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John glanced around him, taking in the sea of moving bodies. From his observation point in a booth in the corner, the club seemed especially excitable today. He couldn't really keep himself interested, though. None of the grinding bodies were the one he wanted.
He thought about their last conversation. Paul had called him out of the blue, telling him he'd be in New York for a few days for his stupid Wings tour. John had frowned at his body's reaction, the way his heart rate increased and his stomach tied itself into a knot. He couldn't see Paul. John didn't think he could control himself.
So, on the night John knew Paul was coming, he was camped out in a gay bar. He was desperately trying to distract himself.
John stalked up to the bar and ordered another drink, trying once again to find a man who might be a good distraction. Nothing. They were all boring. Earlier that night, a young guy had actually invited him out, hinting at a hotel room waiting for him. John had considered it. He was attractive, he seemed nice.
It isn't him, his brain had helpfully supplied, so he declined. The man had just shrugged and wandered off, unbothered.
John was making his way back to his booth when he saw him.
Paul McCartney was making his way through the crowd, grinning at the guys who tried to talk to him. John felt his hands start to shake. He had to get out before Paul saw him. What the fuck was he doing here? Did he somehow know John was here?
He started to push his way through the men, keeping his eyes down. What an awful night. Why was Paul at a gay bar? He tried not to think about it, feeling his face flush at the images that sprang to mind. Was Paul queer? Had he…?
“Johnny?!” Came the call from across the floor. John froze, slowly turning to meet Paul's gaze. He looked just as surprised as John felt, but John felt his worry loosen a bit at the grin that was breaking out on Paul's face. Paul began shoving his way to him, and god he looked good. John felt his heart kick into a higher gear. He hasn't been this close to Paul in years, and he was well on his way to being drunk. He knew he was blushing already, just seeing Paul. He needed to leave.
He was frozen in place, though, and Paul sauntered right up to him with a smirk that stole the air from his lungs.
“Come here often, darlin’?” Fuck. John rolled his eyes fondly.
“All the time. Fancy seeing you here, though,” he said, managing to sound controlled. Paul laughed.
“Come on then, let's sit,” Paul said, grabbing his arm and dragging them to the same booth John had just vacated. His skin burned at the contact. This was going to end badly.
Paul had a mullet. John watched him as he walked to the bar for drinks. He looked like he belonged, and he took note of the hungry gazes that followed him. A sharp sting of jealousy ran through him and he forced himself to look away. Paul was too pretty for his own good, sometimes.
He jumped when Paul sat down, lost in his inner turmoil. Paul grinned and looked him up and down, and John swallowed hard.
“Wasn't expecting to run into you here,” John said, taking a deep sip of whatever Paul had gotten him. It burned his throat pleasantly. Paul shrugged and swirled his glass.
“I'm here for the same thing you are, I suppose,” Paul said. He was confident. It made John angry. He hummed, his knee bouncing anxiously under the table.
“And how long has that been a thing you're interested in?” He blushed immediately, embarrassed at his own question. He was being obvious. Paul, though, looked thoughtful.
“I suppose I've always been interested. Within the past few years I've been coming to terms with it. Does that surprise you?” John hesitated. It didn't really surprise him as much as it frustrated him. John had to come to terms with it the moment he'd met Paul and thought about how beautiful he was. He had destroyed their friendship because he couldn't have him the way he wanted. And here he was, sitting across from him, and he was queer, too.
“S’ppose not,” he said quietly, downing the rest of his drink. “Does it surprise you that I’m here?” Paul giggled and John flushed with embarrassment (and delight).
“No, Johnny. You’ve never been very subtle.” John scoffed. He was still too smug.
He allowed himself to look Paul over, feeling the alcohol lessen his nerves. His hair was great. John was surprised to find he really liked the mullet.
Paul was wearing a white button down with too many buttons undone. John stared, taking note of the dark hair that grew across his chest. John had always liked that. He looked strong and sure of himself. John was wildly attracted to the whole thing. He met Paul's amused eyes and glanced away, face hot. “You look good,” he said, not entirely sure why. He snuck a look and saw Paul's face had a hint of pink. The sight sent a shiver down his spine. Get a hold of yourself!
