Work Text:
On a cold winter night, where the chill cut through the air causing ice to cover the already fallen snow, a pair of men remained warm from the elements by the very luxury afforded them as two of rock and rolls greatest icons.
In the city of London, high up on the third floor of a three story building resided the grandest apartment within the structure.
This secluded domain had the mahogany staircase, the private elevator, a balcony, and access to the rooftop deck. All the luxury one could ask for!
Yet none of these spectacular displays of grandeur was being used at the moment. The current guest had not used the hot tub in the master bathroom, nor had either visitor lit a fire in the parlors stone fireplace.
The chef style kitchen, was as clean as it was upon arrival, minus the takeout containers from the different restaurants that sustained the two guests.
Shamefully the large dinning hall, with the bone china and gold lining were not touched once since they were last cleaned. A setting for twelve remained a graveyard of dinners that could have been. Echoes of conversations that were anticipated in a room as magnificent as this, were muted before a word could be spoken.
This large rental, which could easily be a lovely home for a family, had three large bedrooms for the two visitors. Only one was ever slept in, even though it was currently empty this night. It’s sheets set tightly firm to the mattress, with a mountain of silk pillows destined to be returned to the floor, like the night before.
The great playground for adults with the salt water fish tank, the jukebox with all the greatest hits, fully stock bar, and a billiard room with everything imaginable, was all hauntingly empty in the expensive rental.
Yet in the den, in the far back of the floorplan, the two dwellers resided. The costumes were off within the modest room, in which the two relaxed. There were no fancy suits over their shoulders, or a tie hanging like a noose around their neck. Instead they casually wore soft cotton knickers, as if it were the latest style.
Together, the pair were on the floor, with one man leaning upon the couch, as his mates head resided comfortably in his lap.
Paul McCartney was the man sitting up, and his boyfriend John Lennon’s head curled in snuggly in the inviting space between the crossed legs. Darkness had permeated from room to room, except for the glow of the television set, playing Star Trek.
The brightness from the screen flickered between the show, and the advertisements taking every second in-between the scenes of the program. Yet while Captain Kirk beamed to another planet, or a cowboy informed the viewer how good Marlboro cigarettes taste, the colors would dance off the home audience skin, without any effect on the attention the two gave the inanimate object.
Besides the pair was an open box of chocolates, shaped like a heart because of the upcoming Valentine's Day holiday. Each man casually helped themselves to a piece here and there, as they watched the characters become trapped in an odd situation, involving aliens.
Lazily Paul would glide his hand through John’s hair, and in return, John would lightly nibble a finger he would catch, or tickle the bottom of Paul’s feet.
The raven hair beauty would give out the cutest laugh, which John found he liked more than the show.
Then sometimes John would take a chocolate, and rest the little sweet atop his closed mouth, as if he were fainting death. Playfully participating in the little game, Paul would bend down to retrieve the sweet with his lips, allowing his boyfriend steal a kiss.
Then when the kiss and candy were finished, Paul would grit a piece of chocolate between his teeth, and feed it to the man below, taking his turn to kiss.
They nearly completed the entire box that way, until the show ended, and the knickers came off.
It wasn’t really anything more complicated than that. The pair made love in the den, and then the room, as puddles of pillows formed on the floor. In the whirlwind of passion sheets were pulled from their neatly applied settings, and in the quiet of the night moans and cries remained muffled behind closed doors.
After several hours of romping in the sheets, the two laid basking in their affections, while gazing out the bedroom window to all that snow. The warmth of their two bodies, shielded them from the harshness of outside, more than these walls ever could. Then John kissed his boyfriend again, but shockingly, continued his affections by licking the blushing lips of his unsuspecting lover, like a cat scraping milk from a saucer.
This was odd, Paul thought as he wiped his mouth.
“Did I still have chocolate on me lips?” McCartney asked, curious about the strange way he was kissed.
However, John just shook his head.
“No,” he immediately answered. “You’re just sweet.” Then teasingly he licked the side of his friends face. In which Paul playfully punched his boyfriends shoulder, as he wiped his cheek dry. Then those lips found each other again, and it was just as sweet as candy.