beetlefiction

[beetlefiction]

Paul and John are grinding against each other when Paul asks if he can put “just the tip in” — John reluctantly agrees but then Paul can’t help himself and eventually starts fucking John with no prep

CW: EXTREMELY dubious consent

The hotel bed creaked under the bouncing of their eager hips, nothing but the thin fabric of loose pajama pants lessening the impact of their rock-hard erections. Arduous moans collaborated with the squeaking bed to create a symphonic cluster of erotic sounds, flushed lips sliding wetly together, desperate for the slightest bit of give. John’s breath caught in his throat at a particularly sharp drag of friction from Paul’s hips, and Paul beamed with pride. John always looked good, but Paul believed he looked his best during two instances: when he was sleeping, and when he was pinned beneath Paul. Loudmouth Lennon spent most of his days instigating fights and hurling derogatory words at unsuspecting pedestrians, but he knew where he truly belonged when push came to shove, and that was tucked into bed or whining underneath Paul. Or in this particular case, both.

Their nightshirts were unbuttoned and rode up during the hastiness of their sexual exploration, leaving Paul to ogle at John’s soft chest and pink nipples. With the other’s thighs gripped in his hands, Paul didn’t think he could go any longer without attempting to bugger his mate. He couldn’t think of a better time, either, seeing how patient he’d been. The hotel room didn’t offer much discrepancy, but it was worth a shot, and they’ve played around in such settings before without anything sour happening. Paul captured John’s lips in another searing kiss before pulling back.

“Did you bring it?”

John's hips jerked, biting back a whine. “Bring what?”

Paul chuckled. “The stuff, you know, the lube.”

John’s face slightly creased, unsure. “Er…No, I don’t think so.”

Paul huffed out his nose, pulling his hips back a bit. “Are you sure? I thought I told you to bring it.” 

“Well, I didn’t, did I?” John said tightly. “Can we get on with it now?”

Paul set his lips in a tight line and climbed off the bed, much to John’s displeasure. Ignoring John’s calls, Paul headed over to their luggage, starting with John’s and rummaging through it in search of that familiar little tube. Paul ignored John’s complaints again in favor of looking through his bag next, growing frustrated by the second and tossing clothes out onto the floor. When he came up empty-handed again, he stood up with a huff and whipped around to look at John, who wore an annoyed expression on his face.

“Did you forget to bring it? Or is something else up?”

“Does it matter? Come back to bed, I’m too worked up.”

Paul’s nostrils flared. Of course John didn’t bring any lube, because he had no intention of letting Paul fuck him, essentially holding off on Paul *again* after having Paul wait all this time to do what he wanted to do the most. Paul’s eyes raked down John’s half-naked form, an idea spurring in his mind.

Paul walked over to the bed. “Okay, I think we can make a compromise.”

“Compromise?” John’s eyes squinted up at him. “Paul, please, let’s just keep doing what we were.”

“We can, but I should be able to at least put some of it in, you know.” Paul climbed onto the bed, ready to straddle John again. John’s hand was on his chest to stop Paul from leaning down. Paul reeled back slightly, the look on John’s face was that of uncertainty, an expression Paul was not used to seeing on him during these more sensual moments. Paul had to admit, it gave him quite the rush.

“What do you mean by some of it?” John asked. Paul gave a loose shrug.

“Like, just the tip.”

“The hell are you supposed to get out of just sticking the tip in?” John hissed, his voice slightly outraged, but he sounded more nervous than confused.

“It’ll be good, don't worry. You should just let me.”

John turned away slightly, brows furrowing once more, and while Paul hated seeing his friend be so conflicted over something that was supposed to be good for them both, he desperately wanted to get on with it. Paul sighed. 

“Look, John, I’ve done it with birds before. It’ll feel good, you’ve just gotta trust me.”

John peeked back up at him, and Paul wanted to kiss the frown off his face. “I mean… if you say so. I guess I trust you.”

