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Paul always cherished being George’s roommate while on tours, it brought the two of them closer than imaginable.
After a grueling few days of travel and a long concert, the pair had indulged themselves in their shared sin, homosexuality.
They laid beside each other, wrapped up in a warm embrace.
Paul reached a hand up to tangle his fingers in George’s hair, cherishing the softness of his freshly washed locks.
“Rather queer to be playing with another lad’s hair, I reckon,” Paul whispers, not stopping his movements.
George relaxed into Paul’s hand that was gently massaging his scalp, letting out a soft gasp at the sensation.
“No more queer than what we just did,“ George replied with a soft laugh after he’d regained his composure.
Paul tutted, thinking fondly of what they’d just done with one another.
With George it never felt wrong like most people preached it being. Paul never felt more right than when he was with George, like he was coming home after a long day’s work.
It had been several minutes since George had spoken, Paul laid with a lovestruck gaze upon his face.
“Oi, anybody home?” George joked, his hand coming up to gently tug on Paul’s dark locks.
His hair was softer than most birds, George reckoned. That’s what conditioning did for it.
This snapped Paul from his thoughts, his eyes meeting George’s.
“Yeah, I’m home,” Paul whispered, leaning further into George and embracing him, “always home when I’m with you.”
George could only smile and pull Paul to his chest, thankful to be so close to him.