Category: **SLASH** M/M, Angst, Smut
Pairing: Beatles - John/Paul
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: To my knowledge this didn't happen anywhere but
in my imagination.

Title: LOOKING THROUGH YOU
Author: mako

<><><><><>

We spent two nights together and the differences between them
were as clear as day and night.

They were at once light ... and darkness.

Our first night was a scorched trail of fear and repression
until both John and I no longer cared what happened in the
wake of our passion. Our restraint no longer had a reason,
it snapped beneath its own need for survival in the wake of
the madness that surrounded us.

Repression that wanted to survive, but didn't.

We had to survive instead and we did.

How many nights we'd spent together, terrified and locked
away under the watchful eyes of our jailers, our so-called
protectors, against a world that didn't realize we were flesh
and blood human beings, who hurt and bled and sang only
because it was expected of us -- mindless art turned into a
matter of life and death.

Overnight, we became victims of our success and the abuse
pushed us away from fear and into something more primal. It
was during those terrible days that I wondered what it would
be like, John and I together, whether it would be like fire ...
or ice.

I'd thought about it more times than I was willing to admit,
although I guess I never expected it to happen. I held onto
my private dreams, my primal fantasy, almost enjoying the
idea that it was never going to be a reality, not even sure
if I ever wanted my dreams to come true.

I didn't like the uncertainty -- never did, never will.

And nothing was as uncertain as John. His mercurial moods,
his cruel wit and his blazing temper were just a few of the
gambles one had to take when dealing with him. To love him
was to walk along the razor's edge again and again and then
one more time, with no turning back allowed.

But the journey, Christ, it was worth it.

We'd treaded carefully around each other so many times it'd
become a dance, one step forward, two steps back. When the
Beatles exploded and the world around us went mad, we were
bound together, the screaming hordes outside at once our
enemy and our excuse.

Our excuse to huddle closer, to cling more tightly to one
another, to wind about each other's souls until our bodies
were merely extensions of our minds and when we found
ourselves wrapped around each other that summer's evening,
kissing frantically, we believed we needed nothing else.

It was fire between the two of us and that was no surprise.

His desire was hotter than the sun, bleeding through my
shirt, soaked as it was with perspiration and anticipation.

I did nothing at first, I simply held him, murmuring his name
telling him quietly that everything would be okay.

It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

But it wasn't enough. Frustration lined John's features and
he desperately wanted more. More than a mate, more than a
partner, and I was to become all things to him that night --
lover, brother, father, mother ... more.

More, more, and then some more.

The depths of his desire frightened me and I was the one who
thought I knew the man, inside and out. John stared at me
with haunted eyes, his face twisted in pain, unable to
comprehend the love he inspired, unable to pull away from the
abyss.

Another fumbling kiss, another touch and I wanted to soothe
him but he jerked away, as if my hands burned. He grabbed a
hold of my collar and kissed me again, his tongue scraping
the inside of my mouth, tearing apart nerves already stretched
to their limits.

Such a hard kiss and my mind screamed in protest against the
emotions that followed: fear, anger ... regret. I wanted
him, that much was undeniable, but how it all came about,
that would be something we might never come to terms with.

But I held onto him tightly, mixed messages not withstanding.
His hips pressed against mine, holding me down against the
bed, his weight at once welcome and despised. It was just
another battle of wills and we struggled, locked together,
entwined and helpless to resist.

I tried to speak but he refused, insisting on kissing me
senseless until I pulled away, demanding that his eyes meet
mine, no matter what they held.

They were dark, terrified ... but they were John's.

He was still with me: my mate and partner, but when he
spoke, his voice didn't seem the same. Instead it
sounded hollow, a shadow of it's once powerful self.

"Please, Paul. Please."

So helpless, and there was no longer any denying him.

I touched him again, openly, with clear intention. My
trembling fingers against his thigh, along the straining
outline of his cock and I felt disconnected from the entire
experience except for the brutal heat emanating through the
fine linen of his pants against my palm.

His breath caught in short gasps as if he were choking.
Hazel eyes shut tightly then opened again to peer into mine,
searching for something I wasn't sure he was going to find,
but I knew was there.

He must have seen it as well because it was then that he
kissed me deeply, for all we were worth. Surrender, deep
and complete and I was his. The rush that followed was
so good, so perfect, like nothing I'd felt before.

It was pleasure -- pure, simple and completely John.

Finally.

I should have known it was going to be that way. Six years
was a long time to want someone, to be inside their head and
heart without tasting the pleasures that lay outside that
intangible boundary. I was willing to die for John, and his
feelings were somehow always more important than my own.

We were one, not only in spirit, but in body as well.

His hands were suddenly everywhere and I groaned when he
brushed them against me, seeking ... searching.

I was falling in a dizzying spiral and he was relentless,
everywhere at once, fingers twining through my hair, sliding
over my chest, twisting at my clothes and yet I felt each
touch as if it were unique and new.

I moved against him, unable to resist the tide. How strange
I thought, as his hips began to pump against me, one touch
for each breath. He wanted me and God, it was too much,
as he groaned into my mouth, my name an oath on his lips.

There was no going back.

I returned his kisses, sloppily, borne of desire rather than
finesse. Gasping for air, I turned my head away, revealing
my neck as an offering which John immediately accepted, as
was his due.

Maybe it was.

My clothes came off, buttons popping, and I felt him then,
skin to skin. It was close to pain: the heaviness between my
thighs, the ache that spread throughout my body, as his full
weight pressed atop me, such blissful agony.

