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Too Much Rain, Chapter 50
In this chapter, John is still reeling from his experience with Brad and tends to relive it, Paul has a nightmare and blurts out some truths to Linda before he can stop himself, LInda gives Paul some good advice, Jason gives John some good advice, and a surprise visitor pops up at Gerry and Jason's place.
WARNING: Sexual situations - 5's out of 10.
Chapter 50
John’s comment about being burned by the nightlife of New York was like a hand grenade dropped into a sedate tea party. Chas stared at John for a long time, trying to see if John was teasing him. But John’s eyes held not even a hint in humor in them. Chas wondered if he should ask what happened, but then quickly decided he didn’t know John well at all, and it was presumptuous of him to even consider doing so. He gave a faint chuckle and then said, “From here on in, the choices we make will pretty much be final. Oh, we can change the paint colors, but mainly, we’ve got to nail our final design down so we can get started.”
John was disappointed Chas didn’t probe. On the one hand he didn’t want to spill out his pain to someone he barely knew, but on the other hand, he needed to spill out his pain to someone. The moment had passed, and John turned to the design questions Chas was posing. He did his best to care about the answers, but the pleasure was gone from the enterprise now. John actually felt as though he was fragmenting inside.
Later, during the cab drive back to Jason and Gerry’s, John felt bits of his outer edifice falling off bit by bit. He didn’t want his inner pain to show on his face, but soon he would not be able to hide it anymore. He probably should talk to Jason, but Jason had warned him that he shouldn’t party so hard, and he had ignored him. Gerry would just yell at him for doing stupid shit again, like he did the last time John had gone off the rails. And Paul...
Although he was sitting in the taxi, John groaned involuntarily, and hid his face in his hands. What could he ever say to Paul? He had completely betrayed Paul’s trust in him, and had cheapened what they’d shared together. Now he believed that he could never allow Paul to fuck him again. It had been two weeks, and his anus still hadn’t healed. He’d been rubbing an ointment on it, and it still was incredibly painful. The idea of ever allowing something to go up his butt again filled him with disgust and fear. He had been arrogant to stroll into the cruising life and think that he could hack it. He had no idea what went on between homosexual cruisers, obviously, and he never should have ventured into that club. The phrase "not ready for prime time" ran through his brain.
It was painful to remember, that night. After Brad had finally had his orgasm and had withdrawn from inside him, John had felt as though he was melted into the mattress. His legs had fallen down, once Brad let go, like two pieces of dead meat. The cold sticky spot under his ass was like a taunting reminder of how he had ejaculated even while he was being raped. John thought of it as a rape. Yes, he had “asked for it”, but he had no idea what a real rough fuck was like, and Brad didn’t acknowledge his cries of pain, or his begging to stop. He had just kept pounding away. John winced as he thought of that humiliating slapping sound. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fuck anyone else, either. That slapping sound would haunt him forever, he feared.
Brad had fallen to the side, exhausted, pleased with his performance. “Want some pot?” he asked, as he turned on the bedside lamp and searched through his belongings there.
John forced himself to put on a brave face. He didn’t want this punk to know how shattered he was inside. “No,” he said abruptly. “I just want to get the fuck out of here.” John got up, grabbing for his pants and slipping them on quickly. He didn’t want to be naked in front of Brad. He stood up and reached for his t-shirt, and pulled it over his head. He didn’t see Brad’s face - he didn’t see the confusion and disappointment.
Brad had thought he had performed magnificently, and Fred acted like it was just another fuck: it was done, and now it was time to leave. As cynical as Brad was, given his background, he felt hurt by Fred’s sudden rejection. What else could he have done to make an impression on the man?
“I’ll pay the bill on my way out,” John said without looking at Brad. “Thanks for the shag.” He pulled $200 worth of twenties out of his pocket and dumped it on the dresser. He needed the remaining cash for the cab. With that, John pulled his jacket on and headed for the door. He didn’t even turn his head as he left the room, and allowed the door to slam behind him. He took the stairs down the four flights of stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. He was afraid that Brad would follow him out and try to engage him if he waited for the elevator. John took the stairs two at a time, and made it to the check out desk in no time. The lone attendant looked pretty jaded. It was very high class but still a no-tell hotel and the business was 24-hours per day. In fact, the busy hours were after midnight. John handed over his credit card. He certainly didn’t have any more cash to spare. The man absent-mindedly ran the card through the machine, and John signed the slip. He had kept his baseball cap down over his forehead, and then left the lobby. A dangerous looking bouncer-type sat on a stool outside the hotel, and he agreed to call a cab, and John gave him a $20 bill: anything to get away from this place as quickly as possible.
The taxi came to an abrupt stop, and John’s mind snapped back from that other, far more surrealistic taxi ride of two weeks earlier. He was in front of the Dakota. As he stepped out, he looked up to the top of the building, with its gothic black spires intersecting the dark grey night. It felt very medieval on that dark late April night. The wind was blustering, and it felt almost like Halloween in spirit. Shrugging, John pulled his coat closer around him, and headed through the arched opening to the elevators, and he almost pushed the button for the floor he used to push when he lived here with Yoko; he quickly self-corrected, and pushed the button for Jason and Gerry’s floor instead.
John could smell the food before he even entered the apartment. It smelled like a great stew of some kind. He unlocked the door, and went down the hallway, and into the sitting room. Gerry was (of course) seated in his easy chair reading the Wall Street Journal, and Jason was (of course) banging around in the kitchen. The scene was cozy and domestic and let loose a feeling of envy in John. He had always wanted this life for Paul and him, and never had managed to satisfy that dream - because Paul had been too cowardly to go for it. As it was, Paul would always find his cozy, domestic center at Cavendish, with Linda.
“John!” Gerry said cheerfully, as he finally noticed John’s presence. “You’re just in time for dinner.”
Jason came in, having heard Gerry’s greeting. “John, so glad you’re back. The Yankee pot roast is ready, and the potatoes are perfect. Go clean up, and I’m putting dinner on the table right now.”
Obediently, John turned and went to his guest suite, and removed his jacket. He washed his hands, and splashed warm refreshing water on his face. It was his desire to wash all the pain off his face, so no one could see it. He had begun to understand what drove Paul to his secrets. If you have truly painful memories, why on earth would you want anyone else to find out about them? Again he felt a pang that he had dragged Paul - unwarned - into the therapy session. He had stripped Paul of his ability to hold back his demons, and now he could really understand why Paul had wanted to keep things private. John felt ashamed. Paul’s old secrets must be as agonizingly humiliating as John’s own new one, and now - only too late - John could understand.
Paul’s legs were frozen. They were stuck as if in cement, and no matter what he tried to do he couldn’t make them run away. He was clawing at the ground, grunting, and his heart was beating unbearably hard. Something dark and faceless was chasing him, and he had to get away. In his sleep, his legs were actually wind-milling, and Linda awoke with alarm and shook her husband awake. This was the tenth bad nightmare Paul had experienced over the last several weeks. She wished she knew what the hell was going on. She feared he was living out some terrible scenario with John in his mind. John had been surprisingly absent from Paul’s life for 10 weeks now.
“Paul! Wake up! You’re having another nightmare!” Linda said, as she finally met his open eyes. Those eyes seemed to clear suddenly, and then they closed. Paul’s hand covered his eyes, and he rubbed them.