Paul tried to contain the huge grin that threatened to rip across his face as he helped John roll onto his stomach, pulling both of their bottoms off right after. Getting his erection free and looking at the gentle curves of John’s pale arse made his cock jump in excitement. Licking his lips, Paul reached out and parted John’s cheeks, making the other gasp when his tight hole was exposed. John jumped and turned his head sharply.

“And you’re not gonna move, are you?”

“No, I’m not!” Paul fired back, his hands squeezing John’s plump flesh. “Now, hold still, alright? I’m going in.”

Paul held his cock at the base and lined the head with John’s hole. Seeing how puckered and tight John was next to the thick head of his cock was a juxtaposition that only made him more aroused. He thought about John’s irresponsibility and purposeful neglect in bringing any prep. Maybe Paul could inadvertently teach him the importance of being properly greased. Paul started pushing in, John hissing and grunting into his arms as his rim spasmed to keep Paul out. It took some force, but Paul eventually got his tip to pop in. Paul swore. John made a choked sound, his hole gripping Paul’s tip with the threat of pushing him back out.

“P-Paul—”

Paul shushed him, his face stern with the effort to keep his hips still. “Shh.” He kissed John’s shoulder. “It feels good. So fuckin’ good.” Paul pressed his chest against John’s back, a curve in his spine from having his cock barely in John. This was not how he envisioned fucking John for the first time, hoping more for the full thing, and not this cowardly half effort bullshit. John was so tight, and so warm, tighter than the newest cunt he’s ever been in. A little dry, but the sting he felt was slightly, if not extremely, enjoyable. Paul cursed again, unable to hold his hips up for long, his lips mouthing at John's shoulder to kiss the tension away. He considered pulling out, maybe sliding his cock between John’s arsecheeks and getting something out of that, but a fresh idea sprouted in his mind. Paul smirked to himself. *You’re a goddamn genius, McCartney.*

Turning his head to watch John’s reaction as he slowly pushed in deeper, John jolted, like he was woken out of his sleep.

“Paul, what’re you *doin’*?”

Paul shushed him again, though it did nothing to silence John’s groans and choking sounds of pain as Paul pushed further, barely halfway in before John started to squirm, his hands fisting at the sheets. 

“Ow— *Paul!*” John whimpered and attempted to thrash, but couldn’t with all of Paul’s weight on his back. Paul gasped as the sudden movement sent his cock deeper into John’s arse. That was enough to make John shout. Paul panicked and slapped a hand over his mouth.

Paul didn’t know what made him drive his hips in and out of John, properly fucking him despite the other’s protest, and despite his precum being the only kind of “preparation” they had, but the all-consuming warmth in the other’s man’s arse sucked him in, beckoning Paul to do what he longed to do for a while. John was tense all over, sobbing and pleading into Paul’s hand, a puddle of drool forming in the heat of his palm. 

Paul shushed him again amid heavy and hot pants against his ear. John moaned in pain over the sound of Paul’s assured words. “Shh, love. It’s good, this is so good,” 

Admittedly, Paul knew that they would be having better sex if John were more prepared, if he had remembered to bring the lotion like Paul had asked him to. John’s arse would still be tight, but with a more willing hole and an easier glide that would have sucked Paul in just as much if not more. Still, Paul found the current experience pleasing as well. Curiously, Paul lifted his hand off John’s mouth slightly. 

“A-Ah! Fuck, ‘s hurts, Paul—” John wheezed and gasped, Paul cutting him off by sliding his hand back over his mouth.

“‘M almost done,” Paul grunted in John’s ear, holding him tightly as he rocked steadily inside. Paul was taking it rather slow, being considerate of John’s state. But Paul typically preferred to have sex like this anyway, to treat every sexual encounter like love-making, especially with John, who was so soft and gentle. Deceptively so. John’s cries slowly shifted into these tight, strained whimpers as the tension slowly fled from his body, and Paul moaned at how well he was taking him.

