#mrsferocious

Perched over John’s lap, with his calloused hands and long fingers wrapped around her curves, he’s caressing her with a gentleness any person would think it's impossible coming from normally harsh, abrasive John, and a soft hint of a smile plastered on the corners of his mouth.

He’s so enthralled he hasn’t even noticed Paul’s been standing in front of him for a good ten minutes even though he’s wearing the lilac button down that makes him look all soft and cuddly and hugs his body in all the right places, and that normally assures John won’t be able take his eyes off of him for the whole evening, but now… 

Feeling his patience running thin he clears his throat loudly and finally John deems to look at him, even if he doesn’t seem too pleased about having to tear his gaze away from his stupid new guitar to do so, the twat.

“We’re getting dinner with Ringo and Mo, remember?” he asks, and if he sounds a little bratty, well, he likes to think he’s at least a little bit entitled to it “But I can go alone if you want, to give you two a little bit more privacy.”

At that, John’s expression seems to perk up and his soft smile acquires a mocking edge that makes Paul immediately regret having opened his mouth.

“Aww, Macca, are you jealous?”

“I’m leaving now” he replies, rolling his eyes scornfully. But John moves faster, setting the instrument aside on the other side of the couch before grabbing him by the hips. At first he tries to put on a fight and get away but it’s half hearted at best and in the end simply lets himself be guided to sit on the spot the guitar was taking on John’s lap a moment ago.

“Want me to strum you like I do with my guitar, is that it?” John asks, his fingers moving from where they’re holding him to tickle Paul’s middle, making him squeal “See what pretty little sounds I can get out of you?”

“You’re so corny,” he tries to sound annoyed by the cheesiness of it all but can’t help the laugh that surges from his lip at how ridiculously charming John can be even when he’s being absolutely ridiculous. 

“Say’s the guy who’s jealous of his boyfriend paying attention to an inanimate object,” it’s John’s retort, still sporting his shit-eating grin. 

Paul only feels slightly bad for hitting him in the face with one of the cushions before pushing himself out of his grip .