Paul forced himself to sit up, as Linda turned on the bedside lamp. He leaned over and breathed heavily as he trained his heart to slow down. Paul was feeling very scared and vulnerable at that moment. What he wanted more than anything was to have John’s strong arms around him. But that kind of comfort was in his past. He turned to look at Linda, whose face was covered with concern. “Lin...” he started. He felt he should tell her, or tell somebody. She had loved him through some of his weakest moments, so maybe she would still love him if she knew the truth about him.
“Yes, love?” Linda asked. She was holding her breath, and hoping he would confide in her.
“I think John has left me again.” Paul’s voice sounded cracked.
Linda’s heart ached for him. “Why do you think that, baby?” She asked softly.
“He doesn’t really talk to me anymore. He feels miles away; I can’t connect with him emotionally anymore. He doesn’t want to come back.” Paul’s words rushed out of him, one after the other. “It’s like how it was in 1968, when he cut me off and drifted away. He’d found someone else and wanted to live a different life.”
Linda’s hand was rubbing up and down Paul’s spine, and her face was deeply sympathetic.
Paul continued. “I think maybe he’s back with Yoko, or he’s found someone else, and he hasn’t found the nerve to tell me yet.”
“What does Jason say?” Linda asked. She should have felt relieved, but she didn’t. Her heart felt as though it were in a vise.
“I haven’t asked him. He hasn’t volunteered. I think he’s afraid to tell me, and I know I’m afraid to hear it.” Paul’s voice caught in his throat, and Linda cried in distress. She put her arms around him and tried shushing him gently. Several minutes went by before Paul moved free of Linda’s sheltering arms, and wiped his face dry.
“You should go to New York and talk to him,” Linda said firmly. “Either you’re not right, in which case all this suffering is for nothing. Or you are right, and you might as well hear the truth from his mouth, and then you will know for sure. It will hurt, but you can at least start putting your life back together. You’ve got a tour to get back to, in Europe, in a few weeks.”
Paul heard what Linda had said. Was he strong enough to face the rejection he knew he would receive at John’s hands? And how would they be able to finish the tour under those circumstances? Paul felt he would be able to do the professional thing - but John? He acted out when he was ‘done’ with something. Could Paul bear to look John in the face while John - again - told him that he had no further use for him? It was like reliving one of your worst nightmares. He turned to Linda and said “I told him I wouldn’t bother him as long as he wanted to be in New York on his own. I promised.”
“Things are a bit different now, Paul, and it has been over 2 months. I think you have kept your promise. But you can’t continue to go on like this - you’re making yourself sick! And in a few weeks you have to go back on tour!”
Paul could see the sense in Linda’s words. He did want to see John again, even if it was just to hear John end it. At least it would feel final if it came out of John’s mouth, so long as he could see and feel his presence again. It was something Paul longed for, even if he believed it would result in rejection and pain. He was feeling rejected and full of pain anyway, wasn’t he? He might as well hear the truth from the horse’s mouth. So to speak. And the tour? They would have to decide whether to tough it out for 6 weeks, or go their separate ways and cancel the tour. Paul had never canceled a gig before, so even the thought of it gave him a truly bad feeling. But John...once he was done, he was done.
Jason and John were bundled up while sitting in the Adirondack chairs on Jason and Gerry’s patio. They were drinking hot chocolate, and enjoying the bright blue sky and the crisp spring weather. Soon, the weather would be mild enough to sit without the blankets and sweaters.
“John, what’s bothering you?” Jason asked suddenly. They had sat there in a companionable silence for 5 minutes, so Jason’s voice surprised John.
“What do you mean?” John asked.
“You were going out every night, and coming in at 3 and 4 in the morning. You were holed up in your room, and I believed you were doing drugs. Now you come back by 6 p.m. every day, and I have no clue what you’re doing when you go early to bed. What’s bothering you?”
“You told me yourself that it was self-destructive to go out late nights, and party with such pointless people. So I followed your advice. Now you think something is wrong again?”
Jason had expected this argument, but had also decided he wasn’t going to let it stop him. “Yeah, I said that, but I don’t see any happiness or joy in you anymore, John. The kind you brought home when you were staying out nights was phony and desperate, but now there is not even phony happiness. What is bothering you, John? Are you missing Paul?”
John winced internally with the mention of Paul’s name. But Jason had given him an easy excuse to get out of the conversation. “Yes, I do miss him.”
“Why don’t you call him?” Jason asked. “He always has to call you now.”
“He only calls me as a duty, you know,” John told Jason. “He is probably enjoying his time alone with his family, and he is thinking ahead a few weeks to our tour.”
Jason had talked to Paul a few times and didn’t buy that for a moment. “Paul is not enjoying his time without you, John, and if you took the time to really speak to him you would know that for yourself.”
John wondered if (hoped that?) Jason was telling the truth. “How do you know?” He asked.
“I’ve spoken to Paul a few times. He is very worried about you, but won’t say so. He is hurt that you don’t call him. I can tell.”
“But he didn’t say so...” John sneered.
“That’s not an attractive tone of voice, John, I’m telling you a painful truth. You should at least pay it some respect.” Jason turned away and took another sip of his hot chocolate. He was very disappointed in John at that moment.
“I’m sorry, Jason,” John said sincerely. “I’m very touchy right now.”
“So what’s happened, John? What’s going on?” Jason took the opportunity John had handed him.
“I really don’t want to talk about it. But I will call Paul. That’s a good idea. I’d like to hear his voice.” John decided if he gave Jason some kind of victory, he would back away from the prying.
Jason took John’s acquiescence as a victory and decided he’d said enough. “Want a refill?” He asked gesturing to his empty cup.
“That would be grand,” John chuckled.
It was 7 p.m., and John sat by the telephone in Gerry’s study. He was working up the nerve to dial Paul’s number. He really did want to hear Paul’s voice. He wanted the liquid comfort of it to wrap around him, and smother his deep fears in their infancy. He picked up the receiver and then punched in Paul’s number. The phone rang four times, and John was about to give up when James answered the phone.
“Hey James. It’s John,” he said.
“John! It’s been ages! When are you coming home?” James’s voice was so innocent and completely guileless. He had actually thought of John as someone who was part of his family. This tugged at John’s heart.
“I’m coming along on my project. Maybe soon,” John said. “Look, is your dad home? I’d like to speak to him.”
“Dad’s not here,” James said.
“Oh?” John was shaken by that answer. “Where is he?”
“Don’t know. Mom dropped him at the airport a few hours ago. Not sure where he’s off to. I didn’t ask.” Parents’ non-child-related activities were irrelevant to the average 15 year-old and James was no different in this way.
“Airport.” John repeated the word, at a loss for words. “Is your mom there?”
“She went out to dinner with Stella and Mary. I was invited, but I’m in the middle of a movie.”
“Did I interrupt you?”
“Well, I’ve got it on pause...”