“Takin’ it so well, baby…” Paul cooed, knowing that John being compromised was the only time he could whisper sweet nonsense into his ear. “So fuckin’ sweet, and tight, you like this, you know you like this,” Paul growled nonsensically against John’s feverish skin. John panted in tandem with the pace of Paul’s thrusts, Paul picking up speed in pursuit of his orgasm as he neared closer and closer to the light. With his lips latched to John’s shoulder, sucking desperately, Paul closed his eyes and allowed the biting pleasure to consume him, reaching pure bliss as he floated along the waves of his pleasure. He let the muffled sounds of John’s pleasured moaning, still teetering on the edge of a painful whine, drive him further to completion. Paul pressed his face firmly into the crook of John’s neck, his body tightening as he spilled his seed deep into John’s arse. John gasped and trembled as Paul filled him, and Paul could feel his jaw dropping under his hand.

Paul’s rocking slowed to a stop, but he didn’t pull out of John just yet. Instead wrapping his arm underneath John and firmly gripping his cock, huffing out a breathless laugh when John’s hips jolted underneath him, a sweet sigh fleeing his lips.

“Yeah, go ahead and come for me, baby,” Paul growled in his ear, stroking John fast and getting a pleasant tingling from the way he writhed and squirmed underneath him. Paul kept babbling, though he knew John wasn’t truly listening, panting into Paul’s hand and making it clammy with the warmth of his breath as he came closer to his release. John released one thin moan and spilled onto the sheets below, soaking Paul’s hand in the process as full-body shivers wracked his frame. Paul smiled. John was so cute, he was like a petal in the wind.

Paul pushed his lips against John’s cheek, kissing him over and over again, realizing at that moment for the first time that John had been crying as he pulled away with wet salt clinging to his lips.

They remained that way for a moment longer, Paul reassuring John that he did so good in between gentle kisses as the tremors slowly subsided. After Paul felt that he had his fill of the warmth of John’s arse, he slowly pulled out, John hissing softly at the sensation. Paul groaned as the air in the hotel room cooled his cock in an unpleasant way.

“You did good,” Paul leaned down to kiss John again, but John sharply turned his head away, burying his face in his arms.

“Fuck off, McCartney.”

Paul sat back. He knew that something tumultuous was sprouting between them, but decided against addressing it then, getting up to get something to clean them both off.

[beetlefiction]

Vampire Paul au where it turns both Paul and John on when he drinks John’s blood.

Paul’s recent transformation would have been enough to scare off countless mates, if keeping his new vampiric status a secret between him and John meant anything. At first, John was of the mind that George and Rich had the right to know that their mate (and) coworker had been bitten by a vampire during a late-night excursion, but Paul also had the right to keep such matters to himself. And to John, of course.

Their relationship was a collection of secrets, anyway, so what was one more? 

John was swift to meet Paul’s criteria for how this *vampire* business would play out. With Cynthia and Julian gone, having some much-needed mother & son time, John was sitting on the sofa, peering up at a clammy Paul as he unfurled his preferences, rules John had to abide by if they wanted to maintain the quality of their relationship and keep the secret under wraps. Paul ran a hand through sweaty black hair, his other hand working his teeth at his thumb. He looked so unlike the prince of pop who graced magazine covers with his boyishly handsome looks. John reckoned vampires were supposed to look especially youthful, what with their ability to keep a static age and all, but here was Paul looking ghoulishly older with dark rims encircling his eyes and his skin papery white. John shifted in his seat as he watched the man pace. If he had to be honest, he was a bit frightened, not just at the way Paul looked, but at the buried knowledge of what he was capable of. Now that he was supernatural, and all. 

Of course, John would abide by Paul’s wishes, he didn’t want to know what would happen if he didn’t.

“OK, so this is what’s going to happen,” Paul finally said, running both hands through his hair and stopping right in front of John. Paul licked the sweat off his lips, an awkward laugh twinging on hysterical bubbling out of him. “Right, yeah, so this is subject to change since I’m still figuring it all out. But first, we’ve got to stop touring. I can’t be out in the sun as long as I used to, you know, so… we’ve gotta stop. Now.”

