Chapter Text
He defined them as Honey and Milk when all the things combined and left that sweet earthly taste on his tongue, slid down his throat to his core. John was the Honey, and he is the warm Milk. John dripped himself into Paul’s pool of pale milk, clear golden, heavy liquid seeped from the corners of his eyes, like tears and every part of his organs, nails fold, ears, mouth, nose, and his urethra up to the slit tip of his cock, Paul would put the flat of his tongue on it to lick all the sweet dripping honey. John stirred himself into Paul with gentle flows, it twirled inside him like a soft hurricane, he bit Paul down and spit him out, his skin ripped and torn like a grape’s crisp skin. Inside tender with warm milk while John drinks him up on the crook of his neck.
Pale milky silk skin slicked with saliva, glimmering like the surface of water under the hot sun, it left a rosy pink trail down to his chest as John nibbled the line of his neck, his auburn hair grazed Paul’s jaws while his gentle, hungry mouth drink the taste of Paul’s skin deliberately. He switched up to hover his body over Paul’s, amber eyes widening on the woven rusting cross necklace hanging down from John’s neck, lying on the small gap of his lips. John’s open mouth dripped a string of honey onto his nose bridge, it rolled down to his left cheekbone as John leaned down to collect the bead of honey back.
His eyes were hazy on top of Paul, sweet body scent clouded Paul’s nose, when he slowly flipped his body to lie on his back and pulled Paul over him, both hands tightened the grip on Paul’s crumbled shirt collar. Feet curled on the rumpled linen sheet. Breath became heavy beneath the weight of Paul, gently pressed down on him, one of his thighs slipped in between Paul’s thighs, slightly lifted it to meet Paul’s sensitive area, with their mouths, spilled no words but the sounds of tangled breaths. Paul let out a soft, trembled whimper when John’s thigh rubbed the hard bulge of his trousers, a rough, yet gentle move that made Paul tremble with pleasure shooting up to his brain. He tilted his chin up with his eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape, then lowered his face down on John’s sticky skin, sweet sugary. He dragged his tongue along the jaw of the darling, lustful face, soft tongue against his clean-shaven jaw felt like he licked a cat’s tongue.
Street light eyes shone on Paul’s milk beads of sweat, glittering warm yellow. His chest heaved down, then he pulled back his breath, caught no emotion inside John’s eyes, nor his. His mind switched to the picture of him on top of John in third person perspective at the dark corner of the room, he saw himself desperately looking down at John’s clear, golden, melting face, Paul instantly glared back at the corner as he watched himself do so, for a second, he saw a wave of fear flashed in his own eyes.
He gasped with fright before his body jerked off from John’s – Eyes wide open, but it blurred with the strong sunlight in the morning, his hair and face soaked with sweat when he woke up, a faint feeling of pleasure lingered on his crotch, but his guts took it as a horror, chest heaved up and down then he look beside him on the bed, John still lying there, sleep like a baby, but stray a little further now. He sighed at his nightmare, he could feel his brief was sticky and damp the whole night, and when he reached down under the blanket and his bottom, his thumb brushed over the damp spot of his brief, thick silky essence clung to his thumb.
It’s over, he had a wet dream about John as soon as John joined his sleep. What a shame.
Paul sighed. He wanted to slam his head to get rid of those filthy of fucking John or John fucking him, there would be no fix to fill his obsession towards John which each day it’s dangerously more intense. He felt bad for John to have such a disgusting person like Paul walking around the house, imagine being fucked by him, create stupid scenario, held him against the wall while thrusting into him until he couldn’t form a thought.
Sick, sick.
He furiously yanked off the blanket, but it woke John up, too. How could he look at that man without feeling ashamed now?
John mumbled lazy voice, saying something as he opened his eyes. Paul didn’t hear it, but noticed that his movement just woke John up. In the late morning, before John’s vision became more vivid, his hand swept around the bed as if he searched for Paul’s body.
“Paul?” His broken voice called, watching Paul walk towards the door with a hand covering the bottom part of his body, John noticed that, but as a man, he knew it was normal to be a little hard in the morning.
But Paul didn’t turn around as if he was trying to ignore John, he reached for the doot, John was already felt like something is off, so he called him again. “Paul,” He sat up.
