#i wonder what having your arm around john's waist must've been like

[iheartjohnlennon]

'Misty'

Liverpool, '59

Summary: John desperately wants you to make it up to him.

Word count: 2,059

Tags: Smut, Light Angst, Oral Sex

John spotted your figure, he wasn't bothered to approach though and wanted to seem aloof. 

You were looking around the space and when your eyes met his; you ended up looking away shyly. 

Unsure, he hesitated between going over or waiting for you to come closer. He pretended not to care either way, but his heart raced as the seconds passed and neither of you moved.

He made a beckoning gesture to you when you looked again. You promptly excused yourself from your table of friends.

 

"John, what's the matter?" 

He had an expression on his face that was something you couldn't properly understand.

You decided it was something between annoyance and longing. The former was more apparent. 

John abruptly put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him so your chests could touch. 

He always had a forward nature when it came to lovey-dovey things, you didn't mind it sometimes. 

"Why weren't you there?" You couldn't discern his tone, maybe it was bitter. 

He must've been talking about his performance. Nothing brought him more pride than seeing you in the crowd.

But you felt his brash demeanour and stammered to talk. You ended up replying vaguely, "Something came up."

John leaned in close. 

"Wasn't the same without you."

His words nervously flattered you. 

You didn't think John could've suffered that bad without you. 

 

"I'll make it up to you, make it up to us." You spoke. 

"How?" He asked quickly. 

"How what?" 

"How will you make it up to me? Us?"

"Anything you want." You said. 

"Anything I want, love?" John repeated, smirking. 

You looked away and mumbled, "Well, I'll just show up next time." 

He chuckled, "Next time won't be enough. You owe me way more than that, you owe us way more than that."

You raised your eyebrows, "Well, what do you suggest?" 

*

John sat in his hallway, holding the telephone receiver to his ear.

He had summoned the right amount of courage to call you before he came. Not that he was scared of you, it was more so the rejection that scared him.

He didn't want you flaking on him again. 

"Hello." You said sweetly. 

"Oi. It's John." 

"I know."

"So, 'm still alrigh' to come to yours then?" 

There was a brief pause on your end, it made him anxious, but you replied. 

The anticipation for his arrival made you physically and mentally sick, but in a girlish way. 

"Of course it is."

"Okay."

*

The narrow streets became sheathed in twilight when John made his way to your house, and as he reached the doorstep, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

When you opened the door, an immediate smile graced your lips.

It was surreal to have John standing in front of you, in front of your house, in front of your eyes. He was a sight, as always. 

He stared unabashedly, his eyes roaming every inch of your body. You felt exposed to what you were wearing, yet you couldn't help but feel a little thrill when he murmured, "Look at you..."

You greeted him inside with a beckon and he stepped in, taking in the ambience of your home.

He wondered how you could have had a boy over so freely, especially at a time like this. 

As if reading his thoughts, you held his hands and told him, "No one's home tonight." 

"Well, isn't tha' good for us?" 

John loved the dirty implications of this visit.

He would do whatever he wanted to you without him having to be quiet, or without him having to hold anything back. 

He followed closely behind you as you led him to the living room.

You offered him a seat on the sofa and he slipped his coat off. 

You stood in front of him, "Could I get you a drink?" 

John considered his options for a moment, "Any bevvies?" 

Flashing him a smile, you disappeared into the kitchen.

You weren't too sure what anything was and just grabbed something amber-coloured in a decorated bottle. 

He was lounging and accepted the drink with a nod of gratitude, the liquid warmed his throat with the first sip. 

"Join me then," He patted the empty spot on the sofa beside him.

"Have a sip." He put the rim of the glass to your lips and fed you sips, you felt like you were being preciously taken care of. 

*

When he finished the drink, John let his pent-up desire take control of him.

He set the glass on the coffee table and yanked you closer to him so you could be on his lap. His grip was possessively firm. 

You were startled by his fervour and gasped as you had barely had any conversation. 

He couldn't waste time and didn't want to be stopped by your hesitance. So he pressed his lips to yours. He found himself hugging you close by your hips, a need to keep you close as if he feared you might reject him.  

His kiss deepened and his tongue started to taste yours. The mutual taste of a sweet alcohol was merged within your salvias, your tongue met his with an equal touch, engaging in a play of give or take.

As the necking on reached its peak, John reluctantly pulled back, his breathing was ragged. 

His lips began to give smooches to your neck, he bit a little.

The feel of his lips now on your neck made you giggle and you moved him off of you.

With a whisper, he pleaded, "Let's go upstairs, please."

In a silent agreement, you untangled yourselves from the sofa. 

*

You entered your bedroom and found the bedside table lamp, it cast a good light on the bed. 

When you tossed off your robe, John appreciated how you left little to the imagination today, and all for him. 

Reclining on the bed, your hips were on the edge of it and you sighed at the feeling of the plush underneath you. 

