The following morning, John was awoken by the feeling of a cold breeze grazing his naked leg and exposed chest, pulling him rudely from his dream, which had been little more than surreal, unconnected images and scenes without any decipherable meaning, but had been all the more pleasurable because of it, and instinctively shuffled closer to the warm body beside him, wrapping his arms around it and pulling it closer against him, in the hope it would offer him some warmth as he buried his nose in the other's hair and inhaled deeply to take in the scent of lavender and freshly fallen rain. He hummed at the smell, and tightened his hold as he felt himself drifting further away from his dreams and closer to reality, the world around him beginning to feel all the more real with each second. It was only when the warm body in his arms started to move, that John creaked open an eye to see he was snuggled up to a rather handsome young man, who too appeared to be balancing on the edge of reality, his eyes still firmly closed, but with a frown on his forehead that told John he did not feel much for waking up yet either.

"Paul," he muttered and raised a hand to brush a lock of hair from his eyes as he looked down at him, taking in his beauty as his mind worked hard to comprehend that he was actually curled up around James Paul McCartney, images of last night's adventures swimming through his mind as he remembered to feel of his soft lips against his own and the sight of his sweaty body hovering above him. He had slept with Paul McCartney. The thought made him smile for a moment, before his breath got caught in his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe as he wondered whether the other's reaction would be as positive, and he tensed as Paul pulled his pillow closer and rubbed his face in it as he awoke from his sleep. His eyes grew wide as he rolled over onto his back to see John looking down at him.

"John?" His voice was almost inaudible as it was still weak from his heavy slumber, and John held his breath as Paul's eyes travelled over his face, his expression surprised and uncertain, until, after a few seconds longer than John would have liked, his eyes softened and a lazy smile crept up onto his lips. "I had not thought I would be waking up to a sight like this when I decided to go to Paris."

"You didn't plan this, then?"

"Apparently it would not even have been necessary, if I had," he replied much to John's amusement, and let out a sigh as he raised a heavy hand and cupped John's cheek, his thumb caressing his cheekbone as he continued to study him, his smile disappearing momentarily as he drifted off into thought. "What time is it?" he asked after a few moments, turning his head towards the small alarm clock on the bedside table as he pulled away from him and rolled over to see it better, his body tensing as he saw it was already past nine.

"Please, don't tell me we have somewhere to be this morning," John moaned, rolling over to lie back down as he watched Paul sit up, the blanket falling away from him to expose his naked torso, and he could not look away as Paul stretched himself out with a yawn, his muscles pulling tight as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and before John knew what he was doing, he had reached out for him and was running a finger teasingly up and down the other's back, hoping to lure him back into bed with him. Sadly, he had no such luck.

"Sorry, John," Paul said as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and reached out for one of the robes that hung from a peg on the wall just within reaching distance from the bed, and slid it on, ridding John of his view in a most cruel way, "I have an appointment with someone for an early lunch. I will be back at two."

"You will be back at two? You are leaving me here, then?"

"I thought you wanted to stay in bed? Besides, it's hardly going to be interesting for you, and Paris has so many better things to offer on a beautiful day such as this," Paul said, tying his robe securely around his middle as he glanced back at John, who rolled over to look out of the window to see for himself, only to sigh in an overtly dramatic way as he saw it was indeed looking like it was going to be a good day with some fine weather. "You should have joined the amateur dramatics. You will be fine."

"But I can't even speak French. How am I supposed to do this on my own?"

"I will leave you my key so you can come and go whenever you please, and if you want, I could leave a list with some basic but helpful phrases even you can manage to pronounce, along with some money, so you can at least buy yourself a cup of coffee and some lunch while I'm away," he said, slapping him reassuringly on the leg before he got up and walked over to the window to close it and draw the curtains, for which John was thankful, feeling rather stupid for not having thought of that before he had fallen asleep. "I am sorry, John, but I cannot cancel this one. I promise to show you around the city when I get back. It's only for a few hours."

"Fine. But I had hoped you would be willing to make it up to me in a different way," John said with a suggestive wink and Paul cleared his throat as he walked over to the door. For a moment, John thought he would leave him without so much as a word in reply, but as he pulled the door open he glanced back at him one last time, a small grimace on his face, and he gave him a firm look before speaking.