Paul turned back this time, but his eyes were dark, some sort of sentiment ran across his face before he raise those dark, arched eyebrows, hand still on the door knob. John never felt so uncertain, unsteady, about that face of Paul. He watched Paul stand there for a moment, trying to figure out Paul’s mood.
“...Where are you going?” He murmured, rubbing his eyes.
A pang of guilt hit him in the face, although he didn’t do anything wrong, physically. “Toilet?” He answered.
He saw John’s eyes lowered, then back to him like he was shy or scared…lips closed tight together quietly, he looked at Paul again, but his time, Paul couldn’t resist his softened heart, he wanna pull that baby dearest of his to an embrace again. Paul sighed through his mouth silently while he consciously moved to John, drawn to him again.
“You’re alright, John?”
John glanced down as he nodded to admit, watching as Paul approached him. “I-, yeah, thought you were angry at me..” Those droopy slumber eyes just begging Paul to kiss it.
Paul shot his hand out as he sat down beside John, reaching for the touch. “Dear- John, no…how could I? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He soothed John.
Even so, John still looked guilty when he lifted his face to hold Paul’s gaze. “Are you going to leave me?” It’s steady, echoed in the room, layer to layer, an endless haunting sound began to drag Paul back into the hole of his nowhere mind. Before his vision went black, the last thing he saw was the cross necklace that John didn’t have on last night, before he could concentrate on how John seemed like he fell deep into a sorrow when he thought of Paul leaving him, Paul, too, fell back to his hell hole.
He swum across the river and sea to get back to John, but then he found himself standing on a cliff of paradise, the grape stem braided into him, it bore into the middle hollow part of his spine, grew up along them to his very brain like a long parasite he couldn’t get rid off. Paul should feel pain, but the feeling that came to his body was something near pleasure, sexual pleasure. He twists his body under the muddy water and flips over, back arched, spasms with the stem running in his spine. His long naked body shuddered as he felt his grin widening.
His thigh muscles tightened again when a warm, dark shadow wrapped itself around the length of his aching hard cock, his hips bucked up just a few time before a glow sticky robe shooting out from his it. He cried.
“Paul,”
“Paul…?”
“John?”
Pupils dilated.
John was staring at his softly twitching cock under the thick fabric of his botttom, while Paul unconciously stared at John’s face. Both blinked rapidly, and Paul jumped off the bed. He is a completely sick bastard, guilt and shame eat him alive at the moment he saw a hint of disgust in John’s eyes.
“John, I didn’t– I swear,” He was lying, backing up to a corner of his room.
“John– LORD HELP ME!” Paul screamed, his eyes shut as he slowly collapsed down at the corner, a sheer shame washing through him like this was the greatest sin he had created in his head, he almost broke down in tears and panic because he saw John’s eyes disgust him for a second.
John quickly shrugged off any feeling that came across him and strode to Paul, who sat in the corner, shaking, almost sickly, as if the demon possessed him. He cried out for the lord in a broken voice. He knelt to hold Paul in his arms tightly, without a word, pressing Paul’s head to his shoulder as the younger man tried to shove him off, but it didn’t work at all; it was too weak for John, even though he was the one who was ill.
Paul’s breath thickened; he felt too ashamed to look at John, his own flesh disgusted him madly. “I’m such a sick, twisted bastard, John. I didn’t want it to be that way, but I’m sick!” A tear rolled down his rosy cheek. “Oh, kill me, John. Kill me, kill me, kill me.” He kept murmuring while John hugged him tightly, pulling him up from the cold floor.
“Paul,”
“Kill me, I beg you.” And he meant it.
“Paul, shh…I won’t, listen to me,” He held Paul’s face up, which was now again, soaked with sweat. “Do you hear me? ‘s alright baby, ‘s alright…you’re not sick for having a feeling.” After the word Baby echoed in Paul’s ears for a while, he could sense a bitter kiss from John, but his body went numb. A bitter, soothing kiss. He muffled under John’s mouth, fingers tangled in the older man’s hair, the grip tightened when John started to stroke his tongue against Paul’s.
