I love writing challenges, you have no idea.
Title: Pestering For Some Sweets
Chapter: None
Rating: R
Pairings: Pete/Roger
Time Period: 1970
Word Count: 3,850
Disclaimer: I will never own the Who and if I did, the band would hate me forever.
Summary: Keith pesters Pete to buy Halloween candy, which would turn out to have fabulous results.
--
Brightly colored pieces of foil-wrappers lay scattered on the floor. These small bits were illuminated by the low lights in the room. A man was curled up, bent upon the chair like a building’s structure. A large basket was placed upon perched knees, its shape in the form of a pumpkin. Every so often, a hand would reach inside the basket, fingers prying at the contents of the basket.
It was Roger Daltrey that lay curled on the chair, his blond corkscrew hair falling over his eyes and shoulders. His fingers would extract the items that he was munching on, savoring each piece he devoured. While popping pieces of chocolate into his mouth, he was virtually oblivious to his surroundings. He was more preoccupied with the task of fulfilling his sweet tooth by gorging on this candy he was possessing.
An amorphous feeling was right at the back of his mind. Wasn’t he supposed to be doing something else other then fill himself up with pointless calories and sugar? He was also supposed to be doing something other then eat the candy. He might have guessed that maybe he was not supposed to be eating it, rather passing it out to the locals that stopped by his house; the fashionable holiday of Halloween was in town, the streets bustling with trick-or-treaters.
‘I wish I could do this everyday,’ Roger thought in contempt.
“Y’know, that’s not why we bought that candy.”
Roger was certainly not ready for a voice to so unrepentantly jolt him from his happy stupor. He was definitely not expecting to jump up, nearly scream, thrusting the large bucket of candy outward, scattering the colorful bits all over the floor. He did most not want to fall off the chair, contacting the floor rather roughly. It was also the fact that there was no dignified way to rise from all of this.
“You know, you can warn me next time,” Roger said, his voice dusting with nervousness and jitters.
“Where would the fun in that be? Besides, you looked adorable curled up on the couch.
Roger huffed in annoyance and set about the task of gathering up the small pieces of candy. Pete stood in the doorway, his eyes glazed with amusement at Roger’s shuffling and uneasiness. Pete had been looking for the candy to start loading it into the bowl, but strangely, he could not locate any of the bags he had bought. After shifting through cabinets, the fridge, Keith’s room (Moonie was a likely candidate because he knew the boy would use them in some elaborate plan to cause destruction), he had finally given up. But remembering a time when he had caught Roger trying to subtly take it, he had his culprit.
Halloween was something that Pete did not want to participate in. Under the constant badgering and annoying complaints of their dear Keith, Pete was soon obligated to buy candy. According to Moonie, Halloween was never complete without the festivities of candy. Keith had also tried to order Pete to dress up in a fashionable costume. Pete stared at Keith, who just beamed back at him.
“No.”
“Ah, come on, Petey!” Keith whined.
“No Keith. What purpose does that have, other you trying to use it as blackmail in the future?”
Keith pouted. “Don’t be so stiff. Just have some fun with it.”
Pete still would not ease into Keith’s usual puppy-dog eyes and whining. Keith stared at Pete, trying to find a way of getting Pete to agree. He just huffed. “Well, just get the candy and come back here.” Pete watched, as Keith turned around watched as Keith nearly stomped off, his bodily language confirming his attitude. Before Keith was completely out of earshot, he then nearly yelled, “And get a lot of chocolate!”
--
Pete found himself at the store, staring down rows of candy in the aisle he was in. Pete, not usually one of go shopping, was confused at what to get. He had never gone shopping for much, candy not being one of those items. He viewed going to the store as getting the necessary items for survival, not food items that would cause cavities and tooth decay. Sky-blue eyes peered at the different brands of candy and different mixes.
‘How does Keith expect me to get something if I don’t know exactly what to get?’ Pete thought, frustration around the edges. The brightly colored and assorted bags were lying on the shelves, each calling out to Pete to buy them, that he would not regret it. Now it was not the fact that Pete could probably buy out the store’s candy supply, but that would be stingy to the other paying customers, he just was not sure if Keith would approve of them. After moments of frustration, Pete thought, ‘Fuck it, I’ll get random ones.’