Hearing the great performer Paul McCartney say that he wanted to, no, *had* to stop touring made John’s brows shoot up, but he forced himself to keep quiet, though the urge to make a smart jab was there.

“Next, er…uh, I might be out late some nights, and sleep all day in the mornin’, so. We’ll have to tweak the schedule to accommodate my new sleep patterns.”

“You’re like nocturnal, then?” John piped up. “How’s that any different from what you did before?” “Well, I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

John shrugged and leaned back. “Fair enough.”

“And, erm. There’s probably some other shit I’m overlooking, but those’ll be the main adjustments we’ll have to make.” Paul held his chin and looked to the ground. John clung to the ‘we’ in that sentence. John watched closely as Paul’s mind seemed to mull over something, which admittedly had John slightly worried. Paul getting too into his head could result in a dangerous spiral, but it was even more dangerous to interrupt his train of thought, a bit like abruptly stopping an actual speeding train. An explosive crash would be imminent. 

“And uh. Erm. Well, I’ll have to drink. Blood, you know.”

“You’re a vampire, so—”

“Actually, don’t call me that either.” Paul gazed down at John with a heated warning in his eyes. “I’m still Paul. I’m still your bandmate. I’m just… going through this thing right now.”

John gave him a strange look, if Paul didn’t want to be called a vampire, then John would respect that at least when addressing him to his face, but of course, that could change if they were having an intense fight. John was known to say the most disparaging thing he could think of to wound his opponent, and Paul making it so clear that he was against the term *vampire* was laying down a boundary as much as it was handing over ammunition. 

“Okay.” John nodded. “Go on, then.”

Paul raised a brow, then nodded, confirming with himself that John understood him. “The last thing is pretty much. Just when I can’t get it from anywhere else, I’ll have to drink yours.”

John’s brows shot up. “Mine? My blood?”

Paul nodded with a finality that showed how much he’d been thinking about this. He looked down at John, soaking up the fear that washed over his face, even though it was shallow and short-lived. It wasn’t like Lennon to expose such a raw emotion for long. John set his jaw.

“What if I don’t want to give you my blood?”

Paul bit the inside of his cheeks. He exhaled hard out of his nose. “Look, Johnny. We’re mates, we’ve even said to each other that: ‘I’d do anything for you, you know’ remember? I need to drink blood to survive, there’s just no denying it, and if I desperately need it and I can’t get it from anyone, not even you?” Paul shrugged, scratching at his arm through his shirt. “I dunno. But I’ll be in a… really bad way. Really bad. How would you like to go weeks without eating, but you’re surrounded by piles and piles of delicious food? You’ll go mad.”

John looked down, considering Paul’s words while the other still spoke. 

“That’s what it’ll be like. But worse.”

John exhaled hard, looking away and dragging his hand down his face. Right, so he had to think about this. Worse things could happen to him. He’s given blood to doctors before, and it wasn’t like Paul would kill him if he fed from him. And intimacy wasn’t a reasonable fear either, seeing that they’ve both been rather close to each other before, in more ways than one.

“Is Jane not an option?” John had to try, even though he knew that he was going to let Paul do what he wanted.

“She doesn’t know. Can’t know.” Paul’s nails continued to work on his arm, clawing through the shirt and creating wrinkles in the fabric. John’s eyes traced over Paul’s figure. They were both pale typically, being born and raised English did that to a bloke, but Paul was especially pale. His skin reminded John of plaster, pasty and dry (yet incredibly sweaty) like he would flake apart any moment. His eyes, still large and doe-like, were a bit sunken atop a grey shadowy smear that went around his eyes. With his chapped lips to top it off, John had no other choice but to decide that Paul was already *not in a good way.* His eyes drifted back up to Paul’s face. 

“Do you need it now?”

Paul’s eyes widened briefly as his head snapped up to look at John, almost as if he was caught.

“I-I mean, I'm hungry, yeah, but I can just go find something.”