"Behave and we might see in what ways I am willing to make it up to you," he said. John grinned back at him at the answer as images of last night flashed before his eyes along with some new fantasies, which made it almost impossible for him to see Paul winking at him before he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, leaving John alone but eager for that coming afternoon.

***

Taking Paul up on his suggestion, John decided to take a stroll along the Seine that morning to pass the time, and waited for Paul to leave before he got out of bed, drew himself a hot bath, brushed his teeth, got dressed into one of his more comfortable suits, and helped himself to two croissants and a cup of tea that Paul had asked to be brought up for breakfast, before he left the suite, making sure to take the money, keys and list of phrases that Paul had left for him on the mantelpiece with him, along with his notebook and a pencil. He took the stairs down, feeling little for risking his life in the elevator again, and nodded politely at the man behind the reception desk as he passed him on his way out.

Outside the sun was shining brightly and there was a warm breeze that rolled through the various little streets and alleyways as John made his way towards the river in the centre of the city. The leaves on the trees ruffled softly and some twirled downwards onto the streets where plenty of others in all kinds of different colours were already lying, waiting for the winter to come and cover them with snow. John could hear people conversing in French as he walked past them, and smiled at two young women who were shooting him some curious glances, as if they were aware he was not from here; John supposed it were his clothes that gave him away.

He walked for a while, enjoying the warm rays of the sun on his face as he took in the beautiful views the river had to offer as he walked alongside it, occasionally stopping to take a seat on one of the benches or to lean against the low stone walls that were lined around it to keep people from accidentally falling into the water, where he would take out his notebook and make a few sketches or note down some phrases or ideas he could use for his poetry and short stories, hoping to come up with some inspiration. It had been a long time since he had attempted to write anything down, having had little time to focus on his writing since he had started to work for Mr. Edwards and had drowned himself in his paintings and sketches, and for a long time he hadn't even missed it. Lately, however, in particular since his discussion with Paul on Shelley, he had felt this longing burning up within himself again to grab a pen and to throw his heart onto the page through his words. The hunger was there, insatiable and restless, so all he needed now, was inspiration, which proved to be harder to find than he had expected.

He was uncertain too, about his situation with Paul, not knowing what to make of the way Paul had acted with him this morning when they had woken up, though he could not point out exactly what about the younger man had been a cause for his doubt. Rationally, he knew he had no reason to fear that this thing that had happened between them would be a one-time thing - Paul had even flirted with him right before he had left - but there was something that didn't feel quite right, John thought as he leaned against the low wall and closed his eyes for a moment as he raised his head to the sun and listened to the chirping of the birds. He was not sure what he had expected to happen after last night, not having had any time to give it much thought, considering he had never even considered the possibility that something like this could happen and the abrupt way in which Paul had shown his interest - not that he was complaining, of course. But a kiss was something he could have expected, couldn't he? Or a cuddle or something like that to say good morning. But instead, Paul had only smiled at him for a moment, before his expression had turned serious and he had gotten out of bed. Really, John had thought he had been rather cold with him, but then again, perhaps this was how Paul always was with his partners and he was merely overreacting; after all, he did say he had an appointment with someone for an early lunch, so maybe he hadn't had the time. Neither would it be the first time his overthinking would cause a rift between him and a partner, his eyes seeing things that weren't there.

One thing John knew for certain, though, and that was that he would not find any answers by moping about it all morning, so, without any further ado, he pushed Paul from his mind - or tried to at least - and decided to make his way to a café to have an early lunch, the two croissants having done little to still his morning hunger - an English breakfast, being much more substantial - and being in the mood for a good cup of coffee. He walked for a couple of minutes longer until he had found a nice spot and took a seat on the terrace where he, with the help of Paul's note with phrases as well as many elaborate hand gestures and the waiter's patience, managed to order himself a cup of coffee and something to eat. After he had finished, he ordered himself another cup of coffee, before he - again with much help from his hands and Paul's phrases - paid the bill and continued his stroll, keeping close to the river in fear of getting lost, while occasionally slipping into some interesting looking shops to have a quick look around before leaving without buying anything, having too little money to spend and too little knowledge of French to be able to speak to a salesman.