Pete ventured down the aisle, swiping bags in all directions, chocolate, hard-candy, gum, taffy, peppermints, some mystery flavors, popsicles, anything. He got many curious looks to why his buggy was brewing with loads of candy and bags. Pete ventured to the checkout aisle, receiving a curious glance. It felt like hours of scanning and checking and the cashier finally looked at the price, her eyes widening a fraction.
“That’ll be $590.79, sir.”
Pete flipped out his wallet that he never really carried around with him, slapping down almost 600 dollars. “Keep the change,” he said quickly, wanting to get out of there as fast as he could. In the parking lot, he received almost the same attention as he had before. Pete shoved all of it in the trunk, no care at all. He got home and Keith was immediately there to greet him. Before Keith could utter anything, his eyes inflated at the amount of sweets Pete had brought home.
“Whoa,” was all Keith could say. Keith dove for all the candy that Pete had, but knowing and anticipating this, the guitarist had sidestepped and Keith crashed to the ground. He rolled over on his backside and glared. “Hey, I was goin’ for that.”
“Nuh-uh,” Pete says, waggling a finger. “This is for Halloween, seeing that it’s almost a week away, you’ll have to wait.”
“Come on, Pete! Just some? I mean, really, look at all that; surely you can spare some?”
“No exceptions.” Pete’s voice was firm, but it dazzled in some amusement.
--
Ever since then, Pete had to keep a watchful eye on the cupboards, lest he forget that Keith had been prowling there since Pete brought home the candy. Keith would try to reach for it, hoping to be under the radar of Pete’s hawk gaze. He would nearly succeed, to only have Pete deliberately appear beside him. Keith swore that Pete had some hidden devise in the house that went off whenever Keith approached it.
Keith tried everything for that candy. The first thing he tried was using the ‘puppy-dog that just got kicked‘ look. That failed almost immediately. He would settle in trying to steal it. When that failed, he tried doing many good services, for only Pete to see through it. Next, he tried to distract Pete so he could get away. When everything else failed, he turned around and gave a big mega-watt smile to John, their bassist.
“Hey John?” Keith said, calling out in the vicinity for John.
John hummed a noise of acknowledgment. Keith looked around; scouting out the territory to make sure Pete was missing from their current conversation.
“I got a favor for you to do--”
“If it’s about getting the candy that Pete brought home, then no.” John said without looking away from his magazine.
Keith stood dumbfounded. “But how did you know--”
“Pete already told me the day he brought it home, saying, “If Keith tries to ask you for the candy, tell ‘im no, the lad will try any bloody trick to get into that candy.’”
Keith’s mouth nearly dropped. He was foiled again. Keith would not resort to bombing the covered since it would be excessively obvious and no way to avoid the loud and thundering tenor that would accompany the blast. He finally sighed and felt more dread because Halloween was only a mere four days away.
‘Four days too many,’ Keith thought, finally giving up. He would just have to wait out those days, unfortunately.
--
Over the next few days, it was horrible for Keith. He wanted that chocolate and he wanted it now. He moped around the house, moaning about how displeased he was with the current situation. John would shake his head, telling the younger boy to just relax and wait.
Another ray of light had come into Keith’s mind. It was in the form of Roger, who happened to be lazing about with nothing to do, standing off in the corner of a chair, thumbing through the current and trendy teenage magazine. The sight of Roger flipping through a popular teen magazine sent temporary guffaws through his frame but straightened up. He hadn’t abraded Roger in a while, nor berating him with all of the adventures that he wanted Roger to come along in and be an accessory to the prank.
He slid up to Roger, placing himself beside the blond man. That vague thought that if you never got Roger’s attention, he would remain completely oblivious to one’s actions or advances. He awkwardly placed himself by Roger and stared at him. Finally giving up on waiting for Roger to make a move, Keith reached out and tugged at a curl in Roger’s hair. In the process, Keith received a glare from it.
“I swear to god, if you’re trying to rope me into one of your pranks, I’ll--”
“It’s nothing to do with my pranks.” Keith quickly tried to answer Roger’s question and dissipate any of Roger’s suspicion. In return, Roger eased his from into a curious look.
“It’s not?”
“Nope. In fact…” Keith broke off to only try to heighten Roger’s sense of curious intent.