John laughed. “Go back to your movie, and tell your mother I called,” John chuckled, and then he hung up. Where the fuck did Paul go without Linda? For the first time in 10 weeks he began to wonder what Paul might have been up to in his absence. What if he’d connected up with someone else? Geesh! He’d never thought of that! But then, it isn’t like Linda would willingly drop him off at the airport in that event, would she? On the other hand, she had often dropped Paul off on his trips to come see him, so why not some other...bloke? John’s jealous mind began to fester. If I could go off and try some other bloke, what’s to say Paul wouldn’t do it? John made himself stop. It was ridiculous. If Paul was off somewhere without Linda it was because Linda needed to stay home with James, and Paul had business to conduct somewhere. It had to be business. John reassured himself with these thoughts, and reluctantly left the comfort of Gerry’s den. He wandered into the sitting room, and sat down and settled in to one of the sofas. Jason looked up from the other sofa and had a question mark on his face.
John saw it and said, “Not home.” Jason nodded and gave John a sympathetic smile over the disappointment. He was glad that John had followed through and made the call, though.
“There’s a play called Shimmer on American Playhouse tonight,” Jason said. “Gerry and I were going to watch it. Do you want to watch it too?”
John shrugged. “Sure,” he said. He was actually glad to have something to occupy his mind and keep him from crawling into his bed and taking sleeping pills to deaden the pain.
The play was good, John could tell, but he was having a hard time concentrating. He had taken a sleeping pill about half way through the play, and now his lids were heavy. There were only moments left in the play when the doorbell rang. It was nearly 11 p.m.
“Who could that be?” Jason asked with irritation.
“I’ll get it,” Gerry said, heading for the door. The last time they’d had an unannounced visitor at night it had been Yoko Ono. Gerry was hoping this wasn’t a return visit. He threw open the door and was shocked to see Paul McCartney standing there, with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hi, Gerry,” Paul said shyly. “Sorry to barge in without warning.” He looked sheepish. Gerry was relieved and also happy to see him. Maybe he would take John home, and he and Jason could relax again. They’d spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about John’s mental health lately.
“Come in! John!” Gerry shouted down the hall.
Paul stepped in, and put his bag down. John, followed closely by Jason, came down the hall, and soon they saw who was standing there.
“Paul!” Jason cried with happiness. “What a great surprise!”
Paul didn’t really hear Jason. His eyes were meeting John’s and searching them intently. John was staring back, and then silently moved until he had wrapped his arms around Paul’s waist. Paul hugged him back.
Quietly, Gerry grabbed Jason’s arm, and gently urged him to follow him back to the sitting room, so as to leave John and Paul alone.
The two men remained in each other’s arms for a good two minutes. Slowly, they pulled back from each other, but their foreheads rested together. “I’m sorry I barged in,” Paul said in a rough, low voice.
“I’m so glad you did,” John responded in a nearly matching rough, low voice.
“I felt as though I was losing you,” Paul said softly. The sound of his voice was heart breaking.
John cried, “I thought the same about you!”
Paul pulled John back into his arms, and nestled his face into the side of John’s neck. He took a huge whiff of John’s scent and felt like he was home, at last. He could not feel whole without John in his life - that was painfully clear to Paul.
Again, they broke apart. They each heaved a deep sigh. Paul chuckled a little, and then so did John.
“We’re too old for all this drama,” Paul said in between chuckles.
“So true,” John laughed. “Man, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he added. “I’ve been missing you.”
“Then why didn’t you call me?” Paul asked. His voice was not angry or judgmental. It was just mystified.
John sighed. “I’d made such a stink about being on my own,” he said. Now his hands were rubbing Paul’s chest, up and down his chest. He couldn’t believe he was there, and just his physical presence made John feel better. “It felt stupid to call and beg for you to join me.”
Paul felt his heart running over. He wasn’t going to be kicked to the curb. Could it be possible John didn’t despise him for his weaknesses? This was a revolutionary thought for Paul. “It’s not stupid, Johnny,” Paul whispered. “It’s what friends are for. You know I would come if I thought you needed me.”
John’s hands went up to Paul’s face, and cupped his cheeks. He stared at the beloved face. “I’m glad you came,” he repeated.
“Aaaa-hem!” A fairly loud and phony throat clearing came from the other end of the hall. Jason was standing there smiling. “Why don’t you both come in here and sit down. I’ll fix us something to snack on, and we can have some drinks.”
John and Paul smiled at Jason, and headed down the hall, John grabbed Paul’s hand, and held it as they headed in to the sitting room. He then sat down very close to Paul on the sofa. He didn’t want Paul out of his eyesight or away from his touch.
While Paul was glad of this sudden loving treatment, it bewildered him somewhat. It didn’t fit with the cold silence he’d felt from John for the last 9 weeks. And then there were the concerns about the completion of the tour. He knew he’d have to figure that all out, but he decided he was going to worry about it later, and enjoy this warmth coming from John for the time being. In fact, John was snuggling in to his side, and Paul put his arm around him, and pulled him a little closer. He leaned over and kissed John on his forehead. He felt his heart slowly reducing its beat to a peaceful, calm pace. He hadn’t felt so calm in months. It may have even been over a year since he felt so safe, calm and secure.
“This is a lovely surprise, Paul,” Jason said, as he laid out some ratatouille, cheeses, red grapes and crackers. He poured out a light pinot noir, and they all immediately took turns hovering over the plates. All that emotion had worked up some fierce appetites.
“I’m really sorry I just sprung myself on you all,” Paul said politely. “It was a spur of the moment thing; if I stopped to think about it, I might not have come.”
“We’re delighted you are here,” Gerry said firmly. “We’ve missed seeing you.”
John felt this was some kind of indictment of him, but he was so relieved to be cuddling up against Paul’s side, with Paul’s arm over his shoulder, that he couldn’t get upset. He didn’t say anything, but he squeezed Paul around his waist to let him know how glad he was to see him.
After about 45 minutes, Paul stirred. John had been drifting off to sleep. “I think we should go to bed now,” he told Jason and Gerry, who agreed that they should all turn in. They all headed down the hallway, Gerry checking the front door locks on the way down the hall towards the bedrooms, and John and Paul peeling off first at the guest room suite. Paul had collected his bag as they’d moved down the hall, and dragged it into the guest suite. John turned to face Paul as soon as the door closed behind them. He held his arms out again, and Paul allowed himself to be drawn in.
John whispered in Paul’s ear, “So glad you’re here with me, baby. I missed you so fucking much.”
Paul felt a burning sensation in his loins. The feel and smell and sound of John were overloading his senses. He whispered into John’s ear, “I’m so glad to be here, to see you too...Let’s get in the bed.” Paul let his eyebrows pop up and down lasciviously. He chuckled, but was surprised by John’s nervous laugh and evasive eyes. Usually John was hotter to trot than he was - especially after any time apart. “No?” Paul asked, stopping himself short. “You don’t want to?”
“Shit, yeah, I want to go to bed. But...” John stalled for a few moments. It was totally not ‘him’ to say he didn’t want to have sex. “I’m really tired tonight, I took a sleeping pill, and...”
“Not up to it, are you old man?” Paul laughed, feeling better to find out it was something so simple. “Well, what if I do all the work?”
John smiled. “If it involves your mouth on my cock, I’m okay. Otherwise, I’d just as soon snuggle...”
“I can do that,” Paul said cheerfully. “But first you have to get in the fucking bed!”
John whooped as he dove into the bed. He could keep his secret at bay tonight at least. Paul laughed and started ripping off his clothes. He started whistling a burlesque tune, whirled each piece of clothing in turn over his head like a stripper, and then let them go, so they flew all over the room. John took this in and laughed with delight. There was no one like Paul to brighten up the proceedings!
