prompt: paris, john wakes up to paul taking pictures of him sleeping
When John opened his eyes, Paul was leaning over him, camera in hand. There was something about Paulās posture that betrayed him. Astrid had once told him when you take a photograph you arenāt just snapping a shot. Youāre looking past the physical into your subject. Youāre showing what they donāt want anyone to see.
She said something else, Astrid did. She said people take photographs of the things theyāre afraid of losing.
He wasnāt certain if any if that applied to what heād caught Paul doing but there was no denying the guilty expression on his face.
āWhat are you doing?ā he asked sitting up in bed.
A strange expression crossed Paulās face as though he were about to cry.
āJustā¦ documenting our trip. For when weāre famous,ā he said with an awkward laugh. āThese will be worth a bundle.ā His timing was off and his cheeks were flushed.
It was chilly in the room and John pulled the covers up to his chin, wrapped his arms about his legs.
āWhat were you really doing?ā
Paul set the camera down and backed against the wall. His stance was defensive. He looked so young then, all angles and eyes. All at once John was painfully aware of the difference in their ages.
Paul shrugged. āJust wanted a photo of you like that,ā he said at last.
āWhat for?ā As soon as he asked the question he had an image in his mind of Paul with opening his trousers and pulling out his stiff cock, photograph clenched in his right hand. His mouth went bone dry. Underneath the blanket his own cock quickened.
It wasnāt the first time heād thought of Paul like that. But it was the first time he allowed himself to wonder if Paul might think of him in that manner.
āWhat for?ā he repeated. The question came out gruff when he meant to sound gentle.
āI donāt know. Just to have it.ā
John clenched his knees together, narrowed his eyes. āBut why?ā
Paul hesitated. He looked at John, eyes wide, lip trembling as though it was a struggle to get the words out.
āBecauseā¦ youāre beautiful,ā he blurted out at last. He was blushing to the roots of his dark, dark hair. He looked at the floor. Shuffled his feet. āFuck,ā Paul breathed.
John couldnāt think for a moment. His mind went perfectly blank. āYou really think so?ā he whispered.
The very idea of someone like Paul thinking he was beautiful was laughable. John Lennon with his squinty eyes, too small mouth and rounded shoulders.
āAll the girls are mad about you,ā Paul mumbled miserably. He was still staring at the floor.
āBollocks to them. But you think so?ā
Paul shrugged.
āCome over here I canāt hear you from all the way by the door,ā John said. He would have stood if he could, grabbed hold of the boyās chin so he could say it again while he looked him in the eye. But he didnāt dare in this state.
Paul didnāt budge from the spot.
āCome here, Paul. Iām not going to bite you.ā
Paul tripped over to the bed, sat on the edge gingerly. āSuppose you think the worst nowā¦ about sharing a bed with me.ā
Paul still wasnāt looking at John, he was looking down at his own hands. John attacked the knot of Paulās fingers, clawing at them playfully.
āIf you get caught in a gust of wind theyāll get stuck that way. And I need a bass player.ā
āIām not in a laughing mood, John,ā Paul said, rolling his eyes.
āItās not a joke. I really need you,ā John laughed. āI wouldnāt be caught dead playing the bass.ā
Paul let out a short miserable sound like a stifled sob.
āHey now, I wasnāt joking. I need you,ā John said. He grabbed hold of Paulās clenched fists and blew on them gently.
āItās notā¦ I know how it must seem to you now but Iām not aā¦ aā¦ Iām not aā¦ Iām not. And I know you need me for the bandā¦ā
John grabbed hold of Paulās chin. āYouāre not aā¦ what? Arenāt you?ā
Paul didnāt struggle instead he went very still like a frightened animal.
āArenāt you, Paul?ā he asked again. They were so close now, John could smell the strong French cigarette Paul had just smoked, the grease from the pommes frites heād had for supper.
Paul shook his head quickly.
āShame,ā John breathed. āBecause I really wanted toā¦ā he paused, tilted Paulās face even closer to his.
āWhat? What did you want?ā Paul whispered. āDo it.ā
But John didnāt have time to do it because Paul was already kissing him, his hands clenched in the collar of Johnās T-shirt.
When they broke apart Paul started at him with those big eyes. Every muscle in his face was tense.
āWhat did you stop for?ā John asked breathlessly.
āI justā¦ fuckā¦ I thoughtā¦ I thoughtā¦ā Paul stammered.
āThinking is bad for you, son. Come on. Shall I switch that mind off for you?ā
He pulled him down to the mattress and into his arms. He never heard Paulās reply, he swallowed it down eagerly.