“Just fucking spit it out already.”
“Pete just bought a TON of candy and I think it’s not fair that Pete keep it to himself. I was thinking’ that maybe you could help--”
“You want me to try to convince Pete or just steal it, don’t you?” Roger caught onto what Keith was proposing.
“Yeah,” Keith said, scratching his head.
Roger looked at Keith for a moment. His thoughts were churning, letting them marinate in this proposal and allowing himself to thoroughly crystallize his thoughts. He weighed his options, both negative and positive, then to the pieces that he might benefit from. He did have a raging sweet tooth for the past few days; there was no way he could resist this.
“Okay, I’ll do--”
“THANK YOU!” Roger nearly burst from his own skin when Keith threw himself at Roger, hugging the singer.
--
Roger was positioned in front of the cabinet. Brows knitting together and chewing on his lip, Roger tilted his head. The cabinet seemed to rubberneck him back. With a shrug of his shoulders, Roger eased himself upon the tips of his toes and reach for the cabinet.
It was like Pete was psychic, his brain harboring some inhuman device that informed him of whenever someone was doing something wrong. At the moment Roger reached, Pete strode out behind Roger, causing the singer to jump again, and he perused Roger’s frame. No one spoke, just both equally gazing into each other’s eyes.
“… and what are you doing?” Pete asked almost dubiously, his eye lids deflating a portion. Roger retracted his arm, drawing it to himself.
“Uh, I-- uh…” The singer was at a loss.
After a short-lived tense moment, Pete then advanced with, “Keith put you up to it, didn’t he?”
Roger’s slate was blank, bereft of any half witty thoughts or comebacks.
Pete sighed, irritated at Keith’s unwillingness to subdue his intention in retrieving the candy. He shook his head, his mane of hair gliding with his head.
“I never thought Keith would employ you, of all people that Keith would seek out, to do his bidding.”
“Yeah, well, I was only in it for the candy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I catch you nearing the cabinet.” Pete turned around to head off to where he was at or going towards previously. “I’ll have to end up burying it in the yard if he can’t stop.”
Somewhere from afar, Keith smacked himself on his head in exasperation and cursed to himself at another, yet again, foiled plan.
--
Now it was Halloween and Keith was the absolute first person to almost literally fly towards the candy, his body projecting itself like a just-launched missile. Keith nearly yanked off the doors in order to reach said sweets. Pete had just barely reached the kitchen without hearing the blustering and bloodthirsty shredding of the plastic bag that contained the candy; small sounds of the contents of the bag made contact with the ground and then Pete had just made it into the kitchen. Keith was there, viscously tearing the bag and shoving chocolate in his mouth with an almost animalistic hunger.
Keith didn’t notice the guitarist’s presence, feeling no need to cover what he was doing. His brown eyes finally found Pete, his lips turning into a smile, his mouth smudged with chocolate. Ahead of what Pete’s mind could alacrity what his next move would be, Keith grinned, showing dark, thick splotches of brown chocolate oozed through Keith’s teeth and staining them. Pete wanted to gag.
“Get ‘nto the spirit, Pete!” Keith laughed. It was hard trying to decipher just what Keith was trying to point at.
Pete just shook his head.
--
Pete had been caught up in his own musings that he had forgotten why he was hovering in the entrance of the room. He had to fend Keith off all week from the candy and now, here was Roger sitting there, perched on a chair, eating it all up when Keith had said earlier that it was for all the children who passed by.
But as he watched Roger settle back into his favorite position, his eyes hearkened with interest as Roger languidly pushed another piece of chocolate into his mouth, watching that firm jaw chew each piece, that Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing down gracefully. An idea suddenly morphed into his mind, and his eyes glinted deviously. He slinked up behind Roger, his eyes still trained on the smaller figure and plopped himself beside Roger. Again the basket full of sweets nearly bounced from the force of Pete sitting down. For such a skinny motherfucker, Pete could sure hit something with some force behind that gangly, awkwardly-angled body.
