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Freddie was well acquainted with touring life at this point. Therefore, he knew that with the highs, came the lows. Right now, he was definitely experiencing the latter category. He gave his all last night, thrashing about the stage and practically throwing out his voice, which just keeps getting more and more tired now that they are well into the tour.
His foul mood is not improving in the slightest. Not only does his whole body ache, but the hotel they are staying in is far from ideal. They are currently somewhere deep in the middle of America, God knows why they even came here. The hotel choices were detrimentally low, considering there weren’t many options to begin with. Everything creaked, it was cramped, and the furniture was atrocious. Well… at least there was a bar, albeit a small one.
“Clearly, coming here was a mistake.” Freddie murmured, fidgeting with his half empty glass. He throws in a sigh, hoping to probe Roger into letting him rant.
Roger shifts his gaze from the dreary wall, back over to his friend. “What makes you think that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Freddie rolled his eyes back a bit, slightly irritated that Roger was not admitting to what was so clearly obvious. “Are you not dreadfully bored of this place? We have been stuck here forever now, doing absolutely nothing.” he said, with a glance towards the window, watching the snow come down.
“Fred, it has been a day.” He reminded him, with a somewhat exasperated chuckle. “ Besides, it makes more sense to travel when the snow storm is over. We don’t have a show for a couple of days yet anyways, an extra night here won't kill you.” Although, he could see where Freddie was coming from, what he would give for a change of scenery.
Of course Freddie knew he had a point. However, he had a right to be self-indulgently miserable once in a while, right? A quiet cough made them both turn their heads. “Sorry to interrupt, but the bar is closing in ten minutes.” the bartender said, walking away before they even had the chance to reply. Roger looked at his watch, it was not even 1:00 AM yet.
“Ha, I guess even the bars are lame here.” Freddie remarked with an almost melodious, yet sarcastic laugh. However, Roger could see a bit of a spark in his eyes. Which told him that in a way, the older man found enjoyment in discovering yet another scenario that would allow him to express his dramatics.
“We should find something to do, anything really.” Freddie said, gulping down what was left of his drink.
“Well, if you want to wander the snowy streets at 1:00 AM, unlikely to come across a place any less boring than here, go right ahead.” He replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Freddie side-eyed him, before his expression turned playful. “Oh, but you are always up for a good time dear. So why not add getting lost in a blizzard to your list?” He said jokingly, with a quick nudge.
However, Freddie’s expression soon returned to its prior stance.“But seriously, how could you even suggest walking around in the first place? Do you have any idea how sore I am from that show last night? It takes a lot to move around the stage like that you know.”
“Well fine… go on and tell me how sore you are then.” Roger retorted back, indulging him a bit.
“Probably more sore than you have ever been darling.” Freddie said with a smirk.
“Oi, What do you think I am doing behind the drum set, just kicking back and watching you perform?” he replied with a grin. “I’ll have you know that drumming is extremely taxing, thank you very much.” both are laughing away now, perhaps the alcohol was starting to make things funnier than they actually were.
“So Fred, what do you say we take some drinks up to the room and get shit-faced there then? Wouldn’t want to add hypothermia to your list of grievances eh?” he remarked with a friendly pat to the older man’s back.
Roger heard him gasp “God, not shit-faced. If I add a hang-over to that list of grievances you’re on about, I might as well be done for. Just tipsy is perfectly fine, I should think.” He added, in full theatrical mode now.
“Come on drama queen, let’s go.” Roger responded rolling his eyes affectionately.
Freddie watched as Roger requested a couple more drinks and gave the bartender a nice tip. With one last glance around at the small, dimly lit bar, he begrudgingly stood up to make the trip to the upstairs hotel room.
The floor creaked with every step they took. There was also a bit of a chill in the air, he suspected the heating system probably wasn’t the most spectacular in this old place. What he wouldn’t give to be back home in London right now.
It feels as though it took forever to make it to the room. However, in reality it was probably under five minutes. Damn these sore muscles, he really needs to be more mindful of how hard he thrashes himself about on stage. Or at least stretch properly prior to going on. But hey, where is the fun in that?
