Work Text:
1967 (the elite McLennon era)
John Lennon just couldn't get over how delicious his favorite lover, Paul, was. He did everything just right and hardly had to lift a finger to do it, too. And boy, did he mean everything. Whether it was singing, shagging, kissing, playing music, writing lyrics, planning, directing, bossing, listening, or even fucking something as simple as playing a damn game of cards, McCartney did it all with great precision. To top this off — sometimes he would get in those real submissive moods and wanted his shit absolutely fucking rocked by John, wanted to be treated like a little plaything instead of a human, and while John was narcissistic at times he didn't have any desire to deny him of that. So now, before the guitarist's face Paul was propped up on a couple throw pillows they stole from the hotel's couch and brought to the bed, on all fours with his arse in the air. His pretty pink hole on display for John to do as he pleased with, puckering and squeezing shut as if to tease him, slick with John's spit as he loved to finger him beforehand. God, Paul was treated so good under Lennon's hand, under his command. Because the bassist had become such a good boy for him now, loved to do as he was told and obeyed every single small thing John requested without question. Whereas he used to be defiant and played hard to get, now he decided it was more fun to follow under the ground rules put down by none other than Lennon himself. John's mouth was so fucking filthy, too. It took a lot of willpower to not get off by the things the man said and did to him with that goddamn mouth alone, so skilled and quick witted all at once.
"Your arse just keeps puckerin' for me," he had continued giving Paul the verbal assault he'd been doing since the whole thing started earlier this morning, when Paul woke John up with sweet nothings and a mouth ready to lick every noise that escaped Johnny's lips. Now time was bordering on the edge of eleven o'clock in the morning and still Lennon hadn't given him dick yet, the thing he whined and begged to get the most. John liked to tease himself and Paul simultaneously by playing with his tight little hole first, get him really used to something prodding inside and massaging his prostate before bucking his hips into the submissive lad like a wild animal. "It's begging for me, I think. All it wants is my cock inside, doesn't it?"
His two fingers had long found the man's prostate at this point, and constantly learned it was much like playing an instrument in itself because he had to get the proper experience to learn the ins and outs of his male lover, the person he wanted to marry but couldn't. His hands were tied; men weren't allowed to marry. But Jesus Christ if they could… Nobody would stop them from tying the knot. He imagined a world where that was possible every time they hooked up. Even imagined a world where men could have children with one another and in that case Paul would've been such a good Mummy, he thinks, considering he'd nutted inside that pink slice of heaven more times than he'd like to admit to doing.
Paul squirmed with a cute moan, nodding his head.
When words weren't used, John withdrew the digits from the bundle of tissue he was just teasing the hell out of — slightly. "What was that, love? I don't think I heard you quite right."
"Please, daddy," Paulie whimpered, causing John's breath to hitch unexpectedly at the dirty name. He had just started calling him that literally four days ago and the two loved how forbidden it seemed, not for an incest reason. "I need your big dick, so deep in me…"
"Oh, there we go. So polite, knows just what he wants… I think I'll give you that, in a few minutes." As this was said, John took his fingers out all the way and neared his face to Paul's sphincter, spitting into it before tasting him, tongue delving in him like it was Sunday dinner. John moaned at the taste of that tight space opening up for him under his tongue.
"Christ, yeah… Just like that." McCartney pushed his ass into the other's face.
After digging into him with the entirety of his tongue for a couple minutes, he decided to ask him about how good it felt. He knew it couldn't touch that magic place but it did feel pleasant, getting worked open by a wet muscle such as a tongue. "You like me eating your arse like a cunt, baby?"
