Chapter six, 1962: part B, Interlude

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George's dark eyes blinked open and he let out a small yawn, feeling unusually warm on this cold Hamburg morning. There was a heavy arm draped over his waist and it took a moment to his sleepy brain to register that it was it belonged to John. He turned his head and was surprised by how close his mate was, the older man still in this state between sleep and consciousness, eyes moving behind his closed eyelids. John's mouth was slightly agape and his hair dishevelled, the look giving George that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He sighed and looked away from his mate, memories from the night before flooding his mind. They'd done things that night. The kind of things that you were not supposed to do with another bloke. Shame and embarrassment settled onto George's features as he thought about how they'd kissed and humped against each other to climax. 

He slipped his hand onto John's arm lightly, debating whether he should push him away. He didn't want to wake him up and he also kind of liked the feeling of his mate against him, the press of John's chest against his back, so close he could feel the steady beating of his heart. John felt good against George, keeping him warm, and the younger lad reasoned that they'd probably never be this close again so he didn't move his arm. Instead, he stared at the dirty wall in front of him, dark eyes filled with conflicting emotions. 

John mumbled in his sleep, snuggling into the warmth of the body pressed against his, waking up a little when he felt it twitch and tense up, moving slightly against his bare skin. He knew the person he held so tightly against him was George before he even opened his eyes, his brain not even fully awake and already drunk on the smell of his mate, the smoothness of his skin, the feel of his hair against his face. George tensed up when John stirred behind him, crushing any hope to be able to slip out of bed unnoticed and avoid him all day. He held his breath, not moving a muscle, hoping John would let sleep reclaim him again. 

Sleep was on last thing on John's brain right then. He swallowed, focusing on the sensation of George's nearly bare body against his intently, as if trying to memorize it, knowing fully well that he'd never have the opportunity to get to experience it again. He felt his forehead against George's bony spine, his bare chest flush to George's back, his groin, carefully pressed to George's rump and their legs, tangled together in a warm mess. George bit into his bottom lip when John's soft cock rubbed up against his bum as he shifted around in bed, blushing, his skin rising up with goosebumps at the contact. 

Unaware of his mate's feelings, John breathed in his scent deeply before letting out a sigh, opening his eyes and going back to the ugly reality. He'd humped George to climax the night before, because he was horny and frustrated, granted, but also because he'd wanted to. If John was completely honest with himself (something he rarely dared doing), he would have to recognise that he'd wanted that for a long time. He'd wanted George, that way, for a long time. And that fucking freaked him out. 

With a little shiver of fear and uneasiness he realised that George was awake, stiff and anxious in his arms, probably extremely uncomfortable, much more than John was feeling. "I know yer awake," he stated bluntly, his voice low and gruff from sleep. "I wasn't pretending to be sleeping," George said defensively. "Think you could unwrap your arm from around me waist?" He asked, not wanting to be a git but hoping he could beat John to the punch, get nasty and despising before his mate had any chance to do it first.

A frown spread on John's features at the tone of George's voice, surprised by how harsh his mate sounded, not embarrassed, shameful and twitchy about it as John had somewhat expected him to be, but scornful and cold. He licked on his lower lip nervously, leaning away a little. The honest answer to his mate's question would've been 'no', he liked spooning behind George, as fucked up as that was, but that was not an appropriate answer and John knew it. "All right," he replied instead, trying to sound as if he did not care, rolling on his back and closing his eyes.

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