The hotel room is just as drab as the rest of the place, which is no surprise. However, what does surprise him is the fact that all the plumbing works as it should… so at least there’s that.
Freddie heads straight for the bed and flops down onto it with a sigh. It feels good to be off of his feet again, sprawling out in order to stretch his muscles.
“I think you have been spending too much time with your cats mate. It’s scary how much you remind me of them right now.” Freddie sits up on his elbows and throws him a playful glare. “Fuck off will you. Give me that.” he replied, referring to the drink in Roger’s hand. He obliges, sitting down next to him on the bed.
“So if you really are in that much pain, why don’t you get a massage or something?” Roger said, taking a sip, staring at the other man over his glass.
“Well darling, I’m not the one who has a personal masseuse at his beck and call now am I?” Freddie snorts. “Besides, it’s past one in the morning now. I may be Freddie Mercury but I am not a magician. No spas are open at this hour.”
“Not likely to have one around here anyway.” Roger replied. Perhaps they are being a bit too harsh on this place. After all, the crowd was lovely last night. Too bad they all happen to live in a culture vacuum.
He reaches over, putting his glass on the nightstand so he can situate himself against the headboard. “Well… looks like you will just have to attempt to give yourself one. I sure wish I could find a way to give myself one.” he said, pondering for a moment.
“Give yourself what dear? A massage or a blow-job?” Freddie replied, wagging his eyebrows jokingly.
“A massage you twat.” Roger said with a pointed stare. Too tired and tipsy to realize how easy it would be for the other man to make an innuendo off of what he just said.
“Well the way you worded it-”
“Anyways.” Roger said, cutting him off. “I just wish I could give myself a massage because I have certainly learned a thing or two from my masseuse. It would definitely help my shoulders, which have been aching since last night's show.” He stared at Freddie with his famous cheeky grin, almost daring him to argue against it.
However, that typical banter never came. A few seconds went by, and Roger watched as Freddie’s expression changed.
He seems to be working something out in his head. He can tell because he’s seen that particular expression a countless amount of times over the years, usually in the studio.
He has come to notice a certain pattern Freddie seems to follow, likely unknowingly. Usually when some sort of music related issue arises. First, he tilts his head down a bit, and then he narrows his eyebrows, keeping his lips pressed tightly together.
“What is it?” He questioned.
“Oh nothing, nothing.” Freddie responded. A bit too furtively to be nothing in Roger’s opinion. But that much he could tell from just his body language anyways.
“Come on, tell me.” Roger said, making another attempt.
Freddie keeps his eyes trained on the wall in front of him, hesitating for a moment before responding.
“Well.. I was just going to ask if-” He takes a breath. “No, that would be a strange thing to ask, nevermind dear.” he replies, shaking his head a bit, tracing the rim of his glass with his fingertip.
Roger thought back on what he said, prior to getting distracted by his own train of thought. Oh, now he realizes. “Are you trying to ask me if I’d give you a massage Fred?” Roger almost laughed. What was with all the inner turmoil anyways? over something as simple as that.
Roger attempted to search his eyes, trying to find some sort of clue as to why Freddie’s guard seemed to be up.
“I- yes. I mean I-” Freddie finally shifts his gaze back over to Roger’s eyes.
“Sure, why not? Roger cut him off. “But you owe me.” he added with a wink. Trying to ease Freddie out of this peculiar behavioral shift. What was so strange about it anyways, he has received loads of massage’s (given them as well). I guess… maybe not to another man before but-
“Okay so, where do you want me?” Freddie asks. Roger thought about it for a moment. Then patted the space in front of him. “Come sit in front of me.”
Freddie did not want to admit it, not even to himself. But, a part of him has been dying to find out what it would feel like to have Roger’s hands on him in a not so platonic way.
That fleeting thought fills him with both guilt and excitement. A massage would certainly offer him a taste of that sensation.
However, the idea of using a massage, which Roger so kindly agreed to give him, in order to fulfill some sort of twisted hidden desire…
Well, he would positively die of embarrassment if the other man found out. God… he needs to get over himself, because surely he will be found out if he keeps faltering like this.
