22 for the kiss prompts, maybe with Mimi interrupting? (But also like just being chill about it because we need more fics with supportive Mimi in our lives?)
22: A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party
A moan crowds out from the scarce space between their lips. Born from a shared breath, he can’t place its source. As the kiss escalates, Paul fumbles his way into John’s lap. The tender hands cradling his face relocate to find purchase at his bum, squeezing firmly.
“John,” he pants against his mouth.
His aquiline nose skims down the pale column of Paul’s neck, forestalls the words in his throat. Wandering around the curve of his hip, John’s fingers, skillful and cunning, knead the front of his trousers. Arrhythmic—every squeeze meant to surprise like an electric jolt.
With a hand steady on John’s jaw, Paul tilts his head closer for another kiss.
Seldom does the opportunity arise where they have a house to themselves. At Paul’s, his pesky younger brother follows at their heels like a lost duckling; at John’s, Mimi is such a worker bee that even the most private room will be invaded during an intensive cleaning session. Today they have time.
Suddenly shifting their positions, John lowers Paul onto the sofa. Covers him like a blanket and peers past the urgent, carmine mist of lust for a moment to admire the sprawl of his boyfriend beneath him.
Paul smiles up at him, eyes half-mast. Heart full as a sponge and leaking with need. His hands tug at the hem of John’s t-shirt and—
“Boys, there is a perfectly good bedroom upstairs,” comes a familiar, home-too-soon voice lecturing from the doorway. “I have no earthly idea why you two still insist on ruining my good furniture.”
Paul snaps up straight on the sofa, his heart thrusting all the blood to his cheeks and his limbs thrusting all of John to the floor. His boyfriend lands with a thud, but the laughter splintering out of him alludes to no damage done.
Head shaking in disappointment, Mimi disappears into the kitchen to deposit her bags of groceries on the table.
Stomach visibly shaking in his supine position, John cackles, “Bloody ‘ell, I’ve never seen someone move so fast in me life.”
“I thought you said she’d be out longer,” Paul hisses, unamused and abashed.
Unperturbed by their randiness, Mimi calls over the clatter of pots and pans, “Would you like any tea or biscuits to take up with you, lads?”
Paul clears his throat, yet still stumbles out, “Er, sure—I mean, please. Yes please…thank you.”
“Oh, erm, yes, ma’am,” John mocks, cheeks tinting scarlet now. “I’ll go bugger your nephew elsewhere, shall I, Mrs. Smith? No problem at all. Please and thank you!”
“See if you get anything from me now,” he mutters, with a light kick to John’s leg as he passes his hysterical form on the way to the stairs.