“You do too. Surprised the whole club isn't all over you,” said Paul, leaning forward. John laughed and shook his head.
“You should've seen them watching you walk to the bar. It was ridiculous. Every head was turned your way,” John said. Paul was definitely blushing now, messing with his drink. He looked up again, meeting John's eyes with something like a challenge.
“You sound jealous, Johnny,” Paul murmured, leaning even closer. John gaped at him, unable to respond. He leaned back and looked around the room for some sort of escape. He was feeling a distinctive knot in the pit of his stomach that told him he was going to do something stupid.
“Yeah, well.” He tapped his fingers on the table. Paul was watching him curiously.
“You are, aren't you?” Paul asked. His voice was quiet, eyes heavy. John couldn't look away, and he felt himself nod against his will. Paul smirked and John knew it was over for him. Before he could muster a response, Paul blinked and his smile returned to normal. “Another drink?” John nodded absently and stared after him as he went back to the bar. Once again, heads turned to watch. John could only hear ringing in his ears as Paul bent over the bar. It seemed like every single man in the room was staring. One man stepped forward and struck up a conversation with him. John's hand tightened around his empty glass until Paul glanced over at him with a grin.
“Fucker,” John hissed. He was doing it on purpose. He was trying to get John to react, but he wouldn't fall for it. He watched out of the corner of his eye as they talked, ignoring it as best he could. Until, of course, the man ran his hand down Paul's bicep.
John was across the room before he was even aware he had stood up. He marched up to Paul and slid his arm around his waist, holding on tighter than probably necessary.
“Back off, man,” he said, trying for casual but coming off much more aggressive than he intended. The man's eyes widened and he backed up.
“Sorry, man, didn't know,” the guy said, turning and vanishing into the crowd. John watched him go, hand still on Paul's waist. He glanced over at Paul, who was trying to hide the fact he was giggling. He stepped back hurriedly and shot him a glare.
“What are you playing at, you prick? Are you trying to mess with me? I'm not your fucking toy,” he growled, turning and shoving his way back to the table. Paul was playing a stupid game. John didn't understand what the point of it was, other than to make him look like a fool. It was embarrassing.
“John, you idiot, wait,” said Paul, sliding back into his seat. “I'm not… trying to mess with you. Maybe I just like that you're possessive.” He was blushing, and John felt lightheaded. This night was not going as he'd hoped, but he allowed himself to consider it might end up even better.
“Is that so?” John asked, sipping his new drink. He let himself stare again. Paul's shirt really was far too revealing. It was obscene, honestly. A vivid scene came to mind where John was biting at all the bare skin, leaving marks and causing Paul to moan--
John looked away. His pants were too tight. He was drunker than he thought.
“Can I ask you something?” Paul asked, leaning his head on his hands. John raised his eyebrows and nodded. “How long have you… erm. Well, were you ever interested in me? Before?” John stared at him in disbelief. Was he joking?
“Are you joking?” John said it aloud, just for clarity. Paul frowned and shook his head.
“Not joking. I'll answer it too, if you want,” Paul said, and John felt like he was getting into very dangerous territory.
“You already know the answer,” John said, wishing for another drink. Paul shifted in his seat, looking… nervous?
“I don't, actually. I was very oblivious back then, y'know. I'm asking because I really didn't see it, and… well, maybe I was hoping to see it,” he said, and John nearly lost it. He counted to ten, watching his fingers tap the table.
“I told you I was in love with you. In India. What the hell did you think I meant?” John said, trying to be calm. “I told you. And you didn't say anything. And then you went home. So yeah, I was interested in you. Before.” Paul was staring at him, wide eyed.
“John… I thought you meant it as a friend,” Paul whispered, and John started laughing. He started laughing and he couldn't stop, covering his mouth with his hand as he doubled over in the chair. Paul must be one of the most emotionally stunted men in the entire world.
Paul was watching John, apprehensive. He looked lost, and John felt bad enough that he was able to stop laughing.
“You really are daft, you know. I've been crazy about you since the day we met,” John said, gasping for breath. He watched Paul visibly relax and impulsively grabbed for his hand. “Seriously. I thought you were straight, or maybe just too repressed to ever figure it out. But Christ, Paul, I was trying to get in your pants for an entire decade!” Paul turned a nice shade of red and giggled, and John just about fainted.