“Why go through all that trouble when you can have something now?” John asked, in slight disbelief that he was being so bold. Perhaps he couldn’t stand to see his friend twitch and squirm out of hunger, to see Paul drown in a puddle of his sweat. Or maybe he was just that damn fascinated on the notion of letting a real life vampire suck his blood.

Paul’s brows quivered and furrowed as he processed John’s words, or at least as well as he could process them in his current state. He wrung his hands, and John was just glad to see that he stopped clawing at his arm.

“Really?”

John nodded impatiently. “Look at you, son. You don’t look like yourself. You look awful.”

“Ta.”

“No, really. I can’t stand it.” John exhaled out of his nose in preparation to be upfront. “If it’ll help. Do what you gotta do.”

After some more awkward staring and gentle coaxing, Paul started to approach John. John offered his arm to Paul.

“I know a better way.”

John’s breath hitched in his throat when Paul leaned down, for he thought they were going to kiss until Paul’s hands braced on the sofa behind him which had them both falling into the cushions, John underneath Paul. John’s breath leaked from his lips, pouring into Paul’s mouth and making him realize in that moment that no air was leaving Paul. Not because he was holding his breath, but because Paul’s body was breathless.

The contact also revealed the warmth Paul lacked and how much firmer his body felt, not due to any extra muscle definition or anything, but Paul’s body was nearly hard, like drying clay. John made a soft noise when Paul pushed him further into the cushions, and he lifted his eyes to him. John gasped. 

Paul’s pupils had pinched into slits, and his chapped lips were parted to reveal two ivory colored fangs peeking out of his mouth. The humanity in Paul’s eyes that John had grown familiar with had vanished to be replaced by those of an avid hunter, and John started to wonder if he had made the right choice in being Paul’s personal blood bank.

“Paul—”

Paul dipped his head into the crook of John’s neck, and John whimpered when he felt his teeth sink into the meat of his skin. He grunted, squirming slightly underneath Paul as his friend latched on, his teeth hooking onto his flesh and his wet tongue dipping out to catch that blood that started to spill. Paul’s lips followed his teeth, wrapping around the bleeding area and sucking eagerly as Paul’s hand gripped the back of John’s neck and squeezed, like he was milking John for more of his essence. John wrapped his arms around Paul, unsure of what else to do with his hands, and rested his wrists against the flexing muscles, clenching his fists too hard to properly hold on. The position they were in forced John to spread his legs to make room for Paul, the obscene angle giving John no other choice but to notice the way Paul’s hips started to ground against John at their own accord. John hissed. What was Paul doing? Wasn’t he just supposed to be feeding? John groaned at a particularly harsh suck to his sensitive area, causing more blood to spill into Paul’s mouth and sending a hoard of moths to cloud John’s senses. 

John moaned, his eyes growing heavy alongside the rest of his body, causing him to grow limp as Paul slowly rocked on top of him, lapping hungrily against his puncture wounds. The stimuli Paul was providing with the drive of his hips felt better than they normally would have, as it was a sensation John was somewhat used to already. Maybe the blood loss enhanced it, or maybe Paul used some sort of twisted vampiric magic to arouse John further. Not that there was anything John could do about this intense arousal, seeing how compromised he was.

Paul released the hold he had on John’s neck, causing the other’s head to drop to the cushions. Paul lifted off John. 

*Someone looks brand fucking new* was the thought that coasted along the thick haze of John’s mind. Paul had returned to his usual color, all flushed and happy as he smirked down at John with his stained mouth, as John could only blink slowly up at Paul, a bit like a newborn kitten. Paul didn’t stop his movements, though, slowly driving his hips down and rubbing their clothed erections together, chuckling to himself as John could do nothing but moan and hang his head from side to side. John had reached peak nirvana, too lightheaded and weary to have any reservations about dry humping his mate, the curve of his cock rubbing against his was too addictive, and John didn’t know if he was going to be able to experience this again without Paul biting him first.