With that realization, Freddie quickly stands up. He puts his drink next to Roger’s on the nightstand, moving to the spot he had indicated.
Not a few seconds later, he feels Roger’s hands find their place on his shoulders. His fingers begin to slowly knead the muscles there.
Freddie took a deep breath in, before his eyes fluttered shut.
It took every ounce of his self-restraint to not sigh when he felt the other man’s hands moving on him. He should really do something. Preferably before he finds himself letting out any embarrassing sounds.
Luckily, he doesn’t have to come up with anything because Roger speaks before he has the chance to. “This feel okay? Let me know if it starts to be too much, I wouldn't want to further aggravate your pain.” He said with a chuckle, beginning to knead his shoulder blades with more pressure.
Freddie lets out a low groan, completely unable to help himself. Oh shit. I guess he couldn’t manage to control himself for even a minute.
He drops his head forward a bit, focusing on the way Roger’s hands were navigating his back. Alternating between large circular motions, and smaller, more focused movements with his thumb.
“Fred?” his voice cuts in, interrupting Freddies focus.
“No offense darling, but please… don’t talk.” he lets out in a breathy voice.
“Well then, guess I'll take that as a yes.” Roger replied.
Even without glancing behind him, Freddie can tell he has that cheeky grin on his face. The thought of it makes his lips curl up into a half-smile.
Freddie feels Roger’s hands move down to his lower back. He is all of a sudden keenly aware of the hot breath on his neck. He also begins to take notice of how warm his hands felt, as the shirt he was wearing was incredibly thin. This was not going to end well for him, was it?
No matter how much he tried to prevent it, Freddie’s heart rate was speeding up. It was causing his breath to come out considerably laboured. Why was a simple massage having this kind of effect on him? Deep down, he knew the answer. However, that didn't mean he wanted to face it.
Roger’s movements feel agonizingly good, the perfect combination of attentiveness and effort, really. It is quite difficult to prevent his thoughts from venturing where they shouldn’t be going. “Mmmhm Roger.” he let out in a low, breathy voice.
Roger hesitated for a moment before moving closer to Freddie’s ear. “Yeah?” He questioned, his breath tickling him. It made Freddie squirm.
Oh hell, screw trying to prevent dirty thoughts from entering his mind.
Was Roger intentionally trying to fluster him? Or was that just wishful thinking? He doesn’t really get the chance to dwell on those questions though… because suddenly, he feels fingertips inching their way up, underneath his shirt.
Freddie froze for a second, before giving in to the sensation. He can feel the goosebumps rising on his skin as Roger’s nails scratch up and down his back. He leans into his strokes, letting out a couple of quiet moans.
He can hear Roger’s breath getting heavier as his hands move lower and rest on his bare hips. Oh my God is this happening?
Freddie can feel him leaning in, even closer. He waits with bated breath, longing for more.
One of Roger’s hands leaves his waist, in order to slowly brush his hair aside. He leans in towards the side of his neck.
Freddie can feel Roger’s rapid breath, hesitating there for a moment. The anticipation is killing him now. Arsehole is probably keeping the slow pace on purpose.
But before Freddie has the chance to do something rash, he feels a pair of warm lips press a not so chaste kiss there. Freddie whispers the other man’s name, he couldn’t help it. This was so much better than he could’ve imagined it would be.
The combination of Roger’s hands and lips on his bare skin sends him reeling. He also begins to realize that his tight trousers aren’t doing much to conceal his growing erection. Shit, that will surely be quite obvious.
Roger continues on kissing his neck, occasionally adding in some tongue as well.
Freddie reaches a trembling hand behind him, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of the other man’s head. Grasping it tightly, pulling on it a bit when Roger finds a particularly sensitive area.
“God, Freddie.” Roger murmurs, as he pulls back just enough to get the words out.
Hearing Roger utter his name like that sends the rest of his blood rushing straight to his groin. He is pretty sure Roger notices his excitement, because the hand that is still resting on his hip starts to move in towards his stomach, aiming downwards, stopping when it reaches the waistband of his trousers.
