Comfort

Part Eight

After a rather awkward and uncomfortable flight, Queen arrived in Fukuoka, Japan, two days before their first of two shows. They were staying in a decent hotel, with good service, but Freddie always found something to complain about. This time it was the hotel shampoo (which he didn't even use), which he said it smelled like a warm, disgusting beer that had been mixed with hot sauce. Brian, Roger, and John had no idea what that even smelled like.

Nonetheless, even with Freddie's constant criticism, their first two days in Japan were splendid.

Brian and Roger decided it best to tone down the PDA around their bandmates, as John had trouble even being on the same floor with them. They were going to try and keep things quiet and peaceful in their room, to the point where John didn't even think anything was going on anymore.

"What makes you think they're done with each other, dear?" Freddie was standing in front of the mirror, messing with his hair, while John was flopped down on his bed.

"I haven't heard any.. sounds.. from their room."

Freddie paused to look at John's reflection in the mirror. "And so you're basing your conclusion solely on what you've heard? Darling, be reasonable! With three kids, you and Ronnie ought to know how to keep things quiet in the bedroom."

John rolled his eyes. Sometimes he hated just how honest and blunt Freddie could be. "Well nothing appears to be out of the ord-"

"Trust me, Deaky, this is far from over. I wouldn't be surprised if they saw each other a few times in the last month." Freddie continued to fix his hair, speaking nonchalantly as if they were discussing movies or music, and not their two friend's relationship.

"So you're not going to do anything about it?"

"Not a thing, dear. I say we just let them work it out. If they want our help they'll come to us." Freddie turned around, now happy with how his hair lay. "Have you seen the way Roger looks at Brian? There's a lot more going on there that meets the eye."

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Grazing over Roger's skin with his teeth, Brian paused to kiss the spot below the drummer's ear. Working his way down to his collarbone, Brian kissed and nipped at every sensitive spot, knowing each patch of skin that would elicit the most unique sounds. Roger was pressed harder against the wall when he felt Brian's crotch push against his upper thigh, slowly beginning to grind against the younger man. Hands roamed beneath shirts, feeling burning, sweaty skin, and it was as if they hadn't spent all their energy on the show just five minutes prior.

Tangled up in each other's shirts, Roger pushed them back to the couch, climbing on top of Brian and quickly beginning his assault on the guitarist's lips. They kissed until they both hardly breath, then again, and again, and yet again. Roger quickly got bored of this and moved to unfasten the button of Brian's pants, when there was a loud knock on the door.

"Brian! You've got a phone call!"

Letting out an exasperated groan, Roger tried to continue by capturing Brian's lips with his own but it was no use. Brian sat up, gently pushing Roger away while muttering apologies. The drummer wanted this now, while the adrenaline from the show was still flowing, when they wouldn't be tired by the time they made it back to the hotel. But alas, a stupid phone call got in their way.

Brian picked up the phone on the coffee table, pressed 3, and was connected to his wife. Watching as they talked, Roger could feel the mood slipping further and further away, knowing their fun was over for tonight. Sighing, he sat back on the couch, adjusting his shirt and fixing his hair. He didn't really mind the fact that he wouldn't get laid tonight; it was more about the fact that he wanted to make every second count. In less than a month he would be home, and most likely spending half of his time trying to figure out excuses he could use to get out of the house to go meet Brian.