"Y-yes.'' He managed to sigh out the most beautiful moan known to mankind, John thought so strongly. He wanted to wrap his arms around his fit body and use it until he finished. "Want you, daddy…"
"Oh, daddy Jim wouldn't like this, not at all," John's taunts never ceased, "But me, on the other hand… Honey I want t' fucking put baby after baby in you. Wanna fill you with my come and never let you forget you belong to me…"
"I'm yours… I let you use me anytime you want me." The younger responded, still feeling like begging and pleading for John to give him his cock. "John… Love, please," the submissive whimpered, not caring how needy and spoiled he seemed. "Touch me however you want! Don't be afraid to, I don't care… I just wanna t' feel it in that spot mainly, y'know…"
Lennon chuckled, dick leaking precum anyway despite him trying to be the best dominant handler he could be. "God Paul. Such a needy little cunt you have… You'll get what you want. Be patient." Fuck — he wanted nothing more than to line his tip up at this hole and go on in, but he wouldn't do it when Paul asks for it. He would do it on his own terms, when fighting it off didn't seem logical anymore. To relieve of some of the strained feeling on himself though, he reached a hand down on himself to slowly work up and down the shaft, humming softly at the pleasure that simple act brought. But he had to back off from playing with it too much, knowing the end results were so much better when edging. And he decided to be generous for a little while; for another short deal of time, he gave Paul a bit of prostate stimulation.
He easily slid in his right hand's middle finger with no resistance fighting against him, searching for the bump and finding it rather quick. McCartney's face twisted in pleasure, groaning at how wonderfully fast the spot was found. John used the single digit to fuck in and out of him. The way he angled his fingertip darted straight throughout Paul's body, prostate glands getting so attended to. "Yes yes yes… Fuck me, daddy…"
John felt like he should've waited, but couldn't do it anymore. He gave in. Taking the finger out of his hole, he growled with want and he furiously lined his dick up.
"Ready?"
Paul uttered a short 'mhm', nodding as well. Lennon pushed in, warmth enveloping him much tighter than a pussy even after all that prepping. One hand pushed on the bassist's lower back to steady himself. He snickered when Paul's back popped at the intense weight pushing down, so he attempted to massage the area instead. Deeper and deeper he went in, inching in as slow as he could. "Yeah, there you go, ease it in, baby." he sounded like he was mocking him a bit, but Paul did not care. He was getting just what he wanted and that was enough to make him openly whine out, flinging his arms behind him to hold onto John's wrists. The man even turned to look in his eyes as he was getting filled up.
"I love you," he said straight from the heart, making John become flushed immediately.
"Baby, I love you more…" He said right back, finally reaching the limit to how far back he could go; it was still more than enough for the man on all fours, that spot inside still managed to feel it and that was alright with him. Lennon bucked in and pulled out almost all the way, repeating the same motion cautiously, knowing how important it was to take his time at first — grunting at the same time though, because fuck, the hole his cock was buried in was the tightest, probably where Paul was squeezing his walls around him from uncomfortability.
"Ease up, angel." the dominant cooed, hand spider-crawling up his back and feathering through Paul's hair. He tried and tried to relax, and discovered, like always, it became easier as John went on. He tangled his hand there, leaning to touch his chest to the smooth back beneath him. Kissing his neck and left ear, nibbling on him. His other hand moved from his back and snaked under Paul's armpit, arm flesh to flesh with his chest until his hand took a hold of the lad's chin rough.
"John…" Paul's breath shook while he called out his name, turning his head to meet him in a kiss. Lennon breathed hot air on him when they parted to catch their breath. The loose swing of John's hips got the hang of their rhythm before long, before he dove in a little harder with each thrust.
"Yeah. Better than any fucking random lay I've ever had," the man began on a tangent, which Paul already knew was coming at any minute now. "We're supposed to be married, Paul. You and me, fucking, forever, just like this. Steady and strong. Right?"
"Yes, yeah, John s'all I want!"
"I'd fuck you all you want, every night you want it. Never would have to leave you, everyone would see us and love us together."
John went on when Paul only answered with those low, pleasant sounds.
"You'd be mine, I'd never have to use anyone else — 'cause when I fuck them, all I see is you anyway."
"Would be so good," Paul just had to lay along to have a message of his spoke. "F-faster!"
"Getting greedy now." He pointed out but did as he was demanded.
Paul no longer wanted to speak and fucked back on him, calling out to God as he was getting fed that pleasure rod of John's. He even mumbled daddy a couple times, too. John came as deep inside of him as he could, purposely filling him to the brim with it so that when he pulled out the mess spilled out of his hole, down his perineum.
"Jesus Christ," John sighed as he laid down — his hips, arms and cock were all tired and drained. "You really took it this time. Good boy, Paulie. Fuck."