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Roger’s hair smelled of cheap hotel conditioner and men's cologne. Pete knew this because his nose was pressed right into those soft curls. They were sleeping together, it was Roger’s idea but Pete couldn’t decline it. Roger was warm and his strong arms wrapped around his thin body were extremely comforting, like the stress was being slowly squeezed out of him. It helped him sleep a little better, even though he’d been awake – he glanced at the clock on the nightstand – about 45 minutes after Roger had fallen asleep. Nothing but him, his thoughts, a body in his arms and a golden mane under his nose.
His body and mind were tired, with another show behind them. The wild buzz from it had simmered down, Roger’s voice that had brought it to a roiling boil had also calmed him down with a request of a shower and sharing a bed afterwards. On stage his voice was commanding and laced with enough energy to get the entire venue high. After the show he went back to sounding much softer, but just as commanding. At least, when it was directed fully towards Pete, refusing it then felt impossible
Not that he wanted to refuse. He didn’t want to ask for it either, though. This way he wouldn’t accidentally overstep, ask for too much and lose whatever they had.
Pete took a lock of Roger's hair and gently stretched it out before letting it bounce back into a loose curl. If there was a benefit to staying up, it was this, free access to mess around with Roger’s hair. Not that Roger would’ve refused Pete messing around with it, but it was once again a matter of not wanting to ask for it. He took another lock and moved his hand to make it look like a bouncing spring.
After a minute or two he decided to bury his hand in that golden mess. It was incredibly fluffy and so soft now that it was freshly washed.
“Mhhn, ya need to sleep, love,” Roger’s voice was groggy from sleep and muffled due his face being pressed against Pete’s neck
“So do you, go back to sleep,”
“No no, you first,” He squeezed Pete and gave a soft kiss to his throat. Christ, Roger was really out to get him.
Perhaps sensing his anguish, Roger started running his fingers up and down Pete’s spine. It comforted and drove him wild simultaneously. Roger was really good at doing that to him.
“C’mon, close your eyes and relax,” Roger continued.
Pete grumbled and mushed his face into Roger’s hair. For once he didn’t have a good counterargument.
“I’m not going to-” a yawn “sleep until you do,” they both knew who could stay up longer if push came to shove but it was too late to start arguing about it. Roger was already falling back asleep, his hand ceasing its movement, though he still stroked Pete’s shoulderblade with his thumb.
Roger was right though, about the sleep. But Pete’s just glad that he had the sense to be gentle about it, whatever they had had made him gentler about most things. He was still assertive the way he used to be, but his first reaction to conflict wasn’t to go at it hackles raised anymore. Not that Pete was much better about that before. Like two cocks on a dunghill, they were. Still could be, when they were both in the mood to be stubborn. He doubted they could ever reach the harmony that John and Keith seemed to have. But this was good enough for now. He got to hold Roger when asked to, he got kisses when Roger was in the mood for them. It was all good enough…
~
Pete woke up with his face still half-buried in Roger’s hair. He wasn’t entirely sure what time it was but judging by the light coming in through the window he’d slept enough to get by.
“G’morning, love,” Roger mumbled into his throat. Pete muttered something resembling “morning” back to him.
“Sorry to leave you just after you woke up, but I’ve really got to piss,” Roger began dislodging himself from Pete, who made a noise somewhere between a grumble and a whine. Roger simply ruffled his hair and left to take care of business. He shuffled over to Roger’s spot on the bed, enjoying the residual warmth while he rubbed his eyes. After that he stretched and writhed on the bed, hearing his joints pop after hours of being in the same position. Feeling properly stretched out, he rolled over and stuffed his face against Roger’s pillow. He didn’t want the morning to start, for them to get ready and pack their things and eat breakfast before heading out on the road. Leaving the hotel room meant acting normal, like there was nothing between them. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
But before he could dwell on that too much Roger exited the bathroom.
Pete looked at Rogers' bare body as he stretched and strolled over to his suitcase. He was gorgeous, tanned and well-muscled, the warmth of the sun personified. It was almost embarrassing how just looking at him could get Pete going.
He glanced at the clock.
“You know,” he started, and switched positions to prop himself up on his elbow, hopefully in a way that came off as seductive. Roger turned his head to look back at him and most of his confidence flew right out the window.
“There’s still time, before we have to leave,” he couldn’t maintain eye contact for that entire sentence but hoped he’d made himself clear enough.
Then, the bed dipped and Pete looked up to see Roger approach him. The morning sun hit his hair, making him look like some sort of sex god that ancient Greeks would have worshipped.
“Oh yeah? Are ya trying to imply something, Townshend?”
“Just thinking about the best ways to use our time, and the bed,”
Roger’s smile could light up a black hole.
“Well we better not waste any time, then,”