Paul draped his body over John’s, wrapping an arm around his waist as he picked up speed, the force of his hips jostled John’s limp form up and down, rendering John a useless whining ragdoll. A moan caught in John’s throat as he attempted to beg Paul’s name. Paul’s tongue licked at his neck, not allowing a drop of blood to go to waste.

“Ah–” John cut himself off with a gasp, his thighs weakly squeezing around Paul as he came in his jeans, flushing as much as he could when embarrassment crowded his chest. Paul, now emboldened by John’s orgasm, rocked furiously against the man, his grip on his waist tightened painfully, making John question for the first time the potential behind Paul’s newfound strength. John squeaked when Paul held his groin firmly against his, straining slightly as soft moans spilled from his mouth during his own orgasm. John was sweating and panting. Paul, on the other hand, was completely fine. He looked down at John and cocked his head, reaching down to push John’s sweaty fringe off his face.

“You alright?” Paul pushed off John and stood. John didn’t like the way lying on his back with parted legs felt, so he moved to stand as well.

“No. no, no,” Paul said, caressing John’s shoulders and guiding him back down to the couch, something John didn’t protest against as he felt like a crowd of flies swarmed his already blurry vision. “Just lay there. You need to recuperate. There.”

Paul laughed when John sank back onto the cushions, draping his arms over his face. He was too woozy to tell Paul off, letting the man slink off to the kitchen and give him something sweet to eat as he reflected on the new facet of their friendship, and how the dynamic would effloresce into something more passionate than it already was. 

[beetlefiction]

Oh I have an idea that’s been rattling around in my head for awhile that I think suits your writing style! What if when John starts trying to leave the band and get with Yoko, instead of letting him go Paul locks him in his basement. And because John constantly needs attention he actually starts to develop Stockholm syndrome— like the whole “seeing red flags but red is his favorite color” kind of thing

TW: hold someone hostage

They said that having something taken from you would reveal your attachment to it.

Paul knew that sinking feeling in his gut he got whenever he saw John clinging to Yoko would eat him alive the moment it began. But Paul always thought himself to be more rational than that, at least rational enough to know better than to succumb to his lesser urges. Those urges that first ignited when Paul was a teenager and saw the girl he fancied with the guy he loathed.

In a world of people who flaunted their insatiable needs, Paul always valued himself as a man who kept his desires simple. Not only was he extremely forgiving, but he only had one boundary he deemed unforgivable once crossed: Don't touch what was his.

And sure, Paul wasn’t in the art of branding human beings, so he didn’t have a sign around John’s neck that read ‘Property of Paul. Stay away”, but anyone with eyes and half the sense to know knew that John was off limits in the realm of Paul’s belongings. Steal his car, he could get another one. Take his house, that’s rough but there’s plenty of homes out there. But laying a finger on John resulted in a frenzied swarm of panic whipping through Paul’s brain and static flashes across Paul’s eyes. He could hardly function at the mere sight of John with someone else.

Paul knew he was dangerously devoted to John when Stuart Sutcliffe was in the picture, and the close-quarter living in Hamburg only made matters worse. Paul felt like he was seeing his girl with his rival again.

One night of overhearing the distinct sounds of them both engaging in mutual pleasure resulted in Paul tackling Stuart to the ground the next day. Much to John’s delight, who thought it was a typical grappling between two blokes. Paul thought the same until years later when he was forced to come to terms with his affection towards John being deeper than what was normal between two lads. Paul had a good rein on his outbursts, but on the off chance that he didn’t, someone was being insulted on behalf of John. And it was always on John’s behalf. Not once did Paul direct his jealousy towards John.

Until Yoko happened. Then Paul was forced to endure seeing John unshakenly loyal to someone other than Paul.

Linda had to fly back to America for a week due to a family emergency, which gave Paul a delicious amount of freedom to handle business. Something had to give, and Paul knew if he didn’t take matters into his own hands soon, then something deplorable would happen.