“I thought we just had a special connection. As friends, y'know. I was trying to distract myself the whole time from how much I wanted you. It was only recently when I looked back at it that I realized you might have been struggling with it, too,” Paul said. John couldn't stop himself from grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him.
It was uncomfortable, leaning over the table like that, but it was everything John had ever imagined. Paul was responsive almost immensely, his tongue swiping along John's lips in a way that made him dizzy. John slipped one hand behind Paul's head and tangled it in his hair, tugging slightly. Paul let out a low groan and John had to pull away. They both were panting and Paul had a dazed look on his face. John needed more.
“Hotel,” he said, and it sounded more like a plea than anything. Paul nodded quickly, touching his lips with his fingertips. “Paul, let's go, I can't fucking wait any more for this,” John said, pulling him out of the booth. Paul was grinning and it felt like the sun. They pushed through to the door, John glaring at anybody who even looked in Paul's direction.
Immediately outside the club, Paul backed John against the stone wall of the building and kissed him, hard. It was dirtier, Paul's tongue forcing its way inside, his hands grabbing John's hips. He heard himself whine and arch against Paul. Anybody could walk by and see them, and the thought of that made him even harder.
Suddenly, Paul pulled back. His eyes were dark and his lips looked red and swollen. John nearly groaned at the sight alone.
“C'mon, I have a room,” Paul said, his voice rough. John could only nod and follow him as he hailed a taxi.
The ride was short but unbearable. Paul's hand had made its way to John's thigh, sliding high enough where John could feel the heat from his hand on his cock. John was trying hard to stay engaged in the conversation the driver insisted on starting. It was incredibly difficult, especially with Paul's hand rubbing the inside of his thigh. He glanced over at one point to tell him to knock it off, but Paul was looking at him like he was about to pounce on him in the next minute, so John accepted his torture.
His nerves were getting the better of him as they got close to the hotel. This was Paul. Paul, with his hand inches from John's dick. Paul, who invited him to his hotel room. Paul, who John had been dreaming about for twenty years now. He was afraid he was going to cry.
They paid the taxi and stepped out in front of the hotel.
“Do you want me to go around the back? I'm sure you don't want people to recognize us together?” John asked, biting his lip. Paul grinned at him and gestured for him to follow.
“Maybe I want them to.” John swallowed and walked after him.
It was late, but there were still several people milling about the lobby. One woman immediately recognized them and John winced as she gasped dramatically. Several others watched them in surprise, but nobody ran up to them, which John was grateful for. He didn't think he could talk to somebody with Paul right here looking at him like that. Everybody would know what they were doing.
As soon as the elevator doors shut, John was on top of him, running his hands through his hair, slipping underneath his shirt to grab at his bare waist. Paul let out a breathy moan as John bit his bottom lip. The sound went straight to his cock, and he experimentally pushed his hips forward, elated to feel Paul was similarly affected. Because of John. He felt dizzy with lust, his hand slipping further up Paul's body to pinch one of his nipples. Paul gasped and his head fell back, and John couldn't help his grin. Paul was easy.
The doors suddenly opened and John fell away from him. Luckily, nobody was waiting for the elevator down, and he let out a deep breath. Paul gathered himself and led them down the hall. They were almost speed walking.
Paul locked the door of his room and turned around slowly, looking John up and down. He willed himself to be still, shivering as Paul approached him, pushing him back until he landed on the bed. John stared up at him in amazement. Paul watched him for a moment more before climbing on top, straddling John's hips and pushing their clothed erections together. John's eyes rolled back in his head and he frantically grabbed Paul's waist. He didn't think he would last long at all.
Paul gently grabbed John's wrists and pinned them above his head. John's eyes flew open and he blinked in surprise. Paul leaned forward until John could feel his hot breath on his ear.
“Be good,” he whispered, and John nodded quickly. He realized he was shaking and took a deep breath.