In their adjacent bedroom, Gerry and Jason - sitting up in bed and reading - looked at each other with amused expressions. “There they go again,” Gerry said, causing Jason to burst into giggles, which he tried unsuccessfully to smother.
The next morning both men slept late. For Paul it was unusual, for John not so much. Paul had been so stressed out and worried for weeks, and had not slept well, so he had fallen asleep in John’s arms the night before and slept like a log. He had worked hard to satisfy John, but it had taken a surprisingly long time for John to cum. It was very uncharacteristic, so John really must have been tired, Paul thought. By the time John finally gave it up, Paul’s mouth and jaw were sore. After that, John had given him a hand job, and they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Now he was out like a light.
John awoke first. He stirred slowly, because his head was in a fog, but he gradually became aware of his surroundings, and then felt Paul by his side. He felt a huge wave of relief flow over him. It was the first time in 9 weeks he hadn’t awakened and wondered, “where is Paul and what is he doing?” This morning, he knew the answer. Paul was right next to him, and he was sleeping like a baby. John turned on to his side as gently as possible, not wanting to awaken Paul. He rested the side of his head in his palm, and stared at Paul’s sleeping face. The mouth was open a little bit, in a slight “o” shape, and his eyebrows were raised a bit. He looked zonked out. John smiled. Paul had gone above and beyond the night before, and John had managed to feel sexual again, even though it took a lot of time, and an effort of will to not picture himself with Brad. He had been so afraid that Brad had ruined him for enjoying blowjobs, and he was fairly certain he had been ruined for ass jobs. Maybe that wouldn't happen; maybe these feelings of reluctance would wear off with time. But how was he going to explain this to Paul?
Almost as if he had heard his name being invoked, Paul’s eyes flew open. They stared first at the ceiling, and then swiveled to the right, and soon his eyes were meeting John’s. As soon as they did Paul’s face melted with affection, and this unspoken, involuntary reaction brought tears to John’s eyes. There was no way to fake that reaction, John knew. For whatever reason, no matter what a miserable fuck he was and how much he didn’t deserve it, Paul really loved him.
“’Morning, Johnny,” Paul said, his voice a little raspy.
“’Morning love,” John responded.
“What time is it?” Paul asked.
John looked over Paul’s shoulder to the bedside clock. “It’s almost noon.”
“No! That means it’s like almost 5 p.m. for me! How could I have slept so long?” Paul looked really unsettled by this news, but John was not surprised by how long Paul had slept.
“You worked overtime last night, babe,” John laughed as he reached over and stroked the side of Paul’s face gently. “I’m amazed your mouth and throat even work!”
“I’ve got superpowers,” Paul declared with a ludicrous expression on his face.
John was chuckling. “No argument here.”
Gradually, they managed to climb out of the bed and then Paul turned on the shower. “You gonna come with?” He yelled to John over the sound of the rushing water.
John said, “yes!” before he remembered he was awkward about sex. He hoped Paul was interested in some playful fun in the shower while getting clean, instead of anything more X-rated. Just the thought of being penetrated made John’s ass pucker.
John reluctantly joined Paul in the shower, and Paul said, “I’ll wash your hair, if you get mine.”
“Done,” John said. And so they did.
Paul was feeling frisky, but he was getting a weird vibe off John. While he was massaging John’s head full of shampoo, he was leaning up against his back, and he felt his cock growing big as it rubbed against John’s bum. His soapy hands wandered downwards from the head, to the shoulders, down the back, and to the waist. Paul’s arms circled John’s waist and he leaned his chest flat against John’s back. He began butterfly kisses on John’s neck and shoulders.
John began to feel very anxious. He knew he should feel aroused, but the tension he felt was spoiling everything. He was afraid that Paul would want to have sex with him, and his body was not ready for that. But if Paul insisted, he knew he was going to go through with it. Surely, if they had sex, it would feel fine, and he would get over that whole “rape” thing. He would just have to suck it up.
But Paul felt John’s slight withdrawal, and it halted his seductive moves. This was weird. It had happened last night, and again this morning. John must still be angry with me, and he just can’t find the words to tell me. Maybe he has found someone else? Paul suddenly felt his arousal shrinking, and he pushed himself away from John abruptly. “We’re unforgivably late, John. We should get dressed and go apologize to our hosts.” Having said this, Paul pushed open the shower door, and then reached for towels. He handed one to John, and then began to dry himself off as he walked into the bedroom.
John was left standing in the shower and holding the towel. What was that all about? John wondered. I hope he couldn’t tell that I’m feeling squeamish about sex. He didn’t want to ask what was wrong, because Paul might then ask him what was going on, and John didn’t want to have that conversation. So he followed Paul into the bedroom where Paul was already dressing. John began to dress too, but he felt awkward. Should he say something to break the ice? “Are you hungry, Paul? I’m starving! I need to eat to get my strength back!” John hoped this comment would explain his reluctance to get hinky in the shower.
“Yes, I’m a bit peckish,” Paul said as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. He was trying hard to hide his worried hurt feelings. He was just too sensitive. He was insecure about John’s love, after what had happened between them for almost a year. Paul was disappointed because last night, when he first saw John’s face when he arrived, he thought that John wanted him as much as he wanted John. But it was early days. Maybe John really was just tired.
The two men straggled into the sitting room to find Gerry in his chair (reading), and Jason making notes in a journal.
“They finally emerge!” Jason hooted, causing John and Paul to chuckle sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, Jason, I don’t know why I was so exhausted. It’s shamefully late in British time.” Paul’s face was sincerely apologetic and contrite. Jason’s heart melted at the sight.
“I have no excuse,” John said cheerfully. “I’m just bloody lazy.”
The day had been relaxing, and Jason had made them a great vegetarian dinner. The four men had gathered around the sitting room talking about politics, plays, music and social gossip until almost midnight, before Jason admitted he was exhausted.
“Some of us got up in the morning, and we’re tired,” Jason archly announced.
Paul stood up and looked worriedly at John. He wasn’t sure whether John even wanted to go to bed with him.
John smiled in a kind of tentative way. He was trying to reassure Paul. They walked to the bedroom in an awkward silence.
What excuse will I use now? John asked himself. I could go down on him, and maybe I can make him cum, and then he won’t need to fuck or be fucked. John decided this was the go-to plan, and realized he had to take the whip hand to make sure things went smoothly. So as soon as Paul was in the room, John pushed him on to the bed.
Paul’s eyes lit up with delight. So he was wrong about John! John roughly unzipped Paul’s trousers, and then started pulling them off. John went directly for Paul’s cock, and as soon as John’s mouth touched the tip of his penis, Paul uttered a prolonged moan that acted as encouragement for John.
John was doing his best to get Paul to orgasm, but just as he was about to finish him up. Paul pulled John’s head up. “No!” He said rashly, “I need to do it...”
John was bitterly disappointed. His plan had failed. He had to go through with it now, because the alternative would be to tell Paul he didn’t want to be fucked. He obediently turned on his back, and bent his knees. He decided he was going to grit his teeth, hold his breath, and force himself to pretend to enjoy what was coming next.
Paul was already slicking up his cock with lube, and there was no stopping him. Paul’s lube-covered hand moved towards John’s anus, but as soon as his hand brushed against the sensitive skin next to John’s anus, John jumped and yelped in pain.