Paul was in the middle of cooking some stir fry when his phone rang. Looking between the food and in the direction of the Phone, Paul sighed and turned the stove off. The food was as good as done anyway. He left the kitchen and hurried in the hallway to answer the phone.

“Still nothing from John?” George’s voice was exasperated on the other end.

“Nope. Nothing.” Paul sighed. He ran a hand over his face. “Sorry, mate. Did you ask Yoko?”

George emitted a disgusted sound on the other side, making Paul chuckle dryly.

“Right, right. Well, I gotta go. I’ll let you know if I hear any updates, yeah?”

Paul was going to hang up when George said his name again. Paul held the phone over the hook, contemplating hanging up and calling George back so he could have dinner, but George was like a brother to him. He couldn’t deliberately ignore him, no matter how much he wanted to. So he brought the receiver back to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“…Are you sure you don’t know where John is?”

Paul felt a jump to his left eye, and a breathy chuckle left him.

“Of course I’m sure, George.”

Paul hummed as he prepared the plate of food, generously piling stir fry atop the dish before he exited the kitchen and headed downstairs. The house was a vacant space shuttle without Linda and Heather occupying it, and Paul couldn’t help but feel watched as he made his way down the stairs. The creaking under his feet wasn’t appreciated, but maybe being alerted of his presence was for the best.

Paul pushed the door open to the basement, sighing when he realized he would have to go down another flight of stairs. At least this one was much shorter.

The basement, while clean and vermin-free, was a hastily renovated space. A large white bed was tucked in the corner of the wall of exposed pipes, as there really wasn’t anywhere else to be where the pipes could be avoided. To add warmth to the basement, Paul draped an oriental rug in the middle of the floor, so John wouldn’t have to walk across the cold floor with his bare feet. Not that John would have to, Paul supplied him with house shoes, but John didn’t show much signs of wanting to mind Paul.

John was asleep and curled up on the side of the bed closest to the wall, and Paul stood there for a moment to stare at him. One of John’s arms was raised from where Paul had to handcuff him to the bed to stop him from lashing out, especially after John got one good scratch that went right over Paul’s eye. Paul couldn’t believe that the man he was looking at now caused that much damage earlier. He felt like he plucked an exotic flower from a foreign land and put it on display in his home. Paul knew the flower was better off in its own territory, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would look better under his care.

Paul smiled when John shifted slightly in his sleep, letting out a little hum. John was always the most innocent when he was asleep, too busy drifting away on a sea of dreams to wreak havoc on himself and others. He looked so small when he curled up like that too. Paul really didn’t want to wake him, but taking care of John mattered more than admiring him.

Paul approached the bed and sat down before reaching out and giving John's shoulder a shake.

“John, wake up.” Paul started smiling again when John stirred gently before jolting completely awake, making Paul snatch his hand away. John’s auburn hair clung to the corner of his mouth and to his cheeks, making him look more like a disgruntled toddler than anything else, especially as he blinked blearily at Paul through annoyed eyes. Paul reached out and tugged the strands of hair from off John’s face.

“You hungry?” When John didn’t say anything, Paul forked his food around and scooped some rice onto the utensil. “If you want, I can feed you.”

John’s eyes fell heavily, a sharp morph from his previous irritation that made Paul’s heart nearly stop. Paul braced himself for what was coming. They were halfway through the week with little progress, and it seemed that all John could ask was—

John dropped his mouth, obediently opening it for Paul as no question of going home was asked. Paul bit his bottom lip to keep his giddiness at bay and gripped the fork as he scooted closer on the bed. A smile broke out on Paul’s face against his will when John took the food into his mouth and quietly chewed. After swallowing, John opened his mouth for more, and a burst of confetti rained down Paul’s brain.

“Good boy,” Paul hummed, watching John’s mouth with enchantment. Taking care of John (Properly taking care of him too) was the most fulfilling achievement Paul’s ever endured, and it was even better when John actually cooperated with him. Even though they were in the basement, someone could have told Paul that the sun was beaming through the room, and he would have believed them.