Their body slowly intertwined together. Not long after Paul stopped fighting, he made a painful groan in his throat, everything overwhelmed him madly. They fell onto the floor together, rolled over each other with the final brink, Paul was on top of him, kissed him hungrily like John did in his dream. The bitter kiss turned sweet after, the bedroom filled with the sound of John whimpering under Paul’s cannibalistic kiss, it doesn’t matter anymore who should take which role, or now that sweet girly face, small lovely taking over him like a man he is.
Paul broke the kiss first, and John now sees that Paul has started to calm down a little. “Tell me I don’t disgust you…please.” His doe eyes were pleading, clear and glossy, and John looked at his self-reflection in Paul’s eye.
“Never,” Said John, breathy, “I can never…” Before he could finish the sentence, Paul smashed his lips against John’s, and a taste of copper on the tip of his tongue.
John bloom under him like a flower, his warm, bony, yet soft body moved under him like it begged to never let him go, never release him. Paul's blood rushed again; he couldn’t tell anymore whether this was his imagination or a mere reality, but the sensation was too surreal, still meaty, how could he process anything after all of this was over?
His lips trembled, glossy with saliva, when John reached down to yank down his pajama bottom, which his brief was already wet with his semen from last night, then John traced his finger on the length, softly stroking it through the brief’s fabric. Watch Paul closely for his reaction. Paul’s face slumped on John’s collarbone, a moan vibrated both of their body, Paul rocked his hips desperately for the touch of John’s hand more, his needy cock twitched aggresively as he whimper in John neck like he could come right at that moment, he knew he wasn’t gonna last long, since he imagine being touched by John for the longest time and it was happening right now…or at least he thought it was happening.
“This was from your wet dream?” John murmured into Paul’s ear just beside him, his thumb rubbing on the come-stained spot on Paul’s brief.
“Mhm,” Paul nodded and hummed against John’s neck, “It’s-” He hesitated to confess, yet John choked him with that touch and light stroke, his body all shivering like a sick dog.
“Yeah?”
“It was .. about you.” He confessed.
John immediately pulled down his brief, wrapped his hot hand around Paul’s cock and a broken moan slipped out from the man on top. He used his thumb to smear the precome over the tip and the shaft, began to move his fist more steadily with each stroke as his lips nuzzled on Paul’s dark hair. Paul held still at his best, drunkenly nibbling on John’s shoulder to control the unbearable pleasure he received.
Less than four minutes that Paul tries not to tense up on John’s quick hand jerk, it slid up and down so steadily and firmly, his hand was thick and rough, unlike girl’s touch that Paul let them do handjob and it was skinny and small, but the feeling of a thick hand wrapped around him was way better, better as he expected it to be.
With a few thrusts into John’s fist, a wave of best pleasure flushed into him, just like sleeping to dream, his muscles tightened as John moved his hand in a teasing rhythms, for few second later the thick warm robe released onto John’s shirt, he tried to catch a breath, but it was unsuccessful, his ragged breath filled the room as he collasped on John.
Their breath tangled, his hair remained disheveled. “Should’ve told me,” Said John, his other hand came up to soothe Paul on his back when they came to realise the gravity of their situation.
“That I’m mad?”
“That you like me that much.”
❦
Later that day, nothing happened, but Paul lay on John’s chest in the bathtub, naked, together. He skipped the studio appointment, didn’t work, nor did John; he didn’t open the store, not like he was going to have a lot of customers anyway. After the panic passed through them, Paul felt like it was worth the shame he faced, all the blame he said to himself, now washed with bath water, with John soaking in it, silently, for hours.
His cigarette was slightly wet as he drew it to his face, rested on John’s chest, and his other hand kneaded and squeezed John’s shoulder affectionately. Smoky mouth pressed on that pale moonlit skin, it made a little kissy sound, and John hummed, lifted his hand from the cloudy water to Paul’s silky hair, palm slid down along the length of the short dark hair.
This is all Paul ever wanted? Simple and easy, he was satisfied. Even though they didn’t have sex in the morning, even though John didn’t say that he felt the same or not, actions speak louder than words; all the kisses and how he caressed Paul’s adoring face said it all. They were no different than Romeo and Juliet in love.