When he found himself stepping into an antique shop, however, he lingered, the warm and cosy atmosphere of the place having a strong appeal to him that made him want to stay a while. The shop was dimly lit and stuffed full from the ground to the ceiling with stuff, which either looked like rubbish that people had thrown out of the window of their apartment, or looked incredibly old, fragile, and expensive. Stacks of books stood balancing beside bookshelves, gathering dust, and numerous lights hung from the ceiling on display at various heights, causing for John to nearly hit his head a few times. Throughout the shop there were tables and shelves with countless of different things on them, most of which he had no clue about what it could be or what people used to use it for, and even the furniture that was for sale had stuff placed on it. At the front, there was a small desk with a cash register and an old man behind it who offered John a polite nod as John caught his eye, and he muttered a polite "bonjour" in reply as he stepped further on towards the back of the shop, rummaging through everything he passed on the way, feeling a little like a child looking for treasure.

John wasn't entirely sure how long he had spent in the shop once he had finally reached the back of it - all of the clocks that hung from the walls giving him a different time of day - but he did not care enough to find out and let his fingers slide over the material of the old dresses and suits that hung on metal racks, enjoying the feel of it, and paused in his step as he noticed a small glass display with jewellery. Most of it, John noticed as he approached it, appeared to be junk, barely worth more than a penny and thus being heavily overpriced, but there were some pieces that caught his eye. For a moment he considered buying something for Cynthia, knowing she liked old things like this, but he quickly changed his mind as his eye fell on at the men's side of the display. It was a rather simple bracelet of a yellowish gold, thin and set with small white sapphires and the occasional emerald that sparkled as the light caught it, despite the layer of dust that rested on it and the wear that had dulled its shine - John did not need to look at the price tag to know it had to be expensive.

Gently, he picked it up, careful not to drop it, and studied it, wondering how it would look around Paul's wrist. He hadn't planned on buying anything for Paul, but this, he thought, was perfect for him: not too flashy, simple and yet expensive and beautiful. Neither did he know what the other man's taste even was, and he tried in vain to remember if he had even seen Paul wear anything of the kind, but he could not think of anything. It was beautiful, though, and it would be a perfect gift to express his thankfulness and give something back to him for all his effort and the money he had spent on him. In the end, he decided to take the bracelet - he could always return it if Paul hated it - and had a swift look around the shop, before slipping the bracelet into the pocket of his trousers, and forced himself to spend some more time looking around the shop before leaving, not wanting to draw any suspicion to himself. Ten minutes later, he was once again outside, and hurried his way along the Seine back towards the hotel they were staying at, needing some time to think about how to give it to him and rather not being too near if the old man would find out the bracelet was gone.

***

It was already nearing three o'clock by the time Paul had finally made it back to their suite. He dropped his bag on the floor by the door and shrugged off his coat, which he folded rather messily before laying it down on top of it and making his way towards the kitchen to get himself something to drink, feeling little for clearing it away properly as he should. The appointment had gone on for longer than he would have liked, and he felt glad to finally be back home, having had quite enough of talking to other people, and wanting to do nothing else but get himself something to drink - his throat felt as if someone had poured sand in it - and find John to see what he had been up to while he was away.

It was not that he regretted going; it had been nice to see his old friend again and he had needed the opportunity to clear his mind and consider what had transpired between him and John that previous night. He hadn't lied to John when he had told him he hadn't planned on seducing him. In fact, the last thing he had wanted to do was start another affair after his conversation with his father and going to Paris had been a way for him to escape all that, to focus on art and perhaps to lose himself for a moment in the arms of a nameless boy or an old flame, without any consequences, to be free for a few days while he still could. Falling into bed with John, however - even if it had been his own fault - had made everything much more complicated. John was not some nameless boy whom he could dump the following day as both of them would expect to happen. John was his portraitist, and over the last couple of weeks he had even started to consider him somewhat of a friend, or as much as a friend as he could have, and most importantly, he knew his father, meaning there was dangerously high chance they could get caught and he was not sure what his father would do if that were to happen.

For now, though, he had decided to let it happen, despite the issues it posed, especially regarding his father. John and he were in Paris for at least another four days, and they could discuss what would happen afterwards when they would head back to England. As his old friend had made more than clear, he had this opportunity now and he would be a fool not to take it while he could.

Entering the kitchen, he took a glass from one of the shelves opposite the kitchen counter and turned towards the sink to pour himself a glass of water, which he finished almost in one go, before refilling it and taking another couple of sips as he started to make his way over to John's bedroom, hoping to find him there, seeing as he had been neither in the living room nor the kitchen. To his surprise, however, he found his room deserted as well.

