Titolo: Busted love
Rating: PG-15 / NC-17
Pairing: John/Paul
Warning: lemon, AU, OOC, yaoi, one-shot, sort-of-songfic, OTP, slash, H/C, anachronism
Songs: “We can work it out” (Beatles), “E dimmi che non vuoi morire” (Patty Pravo), “Ding dong song” (Gunther), “Hey Jude” (Beatles)
Timeline: around 1967
Disclaimer - ita: I Beatles non mi appartengono, nulla di tutto ciò è mai successo. Le canzoni sopracitate non mi appartengono neanche, servono solo a farvi ''entrare'' nell'atmosfera della fanfic che state per leggere (da qui, il motivo per cui ho messo 'sort-of-songfic'). Essendo una slash, cioè amore uomo/uomo, se non vi piace il genere non leggete neanche e non scrivete commenti offensivi. Se invece vi piace lo slash e vi piacciono i Beatles siete pregati di leggere e farmi sapere che ne pensate ^^ Chiedo scusa se qualcuno avrà difficoltà a leggere questa fic in inglese (con qualche termine slang), ma entro domani o lunedi copierò dal cellulare il testo originale in italiano e lo pubblicherò qui :) Per quanto riguarda il rating, ho messo anche PG-15 perché è più un ''fare l'amore'' che una semplice scopata e per quanto essa possa essere passionale non è esplicita, quindi.. Questo è anche il motivo per cui vedete Triste e Sentimentale tra i generi. In caso non c'arrivate, ci si vede alle note finali. Spero vi piaccia così com'è u.u E giuro che se commentate davvero non mi offendo <_<


“Do-do re mi, doremifasollasi, Do-do re mi, doremifasollasi, Do-do-do, do re mi, doremifasollasi, Do-do re mi, doremifasolla-...”
“Paul?”
“Aye Johnny?”
“Would ye stop chanting the notes?”
“But I'm only singing the pacing of a song!”
You lay the Daily Mirror on the coffee table and stand up walking to your friend, on your face the very picture of resignation. Your arms drop on Paul's naked shoulders. The old buddy Paul, with his occasional quirks of cube dancer and such. When it happens there's only one thing to cure him with and that's what you immolate to, as a good pal, while you look into his puppy eyes to tell him that... Actually you dunno what you wanna say and hope that whatever it is, he understands by reading in your eyes as only the two of you manage to do with each other. In fact, he does.
What the hell are you-?” he asks with a frowning and confused gaze. But before he says anything else, you take his feminine face in your hands and bring it nearer to your own without too much delay till your lips crash in a wet kiss with the tongue.
And when you grab his crotch in your hands thru the fabric of the indecently tight pants, he clings to you like a castaway on a raft or an hurt kitten.
“Ohhmfuck, you dunno how i missed you!” is your outburst between raging kisses and hugs with fingers that seem to want to to scratch your skin through the clothes.
But at the same time, he appears wanting to escape the burning desire you have for each other, fighting a battle he knows being losing, since he stutters a rejection pressing against his body.
“N-no... W-we can't do it, John! Ohhhpleaaase!... We said- Ahh!...We gotta-... Oh, please! I need it!”
You look not to latch on Paul's stutteres words, or don't want to. You only know that tonight you want to intoxicate yourself with the scent of his body, after months of hell trying to ignore him and do the 'paterfamilias' between a tour and the other.
“I just don't work without you, Paul ... Tell me it's the same for you, my love!”
“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah! But it can't work between us! We ... We can not ... Oh, shit!”
It's a blend of wild and raving kisses, consuming hugs and groans muffled in the throat, until you throw on the couch and rub your painful erections. Hands trembling with desire misfire on the buttons of the trousers and his legs intertwine around your waist without waiting to be bared first.
Then you slip off them, removing them putting your hands straight into his shorts from behind and being amazed at the softness of his skin, although it is more familiar to you than your wife's body. And you can't help but touch his ass, and test its softness and the warmth that emanates from his innermost being.
You exchange another kiss with him, nose-diving with the tongue more and more up to the pink flesh between his hard buttocks. His panting become up more and more uncontrolled and feverish, barely keeping their volume within the room.
“Joh-... Ohffuck, John! John... Ohhh god, yeah! Uuuuuhm... ahhh, fucking hell!....”
The pleasure is so high as to go into a tailspin your brain cells and make you more and more hungry for yourself (Paul, indeed, has clawed your hair, as if he wanted to order you not to stop).
It is getting closer, you feel it growing up like a wave, more and more...
More and more ...
On the other side of the door a couple of little hands are resting on the knob. A petrified child is watching you from the doorway. He crying runs off.
“Why daddy? Didn't you say you loved mum?”
Few strokes later, you both come, yelling your sweaty pleasure with a last kiss and then stretching yourself on one another.
When you've breathed again, Paul notices a strange wind-blowing on his self, raises his head and.... Oh, fuck...
“John, did ye left the door opened, or...?”
“What the fuck ye're talking-... Oh fucking hell! Paul, he got a problem...” you say while your face turns white as a chalk.


End

A/N: E rieccoci, soddisfatti? Spero proprio di si .__. Avete capito la situazione qual è?
Se no e lo volete spiegato, continuate a leggere: il motivo per cui Paul cerca di allontanare John è - come canta Patty Pravo: hai una donna che se non ci sei / come fa a resistere senza te. / Piangi insieme a me dimmi cosa cerchi.
Insomma, Paul e John, in un periodo precedente al momento narrato nella fic, avevano deciso a malincuore di finire la loro storia d'amore clandestina per il bene di Cynthia e Julian. Quando, però, John lo comincia a baciare, Macca sente di volerlo come e più di prima ma è preso dai rimorsi per Cyn e non vuole farla stare male. Alla fine però, come avrete capito la passione li assale, Jules li vede e 'zio Paul' gli cade dal cuore; per questo dettaglio di Julian dovete scusarmi ma è tutta colpa di Patty Pravo e del mio aver sentito Hey Jude dopo un sogno in cui succedeva una cosa simile u.u