Before Roger had even the slightest moments of protest, Pete had darted forward and quickly snatched bucket, setting it aside and pushed Roger flat against the couch. Roger peered up at Pete in mild irritation at Pete interrupting his feasting of candy, but it was all cut short when he saw Pete raise those bony fingers, a piece of chocolate in between those fingers. He brought it to Roger’s mouth and charily pushed it between his lips. All train of thought was perfectly set aside for when that chocolate hit his tongue, that sensual flavoring delighting him. The thoughts that gave an effort to conjugate within his mind were precisely squashed when Pete had pushed another into his mouth.
He was confused. Roger couldn’t make up his mind in whether he wanted Pete to be feeding him or upset that Pete was sitting on him slightly. There was a pang in his lower region as Pete continued to gaze at him, eyes half-open, his face twisted in a perverted way. Every time Pete fed him chocolate, he let his hand linger on Roger’s face and mouth, each slowing to almost a near halt.
The next time that Pete inserted a piece of chocolate into his singer’s mouth, he jolted forwards, covering Roger’s mouth and his own with each others. The taste of sweetness and Roger mingled together, combining and separating as Pete probed the older man’s mouth, extracting this taste and filing it under his ‘Favorite Tastes’.
As the two continued on the couch, there was an interrupting knock on the door. Both separated furiously and scrambled to sit up. Again, another knock echoed into their room. Pete inched himself off the chair, striding over to answer the door.
“Trick or treat!” A chorus of sounds sped into Pete’s face. They were those kids that they were waiting for.
“Uh,” he uttered, looking back for where the candy was. He then spotted Roger in that state he had left him in and briskly walked over to the candy, swiping it up, and hurrying to the door, passing out the candy. He nearly slammed the door in the trick or treaters’ faces and dove back onto Roger. He then proceeded to assault Roger’s mouth, thin and lean arms coming up to clutch Pete around his graceful neck. Their teeth collided together and both were pushing past each other’s tongue, both wrestling furiously to gain an advantage.
Another pounding modulation tore the pair apart again, both glaring at the door. Pete let out a huff of anger and sped towards the door.
Another chorus of ‘trick or treat’s’ had bombarded Pete again and he barely paid attention as he loaded up their sacks. Before the guitarist could completely close the door, there was an audible gasp as one of the teenagers at the door wedged their foot into the door.
“I gotta ask you something,” said one of the teens. “What are you dressed as? You look so much like Peter Townshend!” The reply was certainly exuberant.
Pete rolled his eyes, not in the mood to play silly games with the youths when he had a particular singer that needed ravishing at that moment. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am dressed up as ‘im.” Pete shut the door before he could hear another word or phrase from the teens, or even question whether or not the statement he had just made had a valid sense to it. He rushed Roger again as he was beginning to pick himself off the couch.
Again Pete flattened him out on the couch, delving into that mouth he had been missing for the past few minutes. As both became heated again, another infuriating knock came.
“F’r fuck’s sake!” Roger cried. Pete unwillingly drew himself up and angrily advanced on the door. The same process went, loading up the bags of teens or children, the same question on whether or not he was dressed up as Pete Townshend. With enough sense in mind, Pete slammed his hand into the porch-light switch, cutting of any electricity flowing to the circuits that would keep it alive, effectively silencing the light for the night.
Pete was back in his position again. He was crushing his mouth against Roger, the smaller man swiveling his hips against Pete, making it known what he wanted. Pete obliged and responded back, the same feverish moves mirroring Roger’s. He busied himself in the time to remove the clothes from Roger’s body; all the while he was licking stray swabs of chocolate from his mouth. Roger’s hands sought out more of Pete’s body, hoping to feel more. Both were wrapped up in each other, drowning in the sensations of being close to one another, having the knowledge that this will provide nothing but closeness and the highs that each were seeking.
Both had enough sense to break from the trance their minds had so blissfully entered to peel themselves away from the sofa and travel back to a more suitable place, that place being a bed in the privacy of their own room. Pete knew that Keith had practically dragged John out with him to go to the pub in hopes of catching the Halloween discounts and the drinks that would be conjured up.
They had finally made it to the bedroom. There were many delays in getting there-- the most prominent one was when someone would be shoved against the wall, a heavy-induced make-out sessions taking place several times. Roger‘s back met with the crisp-smelling sheets and Pete was on him fast. Clothes were scattered across the floor, strung-out with no thought in mind to at least make themselves have the effort to put them in the laundry basket.