"John?" he called out, pausing for a moment to listen for a reply, and when none came he added, "I am back! Where are you?"

"I'm in here!" he could hear the other man call back, and Paul frowned as he noticed his voice had come from his own bedroom at the other end of the hallway. He caught himself grinning as he made his way over there, eager to see him again and wondering why he was in his room of all places. He forced the grin off his face, before he opened his bedroom door to reveal John lying propped up against a couple of pillows on his bed, legs crossed in front of him and his sketchbook in his hands. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening and smiled at him nervously before turning back to his work.

"You are late," he said, nodding at the alarm clock that stood on Paul's bedside table, and picked up his pencil to get back to work. He looked calm and relaxed as he laid there, dressed only in his shirtsleeves, vest and trousers, his glasses resting low on his nose, brow furrowed as he drew. Paul's room was bigger than John's and looked more contemporary, with light floorboards and light blue wallpaper with a less obnoxious flower pattern, with the occasional blackbird drawn into it. His covers and pillows were of the same bluish hue and a large rug lay beneath his king sized bed, the latter of which looked even more inviting now that it had a handsome man lying in it. Build-in closets filled one side of the room, with one door leading into a Jack-and-Jill bathroom that he and his brother usually shared, and there were two large windows that looked out over the rooftops into the direction of the Seine, of which you could catch glimpses if you took your time to search for it. Paul had always loved his room, and was glad John had decided to make himself comfortable in it, especially as his bed offered them more space than John's would.

"Sorry," Paul replied as he closed the door behind him before crawling onto the bed beside the other man, making him bounce, "lunch took longer than anticipated. What are you drawing?"

"Nothing."

"Can I have a look?"

"No. I don't like showing unfinished work to people, remember?" John said, glancing up to see Paul studying him, and he was about to close his sketchbook, when Paul took a hold of it himself, stopping him from doing so.

"But I thought I was the exception?" he asked with a faux innocent look in his eye that he knew from experience made it incredibly difficult for people to refuse him. Sure enough, John stared at him for a moment, before he gave in with a sigh, his hold on the sketchbook slackening and allowing Paul to take it as he shyly averted his gaze from him and stared down at his hands. His curiosity piqued, Paul glanced down at the sketchbook, only to gasp as he saw just what kind of drawing John had been working on.

"So, what do you think? It er... it's supposed to be you," John said as he sneaked a little look at Paul for a reaction, his voice slightly shaky, and Paul could understand why. For a moment he was at a loss of words, unsure what to say in a situation such as this, or even just how to react, and fought against the flush that was appearing on his cheeks.

"So, this is how you envisage me naked, then?" he finally asked and cleared his throat as he glanced from the paper to John and back to the paper again, catching the other man's eyes for a brief moment to see him nod in reply.

"Sort of," he said, "I mean, most of it I remember."

"I surely hope you remember me with a head, because otherwise that might be rather troubling," Paul replied before he could stop himself, but to his relief John laughed at that, and soon Paul could not help but match his laughter with a smile of his own as he handed him his sketchbook back and stared at him, feeling how his heart skipped at the sight of his dazzling smile - he could put a spell on him with that smile. How this man did not know how beautiful he was, was a mystery to him.

"Well, if I ever do become a famous artist, I might want to display this at an exhibition some time, so I thought you might appreciate it if I kept my muse and model anonymous," John replied with a wink of his own, and this time it was Paul's turn to laugh, which in turn seemed to put John at ease. "You don't mind it, then?" he asked and Paul shook his head.

"In a way it's flattering," he said, still smiling at being called his muse, "although it might have been even more flattering if you hadn't made me more muscular than I actually am, you know."

"Well, you didn't give me much time to have a good look yesterday, did you?" John said and Paul chuckled at that as he shook his head.

"No... I suppose not." He glanced up at John as a small idea entered his brain, and he considered him for a moment, unsure how he would react to it, but in the end he decided to take his chances. "You know, you er... you could also use a real model as a reference instead of an imaginary one? For the sake of good art?" he suggested and John frowned as he looked from his sketch back up at Paul, not understanding what he meant. He had been about to ask about it, when Paul lifted his hands and started undoing his scarf, pulling at the material and slowly revealing more and more skin as he took it off and let it fall to the floor, leaving John breathless where he was sitting, watching him with wide eyes as he followed every move of Paul's fingers as they began to take off his jacket.

