blushing bassist

Imagine wandering into your bathroom to find a very naked Paul McCartney in the bath, running his fingers through his dark hair with closed eyes as he hummed quietly to himself. You fought back your laughter as a wave of seriousness rolled over in your mind; the two of you were due for a double date with John and Cyn, and you /weren’t/ going to be late again. Still, despite your eagerness to get out the front door you calmed your breathing, heading towards the mirror and pretending to ignore your boyfriend’s surprised gasp upon noticing you.
“Hell, Y/N! ‘aven’t ye ever heard of knocking?” he grimaced, doe eyes wide as he propped his head on the edge of the tub. You shrugged carelessly, fiddling with your hair in the mirror and trying to avoid his search for eye contact.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before,” you finally poked, feeling yourself blush when the young bassist cocked a delicate eyebrow.
“Besides,” you huffed, trying to regain control of the conversation. It was proving to be a hard task, focusing, seeing as Paul was busy stretching (wait… you could’ve sworn he was flexing, the bastard…) behind you. “We’ve promised John and Cynthia, and I’m not going to be late on account of wasting time on you having a bath.” At that, Paul chuckled; a dark, unexpected sound that stilled your movements and made you swallow hard. That small noise often precedents much bigger things, you realized with a fluttering chest.
“When 'ave you ever not enjoyed wastin’ time on me?” he asked with a wry smile, urging you to pull your gaze from the mirror and turn around to face the man. You immediately shrugged shyly and crossed your arms, looking down at your toes, but before you knew it the clever bastard had you at the outside edge of the tub and on your knees, lips glued to his and hair soaked from his wet hands combing through it. He had balled a fistful behind your head, giving him space to trail wet kisses up and down your neck. The sharp contrast of water on your skin made you shiver, unconsciously pressing further into Paul as he grew eager.
“We’re… ” you panted, being able to break away from your lover’s embrace long enough to utter only a few words. “W-we’re late.” Paul on the other hand was busy disrobing you, tossing your clothes aside and running his hands all along your smooth skin. The bassist grinned, and you knew then you were long gone.
“Mm, that’s quite alright, love; we’re a bit overdue for some time wasting.”