Dagger now, push down on the center of his throat, drag it down slightly under his Adam's apple, with a final, rigid push, it cut through his flesh to the windpipe, and blood slowly seeped out from the split, crimson red thick liquid dripped from the dull edge of the dagger, his breath became ragged, it was on his through, words stuck together like a ball of savorless gum. He was wrong, because a sword was ready to stab him in his heart by John, sharper and slower, it would kill him this time, painfully but beautifully. He was on his knees for John to put the sword on both og his shoulders and tell him that he will belong to John Lennon.
“I’ll get dressed.” Said John, he patted on the back of Paul’s shoulder before getting up from the tub, his skin wilted white as a corpse, so was Paul; he looked like a siren in human form, skin slimy and glistening.
Paul watched him stand, long body stretched like he had just awoken, “I will go with you.” Said Paul, his big round eyes stared up at John, and he found that his expression was somewhat smug.
“Look at you, Paul.” He muttered, the flu had made his voice raspy than usual.
Paul held the gaze, although he didn’t smile back, John still did. He clutched the edge of the bathtub while his wilted skin soaked in milky water, silently staring at each other’s faces, possessively into their souls.
“Never realised you were this pretty,”
John murmured, water dripped down from his fingertips, and then Paul slowly got up from the tub; they almost dissolved into each other in the tub. If John didn’t want to get dressed, Paul wouldn’t either. He walked toward John with an outstretched arm and wrapped it around John’s waist, lightly cradling him.
He could feel himself changed from inside out, slowly, it stretched him out and molded him back like clay. John sways in Paul’s arms calmly, he hummed a fake love song he created.
“Will you ever leave me?”
Paul never felt so mixed about his feelings; he was exhausted, for no reason at all, exhausted and afraid of how much he wanted to devour John.
“No, I won’t.”
He wished so. And wish John never knew how mad he was since the day he laid his eyes on John, head to toe, everything dizzy as if he was living in a dream where he found his soulmate there, tied them together with a red string of fate.
The house was as dim as night, John pulled Paul to get dressed in his room. He let Paul wear his clothes and everything, like everything now is changed. Once the light was warm yellow, now it was just red-ish orange all around, even the sunlight seemed like a lightbulb from hell. His heart wrenched with a soft smile of John and himself while they stood in front of a full-length cheval mirror.
His reflection was horrid, he saw some kind of devilish gleam on his face whenever he switched to look at himself. Paul became subdued, so did John.
“Do you think it’s still there,” Paul said.
“What?”
“Grape.”
“It’s still there,” John said quietly, smiling in the mirror, “Let’s grow it.”
“I feel like it’s bigger now.”
“Is it?”
They ran downstairs to the kitchen after that, and it did. It had grown so much since yesterday that multiple leaves covered the inside of the basin, flowering in the center. They didn’t doubt how a grape seed could grow this much without sunlight or soil, only the leftover that fed it less often.
Both of them smiled, looked at each other, and down at the basin, green blade leaves all over it. John used his pointer finger to poke at the leaf like it was a wild animal.
“It will have children soon,” John said, stepping back to slide his body behind Paul, then wrapping his arm around Paul with his hands held another’s. He rested his chin on Paul’s shoulder.
“Do you think we can eat them?”
“Should we? I must feel wrong if I eat them, it’s like eating our grandchildren.” John spoke near his ear, and Paul giggled at what he had said.
“Yeah, that’s a terrible idea anyway."
It somehow felt like they were looking at their newborn baby, husband hugging from the back, and the exhausted wife had just breastfed the baby, so now she’s peacefully sleeping in a bassinet.
“We will keep her. ”
❦
The next day became messier when Paul had to argue with his co-worker about why he wouldn’t go to work, he had one job, yet didn’t have to work at the studio in the mornings every single day like his co-worker did. It wasn’t a bad a hard fight, but Paul can sense that his co-worker is already disappointed in him, or even the whole team. He realised again he couldn’t act like a university kid in love anymore, he had on duty and couldn’t take care of it. The long-trusted co-worker of his yelled in the phone, annoyingly.
Paul sighed, “Hey, Ricky, listen- my dog was really sick.” He lied, yet referred to John as a dog instead of just confessing that his friend, John, was extremely sick. He would, if he wasn’t scared of being suspected he’s in a homoerotic relationship with his friend, although it’s true.