Paul pulled back as if burned and sat on his heels. He looked at John in shock and said, “What?”
WARNING: Sexual situations - 5's out of 10.
Chapter 50
John’s comment about being burned by the nightlife of New York was like a hand grenade dropped into a sedate tea party. Chas stared at John for a long time, trying to see if John was teasing him. But John’s eyes held not even a hint in humor in them. Chas wondered if he should ask what happened, but then quickly decided he didn’t know John well at all, and it was presumptuous of him to even consider doing so. He gave a faint chuckle and then said, “From here on in, the choices we make will pretty much be final. Oh, we can change the paint colors, but mainly, we’ve got to nail our final design down so we can get started.”
John was disappointed Chas didn’t probe. On the one hand he didn’t want to spill out his pain to someone he barely knew, but on the other hand, he needed to spill out his pain to someone. The moment had passed, and John turned to the design questions Chas was posing. He did his best to care about the answers, but the pleasure was gone from the enterprise now. John actually felt as though he was fragmenting inside.
Later, during the cab drive back to Jason and Gerry’s, John felt bits of his outer edifice falling off bit by bit. He didn’t want his inner pain to show on his face, but soon he would not be able to hide it anymore. He probably should talk to Jason, but Jason had warned him that he shouldn’t party so hard, and he had ignored him. Gerry would just yell at him for doing stupid shit again, like he did the last time John had gone off the rails. And Paul...
Although he was sitting in the taxi, John groaned involuntarily, and hid his face in his hands. What could he ever say to Paul? He had completely betrayed Paul’s trust in him, and had cheapened what they’d shared together. Now he believed that he could never allow Paul to fuck him again. It had been two weeks, and his anus still hadn’t healed. He’d been rubbing an ointment on it, and it still was incredibly painful. The idea of ever allowing something to go up his butt again filled him with disgust and fear. He had been arrogant to stroll into the cruising life and think that he could hack it. He had no idea what went on between homosexual cruisers, obviously, and he never should have ventured into that club. The phrase "not ready for prime time" ran through his brain.
It was painful to remember, that night. After Brad had finally had his orgasm and had withdrawn from inside him, John had felt as though he was melted into the mattress. His legs had fallen down, once Brad let go, like two pieces of dead meat. The cold sticky spot under his ass was like a taunting reminder of how he had ejaculated even while he was being raped. John thought of it as a rape. Yes, he had “asked for it”, but he had no idea what a real rough fuck was like, and Brad didn’t acknowledge his cries of pain, or his begging to stop. He had just kept pounding away. John winced as he thought of that humiliating slapping sound. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fuck anyone else, either. That slapping sound would haunt him forever, he feared.
Brad had fallen to the side, exhausted, pleased with his performance. “Want some pot?” he asked, as he turned on the bedside lamp and searched through his belongings there.
John forced himself to put on a brave face. He didn’t want this punk to know how shattered he was inside. “No,” he said abruptly. “I just want to get the fuck out of here.” John got up, grabbing for his pants and slipping them on quickly. He didn’t want to be naked in front of Brad. He stood up and reached for his t-shirt, and pulled it over his head. He didn’t see Brad’s face - he didn’t see the confusion and disappointment.
Brad had thought he had performed magnificently, and Fred acted like it was just another fuck: it was done, and now it was time to leave. As cynical as Brad was, given his background, he felt hurt by Fred’s sudden rejection. What else could he have done to make an impression on the man?
“I’ll pay the bill on my way out,” John said without looking at Brad. “Thanks for the shag.” He pulled $200 worth of twenties out of his pocket and dumped it on the dresser. He needed the remaining cash for the cab. With that, John pulled his jacket on and headed for the door. He didn’t even turn his head as he left the room, and allowed the door to slam behind him. He took the stairs down the four flights of stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. He was afraid that Brad would follow him out and try to engage him if he waited for the elevator. John took the stairs two at a time, and made it to the check out desk in no time. The lone attendant looked pretty jaded. It was very high class but still a no-tell hotel and the business was 24-hours per day. In fact, the busy hours were after midnight. John handed over his credit card. He certainly didn’t have any more cash to spare. The man absent-mindedly ran the card through the machine, and John signed the slip. He had kept his baseball cap down over his forehead, and then left the lobby. A dangerous looking bouncer-type sat on a stool outside the hotel, and he agreed to call a cab, and John gave him a $20 bill: anything to get away from this place as quickly as possible.
The taxi came to an abrupt stop, and John’s mind snapped back from that other, far more surrealistic taxi ride of two weeks earlier. He was in front of the Dakota. As he stepped out, he looked up to the top of the building, with its gothic black spires intersecting the dark grey night. It felt very medieval on that dark late April night. The wind was blustering, and it felt almost like Halloween in spirit. Shrugging, John pulled his coat closer around him, and headed through the arched opening to the elevators, and he almost pushed the button for the floor he used to push when he lived here with Yoko; he quickly self-corrected, and pushed the button for Jason and Gerry’s floor instead.
John could smell the food before he even entered the apartment. It smelled like a great stew of some kind. He unlocked the door, and went down the hallway, and into the sitting room. Gerry was (of course) seated in his easy chair reading the Wall Street Journal, and Jason was (of course) banging around in the kitchen. The scene was cozy and domestic and let loose a feeling of envy in John. He had always wanted this life for Paul and him, and never had managed to satisfy that dream - because Paul had been too cowardly to go for it. As it was, Paul would always find his cozy, domestic center at Cavendish, with Linda.
“John!” Gerry said cheerfully, as he finally noticed John’s presence. “You’re just in time for dinner.”
Jason came in, having heard Gerry’s greeting. “John, so glad you’re back. The Yankee pot roast is ready, and the potatoes are perfect. Go clean up, and I’m putting dinner on the table right now.”
Obediently, John turned and went to his guest suite, and removed his jacket. He washed his hands, and splashed warm refreshing water on his face. It was his desire to wash all the pain off his face, so no one could see it. He had begun to understand what drove Paul to his secrets. If you have truly painful memories, why on earth would you want anyone else to find out about them? Again he felt a pang that he had dragged Paul - unwarned - into the therapy session. He had stripped Paul of his ability to hold back his demons, and now he could really understand why Paul had wanted to keep things private. John felt ashamed. Paul’s old secrets must be as agonizingly humiliating as John’s own new one, and now - only too late - John could understand.
*****
Paul’s legs were frozen. They were stuck as if in cement, and no matter what he tried to do he couldn’t make them run away. He was clawing at the ground, grunting, and his heart was beating unbearably hard. Something dark and faceless was chasing him, and he had to get away. In his sleep, his legs were actually wind-milling, and Linda awoke with alarm and shook her husband awake. This was the tenth bad nightmare Paul had experienced over the last several weeks. She wished she knew what the hell was going on. She feared he was living out some terrible scenario with John in his mind. John had been surprisingly absent from Paul’s life for 10 weeks now.
“Paul! Wake up! You’re having another nightmare!” Linda said, as she finally met his open eyes. Those eyes seemed to clear suddenly, and then they closed. Paul’s hand covered his eyes, and he rubbed them.