"Oh, yes... Yes, that could work," he finally managed to say and Paul took a deep breath as he continued, trying to control the shaking off his fingers as he carefully threw his jacket aside onto the floor and started undoing his waistcoat, popping open one button after the other and watching John with flushed cheeks as he continued to stare at him. He worked in silence as he undressed, first taking off his waistcoat, before undoing his shirt as well, which he eventually shrugged off to land beside the bed with the rest of his clothing, leaving him bare chested, and he licked his lips as he considered whether and how he should continue.

In the end, it was John who started to move, putting his materials aside before reaching out for Paul's trousers as he glanced up at him with questioning eyes, as if asking him for permission to continue, which Paul nervously gave him with a nod and a tiny smile. Standing up, he took in a deep breath and let his eyes flutter close as John knelt down before him and started undoing his trousers, feeling how his cheeks heated up as he started to pull them down, leaving him only in his underwear with his trousers pooling around his ankles as John lifted up one of Paul's legs to undo his shoes and slide off his socks. He tensed for a brief moment as he felt John's lips kissing his knee and, surprised, he opened his eyes to see John looking up at him through his lashes with that same smile on his lips as before, which put Paul at ease right away. Smiling, he reached out and tangled his fingers into his hair to steady himself as he allowed John to take the rest of his clothes off, leaving him completely naked as he stood in front of him.

"What now?" he asked. John smiled as he stood up, and motioned towards the bed.

"Same pose as I had in my drawing will do. I'm going to get a chair," he said and Paul nodded as he did as John had told him to do, lying down on the bed on his side, his body turned towards the light of the sun that came in through the windows, and pulling his blanket up to cover his middle, or rather, his penis, as everything else was still full on display. He blushed even redder as John came back into view, dragging a chair with him that he placed in front of Paul at the other end of the room, before grabbing his materials from the bed and taking a seat, his eyes falling once again onto his model.

"Ruffle your hair a little," he said as he studied him.

"I thought you weren't doing my head," Paul cleverly replied and John rolled his eyes at him before telling him to do it anyways, allowing Paul to chuckle and relieve some tension in the process. He had never done anything like this before and he felt incredibly vulnerable as he lay there, completely naked and exposed, with only a piece of cloth hiding his most private parts from the rest of the world, while John was still fully dressed - at least in comparison to himself - as he looked at him. He was studying him with a gaze that was as intense as it had been during the meetings for the portrait, except now it was not only his face he was looking at but his entire body, and for some reason it turned him on. He ruffled his hair as John had told him to do and laid his head back down on the pillow as he kept his eyes on him, knowing that was most likely to be what he would want, and let his left hand rest on his hips on the soft material of the covers, dangerously close to his cock. He took a couple of deep breaths before he allowed himself to relax - or at least, for as far as he could.

"There is something missing," John muttered after a minute or so, and the smile returned to his lips as he stood up and hurried out of the room, only to return again with his hands behind his back and a mischievous look in his eyes.

"What is that behind your back?" Paul asked, not sure if he trusted John or not, but remained positioned as he was as John knelt before him again and asked for his wrist, which Paul offered him with a deep sigh, pretending to be annoyed rather than curious.

"Now, close your eyes," he said and Paul, with one last roll of his eyes, did as he had been asked, and focused on the feeling of John's fingers on his wrist, manipulating it and moving it into various ways, until he felt something cold and metallic against his skin, causing him to gasp in surprise as he opened his eyes, only to see a most gorgeous gold bracelet around his wrist, the green and white stones shimmering brightly as the sunlight caught it.

"Where did you get this?" he asked as he sat up to study said bracelet, unable to take his eyes off it, even when John began to speak.

"I found it this morning at an antique shop. You like it?"

"Like it? It is gorgeous. This must have cost you a fortune!" he said, gently caressing it with his fingertips, enjoying the feeling of the smoothness of the stones.

"I am sure it would have been," John replied, and Paul froze for a moment as realisation dawned upon him.

"You didn't," he said, his eyes snapping up to look John firmly in the eye. "You stole this, didn't you?"

"Let's say it would be better if you did not flaunt that thing around outside," John replied with a smug grin, but when Paul shook his head at him in disapproval, he rolled his eyes at him. "Come on, Paul. No one is going to miss one little bracelet. I just wanted to repay you with something nice for all the trouble you've gone through for me and all the extra money you've been spending on me. It is the least I could do."