Roger grasped strands of dark brown hair, yanking on them to pull Pete’s head down to meet with his own. Hands were all over Roger’s body, feeling the firm flesh ripple with quivers. Pete positioned himself between his singer’s legs, establishing a position from which he could work from. He broke away from Roger’s mouth and pressed his fingers into the mouth he was just preoccupying. He needed Roger to get them as slick as possible, seeing that both were to thrilled with the other to really try and get up to reach the lubricant lying in the drawer that was only a moment away.
After he pulled them away, strands of saliva leaking off of his digits, Pete pressed his finer into Roger, his mouth shooting forwards to cover that moan of slight pain, greedily eating it up for his own self, extolling in this taste that he just couldn’t indulge himself enough in. After the initial feeling of a foreign feeling wore off, Roger encouraged Pete to move on, uttering near incoherent passes to Pete. Happily wanting to follow this request, Pete withdrew his fingers and replaced them with something larger, firmer and quickly filled Roger with his very own essence.
Roger nearly thrashed back, the feeling of impalement much stronger then what it previously marked itself as. Pete got down to pushing his hips forwards, a sluggish pace forming. He kept at it until Roger was nearly bucking his hips up towards his own at a needy speed. Pete increased his movements, his eyes boring into Roger’s face, his senses hungry in wanting to watch. Those blond, cork-screw curls in his face, around his head, and soaking in sweat. The sheets crinkled around their form, the bed starting to rock with their movements, dully smacking the wall with it.
Pete nearly blustered into Roger’s ear that he was almost there, his hands wrapping in almost dead-lock hold around those sinewy-like hips. Roger arched his back as he was overcome with those sensations that he dearly longed for. Pete followed at almost the same time, both falling under the spell. When both could finally think clearly, Pete rolled off of Roger and settled next to him, gazing at Roger’s content face.
“I think I could get more into Halloween,” Pete said, debilitation evident in his voice.
Roger only laughed, turned and faced Pete. “If you dress up next time, then maybe I could along with you.”
“Role-play, eh?” The guitarist suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. “I did enjoy feeding you that chocolate. Maybe Keith was right in needing to buy sweets; everything is much more fun then.”
Chapter: None
Rating: R
Pairings: Pete/Roger
Time Period: 1970
Word Count: 3,850
Disclaimer: I will never own the Who and if I did, the band would hate me forever.
Summary: Keith pesters Pete to buy Halloween candy, which would turn out to have fabulous results.
--
Brightly colored pieces of foil-wrappers lay scattered on the floor. These small bits were illuminated by the low lights in the room. A man was curled up, bent upon the chair like a building’s structure. A large basket was placed upon perched knees, its shape in the form of a pumpkin. Every so often, a hand would reach inside the basket, fingers prying at the contents of the basket.
It was Roger Daltrey that lay curled on the chair, his blond corkscrew hair falling over his eyes and shoulders. His fingers would extract the items that he was munching on, savoring each piece he devoured. While popping pieces of chocolate into his mouth, he was virtually oblivious to his surroundings. He was more preoccupied with the task of fulfilling his sweet tooth by gorging on this candy he was possessing.
An amorphous feeling was right at the back of his mind. Wasn’t he supposed to be doing something else other then fill himself up with pointless calories and sugar? He was also supposed to be doing something other then eat the candy. He might have guessed that maybe he was not supposed to be eating it, rather passing it out to the locals that stopped by his house; the fashionable holiday of Halloween was in town, the streets bustling with trick-or-treaters.
‘I wish I could do this everyday,’ Roger thought in contempt.
“Y’know, that’s not why we bought that candy.”
Roger was certainly not ready for a voice to so unrepentantly jolt him from his happy stupor. He was definitely not expecting to jump up, nearly scream, thrusting the large bucket of candy outward, scattering the colorful bits all over the floor. He did most not want to fall off the chair, contacting the floor rather roughly. It was also the fact that there was no dignified way to rise from all of this.
“You know, you can warn me next time,” Roger said, his voice dusting with nervousness and jitters.
“Where would the fun in that be? Besides, you looked adorable curled up on the couch.
