And they did, as soon as they could find their way out of the doors. He paid for a room, vaguely aware of being in the foyer that seemed to crawl with eyes, trying not to go blank or burst with a confession that he'd be sticking his dick into another guy by the end of the night. Pushed it all into a safe place in his mind, put the key in and locked it all up.
Maybe fifteen minutes later he was cranking on the music, peeling off his jacket, trying to keep the images of the hell awaiting him at home out. The music flowed through the motel room with the scent of fresh detergent from the sheets and the dark wood furnishing; made him sway in rhythm. Put his hands down to be swallowed by that incredible, porcelain skin, up along the narrow bones and sleek muscle, the hair. The lips. A low noise slipped past his own when he kissed Paul again, hungrily, clumsily pawing at him, both of them gasping and panting in hot breaths as they fell to the bed. It'd been awhile since Johnny had a decent lay, so as horny and intoxicated as he was, it didn't take long to get into it. Hardly able to keep a grip on himself, once the thrill and the tension set in, Johnny was practically purring into the beautiful creature's ear, trying to keep in tune with the music, mumbling lewd comments and words of praise. Mouth and hands grazing flushed, clean skin, plush hair, pale shoulder, soft wet lips. Too drunk, too horny, too tired, too long without attention, both were stripped naked in moments. There was no hesitation from either, though Johnny felt like he was choking on his shame. Julianna would skin him alive.
It didn't seem like he cared anymore.
He just cared about the sensations of pleasure and want washing over him. Sensations he hadn't felt for a while. Or maybe ever.
He could tell immediately that Paul had done this before. Quite a few times. There was a glint in his eye that said he knew what he wanted and how to get it, a hunger, a greed for the satisfaction, and a deep need to please. Johnny couldn't remember the last time that his insides started getting all pleasant and fuzzy at the idea of someone pleasing him. After a number of rather spectacular things Johnny didn't even know could be done with a tongue, he watched in awe, eyes fixated on that pair of fine lips, curled into a small smile as Paul rolled his head to the side and kissed his hip bone.
"My god," Johnny choked out, chest rising and falling, staring in wonder.
"How's that?" His voice was silky and deep, more of a purr than an inquiry. "You okay?"
A breathy response. "Fantastic."
Grinning, Paul looked up again and resumed his work for a moment before stopping again and lifting his head, appearing mildly thoughtful. "Am I the first guy who's ever done this to you?"
"Ah. Yeah," came the reply, very quickly.
"Oh..." His tone took on a hint of teasing. "You should have told me. I'd have let you undress me in the bar."
If he wasn't floating before, he certainly was now.
After a time, Johnny was beyond the point of having shame, but not beyond the ability to think, somehow. When Paul moved up closer to straddle him, he remembered to breathe in, then spoke. "Wait."
"Something wrong?"
The pause that followed, Johnny decided, needed no explanation. "I...do we need a..."
There was a small noise from the other, like a huff, which concerned Johnny briefly. "...A rubber? Seriously?"
"I mean, if we're gonna—"
"Yeah." Almost a chuckle as he reached over to the bedside table. The sound was not unkind, just entertained and sort of resigned. "But what, you don't want hot, raw sex with a slutty tramp? You're hurting my feelings."
"What? No, it's—that's not what—" Johnny trailed off, unsure of his words. It was almost a ridiculous thing to say, and the man looked like an angel, and to see someone like that be called that was almost disgusting. He couldn't believe Paul would use the word so casually, but then again, he just sucked Johnny off in a motel room on a whim. Obviously, this boy was the farthest thing from a virginal saint. "You're not a tramp," Johnny finally countered in response.
Paul wrinkled his nose and smiled slightly. "What a sweetheart you are." Pulling out a rubber from the pocket of his discarded jeans, he tore it open and settled on his hips. "What am I?"
"Beautiful," he breathed out earnestly, which caused that smile to linger in another moment.
"Mm." As he rolled it onto Johnny, their eyes met. A low flush rising to his cheeks, Paul paused in a way that suggested there were something there left unsaid. "Anything else?"
Johnny couldn't respond for a moment. Beautiful.
A soft sigh echoed from above him and sent a tingling buzz into the pit of his stomach. "You okay down there?"
"Mmhmm."
"Good." Pause. "Lie back down, then."
When they fell into a kiss again, once the initial discomfort ebbed away, he wanted it; he needed it. Johnny put himself past the point where thinking turned into dangerous, destructive thoughts about what he was doing or what Julianna would do or anything else. There was only the sensation, the rush, the blinding white fuzz. Maybe it was what he deserved. To put him in hell already.