Paul forced himself to sit up, as Linda turned on the bedside lamp. He leaned over and breathed heavily as he trained his heart to slow down. Paul was feeling very scared and vulnerable at that moment. What he wanted more than anything was to have John’s strong arms around him. But that kind of comfort was in his past. He turned to look at Linda, whose face was covered with concern. “Lin...” he started. He felt he should tell her, or tell somebody. She had loved him through some of his weakest moments, so maybe she would still love him if she knew the truth about him.
“Yes, love?” Linda asked. She was holding her breath, and hoping he would confide in her.
“I think John has left me again.” Paul’s voice sounded cracked.
Linda’s heart ached for him. “Why do you think that, baby?” She asked softly.
“He doesn’t really talk to me anymore. He feels miles away; I can’t connect with him emotionally anymore. He doesn’t want to come back.” Paul’s words rushed out of him, one after the other. “It’s like how it was in 1968, when he cut me off and drifted away. He’d found someone else and wanted to live a different life.”
Linda’s hand was rubbing up and down Paul’s spine, and her face was deeply sympathetic.
Paul continued. “I think maybe he’s back with Yoko, or he’s found someone else, and he hasn’t found the nerve to tell me yet.”
“What does Jason say?” Linda asked. She should have felt relieved, but she didn’t. Her heart felt as though it were in a vise.
“I haven’t asked him. He hasn’t volunteered. I think he’s afraid to tell me, and I know I’m afraid to hear it.” Paul’s voice caught in his throat, and Linda cried in distress. She put her arms around him and tried shushing him gently. Several minutes went by before Paul moved free of Linda’s sheltering arms, and wiped his face dry.
“You should go to New York and talk to him,” Linda said firmly. “Either you’re not right, in which case all this suffering is for nothing. Or you are right, and you might as well hear the truth from his mouth, and then you will know for sure. It will hurt, but you can at least start putting your life back together. You’ve got a tour to get back to, in Europe, in a few weeks.”
Paul heard what Linda had said. Was he strong enough to face the rejection he knew he would receive at John’s hands? And how would they be able to finish the tour under those circumstances? Paul felt he would be able to do the professional thing - but John? He acted out when he was ‘done’ with something. Could Paul bear to look John in the face while John - again - told him that he had no further use for him? It was like reliving one of your worst nightmares. He turned to Linda and said “I told him I wouldn’t bother him as long as he wanted to be in New York on his own. I promised.”
“Things are a bit different now, Paul, and it has been over 2 months. I think you have kept your promise. But you can’t continue to go on like this - you’re making yourself sick! And in a few weeks you have to go back on tour!”
Paul could see the sense in Linda’s words. He did want to see John again, even if it was just to hear John end it. At least it would feel final if it came out of John’s mouth, so long as he could see and feel his presence again. It was something Paul longed for, even if he believed it would result in rejection and pain. He was feeling rejected and full of pain anyway, wasn’t he? He might as well hear the truth from the horse’s mouth. So to speak. And the tour? They would have to decide whether to tough it out for 6 weeks, or go their separate ways and cancel the tour. Paul had never canceled a gig before, so even the thought of it gave him a truly bad feeling. But John...once he was done, he was done.
*****
Jason and John were bundled up while sitting in the Adirondack chairs on Jason and Gerry’s patio. They were drinking hot chocolate, and enjoying the bright blue sky and the crisp spring weather. Soon, the weather would be mild enough to sit without the blankets and sweaters.
“John, what’s bothering you?” Jason asked suddenly. They had sat there in a companionable silence for 5 minutes, so Jason’s voice surprised John.
“What do you mean?” John asked.
“You were going out every night, and coming in at 3 and 4 in the morning. You were holed up in your room, and I believed you were doing drugs. Now you come back by 6 p.m. every day, and I have no clue what you’re doing when you go early to bed. What’s bothering you?”
“You told me yourself that it was self-destructive to go out late nights, and party with such pointless people. So I followed your advice. Now you think something is wrong again?”
Jason had expected this argument, but had also decided he wasn’t going to let it stop him. “Yeah, I said that, but I don’t see any happiness or joy in you anymore, John. The kind you brought home when you were staying out nights was phony and desperate, but now there is not even phony happiness. What is bothering you, John? Are you missing Paul?”
John winced internally with the mention of Paul’s name. But Jason had given him an easy excuse to get out of the conversation. “Yes, I do miss him.”
“Why don’t you call him?” Jason asked. “He always has to call you now.”
“He only calls me as a duty, you know,” John told Jason. “He is probably enjoying his time alone with his family, and he is thinking ahead a few weeks to our tour.”
Jason had talked to Paul a few times and didn’t buy that for a moment. “Paul is not enjoying his time without you, John, and if you took the time to really speak to him you would know that for yourself.”
John wondered if (hoped that?) Jason was telling the truth. “How do you know?” He asked.
“I’ve spoken to Paul a few times. He is very worried about you, but won’t say so. He is hurt that you don’t call him. I can tell.”
“But he didn’t say so...” John sneered.
“That’s not an attractive tone of voice, John, I’m telling you a painful truth. You should at least pay it some respect.” Jason turned away and took another sip of his hot chocolate. He was very disappointed in John at that moment.
“I’m sorry, Jason,” John said sincerely. “I’m very touchy right now.”
“So what’s happened, John? What’s going on?” Jason took the opportunity John had handed him.
“I really don’t want to talk about it. But I will call Paul. That’s a good idea. I’d like to hear his voice.” John decided if he gave Jason some kind of victory, he would back away from the prying.
Jason took John’s acquiescence as a victory and decided he’d said enough. “Want a refill?” He asked gesturing to his empty cup.
“That would be grand,” John chuckled.
*****
It was 7 p.m., and John sat by the telephone in Gerry’s study. He was working up the nerve to dial Paul’s number. He really did want to hear Paul’s voice. He wanted the liquid comfort of it to wrap around him, and smother his deep fears in their infancy. He picked up the receiver and then punched in Paul’s number. The phone rang four times, and John was about to give up when James answered the phone.
“Hey James. It’s John,” he said.
“John! It’s been ages! When are you coming home?” James’s voice was so innocent and completely guileless. He had actually thought of John as someone who was part of his family. This tugged at John’s heart.
“I’m coming along on my project. Maybe soon,” John said. “Look, is your dad home? I’d like to speak to him.”
“Dad’s not here,” James said.
“Oh?” John was shaken by that answer. “Where is he?”
“Don’t know. Mom dropped him at the airport a few hours ago. Not sure where he’s off to. I didn’t ask.” Parents’ non-child-related activities were irrelevant to the average 15 year-old and James was no different in this way.
“Airport.” John repeated the word, at a loss for words. “Is your mom there?”
“She went out to dinner with Stella and Mary. I was invited, but I’m in the middle of a movie.”
“Did I interrupt you?”
“Well, I’ve got it on pause...”
John laughed. “Go back to your movie, and tell your mother I called,” John chuckled, and then he hung up. Where the fuck did Paul go without Linda? For the first time in 10 weeks he began to wonder what Paul might have been up to in his absence. What if he’d connected up with someone else? Geesh! He’d never thought of that! But then, it isn’t like Linda would willingly drop him off at the airport in that event, would she? On the other hand, she had often dropped Paul off on his trips to come see him, so why not some other...bloke? John’s jealous mind began to fester. If I could go off and try some other bloke, what’s to say Paul wouldn’t do it? John made himself stop. It was ridiculous. If Paul was off somewhere without Linda it was because Linda needed to stay home with James, and Paul had business to conduct somewhere. It had to be business. John reassured himself with these thoughts, and reluctantly left the comfort of Gerry’s den. He wandered into the sitting room, and sat down and settled in to one of the sofas. Jason looked up from the other sofa and had a question mark on his face.
