Mclennon Drabbles

Of Hurricanes and Mishaps

A loud knock came from outside the bedroom door.

John's heart froze immediately. He mumbled a frantic 'shit' under his breath. It was unlocked.

The boys had been stuck in this hotel for what felt like years, with the wind howling fiercely outside and the threat of hurricane Dora striking childlike fear into their systems.

They all tried to hide it, but even John, born in the midst of his neighborhood being bombed, was secretly scared out of his wits over this. The tour seemed like it was going to absolute shit, with them arguing with these bigoted assholes trying to segregate their audience, and now even Mother Nature caused harsh rain to slam against the windows and rattle them at nights.

They found ways to occupy their minds though, from betting on cards to drinking games to those famous wanking circles making a comeback.

That was a problem as well.

The storm made it difficult for anyone to leave or enter the hotel, and that included the girls.

George particularly had anticipated this stop on their American tour, dreaming about tan, sun kissed bodies and the lack of clothing to cover them up. He'd never get in a good shag though, at this rate. The only decent looking woman he'd encountered within the hotel was a young lady that came in occasionally for room service, and she didn't seem too fascinated with the band's presence in the least.

The lanky guitarist had just finished speaking with Brian and Ringo in the lobby while he scarfed down a blueberry muffin that he'd gotten for breakfast, and now he had to relay the information back to Paul and John. It turns out that the issue over the segregated fans had been resolved without too much of a fuss, and they would still get to play their Florida concert.

George knocked on the bedroom door twice, slightly put off by the silence around him. John and Paul had been watching television when he left, making silly commentary on the actors' performances. Now they were apparently in their room, and not a word was coming from inside.

"Oi, it's me." He said as somewhat of a warning, before swinging open the door.

John didn't have time to cover up the embarrassing clues as to what was about to go down. He was caught; not a thread of fabric on his body and a rather proud erection resting on his stomach as he lay on his back. His mouth dropped and a burning, insanely red color painted it's way onto his cheeks.

It's not that he was embarrassed to be naked in the presence of George, but under these certain circumstances his luck couldn't get much worse. Paul was in the adjoining bathroom, most likely unaware that someone had come in.

George tried to stutter an apology, his hands up in a 'I was never here' kind of way.

"Wha'? Never seen a bloke in the midst of wankin'?" John asked uneasily, the edge in his voice dying out. He tried feebly to cover himself up with the bedsheets, clearing his throat pointedly.

"Um, I'll uh, let you get back to that." The younger boy muttered, taking a step back towards the doorframe.

Something didn't seem all that right to him, especially the fact that John was being so cautious and jumpy about something so common as getting off. He was about to leave, when suddenly, he remembered why he came up here in the first place.

"Oh, John- I just had a talk with Eppy, says they've worked out everything and-"

"Get out." John said quickly, interrupting him mid-sentence after hearing the sound of the bathroom doorknob rattling, about to open.

"But Bri said t-"

"Out!" John barked, panic-stricken.

It was far too late. Paul came from the bathroom with a bright smile, bottle of lotion in hand and unashamedly bare.