“You don’t send the work, you don’t come to the studio, you didn’t even phone us to explain!” The other said of the phone yelled, Paul’s face jerked back with his eyes squeezed shut for a second.
“Your work is slow, and now the team said they don’t think the project will be success if you don’t do the damn work, they need you, mate, I’m getting storm at!”
“Look, I had my reason, as I said, my dog was sick–” He tried to explain, although he knew it just sounded irresponsible.
Then John was here, footsteps loud running downstiar just behind him, he looked back and saw John bent on the banister.
“Does your fucking dog pay the money to cure itself, then? You’re done, Paul.” He hung up before Paul could find more excuses.
“What’s that?” John uttered curiously. Then Paul immediately turned back to him, the lights flickered.
“My co-worker. He is very angry because I didn’t show up at the studio.”
“Quit it.” John jokingly said with a smile before heading to the library room. If someone else said such a thing would rage at them instantly. Nobody should tell him to quit what he loves and stick with it for ages; it’s a part of him, but with John, he just doesn’t get defensive with it.
He unfolded a smile and then followed John in, “I won’t quit it myself, they need to fire me.”
John was about to say something, but he coughed so hard that his glasses fell off his face. “You will be fine,” He bent down, hands propped on both knees.
He watched John continue aggressively coughing, he almost fell on the floor because of how tense his muscles were when he cough, his stomach weaken. “You’re alright, John?” Paul asked, it was concerning.
Once he stopped coughing, he picked up his glasses, but didn’t answer Paul's question.
Paul couldn’t notice the way his dynamic changed; even so, he approached John to help to sit on the chair with care, stroked his thumb on his lover’s chin, and he finally got a smile from John, bashfully grin.
“Have you ever thought of having a family, Paul?” John asked, turned his body to face Paul, where sitting down. It almost hit home when he heard it, perhaps that’s the only thing Paul ever wanted, to have a life with someone who loves and adores him, with beautiful children.
But his situation right now is that he fell in love with a man, neither he nor John could produce a child. For a long minute, he tried not to hurt John, but realised something, they both never known each other. It was a short, aggressive desire that brought Paul into his embrace, and it’s a luck for both of them that they felt the same, if not entirely, then slightly, at leat there’s something in common.
Paul decided to be honest with John. “Yes, I really want a nice, loving family. I guess anyone does.” He glanced back and saw John giving understanding nods.
“Me too.”
The lights flickered again, they slightly changed the colour each time they flickered.
“Just every man’s dream,” Paul tilted his head and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
A flash of uncertainty flickered on John’s glasses, “...Y’know what, Paul,” His fingers drumming on the table for a while. “I think we should try to make love probably.” His head tilted slightly to the side, followed with a swallow.
Paul was taken aback, eyebrows raised as he leaned in to John. He never knew that John was capable of saying something like that, too, or being so straight to the point, doesn’t beat around the bush. It would change everything forever if Paul says yes, and John didn’t even let it happen naturally, even the things they’ve done could compare to having sex.
He struggled to find the right word and the answer, “W- Why?” Paul stuttered, it was a shit respond, he expected nothing but a sheer disappointment from John now, he would think Paul wouldn’t be this hesitate.
John quirked an eyebrow, “You don’t wanna try..?” He quietly said.
He might fell back into the trance, the light flickered into an orange-red hue, Paul jerk his head up to look at the lightbulb before trace his eyes on John’s curious face again, he leant a little closer to Paul now, impatiently waiting for Paul to answer.
“I do– but,” Suddenly, he felt like all he ever wanted was shattered into pieces, he couldn’t tell anymore if John’s face was rising in anger or it was just the light. He was afraid to lost in something he couldn’t comprehend, it made he felt like someone tried to pull his gut out so hard that he wanted to puke. It’s another level of commitment to Paul.
He swallowed back the words again as John peered into his eyes.
“I’m scared it will be hurt…do you promise you will be gentle?” He couldn’t believe what he had said, and his fantasy was just a fantasy.
The trance painfully tried to bore into him, Paul looked back, and a vase of flowers fell from the table; it shattered all over the floor. His body jerked, with his eyes shut instinctively.
John didn’t seem to be bothered by it, or it wasn’t happening.
“Fuck,” Paul cursed, covering his ears.