John saw it and said, “Not home.” Jason nodded and gave John a sympathetic smile over the disappointment. He was glad that John had followed through and made the call, though.
“There’s a play called Shimmer on American Playhouse tonight,” Jason said. “Gerry and I were going to watch it. Do you want to watch it too?”
John shrugged. “Sure,” he said. He was actually glad to have something to occupy his mind and keep him from crawling into his bed and taking sleeping pills to deaden the pain.
The play was good, John could tell, but he was having a hard time concentrating. He had taken a sleeping pill about half way through the play, and now his lids were heavy. There were only moments left in the play when the doorbell rang. It was nearly 11 p.m.
“Who could that be?” Jason asked with irritation.
“I’ll get it,” Gerry said, heading for the door. The last time they’d had an unannounced visitor at night it had been Yoko Ono. Gerry was hoping this wasn’t a return visit. He threw open the door and was shocked to see Paul McCartney standing there, with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hi, Gerry,” Paul said shyly. “Sorry to barge in without warning.” He looked sheepish. Gerry was relieved and also happy to see him. Maybe he would take John home, and he and Jason could relax again. They’d spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about John’s mental health lately.
“Come in! John!” Gerry shouted down the hall.
Paul stepped in, and put his bag down. John, followed closely by Jason, came down the hall, and soon they saw who was standing there.
“Paul!” Jason cried with happiness. “What a great surprise!”
Paul didn’t really hear Jason. His eyes were meeting John’s and searching them intently. John was staring back, and then silently moved until he had wrapped his arms around Paul’s waist. Paul hugged him back.
Quietly, Gerry grabbed Jason’s arm, and gently urged him to follow him back to the sitting room, so as to leave John and Paul alone.
The two men remained in each other’s arms for a good two minutes. Slowly, they pulled back from each other, but their foreheads rested together. “I’m sorry I barged in,” Paul said in a rough, low voice.
“I’m so glad you did,” John responded in a nearly matching rough, low voice.
“I felt as though I was losing you,” Paul said softly. The sound of his voice was heart breaking.
John cried, “I thought the same about you!”
Paul pulled John back into his arms, and nestled his face into the side of John’s neck. He took a huge whiff of John’s scent and felt like he was home, at last. He could not feel whole without John in his life - that was painfully clear to Paul.
Again, they broke apart. They each heaved a deep sigh. Paul chuckled a little, and then so did John.
“We’re too old for all this drama,” Paul said in between chuckles.
“So true,” John laughed. “Man, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he added. “I’ve been missing you.”
“Then why didn’t you call me?” Paul asked. His voice was not angry or judgmental. It was just mystified.
John sighed. “I’d made such a stink about being on my own,” he said. Now his hands were rubbing Paul’s chest, up and down his chest. He couldn’t believe he was there, and just his physical presence made John feel better. “It felt stupid to call and beg for you to join me.”
Paul felt his heart running over. He wasn’t going to be kicked to the curb. Could it be possible John didn’t despise him for his weaknesses? This was a revolutionary thought for Paul. “It’s not stupid, Johnny,” Paul whispered. “It’s what friends are for. You know I would come if I thought you needed me.”
John’s hands went up to Paul’s face, and cupped his cheeks. He stared at the beloved face. “I’m glad you came,” he repeated.
“Aaaa-hem!” A fairly loud and phony throat clearing came from the other end of the hall. Jason was standing there smiling. “Why don’t you both come in here and sit down. I’ll fix us something to snack on, and we can have some drinks.”
John and Paul smiled at Jason, and headed down the hall, John grabbed Paul’s hand, and held it as they headed in to the sitting room. He then sat down very close to Paul on the sofa. He didn’t want Paul out of his eyesight or away from his touch.
While Paul was glad of this sudden loving treatment, it bewildered him somewhat. It didn’t fit with the cold silence he’d felt from John for the last 9 weeks. And then there were the concerns about the completion of the tour. He knew he’d have to figure that all out, but he decided he was going to worry about it later, and enjoy this warmth coming from John for the time being. In fact, John was snuggling in to his side, and Paul put his arm around him, and pulled him a little closer. He leaned over and kissed John on his forehead. He felt his heart slowly reducing its beat to a peaceful, calm pace. He hadn’t felt so calm in months. It may have even been over a year since he felt so safe, calm and secure.
“This is a lovely surprise, Paul,” Jason said, as he laid out some ratatouille, cheeses, red grapes and crackers. He poured out a light pinot noir, and they all immediately took turns hovering over the plates. All that emotion had worked up some fierce appetites.
“I’m really sorry I just sprung myself on you all,” Paul said politely. “It was a spur of the moment thing; if I stopped to think about it, I might not have come.”
“We’re delighted you are here,” Gerry said firmly. “We’ve missed seeing you.”
John felt this was some kind of indictment of him, but he was so relieved to be cuddling up against Paul’s side, with Paul’s arm over his shoulder, that he couldn’t get upset. He didn’t say anything, but he squeezed Paul around his waist to let him know how glad he was to see him.
After about 45 minutes, Paul stirred. John had been drifting off to sleep. “I think we should go to bed now,” he told Jason and Gerry, who agreed that they should all turn in. They all headed down the hallway, Gerry checking the front door locks on the way down the hall towards the bedrooms, and John and Paul peeling off first at the guest room suite. Paul had collected his bag as they’d moved down the hall, and dragged it into the guest suite. John turned to face Paul as soon as the door closed behind them. He held his arms out again, and Paul allowed himself to be drawn in.
John whispered in Paul’s ear, “So glad you’re here with me, baby. I missed you so fucking much.”
Paul felt a burning sensation in his loins. The feel and smell and sound of John were overloading his senses. He whispered into John’s ear, “I’m so glad to be here, to see you too...Let’s get in the bed.” Paul let his eyebrows pop up and down lasciviously. He chuckled, but was surprised by John’s nervous laugh and evasive eyes. Usually John was hotter to trot than he was - especially after any time apart. “No?” Paul asked, stopping himself short. “You don’t want to?”
“Shit, yeah, I want to go to bed. But...” John stalled for a few moments. It was totally not ‘him’ to say he didn’t want to have sex. “I’m really tired tonight, I took a sleeping pill, and...”
“Not up to it, are you old man?” Paul laughed, feeling better to find out it was something so simple. “Well, what if I do all the work?”
John smiled. “If it involves your mouth on my cock, I’m okay. Otherwise, I’d just as soon snuggle...”
“I can do that,” Paul said cheerfully. “But first you have to get in the fucking bed!”
John whooped as he dove into the bed. He could keep his secret at bay tonight at least. Paul laughed and started ripping off his clothes. He started whistling a burlesque tune, whirled each piece of clothing in turn over his head like a stripper, and then let them go, so they flew all over the room. John took this in and laughed with delight. There was no one like Paul to brighten up the proceedings!
