Four of Us - McLennStarrison (Poly Beatles)

Five's a Crowd, Part 1

Smut

1965

Shea Stadium had been their biggest success yet, in Brian's eyes. He was overcome with a huge sense of pride for his boys, now looking more like the men he knew they could be. It was an honor being the manager of the greatest band in Great Britain, and every single day he counted his blessings for it. Not just because of money, of course, but because he genuinely cared for them. Those four accepted him just the way he was and kept his queer secret, politely letting him down gently when he had tried to see if they were at all like him. Even if they weren't, it warmed his heart to have them as allies in a world that saw him as strange.

"Boys!" he called, practically skipping into their hotel room. They had a door connecting one with two kings and his with a single queen respectively, which at the moment was open slightly. He wanted to congratulate them on their performance that evening. He peered in through the crack in the door, raising an eyebrow.

The four bandmates had pushed their beds together to make one large bed they were all sitting on, suit jackets and ties discarded on the floor in dark pools on the carpet. "That was so much fun," Paul grinned.

"Damn loud," John argued. "Couldn't hear meself let alone the rest of you." George nodded in agreement. "Ringo, sorry we couldn't follow your rhythm."

"I couldn't follow me rhythm either," Ringo admitted. "Honestly? I kept the beat in time with your arses shaking all ridiculous-like."

Brian and the others chuckled at the cheeky remark, the manager not expecting any less from them. What he truly didn't expect, however, was how mischievous Paul's eyes seemed to get.

"Whose was the best arse-wise, would you say?" Paul asked. Strange.

"Like I'd ever tell."

George, literally deciding to join in on the cheekiness, shook his rear end. "Obviously not yours, Paul. Too plump for a man of Ringo's taste."

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" John shrugged, suddenly cupping Paul's rear end. "Nothing wrong with fullness, anyways. Have you even felt this here?" He squeezed, causing Paul to yelp.

Brian forced himself back from the door and slid down the wall halfway, stopping before he hit the ground. "What the bloody hell?" he mouthed. Surely he needed glasses and didn't see what he just thought he saw. The Beatles weren't queer.

Spain two years ago, Brian. What was that?

Nothing, it was nothing. John was just humoring and trying to impress me when he let me do what I did. He isn't actually queer like I am. Curiosity and placating.

Shit. Even if The Beatles were queer, he didn't have a right to be watching something so private. He just needed to go to bed and forget he ever saw anything. One well-placed moan had him finally getting to his feet and off to his own hotel room.

"I'm going mad," Brian groaned, falling onto his bed. Oh well, today had been exciting enough and would do better with some sleep. He undressed completely and closed his eyes, taking his cock in hand. Sue him, a good wank helped him get to sleep. He jerked hard and fast, four boys on his mind as he came suddenly. Everything could be dealt with in the morning.