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It was always nice to have those few occasions to actually sleep in a hotel bed. The extra day or two in a new place to at least have half a day or half an evening to lie down in a bed was a godsend. Sure, tour buses had gotten better, but you can’t beat an actual bed.
Especially if it was just after a show. The high of the performance was still lingering, even after an hour or two of getting themselves together before heading back. They had their separate rooms now, but even as Dave washed up and looked around his empty place save for a few strewn pieces of clothing, it felt empty. He thought for a moment, getting dressed and rifling through his wallet to find the extra card key to Martin’s room. Kind of amazing how easy it is to get another room key these days.
The said blond was already in bed, earphones in, lying on top of the covers dressed down in something more comfortable than his glittery plaid. Sure, the tank top was the one with him on it but to be fair, it was loose and cozy, and laying against about eight pillows was making him fall asleep rather quick.
The door clicked open, then closed, both unbeknownst to the blond. Dave didn’t call out a hello, noticing the bathroom free and figured he was out lounging. Seeing him lay there in bed, though, made him smile, and remained quiet, taking off his shoes near the bathroom door before walking slowly to the foot of the bed.
Martin stirred, sensing the weight shift on the bed, only opening his eyes when something physically pushed his legs apart and the shifting weight continued up to his waist. He looked down, startled but started to laugh, Dave simply grinning back as he rested his chin on the other’s chest, breathing out in content.
“Evening,” he popped an earphone out, yawning.
“It was a good one, for sure,” Dave said back, nestling his cheek against Martin’s chest and breathing out again, arms up to place his hands on the other’s waist in as lazy of a hug as he could muster.
Martin nodded, smiling. “You’re going to get glitter all over your face, I put a bit too much on before and didn’t quite get everywhere afterwards.”
Dave shrugged, “I’ve gotten glitter in worse places, I know you by now, don’t really care, you know?”
“I do, I’m just politely reminding.”
Martin began to reach over to the side for his iPod, Dave catching a glance and reaching it before him, looking at the album cover. There was a slight scrunch-up of his face and he picked up the other earphone bud and set it in his ear to listen.
“Faith In Strangers, Andy Stott,” Martin said quietly, as the last song ended, and the next began, the quiet hits of bass and the louder quartet of chords before the breathy singing of a female voice. “Violence.”
Dave was still listening, keeping the earphone in as he sat up slightly, moving up more of Martin’s form, face to face. The blond’s heart jumped a beat, still relaxed, the light from the nightstand still making the room well-dim enough to let the moment sink around just the music and the singer above him. And one that wasn’t doing anything yet. It was making him anxious, another beat of his heart that seemed almost in time with the slow beat of the song. Lingering like every memory that was suddenly blinking through his mind of the two together, and the concerts where they didn’t lounge for an hour but would hide away into an empty room, corner, anywhere suitable to press their bodies to each other and try to literally fuck the performance high out. But there was alcohol involved, drugs involved, and how they suddenly felt so vivid was astounding. But they were both sober now, it should be feeling different, yet as the bass slowly rose, Dave leaned in, and almost on queue at the drop, pressed his lips to Martin’s.
He felt like melting then and there. The blond shivered at the timing; the beat was still slow, but heavy and heated, and Dave was doing a damn good job in matching it. His eyes closed, hands in his dark, towel-dried hair, legs bending up and trying to curl around him even more as he kissed him back fervently. There was a slow roll of Dave’s lower half against Martin’s and it made him breathe in suddenly, that only gave permission to the singer’s tongue, one hand heavy on the blond’s hip as the other moved into the tight curls atop his head.
It was all in rhythm and driving Martin insane. Dave hadn’t heard the song before, had he? He couldn’t be doing this on the fly, his thoughts blanking out at another brush of his body against his own and it made him moan against Dave’s mouth, heat pooling on his face and nearly everywhere else as it began to center at his pelvis.
The pounding bass subdued itself, and Dave broke the kiss, the two of them panting, his cheek against the blond’s. Martin’s head lulled back, murmuring nothings as the kisses were instead against his neck.
But the song picked up again, and Martin felt teeth against his skin and another slow grind between his legs, biting his lower lip and groaning at the sensation. Nip after nip along his artery and Martin felt like his nails would peel the tattoo off of Dave’s back with how hard he was scratching into the skin.
The beat tapered down, and the end fell, Dave feeling over for the iPod to pause it. Martin whispered a small ‘fuck’ and it made the singer chuckle.
“I was enjoying that,” he purred against his neck, making sure he didn’t mark anything. “Hadn’t heard it before… it felt good,” he leaned up on his elbows, “I know you were in the middle of listening to the album, but could I play it again?”
As adverse as he was to the idea in general, he nodded, pulling the earphone out from Dave’s ear and then his own, unplugging the entire pair from the little music player. “The newer models have a pretty good speaker built in, shame the little dock doesn’t work, but, oh well, I suppose you,” breathe, “you can’t win them all.”
They smiled to each other, and Dave played the song again.