"No, the least you could have done was say 'thank you', as would have been sufficient."

"And the least you could have done, is said 'thank you' as well, but you did not do that either. Come on, Paul, I am not going to return it so you might as well keep it if you like it," John said as he got up and sat back down in his seat. Somewhere Paul knew he shouldn't allow John to do this and that they should return it immediately, but the fact that John had wanted to give him a present made his stomach do weird things and it was so pretty, that ultimately he decided it would be rude to hand it back.

"You are a bad influence on me, Mr. Lennon," Paul muttered as he laid back down and reassumed his pose, catching John grinning at him as he picked up at his pencil and got to work, his eyes barely leaving his model, while Paul could barely look away from the shiny object around his wrist.

Paul did not know how much time went by as he posed for John, his alarm clock sitting on his bedside table at the opposite side of the bed and thus being too far out of his view, but he tried his best to stay still even though it got gradually more difficult for him. He had always had trouble sitting still for long periods of time, and no matter how often he and John did something like this, it never got any better, especially this time, when he was completely naked, save for a piece of cloth that was hiding his private parts. The fact that lying here naked while John sat opposite him, still fully dressed and biting his lip as he studied every inch of his body with an intense gaze, was turning him on did not help either. He had hoped his initial arousal at the situation would lessen as time passed by, but instead the opposite had turned out to be true; slowly but surely he could feel the start of an erection coming, and he knew for certain that the tiny bit of material that lay draped over his hip, would not be able to hide that as well. Already he had felt it shift, and he was unsure about how much longer it would be able to fulfil his purpose, before it would fall away.

He simply could not help it. John's gaze as he studied him, taking in every little curve, dimple, freckle and hair, burned into his skin, making it difficult for him to breathe, and whenever their eyes would meet or when he could see John's gaze shift towards his hips and upper thighs, he felt his body get ten degrees hotter. It was becoming unbearable and he knew he was going to have to say something now before his last bit of privacy would fall away as well, exposing a rather embarrassing erection. If only John did not look so bloody attractive as he sat there, pencil in his hand and a frown on his brow that Paul wished he could kiss away.

"J-John?" he finally managed, but John only shushed him as he made some quick adjustments - Paul could see from the rapid and jerky movements of his hand, which were otherwise much more relaxed - to his drawing and kept his eyes fixed on the page. Paul, however, could not afford to wait. "John," he tried again, flushing as his voice came out much more desperate than how he had intended and bit his lip as John once again ignored him, this time raising a mere finger to indicate for him to remain quiet, as if he could not even effort the time it would take him to answer him properly. "Johnny, have you finished yet?" Paul tried again in a half-moan, and this time he got a reaction. The older man froze for a moment at the use of a nickname and slowly raised his eyes to glance up at Paul from beneath his lashes, his cheeks quickly flushing as his they fell upon the clear impression of an erection in the sheets.

"You-" he started, but the rest of the words got lost somewhere on the way out, leaving him breathless and unable to tear his gaze away from the sight before him, causing Paul to squirm under his gaze. "You're turned on," he finally managed to say and Paul fought to urge to roll his eyes at him, knowing the older man would not appreciate it, and instead rolled over onto his back, exposing part of his naked hip to John, who swallowed at the sight, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch.

"Care to help me out?" he asked, turning his head to look him in the eye as he reached out for him, smiling as the other could do nothing but stare at him for a moment, before he swiftly put his things away and got into bed with him, causing Paul to snicker as he leaned down to capture his lips in a sudden heated kiss, wasting no time on formalities.

Sex with John, Paul realised as he tugged the other's shirt from his trousers and pulled it over his head, revealing his naked chest and little pink nipples, which seemed to be begging Paul to wrap his lips around and nibble at them, was different from what he was used to. Sex for him had always been a rather serious thing, more of a means to an end which in itself was very pleasurable and good, than anything that could be seen as a means in itself. But with John, this was different. It was fun and he found himself laughing as they fooled around, playfully teasing each other and giving the other pleasure without giving what Paul had always seen as the end goal - his orgasm - much thought. They were joking around, talking about things, and laughing. Paul could not remember the last time he had laughed during sex, but it was amazing, and for some reason it only made the touches, the heated glances and blissful caresses, all the more pleasurable. He was not sure how long he and John had been rolling around the bed, but he did not want it to end any time soon.

