Work Text:
Holy fuck, John is easy.
I reckon it helped that we’ve messed around– once –years ago. This only happened because I was a petty shithead and wanted to get under Paul’s skin. John rejected my offer at first before folding the very next day. It’s like he can’t help himself.
God. This is really happening. I invited him to the Kinfauns.
The last time I had sex with a man, it was with Paul months ago. I grinded his thigh while he sat and watched. His indifference overwhelmed me before he took the reins and set the pace. He orgasmed on my face afterwards. I let him. And that was the last time we messed around. Things got complicated after that.
Fuck. Fuck him. Jesus.
Now John is here. He came by himself. I half expected Yoko to show up with him. Then I believe this wouldn’t’ve happened if that were the case.
We were talking on the sofa. That’s all it was. About nothing. Buzzwords pertaining to Apple and The Beatles and recording . I paid half attention. It’s been months without a firm hand on me.
It was proximity. That’s what this was. Nothing else.
I look at him. I only looked.
I place a hand on his knee.
That’s when John pounces on me.
He kisses me like he never learned how to kiss someone. It’s sloppy and hurried.
I moan into it nonetheless.
My legs are spread now. John slots himself between them.
I can feel his arousal. It rubs up on the seam of my trousers, stimulating my clit. I try not to whimper.
John doesn’t unzip – he violently tugs down his trousers. I unbuckle my belt with shaking hands. My entire body is thrumming. John smacks my hand away and damn near rips my trousers off.
There’s no foreplay. John, like me, is selfish.
It hurts when he plunges inside me. I have to hiss and tell him to slow down. He dryly apologizes and waits until I’ve adjusted.
…John is longer than Paul.
Christ . Even now, with John inside me, Paul is somehow meddled within my head.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
My brain is sparking like an exposed wire. Like the electrical currents in my brain are firing with nowhere to go. Short-circuiting. I’m incoherent and moaning dumbly against his shoulder.
Something funny twists in my hindbrain.
John isn’t wearing a condom.
Not that I asked.
Is John even aware of the risk?
No. Of course not. He’s fucking me now because of impulse. I doubt he’s thinking at all.
My moans are higher-pitched. I’m squirming as John’s hands keep my hips down. He’s firmer now. Groaning and staring right into my face. My cheeks burn. I look away, unable to hold his gaze.
I’ve never been fucked raw before. I always had Paul use protection. We wouldn’t shag otherwise.
It feels good. Really fucking good. John’s hips are relentless.
The rhythm is messy. Off. There’s no pattern; only force. My body rocks with it.
What would Paul think?
No. Stop it.
This isn’t about him.
But God, I know he’d be dumbfounded.
I never told him what John and I did in Twickenham. And John never told him, either – if he did, Paul would’ve flipped on me.
Fuck Paul. Fuck him. I can’t stand the prick now. I can’t stand that I’m thinking of him.
I’m wet. Disgustingly, shamefully wet. John is gripping my jaw, forcing me to look at him. The heat in my core is unbearable. It’s a tight, searing sensation centralized right below my navel.
I’m going to come.
Paul.
I whimper out his name.
My heart stutters. I realize what I’ve done when John shoves my head down. The palm of his hand is on one side of my face, pressing my head onto the sofa. I’m whimpering and my hands scramble for something to hold onto.
John’s laughing gleefully. I think that’s worse than him getting mad. I don’t register what he’s saying, but his tone of voice is zealous. He presses his hips down, making sure I feel the weight of him. I love it. I want to scream.
I ejaculate violently, making a mess between myself and John. John watches in awe before he brings two fingers to swiftly rub my clit in a side-to-side motion. My nerves are on fire and John shows no mercy. I ejaculate again.
That’s when I scream. My back arches above the sofa and John has to hold me down. I thrash in his arms, overstimulated and sobbing.
He’s deep inside me now. I feel the warmth of his cum.
John kisses me again. Or tries to. I turn my head away.
John huffs. He’s slowly pulling out.
He gets off of me and places a hand on my arm.
My brain is static. In the distance, I hear John offering to lick me clean.
I want to laugh. John is a proper freak.
My cunt is oversensitive, but I don’t say no to him.
I bring a hand down to John’s long hair when he goes down on me.