“Paul,” he said, meeting his eyes. Paul looked wrecked, and John struggled to remember what was so important. “I won't… I won't be able to stop. I can't be okay with just once,” he said quietly, face heating up from the admission. Paul's eyes softened.
“Me neither. We'll figure it out, promise,” Paul said, and John sighed in relief. He watched, enraptured, as Paul undid his shirt. John couldn't stop himself from touching, hands roaming over his skin, grinning at Paul's full body shudder when he ghosted over his nipples. It was intoxicating. John wanted to spend an entire day mapping out Paul's reactions to different things.
Paul had other plans though, and was quickly pulling John's clothes off. John let himself be manhandled, finding he actually quite liked it. A lot.
Within a minute, John was laying on the bed, completely bare. His cock was fully hard and leaking, and he watched as Paul settled himself between John's legs. Paul was still wearing pants, which John found unfair. He was about to say as much when Paul suddenly took John in his mouth and John could do nothing but curse.
“Fuck, Paul. Oh God,” he groaned, watching every movement. Paul had clearly done this before, and John reacted to this sudden jealousy by tangling his fingers in Paul's hair and pulling. Paul made an appreciative hum and John had to control his impulse to shove himself down Paul's throat. It was too much, already, and it was just a blowjob.
A blowjob from Paul, John's mind helpfully reminded him, and he had to close his eyes. Paul immediately stopped, pulling back as John's eyes snapped open again.
“Don't stop, please,” John begged, not caring how desperate he sounded. Paul smirked at him.
“Eyes open, then,” he said, and resumed. John shuddered and nodded.
“Should've known you'd be bossy in bed, too,” he panted, pulling harder on Paul's hair.
Suddenly, Paul went all the way down, and John could feel the back of Paul's throat as he worked through his gag reflex. John shouted and frantically pulled him off, gripping the base of his dick in panic.
“Fucking hell!” he hissed, trying to control himself. Paul looked worried.
“Did I hurt you?” John laughed and shook his head, watching Paul realize what happened. “You almost…” He giggled. “Already?” John was blushing furiously.
“Don't let it get to your head,” he said, looking away.
“Don't worry, I can make you come more than once, darlin',” Paul said, and John allowed his hand to be pushed away. He liked that idea very much.
Paul began licking up the underside of his dick, sucking on just the tip experimentally. John groaned, entranced. Paul's lips were swollen, his face pink. John wanted him to look like this all the time. Paul paused his efforts to lick his own fingers, and John quickly bent his knees in anticipation. God, yes, I need it.
Paul's lips wrapped around his dick again as his middle finger slid down until it was rubbing against his hole. Paul looked up at John, a silent question that John answered with a frantic nod. He felt Paul push in, panting at the feeling. He only ever did this to himself, he had never let another man do this to him.
Subconsciously, he had known he only wanted one man inside him.
Paul quickly worked up to two fingers, occasionally rubbing against John's prostate, making him whine and leak pre-come into Paul's mouth. He was shaking all over, the stimulation from both ends almost too much to handle. God, it was good.
“Paul, that's so good, oh God. You've no idea how long I've wanted this, wanted you, fucking shit--”
Paul suddenly crooked his fingers and started rubbing circles around John's prostate. John could only tug Paul's hair as a warning before he was coming, his entire body twitching as Paul swallowed down his come.
“Oh God. Paul, need you, please baby,” John said, not embarrassed anymore. Paul quickly pulled back, hands shaking as he undid his pants. John was still coming down from his orgasm, mouth watering as Paul's dick sprang free. He looked painfully hard.
“Lay back, Johnny,” Paul said, going to straddle his chest. John felt his own dick immediately try to get hard again as Paul gripped John's hair and guided his cock into his mouth. John moaned, closing his eyes and sucking enthusiastically. Paul yanked on his hair and pulled out.
“Eyes open,” he panted, and John obeyed.
It was better than he'd imagined. Paul was making little breathy moans, staring down at John with something that could only be adoration. He sucked Paul's cock, watching his face as he ran his teeth along the length of it. Paul pulled his hair, hard, and involuntarily bucked his hips, pushing his cock far enough to gag John. John grinned up at him around the dick in his mouth.
“Fuck, darlin',” Paul growled, the sound going straight to John's quickly hardening dick.