Your position certainly enticed him to join you, and the look of you on the bed, illuminated by only a soft yellow glow, made him stiff against his trousers. 

John approached the bed and stood over you, taking in every contour of your body that showed through your flimsy nightgown. 

The intensity of his scrutiny made you feel intimidated, especially since you knew he was getting off on it.  

He posed a question, "You want this don't you?"

This he said. That deictic rang in your head, you wondered if it meant more than what was blatantly obvious. 

You made a contemplative face and said no words. 

Feeling the sudden tension, he couldn't help but let a remark slip, "Cat got your tongue now?"

In the charged silence, he couldn't help but let nastiness seep into his words, as he often did. 

"You're such a little tease, inviting me over like this." 

"Stop it." You said smiling. 

John got on his knees and held your hips. He kissed your feet, "Well, it's true, isn't it? Isn't it? 'M about to give you something aren't I?" 

"And you're a slag, y'know tha' much right?"

You didn't think he meant for you to hear that, but it came out as purposeful, it came out as degrading. 

His head prompted your legs to move apart for him.

You felt sickly when you felt his face flush against your heat.

He licked stripes against the thin fabric with a flat tongue, you felt yourself aching against him as he slowly and repeatedly did so. 

John found your clit and the tip of his tongue intricately moved it about, you moaned contentedly. 

And all the while he maintained a look, taunting you. 

John pulled away to admire the pink material you wore, he fiddled with the lace that rimmed it.

You don't remember choosing to wear it with much conviction, but as long as he liked it you didn't care. 

He used a finger to shift the fabric away from covering your cunt and as he did so, your hand instinctively found a harsh place in his hair.

He dipped the first half of his tongue into your hole, seemingly tasting you. His nose grazed against your clit; it was a wild feeling.

When he continually pulled back, your wetness trailed him. 

John got off his knees and stood up. 

You wanted him to continue giving you head, but he wasn't interested in that anymore. 

He rolled your night dress up past your chest to give your tits a squeeze, your back arched.

He had fun with them, moving them together and then letting go, it was infantile. 

He escalated his foreplay and made a point to straddle you.

John tugged impatiently at the straps of your bra, the fabric slipping down your arms when he couldn't seem to unhook it.

He leaned forward, his breath warm against your nipple. 

He latched onto your tit with an eagerness that startled you, his lips moving in gentle circles as he worked, drawing out a dull tickling sensation that seemed to grow. He was like an infant searching desperately for sustenance, and despite the fact you weren’t lactating, it almost felt like he had found it.

Your chest tickled and it made your toes splay.  

Suckling noises filled the room, he was whispering things against you, things you couldn't hear. 

*

John pulled back and had a pleased look on his face, his lips were puffy.

He frantically removed his sweater and tossed it aside. His hands fumbled as he undid the buckle of his belt, letting his pants drop to the floor.

He stood in front of you, naked from the waist down. Biting his lip in anticipation, he took hold of his cock and rubbed himself off.

"Turn and lie on your stomach for me." He murmured. 

You moved into position as instructed, pressing your face against the cool sheets.

He grabbed the hem of your nightdress and pulled it up over your back. 

"You're perfect..." He cooed softly. 

You parted your legs for him and he straddled you.

The weight of him pressed you into the mattress. He let out a satisfied groan when his firmness settled right against your heat. 

He took his cock in his hand and entered you, his soft tip gave way for him to inch inside of you.

You were rewarded with a kiss to the back of your neck as he slowly sped up the pace, thrusting harder and harder into you. He moved back and forth, and your hips moved in tandem with his. 

The bedsprings made a creaking sound with each movement he made against you, it was a sensual echo, one which he enjoyed.

Your skin met in the middle and made a moist hitting sound. You were moaning against the sheets, it was a half-hearted attempt to keep quiet.

He pulled your hips up so that you were on your knees, in a doggy position.

You found your ass in the air and your head squashed against the bed.  And with that, he sped up even more, his hips moving in a frenzy.

He held onto your hips firmly and was focused solely on finishing. You tried to keep yourself from trembling, but you were failing. You eventually embraced the waves of overstimulation that were building up.

You pushed yourself harder towards him and he was giving it back just as hard. You flushed with a sudden realization that you were there, clenching around him and coating his cock with your wetness. 

John kept his brisk pace but soon felt his orgasm approaching. He grabbed a length of your hair as it was within reach.

He held his cock deep inside of you and came, your entrance was filled with his cum, and it seemed he lingered to pull out of you. 

John collapsed on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder. 

You smiled and felt him smile back. His face was buried in your hair. 

*

John got up and meticulously redressed himself.

He dozily kissed you, and that was his goodbye, leaving, and not looking back. 

You sighed and simply lay there, your mind was buzzing with all that had just transpired to tell him to stay. 

He had come, performed, and left, and that was that. 

And somehow, it made everything better. 

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