He let out a shriek as John wrapped his arms around him and rolled them over, switching their positions so he was lying on top, and tangled his fingers in the other's hair as he leaned down to kiss him again, allowing their tongue to rub together and explore each other's mouths in a lazy kiss, as John's hand moved between their bodies and his fingers started wrapping themselves around his erection, causing him to groan as he melted against him, giving himself over to John's clever hand.

"I want to feel you inside me," John moaned into his ear as their kiss broke, sending shivers down Paul's spine as he thrusted into John's hand at the thought, images of John moaning below him as he thrusted in and out of him flashing before his eyes as he let out a moan.

"Yes... oh god, yes," he spoke in reply and sped up his pace as he started fucking John's hand, needing the friction as he imagined John, hot and tight, around him, milking him. "There's vasiline in the top drawer of the bedside table."

John did not need to be told twice, reaching out with his free hand to pull said drawer open and briefly dipped his hand inside to pull out a small container which he handed to Paul, who kissed him again to say thank you, sucking eagerly on his bottom lip. He forced himself to stop moving, and slowly started to kiss his way down his body, licking at the salty skin and pausing for a moment at his nipples to suck at him, causing John to arch his back up into the touch, until he tangled his fingers into his hair and started pushing him downwards, along the trail of hair that led from his navel into the waistband of his trousers, were Paul pulled away to undo them. He popped open button after button, letting his fingers deliberately run over his bulge while he worked, until finally, he could push them down, taking John's underwear with him in one go.

"You'd better not hurt me, Paul," John said as Paul came back up and picked up the container. He merely replied to John with a wink as he unscrewed it and dipped three of his fingers in, greasing them up, before moving to kneel between John's spread legs, where he paused a moment to take in the sight in front of him, thinking him to be one of the most beautiful men he had ever laid eyes on with his soft skin and sandy hair that appeared to shimmer red in the warm light of the sun. Taking a deep breath, he dipped his hand between John's legs, past his cock and ball, until finally, his fingers grazed his opening, causing John's breath to hitch in his throat.

"Cold," he explained as he noticed Paul looking at him and the latter nodded as he leaned over to kiss him again, meeting John's wet lips for another deep kiss as he slowly circled the man's rim, giving him a moment to prepare before he started pushing in. Much to both their surprise, it was Paul who gave a curse in response, and not John.

"Oh fuck, you're tight," he groaned, giving in involuntary thrust with his hips against John's hairy leg as he imagined pushing inside, feeling that hot tightness around his cock. John chuckled at his response, before he got cut off by the strange feeling of Paul's finger worming itself inside of him, pushing past the tight muscle and stretching him open.

"I didn't know posh boys could swear," John said, groaning, and Paul shot him a death glare as he paused his movements for a moment, grinning as John thrusted his hips up in frustration, needing him to continue.

"There are a lot of things posh boys can do, as you are about to find out. Now, keep quiet before I change my mind and take care of myself instead," he said as he started to move his finger again, pushing it all the way inside of him in one go, which made John gasp out in shock.

"You wouldn't," he muttered, his fingers grabbing the sheets as Paul started to move his finger inside of him, ignoring him as continued stretching him open, making sure John was comfortable enough before adding a second, and finally a third. John moaned at the feeling, thrusting his hips up to urge Paul on, until the latter could not take it any longer - needing to feel that tightness somewhere else - and slipped his fingers out, leaving John open and empty as he quickly lubed up his own cock with the remaining grease and positioned himself between John's spread legs, letting John wrap them around his waist as he placed a hand beside John's head to lean on as he used the other to guide the head of his cock to John's entrance. He watched John's face closely for any signs of doubt or discomfort as he slowly began to push into him, groaning as his cock was slowly wrapped in velvety tightness, the feeling being so good that for a moment all thought left Paul's mind.

"Fuck, your cock felt much smaller in my hand," John moaned as he threw his head back and forced himself to relax, knowing that would make it easier. Paul paused for a moment and leaned down to suck on John's neck to help him take his mind of the pain as he slowly continued, making sure not to go too fast, which was easier said than done, his own arousal making it hard for him to focus.

"I am going to pretend that was a compliment," he muttered into John's skin and he could feel John laugh at that, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, before letting out another groan. Still, Paul pushed on and soon he was fully inside. He held still for a while, allowing them both to get used to the feeling and to catch their breaths, before he slowly started to pull out and thrust in again, letting out a deep groan from low in his throat as he felt pleasure pull at his cock.