Paul was gently rocking into John's mouth, his grip on John's hair tightening every time he gagged. He looked obscene, his mullet damp with sweat, his swollen lips parted as he moaned. John was quickly getting worked up again.
Most times he'd imagined this (which was very often), he'd pictured himself on top with Paul being quite submissive. He was pleasantly surprised by Paul's bossiness. He hadn't expected it, though maybe he should have. Hearing Paul tell him what to do was admittedly a huge turn on (and maybe it always has been).
Paul quickly pulled back, leaning down to kiss John. John groaned as their dicks pressed together, bare this time. Paul was rolling his hips down into him, panting into their kiss. John whined as Paul moved to his neck, kissing and biting and most definitely leaving marks.
“Paul, please,” he moaned, bucking his hips. John felt him laugh against his neck, the hot air making him shiver.
“Expected you to want to be the top, y'know,” Paul whispered, reaching toward the bedside table and coming back with lube.
“I’m as surprised as you are. Some other time. Just need you inside me,” John said, spreading his legs as far as they could go. Paul let out a broken moan as he slicked up his cock, staring down at John. John felt himself blush, suddenly self conscious. Was he being too much? Too submissive?
“God, John. Can't believe I get to have you like this. I used to jack off to this exact scenario. Still do,” Paul admitted, finally lining himself up. John felt his cock twitch from the words, no longer embarrassed. Paul wanted this, he fantasized about this. Christ.
The first push hurt. John gasped and tensed involuntarily, pushing Paul back out. He looked up, concerned.
“Have you… ever had this?” John shook his head. Paul flushed bright red, mouth parting in shock.
“Fuck, John,” he muttered, and John noticed his hands shaking as he realigned himself. John realized he was excited to be the first one. The thought made him grin.
“C'mon baby, fuck me,” John whispered, biting his lip as Paul pushed back in. He went slow and John was appreciative. Paul seemed to be struggling to control himself, his arms shaking as he pushed in.
With one last push, Paul nearly collapsed on top of John, moaning into his ear. John wrapped his legs around him, panting.
“So fucking tight, Johnny. So good. You feel so good.” John moaned, his cock leaking once again.
“Fucking hell, Paul. Fuck me, please,” he begged, and Paul did. He grabbed John's wrists and held them against the bed as he started to move. John immediately groaned, overwhelmed. Paul was moving slowly, nearly flush against John, his hips rolling into him at a torturous pace. Paul was inside him. Paul McCartney was fucking him. Dear god, it was better than he’d ever imagined.
Paul was mumbling as his thrusting picked up in speed. “Fuck, John, my god, so tight, don’t know how long I can last, so fucking good,” he was saying, panting in John’s ear. John whined as he changed his angle, rubbing against his prostate with every thrust.
Paul leaned back and growled, going harder now. John’s eyes rolled back uncontrollably, undignified moans and whines being forced out of him with every thrust. He felt like he was high, his body all but melting into the bed as Paul slammed into him.
“Paulie, oh god,” John whimpered, squirming against Paul’s hold on his wrists. One of Paul’s hands suddenly released and John opened his eyes as it came to rest against his neck. “Fuck,” he groaned, the pressure against his throat making his cock leak. “Paul, fuck yes, gonna come again, I love you, shit,” he hissed, body tensing as he came a second time. The hand against his throat tightened and he could hear Paul cry out above him. He was vaguely aware of Paul coming inside him, fucking John through it. John was shaking as he came down, groaning from the new feeling of being filled up. Paul was panting, his hair, damp from sweat, hanging in his face. If John hadn’t just come two times the sight might’ve made his dick twitch.
“John,” Paul said, voice hoarse. John winced as he pulled out, mildly uncomfortable as he felt cum drip out. Paul collapsed next to him, arm thrown over his chest. “Say it again?” Paul asked quietly. John blinked, confused, before realizing what he had said. He felt his face heat up.
“Yeah. I love you, Macca,” John said.
“...I love you too, Johnny,” Paul whispered. John closed his eyes, savoring the words.
“Say it again,” he said. Paul giggled next to him.
“I love you.”
John grinned at him. “There. Now we’re even.”