In their adjacent bedroom, Gerry and Jason - sitting up in bed and reading - looked at each other with amused expressions. “There they go again,” Gerry said, causing Jason to burst into giggles, which he tried unsuccessfully to smother.
*****
The next morning both men slept late. For Paul it was unusual, for John not so much. Paul had been so stressed out and worried for weeks, and had not slept well, so he had fallen asleep in John’s arms the night before and slept like a log. He had worked hard to satisfy John, but it had taken a surprisingly long time for John to cum. It was very uncharacteristic, so John really must have been tired, Paul thought. By the time John finally gave it up, Paul’s mouth and jaw were sore. After that, John had given him a hand job, and they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Now he was out like a light.
John awoke first. He stirred slowly, because his head was in a fog, but he gradually became aware of his surroundings, and then felt Paul by his side. He felt a huge wave of relief flow over him. It was the first time in 9 weeks he hadn’t awakened and wondered, “where is Paul and what is he doing?” This morning, he knew the answer. Paul was right next to him, and he was sleeping like a baby. John turned on to his side as gently as possible, not wanting to awaken Paul. He rested the side of his head in his palm, and stared at Paul’s sleeping face. The mouth was open a little bit, in a slight “o” shape, and his eyebrows were raised a bit. He looked zonked out. John smiled. Paul had gone above and beyond the night before, and John had managed to feel sexual again, even though it took a lot of time, and an effort of will to not picture himself with Brad. He had been so afraid that Brad had ruined him for enjoying blowjobs, and he was fairly certain he had been ruined for ass jobs. Maybe that wouldn't happen; maybe these feelings of reluctance would wear off with time. But how was he going to explain this to Paul?
Almost as if he had heard his name being invoked, Paul’s eyes flew open. They stared first at the ceiling, and then swiveled to the right, and soon his eyes were meeting John’s. As soon as they did Paul’s face melted with affection, and this unspoken, involuntary reaction brought tears to John’s eyes. There was no way to fake that reaction, John knew. For whatever reason, no matter what a miserable fuck he was and how much he didn’t deserve it, Paul really loved him.
“’Morning, Johnny,” Paul said, his voice a little raspy.
“’Morning love,” John responded.
“What time is it?” Paul asked.
John looked over Paul’s shoulder to the bedside clock. “It’s almost noon.”
“No! That means it’s like almost 5 p.m. for me! How could I have slept so long?” Paul looked really unsettled by this news, but John was not surprised by how long Paul had slept.
“You worked overtime last night, babe,” John laughed as he reached over and stroked the side of Paul’s face gently. “I’m amazed your mouth and throat even work!”
“I’ve got superpowers,” Paul declared with a ludicrous expression on his face.
John was chuckling. “No argument here.”
Gradually, they managed to climb out of the bed and then Paul turned on the shower. “You gonna come with?” He yelled to John over the sound of the rushing water.
John said, “yes!” before he remembered he was awkward about sex. He hoped Paul was interested in some playful fun in the shower while getting clean, instead of anything more X-rated. Just the thought of being penetrated made John’s ass pucker.
John reluctantly joined Paul in the shower, and Paul said, “I’ll wash your hair, if you get mine.”
“Done,” John said. And so they did.
Paul was feeling frisky, but he was getting a weird vibe off John. While he was massaging John’s head full of shampoo, he was leaning up against his back, and he felt his cock growing big as it rubbed against John’s bum. His soapy hands wandered downwards from the head, to the shoulders, down the back, and to the waist. Paul’s arms circled John’s waist and he leaned his chest flat against John’s back. He began butterfly kisses on John’s neck and shoulders.
John began to feel very anxious. He knew he should feel aroused, but the tension he felt was spoiling everything. He was afraid that Paul would want to have sex with him, and his body was not ready for that. But if Paul insisted, he knew he was going to go through with it. Surely, if they had sex, it would feel fine, and he would get over that whole “rape” thing. He would just have to suck it up.
But Paul felt John’s slight withdrawal, and it halted his seductive moves. This was weird. It had happened last night, and again this morning. John must still be angry with me, and he just can’t find the words to tell me. Maybe he has found someone else? Paul suddenly felt his arousal shrinking, and he pushed himself away from John abruptly. “We’re unforgivably late, John. We should get dressed and go apologize to our hosts.” Having said this, Paul pushed open the shower door, and then reached for towels. He handed one to John, and then began to dry himself off as he walked into the bedroom.
John was left standing in the shower and holding the towel. What was that all about? John wondered. I hope he couldn’t tell that I’m feeling squeamish about sex. He didn’t want to ask what was wrong, because Paul might then ask him what was going on, and John didn’t want to have that conversation. So he followed Paul into the bedroom where Paul was already dressing. John began to dress too, but he felt awkward. Should he say something to break the ice? “Are you hungry, Paul? I’m starving! I need to eat to get my strength back!” John hoped this comment would explain his reluctance to get hinky in the shower.
“Yes, I’m a bit peckish,” Paul said as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. He was trying hard to hide his worried hurt feelings. He was just too sensitive. He was insecure about John’s love, after what had happened between them for almost a year. Paul was disappointed because last night, when he first saw John’s face when he arrived, he thought that John wanted him as much as he wanted John. But it was early days. Maybe John really was just tired.
The two men straggled into the sitting room to find Gerry in his chair (reading), and Jason making notes in a journal.
“They finally emerge!” Jason hooted, causing John and Paul to chuckle sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, Jason, I don’t know why I was so exhausted. It’s shamefully late in British time.” Paul’s face was sincerely apologetic and contrite. Jason’s heart melted at the sight.
“I have no excuse,” John said cheerfully. “I’m just bloody lazy.”
*****
The day had been relaxing, and Jason had made them a great vegetarian dinner. The four men had gathered around the sitting room talking about politics, plays, music and social gossip until almost midnight, before Jason admitted he was exhausted.
“Some of us got up in the morning, and we’re tired,” Jason archly announced.
Paul stood up and looked worriedly at John. He wasn’t sure whether John even wanted to go to bed with him.
John smiled in a kind of tentative way. He was trying to reassure Paul. They walked to the bedroom in an awkward silence.
What excuse will I use now? John asked himself. I could go down on him, and maybe I can make him cum, and then he won’t need to fuck or be fucked. John decided this was the go-to plan, and realized he had to take the whip hand to make sure things went smoothly. So as soon as Paul was in the room, John pushed him on to the bed.
Paul’s eyes lit up with delight. So he was wrong about John! John roughly unzipped Paul’s trousers, and then started pulling them off. John went directly for Paul’s cock, and as soon as John’s mouth touched the tip of his penis, Paul uttered a prolonged moan that acted as encouragement for John.
John was doing his best to get Paul to orgasm, but just as he was about to finish him up. Paul pulled John’s head up. “No!” He said rashly, “I need to do it...”
John was bitterly disappointed. His plan had failed. He had to go through with it now, because the alternative would be to tell Paul he didn’t want to be fucked. He obediently turned on his back, and bent his knees. He decided he was going to grit his teeth, hold his breath, and force himself to pretend to enjoy what was coming next.
Paul was already slicking up his cock with lube, and there was no stopping him. Paul’s lube-covered hand moved towards John’s anus, but as soon as his hand brushed against the sensitive skin next to John’s anus, John jumped and yelped in pain.
Paul pulled back as if burned and sat on his heels. He looked at John in shock and said, “What?”