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Jordan rested his head on Maxwell’s shoulder, tracing patterns into the bare chest of his lover as the light of dawn filtered in through the window of the hotel room they were currently in. This was his favourite part of touring, aside from the actual shows- The mornings that they got to spend after sleeping hard from the energy used to make the concerts good, where they would just bask in each others’ presence.
The object of his affections, however, had his left hand tangled in the short curls that belonged to the vocalist. He kept his deep brown gaze fixed on Jordan, watching him as he wrapped the soft brown strands of hair around his fingers. It was quiet, peaceful, wrapped in the warm embrace of the man who they called their lover. That is, until-
“Did you just draw a dick on me?” Maxwell asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile as he held back a laugh. Jordan’s head shot up, a look of innocence plastered over his face. “...No.” He said, even as a smirk touched his lips. That was the look of a man guilty of his crimes, and no one could convince him otherwise.
“Uh huh. See, you say these things, but you’ve got a criminal record of drawing dicks on me.” Max couldn’t help but grin softly, sitting up in the bed and pulling his lover against his chest. “You’ve got no proof.” The vocalist argued, quickly flattening his palm over the other man’s shoulder. “What’re you hiding there then, huh? Wait, no, let me guess- The detailed drawing of your dick that you put there?”
Jordan pressed his lips together, avoiding making any sort of eye contact with Maxwell. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such foul acts!” He feigned shock and betrayal, placing his free hand on his sternum- All the while, dropping the back of his head on the bassist’s shoulder and sitting perfectly in the crook of his arm. “It’s not wrong to accuse you of it if it’s true, my love.” He murmured in response, burying his lips in his lover’s hair.