After a moment, Freddie realizes he is probably waiting for some sort of permission from him. “Please.” He breathes out.
That does the trick, because then Roger’s hand continues its descent.
Freddie’s mouth drops open, sucking in a harsh breath when he feels the other man’s hand rub over his cloth-covered dick.
All of a sudden, he is desperate to look at Roger, realizing he hasn’t done so at all since this whole venture began. He quickly rotates his body, to face him. Which unfortunately makes it so Roger has to pull his hand away from his groin.
But it’s worth it, God what a sight. He looks just as flustered as Freddie feels. He takes in his darkened gaze, filled to the brim with desire.
Roger lifts his hand up to brush Freddie’s hair back, before allowing it to rest on his cheek. His eyes flicker down to the other man’s lips.
Freddie takes in a shuddering breath, parting his lips as Roger begins to lean in closer.
He closes his eyes as Roger’s warm lips tentatively make contact with his own. Freddie wants to commit the feeling to his memory forever.
Roger pulls back a bit, Freddie can no longer read the other man’s expression. However, he hasn’t loosened the hold on his cheek, so that’s a good sign. He can’t remember ever wanting somebody this much before…
He runs his hand up Roger’s chest, up to the base of his neck, leaning in to close the distance once again.
Freddie sighs into the kiss, which seems to encourage Roger to deepen it.
However, before he really has a chance to get into it, Roger swiftly pulls his head back.
Freddie thinks he is able to recognize his expression now… it’s inner conflict. His hand finds the other man’s shirt collar and starts to fidget with it, not wanting to be the first to pull away completely, just in case he is misreading things.
Roger’s hand slides away from where it was resting on his cheek, shifting his guilt-ridden eyes away from him.
So, unfortunately, Freddie had not misread anything. He wishes he could curl up inside himself and disappear. Instead, he has to settle for just turning away from the other man. He scoots to the side of the bed and places his feet on the floor.
Aside from the sound of both of them trying to calm their irregular breathing, you could hear a pin drop in the silence that surrounded the room. Both attempting to process what just happened.
The silence was growing to be extremely uncomfortable… that was a first for them.
“Freddie.” Roger said, breaking the silence.“I- I don’t.. I’m not..” He stutters, not really knowing what to say.
Freddie crosses one leg over the other, attempting to conceal his erection. For some reason, he now found it to be embarrassing… which was completely ridiculous considering he knew full well roger was aware of it, considering where his hand had been just moments ago…
“I’m sorry” Freddie murmurs, not really knowing how to deal with the emotions bubbling up inside him. The lint on his trousers suddenly became quite interesting.
Roger narrows his eyebrows. Why was he the one apologizing? He wasn’t the one who put an awkward stop to their actions…hell, he wasn’t even the one who began it all in the first place.
“Christ Fred-” He started, taking in a steadying breath. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who, well… you know. But I-” He struggles to explain himself. Which isn’t a surprise considering he has no idea what made him do what he did, he just wanted to. But he can’t possibly-
“But you… what?’ Freddie offers, chancing a glance in the other man’s direction.
“I don’t know” Roger whispers.
Freddie doesn’t respond to that. He wants to be upset with him but… how could he be mad when he understood exactly how Roger was feeling?
Roger glances between the other man and the door. “Look, Freddie… It's late, and I don’t think either of us are really in a position to think about this coherently right now. I’m gonna head back to my room now and… get some sleep, okay?”
“Right.” Freddie mutters, both trying, and failing to hide the dejection in his voice.
Roger reaches towards the other man, giving him a friendly, comforting squeeze on his shoulder. It is a gesture they have shown each other countless times, only… tonight it meant a whole lot more.
It was a reassurance. A reassurance that they would be able to work through this totally unpredictable development in their relationship somehow… just not right this moment. They both needed some time on their own to process what had just happened.
“Night then.”
Freddie waits for the door to close before lying back down on the bed, running a hand through his hair…not being able to control the bittersweet smile that slowly appeared on his face.