“Didn’t know I looked like a rough bloke,” He softly smiled, bringing his hand to Paul’s cheek, thumb grazed on the cheekbone and under his eyes. “I don’t know if I should let you do it or me.”
Are they actually talking about sex right now?
“If you want,” Paul muttered, a surge of panic in his voice, but John…was out of touch.
His mouth formed words he couldn’t physically hear. Later, it was slower and slower as his hand still cupped Paul’s cheek, lips curved into some kind of, Don’t and Know.
“John?”
He heard something in the kitchen like everything was falling on the floor, glasses and dishes, then leafs rustling noise filled his ears like Bach music, he quickly got up on his feet, his eyes searched out the window, it was as bright as midday but when he lifted his wrist watch to see; 5:13
His eyes later widened at the chalkboard sign in front of the tea shop across from them, which read the date that was not today. It was the 17th May, Paul remembers today is the 13th May.
How long had he stayed in the house now?
Slowly, he turned back to John, his clothes now changed into a black jumper with a white T-shirt underneath, leather shoes, and white trousers, his glasses was gone.
“John– what is this?” He shook his head. For the first time, he tried to interact with John while all of this was happening. John was smiling at him, hands propped under his chin.
“I can’t do this anymore, John,” He cried out, darting to John, who sat in the very chair as John’s eyes followed his moves with a smile, while inside Paul felt like his organ got cut off to put it in plastic bags and pressed together. He dropped to his knees before John.
“God,” His mouth frowned, putting his face against John’s stomach and tugging the body into his arms.
“Hey, what’s the matter, silly?”
He lifted his his up immediately when he heard John’s soft voice, it’s as real as how John would say it, although this is John, but something was not correct. He is supposed to be in hell right now, red and empty, or bright and hollow. Like every time, John should be gone, or inside his body like maggot.
“I can’t do this anymore, I can’t…” Paul shook his head, clutched at John’s trousers. The vision of John was vivid, brown caramel eyes, clean-shaven face.
John lowered his face down, hands held Paul’s face to balance it. Slightly forced it to look at him, “Hm? What?” After John’s voice cut off, a baby's voice cried in the living room loudly, his breath hitched as he looked up at John.
“What’s that?”
“It’s Grace.” His smile was wide and sweet.
“...Who is Grace?”
“Our baby!”
Then it was all black, with a blasted sound like the house had collapsed, Paul at the brink of tears, a river of tears, not from any specific emotion; it was just too much to bear now.
Again, his body fell backward into the darkness, but this time he let it fall, without trying to swim back to the surface of reality. The image of the grapes in the sink popped open and rotten in a minute, he watched the leaves slowly turn brown and dry. It shrunken back down in the drain pipe.
He heard himself say as he stood on the edge of a cliff, “I’m terrified.” But his lips were not moving, it was a trembled, crooked smile.
Maybe he needs to be awake, to find that, really, he has no one.
A mere final push from the wind, and his body fell deeper from what the reality is, the rotting paradise of his was melting away like ice cream, but the lost paradise had returned into his embrace. He sees no one but John standing on the other side of paradise, it’s rotting away with each step he strides.
Was John Lennon just a dream?
Pisces of the shattered vase vibrate on the floor, slowly float up into one piece again, just on the table, it reversed, and the flowers stay in the same place, same angle.
TICK!
The alarm rang, warm golden sunlight shone through his window and eyelids, his body was tight as if someone wrapped a blanket around him so tightly he couldn’t move, but it was too warm, like human skin around him.
He woke up again, and it didn’t feel too bad this time; he felt reborn.
Hot breath poured on the back of his neck as he turned back to see…John. Holding him way too tightly, he slowly opened his eyes when he felt the movement of Paul.
“Someone is uncomfortable, eh?” John murmured. Lazily pulling Paul into the same hugging position again. “What’s for breakfast?” Whispered low.
It felt different. There’s no distance in the voice at all, no confusion, no doubt.
“I think…I had a nightmare…”
“Fancy going to the park with Ringo this morning? You can tell me later.”
“John,”
“Yes, love?”
“Is there any grape in the basin?”
He chuckled, “Why would I buy grapes? You’re allergic to it, wouldn’t want you to accidentally eat it.”