John only accepted a few more spoonfuls of food, turning his head against the fork as he swallowed his last bite. Paul set the fork down and put the plate on the stool next to the bed that operated as a nightstand.

“Is that enough?” Paul said softly, his eyes running up and down John’s body as he subconsciously searched for injuries. When John nodded and looked away, Paul placed a finger under his chin to turn his face. “Hey. Have you thought about it?”

John shifted his hips against the bed, leaning slightly towards the wall. “Can I get me arm down now?”

“Not until you answer my question. Yes or no, John.” Paul leaned in closer and lowered his voice, making John swallow. “Do you still want to leave the band?”

Paul could hear his heart beat in his ears during the silence of John’s hesitation to answer, and a drop of sweat rolled down his cheekbone, sliding into his ear. He hoped that he didn’t look too intense, but the crux of his sanity lied in the answer John chose. Against his better judgment, Paul’s hand slid up the bed until it ran over John’s thigh, where it rested. John looked at Paul still, his brows raised slightly as his lips trembled around the ghost of his answer.

“No,” John said at last. He started to slowly shake his head. “No, I— I don’t wanna leave the band.”

Paul lost all tension in his shoulders. “No? Are you sure?”

“Paul, I’m sure,” John huffed. “You’re starting to sound like you wanna get rid of me.”

Paul moved further up the bed, and gathered John’s face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs as he spoke softly. “Of course not. Of course I don’t want that.” Paul glanced at John’s suspended arm and sighed. “Here.” Paul reached up and undid the handcuff, but instead of clutching his sore wrist like Paul thought he would, John threw both arms around Paul’s neck. It wasn’t quite a traditional hug, more John essentially sloping his body against Paul in a limp embrace. Paul cupped John’s waist and stroked his side slowly, unsure of what else to do.

“If you don’t wanna get rid of me…” John mumbled. “Then why are you keeping me here? Are you ashamed of me?”

Paul shushed him, rubbing both hands down along John’s sides. The vulnerability in John’s words were overwhelmingly unbearable, but Paul couldn’t help but be fascinated by the honesty. Was he doing something right?

“I kept you here to protect you.” Paul replied before pulling John back, making eye contact. He spoke before John could ask what he was being protected from. “But… if you’re saying you don’t wanna leave the band, then— I suppose you can go.”

John’s brow twitched, and it was killing Paul to not know what was happening behind those amber eyes as they swept over Paul. But Paul’s fear was short lived as John was sinking back into his arms again. Paul started to wonder if it was truly John who fell asleep and not him, because Paul felt like he was dreaming. The remaining doubt he had about if he’d done the right thing was casted to the wind by the touch of John’s hands between his shoulders. Paul reluctantly patted John’s back.

“John?”

John turned his face to nuzzle it against Paul’s collarbone. “I think…I think I’d rather stay here a little longer.”

Paul felt his heart flip. Did John mean the basement? Was “here” the place Paul held him in his arms? Or was he talking about the band? Paul exhaled slowly as John moved closer and slotted his body against Paul’s. Whatever John meant could be solved later, Paul decided, because taking care of John mattered more.

[beetlefiction]

AAAAAAAAHHH I’ve been waiting for this!!!! I don’t have a request yet but I would love to see more from your omegaverse au if thats okay

HI yes thank you! If you have anything from that au you’d specifically like to see just lmk!!

[beetlefiction]

Hi all, requests are currently OPEN!

◐ I temporarily have a lot of free time on my hands, so I figured I could write short fics based on requests.

◐ Know that I may skip a request if I don’t feel comfortable writing that subject matter. This won’t be a common occurrence but know it *may* happen.

◐ This is all good fun. No disrespect meant towards anyone.

◐ I’m open to a variety of topics/subjects (I’m 20+) so don’t be shy to request anything! This is a judgement free zone and everyone’s boundaries will be respected. :)

This blog is 18+ only (that doesn’t mean this is a smut only blog so feel free to diversify your asks) so minors DNI

ao3: kc_montgomery