” John was feral, panting as sweat formed on his forehead, “Don’t ever leave, baby…”
“All yours,” Paul could feel himself leaking from every surface, unabashedly trembling for any form of release, “I’m all, mmh, fucking y-yours!”
Losing it at Paul’s words, John let a free hand roam to the boy’s cock, stroking him as he emptied himself inside of Paul’s body, a few final slams and cries echoing throughout the bathroom.
Paul finished shortly after, his voice hoarse and weak from the moaning and stomach acid burning his esophagus, his limbs left limp and tired.
Although John stayed in his place, still inside of Paul, glued to him. He rubbed his hands along Paul’s body sweetly, softly shushing him while planting little kisses anywhere he could find.
Now all both of them could feel was nothing but shame and pleasure.