It was over faster than I'd imagined. Deep waves of pleasure
as our bodies met and I cried out his name, loudly, marveling
in the shudder that wracked his body at the sound of my
voice.

We both lost it then, crying out to a God neither one of us
believed in, sobbing hotly against each others' necks.

It was done, too quickly, and we slept fitfully afterwards,
his warmth still pressing me into the soft linen beneath.
Hours later Brian's knock woke us, and we dressed quickly,
efficiently, like the good little boys we'd always been up
till that point.

The day went as planned and we didn't say a word about what
had happened.

Not a single word.

But that didn't matter. Everything had changed. Our
songwriting, our voices mingling over the screams, even the
way we sat for photos ... nothing would ever be the same
again. There was something *there* between us, a living
breathing force all its own, a force to be reckoned with.

He touched me at every possible interval, making no bones
about our new status as lovers. But there was no repeat
offering, no more violent kisses ... nothing more than a
sweet hand upon my shoulder, or a quick, brotherly embrace,
one that was over far too soon.

Pretty soon I was filled with regrets, for both of us. I
should have been more cautious, more prudent, held back and
let John's impulsiveness pass. I'd given myself up to him
and he'd returned the favor, hating his weakness, thinking
himself selfish.

It wasn't long before doubts took over and I wondered if he'd
used me, like so many others before.

Brian ... wasn't Brian in love with him? And what about poor
Cyn? Poor, selfless, clueless Cynthia? His lonely wife, the
mother of his child, the supposed thorn in his side? I liked
Cyn, perhaps she and I had more in common than I thought.

But, then again, what the hell had I been thinking?

It was then, after a particularly scary night alone, just me
and tab of acid, that I allowed my life to pass before me,
seeing what might have been, and who I might have loved.

So many faces passed, beloved and otherwise and suddenly
clarity followed, when I saw my future.

Clearly, without regrets, since John and I were meant to be,
and there would be no turning back.

<><><><><><>

The next time we were together it was beautiful.

Sunshine daydreams, moonlight over water, the gentle peace of
a green meadow, that's what it reminded me of.

I was tired that night but couldn't resist his gentle touch,
so soft along my cheek. He was examining me with kind eyes,
looking into my soul as one might stare into a fire, as though
the secrets of life lay embedded in my sprawled out form.

I caught him looking but pretended not to care. "Hey," I
said, stretching out casually.

"Hey," he replied, wry smile firmly in place. "Guess it's
time, isn't it luv?"

I swallowed hard, not understanding. "Time for what, John?"

"Time to do it right," he said, and the universe came to a
standstill. He blushed, something I'd never seen before. "You
know, you and me."

God, so sweet, but was it the guilt talking? Regret?
Something more?

Perhaps, something worse? "Why?" I asked, feigning
indifference. "What makes you think it was done wrong?"

He bit his lip, his eyes darkening, the guilt taking over.
"You know, I did it for myself ... and that was wrong."

A sharp pang sliced at my gut but I stoically shook it off.
"What's wrong with that? I wanted it too. Are you saying
that it was bullshit? That it meant nothing?"

John blinked, then turned away. "No," he said thickly. "It
wasn't bullshit. It meant a lot." He paused, his breath
hitching. "More than you can understand. But ... I didn't do
it right. I ... I was selfish."

I almost laughed then, stopping myself just in time. I
thought back to the night I spent alone, in hellish
isolation, the thoughts of his love my only consolation.

"That's irrelevant, John," I said slowly. "All that matters
is that we're together, now as well as then, since that's
obviously what was meant to be."

"I know that," he insisted, his hands grasping mine, hard.
"I know that it's you and me, and it always will be. Forever."

"Then what's the problem? If I know that and you know it,
what the big fuckin' problem?" Annoyed, and John's expression
went from dour to shocked in a second flat. "That's all that
matters, doesn't it Johnny? That it's you and me ...
together ... forever."

My voice lowered to a whisper and he smiled slyly in reply,
the wicked glint I knew and loved so well returning to his
hazel eyes.

"So what then, Macca? Want to do it again?" he asked,
knowing full well what the answer would be.

"If you want to," I replied casually, ignoring the fact that
my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

He grinned at me, delighted. "Are you sure? Are you sure you
want this, Paul?"

His fingers brushed against my cheek and I nodded
emphatically. "Yeah, I'm very sure."

A kiss then, light against my temple. "Do you know how much
you mean to me? Do you have any idea?" So sincere, so
passionate and I wondered if I'd died and gone to heaven.

Another nod, and I wanted him again, more than air, more than
light.

"I love you," he murmured, his eyes as bright as a child's,
more innocent and hopeful than I'd ever seen them. "I love
you so much."

My mouth went dry. "Yeah, me too," I managed, wondering if
I'd survive something as awesome, as wonderful as John
Lennon's love.

He could have waited, could have insisted for more, but he
let me be and the kiss that followed was so tender it almost
stole my breath away. He'd settled for less so many times
before, believing he didn't deserve anything better.

He wasn't going to settle this time.

I pulled away, finding the strength to say what I'd known all
along. "I love you, John." He'd seen it, he'd felt it, but
he deserved to hear it.

His smile, bright as the sun, made me want to repeat it,
again and again, and again.

And I was his that night and the nights following, burning
the wake of something that neither one of us would never know
again. I was never cold by his side, never unsure and being
possessed was wonderful, if someone you adored was the owner
of your soul.

He looked through me and saw himself staring back.

I looked through him and saw myself wanting more.

I don't think I'll ever have to go looking again.

<><><><><><>
end

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Thanks, mako at: [email protected]