Mclennon Drabbles

Sweltering

Paul shifted uncomfortably and tried not to notice, tried to avert his eyes but he just couldn't help himself from asking.

"You're a little odd, y'know? What the bloody hell possessed you to do tha'?"

John only laughed in that slightly raspy way of his and shook his head, lips pressing together into a tight line.

"Taste isn't half bad, y'know."

"Freak."

John once again chuckled to himself, crawling onto Paul and sitting on his stomach, pinning him to the mattress. His knees were on either side of the boy's body and even though he was trying to play this thing off as some practical joking, some altered kind of rough housing, neither could deny how the world seemed to slow down for a second; stilling on its very axis just for the two of them and this particular moment.

"Let me up." Paul pushed at his friend's chest, trying to let him know he wasn't okay with their current position.

He wasn't quite strong enough though; Lennon only planted himself more firmly on his torso.

"John, for God's sake."

"Oh c'mon Paulie. Don't be such a prude about it!"

"Stop bein' so queer!"

With that exclamation, John's eyes narrowed dangerously and he cupped his friend's chin in his hand, speaking with a tone so gravelly it made the younger boy flinch uncomfortably.

"Don't ever fuckin' call me that again. Yer lucky I don't break your fuckin' jaw, son."

"Oh, and I'm terrified." Paul replied sarcastically.

His body has relaxed somewhat under John but his eyes were wide and cautious; hands still precariously resting upon the broad chest in front of him and shoving subconsciously, but it was a fruitless effort.

Something about his reddened cheeks and dilated pupils set off a hidden trigger inside of John. Some bloody switch flipped on and suddenly the collar of Paul's shirt was being tugged upwards, with a strength that alarmed the boy into letting out an embarrassing squeak of recognition.

He thought for sure that they would butt heads; anticipated with a sense of detachment the crack of their skulls meeting and bashing together. The dull pounding of it would reverberate just beneath his forehead and perhaps even leave him dizzy or without vision for a moment.

He wished he would have never said anything to his mate to piss him off, but really it was only a joke, and -

Oh. That was new.

Their heads did not collide with all the force it took to lift Paul from the mattress by the fabric of his shirt.

He registered vaguely that instead he was met with a pair of dry, chapped lips.

Male lips. John's lips.

This bit of information went straight to his groin as soon as his mind followed the actions, and soon he was gasping aloud and reopening his frightened eyes.

"Shit, John!" He hissed, wanting desperately to pull away, to pretend it had never happened.

"Shut up, you. It's your fault. Being bloody irresistible and sweaty."

John had a way of getting what he desired and taking it without restrictions or moral. Paul knew this, but never imagined it would come this far.

He tasted peppermint on the other's mouth and shut out all word of advice from his conscious. He was hot, he was sweaty, and the kiss was everything that could quench the long passed dehydration.

So, he reciprocated in full.

He allowed his tongue to delve into something warm and wet, feeling his body temperature increasing rapidly in reaction to John's tongue meeting him halfway; teasing, probing.

John shifted his weight lower down his friend's body, his arse moving from Paul's chest to his hips, pressing insistently and rubbing shamelessly.

"Paul.. 's too hot... gotta have less clothes on ya." He panted as their lips parted, pressing his open mouth against the base of Paul's throat and caressing the tender skin with precision and skill to quickly raise goosebumps on his flesh.

"This is going..way too far.." Paul insisted.

He was afraid of how the desire of the moment was getting such a physical reaction out of him. He had never intended to actually get hard, hadn't intended anything at all really.

This was unexplored land and he was without a compass to guide him where his body needed to be. It was fucking scary; John was frightening him with his forwardness.

"How far were you wantin' to go then?"

John kept on with his maddening onslaught of kisses along Paul's neck and jaw. He couldn't get enough of the taste of the younger boy's skin, occasionally letting his teeth leave small indentations that were equivalent to a marking of one's property.

He slipped his hands underneath Paul's thin shirt and mapped out the broad yet soft chest with his curious fingertips, knowing fully how crazy he was driving him.

"We're not fuckin' queer." Paul mumbled.

As he said this though, his fingers contradicted his words and tangled messily in John's hair, keeping him at his neck.

"No, we're not. But we're not fucking, either. I'm only helpin' out a friend who's sweatin' a bit."

Paul thought about this momentarily and soon a sneaky grin crept onto his baby face, and he lifted John's chin, eyes shining. He knew exactly what he wanted from his friend, since the latter was so insistent about the whole thing.

"Johnny, I think I've got a bit of sweat 'round me prick. Care to help me out with it?" He chuckled.

The anticipating and eager look John shot him from underneath his eyelashes made him wonder to himself what the hell he had just gotten himself into.

~minutes later~

Paul was hot.

No..no, hot was an understatement for what he was feeling.

Paul was sweltering.