"God, you are tight, you know that," Paul muttered as he repeated the movement, his fingers digging into John's thigh where he was holding onto him and John hummed in reply.

"Maybe that's the issue then," he joked, and Paul would have slapped him if he had been able too, but the feeling of John's arse so tightly wrapped around him, his inner muscles pulling him even deeper inside, rendered him unable to do anything else, much to John's luck.

"Fuck off," he muttered instead, and John laughed again, but was quickly cut off as Paul changed his angle and hit his prostate, allowing for a long, deep moan to escape the other man's lips. Smirking, Paul thrusted into him again, keeping that angle and slowly started to speed up his thrusts, feeling how John's body melted against his as he was reduced to an incoherent blubbering mess, his own hands coming up to grab at his body, pulling him even closer than he already was.

Soon, Paul got a pretty good rhythm going and he could feel his own orgasm approach, the old familiar feeling pooling low in his stomach. John, he could feel, would not last much longer either, feeling how his insides contracted around him whenever he hit his prostrate and how his cock was leaking an almost continuous stream of precum between their bellies. Eventually, the pleasure was becoming too much and Paul reached up to kiss the other man again, moaning almost uncontrollably into his mouth as his movements sped up even move, making the bed move with him, banging against the walls as John moaned into his mouth and swallowed his tongue as he began to move with him, rolling his hips up at the same pace as his thrusts, making the slide even smoother and so much better.

"Fuck..." Paul groaned as he buckled his hips up, feeling how pleasure was starting to take over and his orgasm was pulling at his stomach, nearing quickly.

"Filthy mouth you have," John muttered in between groans, only to hiss as Paul gave a sudden violent thrust against his prostrate, hitting it directly, and almost causing for John to be tipped over the edge. He only needed a little more - just a little.

"You're the one to speak," Paul grumbled back and, knowing he was not going to last much longer, slid his hand between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around John's dripping cock, giving him exactly what he needed in that moment as he gave it a couple of pulls and, not even a second later, John let out a shout as he came, spilling his seed all over Paul's hand and pulling Paul's cock even deeper inside of him, his insides practically milking him as he continued his thrusts. Paul bit his lip as he continued his movements, fucking him through it, until, about two minutes later, he came too, biting down John's shoulder to muffle his cries as he gave one last thrust and spilled himself inside the other man, before collapsing on top of him, exhausted and utterly spent.

"Not bad for a posh boy," John muttered once they had both caught their breaths, and Paul had to chuckle at that as he lifted his head to look at him. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on John, but when he did, he could not help but sigh at the sight of him, his cheeks flushed, hair sticking in all sorts of directions, lips wet and red from the kissing, complete with dopey smile that made Paul want to kiss him. Which he did, moaning contently as John wrapped his arms around him and rolled them over again so they were lying on their side, facing each other. For a moment they simply looked at each other, before Paul suddenly burst out in a fit of giggles.

"What?" John asked, his own smile widening, thinking Paul looked adorable when he let himself go like this and allowed his expression to reflect his inner feelings, liking that much better than the cold wall he was used to see from him.

"Nothing," Paul answered once he had calmed down a little, his voice cracking as he wiped a tear from his eye that John was not sure was from happiness or sadness, and shook his head, "It's just... my father would kill me if he knew about this and I am just so incredibly happy." He chuckled again, while at the same time, he took a hold of the other's hand and held it close to him, his grip so tight John was - if only for a second - worried he might bruise him. Unsure what to say to something like that, feeling a strange combination of happiness and sadness himself from his lover's ambiguous words and actions, he sweetly caressed his cheek, before leaning in to kiss him again, hoping to outbalance the sadness with happiness this way, and by the feeling of Paul's lips, which curled up in a smile as they were pressed against his own, he was doing a pretty good job.

A/N: Thank you all so much for you wonderful support on this fic and the last couple of chapters. It truly makes all the time and effort it takes worth it, so thank you. I love reading your commends, so please don't be afraid to leave them. I always read them and I will try to answer them more often (I have been kind of busy lately, so I haven't been doing it as much as I would like). Also, if you are curious, I will put the url to a picture of a bracelet I have used to base Paul's off for this chapter, so you can check that out if you want to. I'm also kind of spoiling you with smutty scenes, but I would savour them if I were you ;) Thank you all again! <3

http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=126768628