Curious George

George wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but he knew he'd find it in Paul's room. It was early in the evening and the other three Beatles were nowhere to be seen, so George had grabbed the opportunity eagerly and was now going through his friend's suitcase. He felt guilty of course, knowing Paul would be furious if he ever found out, as he had all the right to be. But he didn't feel guilty enough to stop, clean the mess he had created up and go back to his own room, masturbate to a picture of his gorgeous wife and pretend he had never even considered going through Paul's stuff. His curiosity had taken over. So here he was, kneeling on the ground with his hands buried deep into the suitcase, looking for god knows what. He needed to know. And if this was the only way, so be it.

He knew that he could just ask Paul, but how do you ask your mate if he's shagging your other mate? Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't tried to ask both Paul and John, but that had resulted to nothing. Their answer had never been a real answer, a clear yes or no, so this was his only other option. Of course that might have had something to do with the fact George hadn't asked them explicitly enough, but that would be worse, he supposed.

"I'm sorry, Paul" George muttered as he opened a small compartment at the side of the suitcase. It had been almost invisible, so he figured there had to be something good in there. He smirked to himself as his fingers grazed a bunch of condoms and a small container of lube. The last could be seen as evidence, if it wasn't for the fact that he had one too for masturbation purposes and to sometimes use with girls if they so wished, just to make things a little easier. Perhaps Paul used it for that as well. He frowned when he felt something hard and leathery beneath the mass of condoms. When he pulled his hand from the suitcase, he was holding two small leather-bound books. He put one of them on the floor and inspected the more cracked and faded one, understanding Paul used that one more often. There were no letters on the cover, so George opened it on a random page and started flipping through it. At first he thought nothing of it. It was filled with poems and short stories and at first it didn't seem that bad. Until he actually started reading one.

"Oh... fuck." George whispered to himself, staring wide-eyed at the paper. This stuff... was explicit. Paul read erotic poetry? And kinky shit, too. Crossdressing, spanking, voyeurism and... homoeroticism. George stared blankly at the paper, his eyes still reading the words and he couldn't stop himself from doing so, being too transfixed.

He had been too transfixed by what he was reading, that he hadn't hear two other man coming into the hotel suit, until he had heard a loud bang on the door. His heart sped up and his whole body went rigid as he quickly threw all of Paul's stuff back into the suitcase, making sure he put the two little books in there as well. He didn't want Paul to get suspicious. He could hear his friend laugh at the other side of the door as he talked to someone else, who George supposed was John. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it sounded like it wasn't meant to be heard by anyone else except them two. When George heard the doorknob turn, he quickly raised to his feet and scurried into a closet in pure panic.

He had only just shut the closet, and the door to the room swung open and John and Paul's voices grew louder. Paul was still laughing, calling John names as they stumbled through the room, which made George wonder if they were drunk. He held his breath, knowing that if he got caught now he'd be done for. There was no way to explain what he did hiding in Paul's closet for without making it seem like he was either a freak or doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. And he'd rather not have Paul know he had went through his stuff and found... that.

He closed his eyes and tried to slow his heartbeat down and make as little noise as possible as he listened closely to what was going on outside. Paul's laughter had died down to giggles and John was mumbling something to him in a soft voice, which George couldn't understand. It sounded muffled, making it clear that something was going on that made it difficult for him to talk. Curiosity taking over once again, George pressed lightly against the door of the closet, allowing himself to see through a slight crack. He almost gasped when he saw John and Paul, standing close, far too close actually, in the middle of the room, still stumbling further inside towards the bed. Paul was still giggling and had his hands in John's hair, stroking it and pulling at it lightly as John had his face buried in Paul's neck, his hands on Paul's waist as he pushed at him, forcing him to move.