Roger huffed in annoyance and set about the task of gathering up the small pieces of candy. Pete stood in the doorway, his eyes glazed with amusement at Roger’s shuffling and uneasiness. Pete had been looking for the candy to start loading it into the bowl, but strangely, he could not locate any of the bags he had bought. After shifting through cabinets, the fridge, Keith’s room (Moonie was a likely candidate because he knew the boy would use them in some elaborate plan to cause destruction), he had finally given up. But remembering a time when he had caught Roger trying to subtly take it, he had his culprit.
Halloween was something that Pete did not want to participate in. Under the constant badgering and annoying complaints of their dear Keith, Pete was soon obligated to buy candy. According to Moonie, Halloween was never complete without the festivities of candy. Keith had also tried to order Pete to dress up in a fashionable costume. Pete stared at Keith, who just beamed back at him.
“No.”
“Ah, come on, Petey!” Keith whined.
“No Keith. What purpose does that have, other you trying to use it as blackmail in the future?”
Keith pouted. “Don’t be so stiff. Just have some fun with it.”
Pete still would not ease into Keith’s usual puppy-dog eyes and whining. Keith stared at Pete, trying to find a way of getting Pete to agree. He just huffed. “Well, just get the candy and come back here.” Pete watched, as Keith turned around watched as Keith nearly stomped off, his bodily language confirming his attitude. Before Keith was completely out of earshot, he then nearly yelled, “And get a lot of chocolate!”
--
Pete found himself at the store, staring down rows of candy in the aisle he was in. Pete, not usually one of go shopping, was confused at what to get. He had never gone shopping for much, candy not being one of those items. He viewed going to the store as getting the necessary items for survival, not food items that would cause cavities and tooth decay. Sky-blue eyes peered at the different brands of candy and different mixes.
‘How does Keith expect me to get something if I don’t know exactly what to get?’ Pete thought, frustration around the edges. The brightly colored and assorted bags were lying on the shelves, each calling out to Pete to buy them, that he would not regret it. Now it was not the fact that Pete could probably buy out the store’s candy supply, but that would be stingy to the other paying customers, he just was not sure if Keith would approve of them. After moments of frustration, Pete thought, ‘Fuck it, I’ll get random ones.’
Pete ventured down the aisle, swiping bags in all directions, chocolate, hard-candy, gum, taffy, peppermints, some mystery flavors, popsicles, anything. He got many curious looks to why his buggy was brewing with loads of candy and bags. Pete ventured to the checkout aisle, receiving a curious glance. It felt like hours of scanning and checking and the cashier finally looked at the price, her eyes widening a fraction.
“That’ll be $590.79, sir.”
Pete flipped out his wallet that he never really carried around with him, slapping down almost 600 dollars. “Keep the change,” he said quickly, wanting to get out of there as fast as he could. In the parking lot, he received almost the same attention as he had before. Pete shoved all of it in the trunk, no care at all. He got home and Keith was immediately there to greet him. Before Keith could utter anything, his eyes inflated at the amount of sweets Pete had brought home.
“Whoa,” was all Keith could say. Keith dove for all the candy that Pete had, but knowing and anticipating this, the guitarist had sidestepped and Keith crashed to the ground. He rolled over on his backside and glared. “Hey, I was goin’ for that.”
“Nuh-uh,” Pete says, waggling a finger. “This is for Halloween, seeing that it’s almost a week away, you’ll have to wait.”
“Come on, Pete! Just some? I mean, really, look at all that; surely you can spare some?”
“No exceptions.” Pete’s voice was firm, but it dazzled in some amusement.
--
Ever since then, Pete had to keep a watchful eye on the cupboards, lest he forget that Keith had been prowling there since Pete brought home the candy. Keith would try to reach for it, hoping to be under the radar of Pete’s hawk gaze. He would nearly succeed, to only have Pete deliberately appear beside him. Keith swore that Pete had some hidden devise in the house that went off whenever Keith approached it.
Keith tried everything for that candy. The first thing he tried was using the ‘puppy-dog that just got kicked‘ look. That failed almost immediately. He would settle in trying to steal it. When that failed, he tried doing many good services, for only Pete to see through it. Next, he tried to distract Pete so he could get away. When everything else failed, he turned around and gave a big mega-watt smile to John, their bassist.
“Hey John?” Keith said, calling out in the vicinity for John.
John hummed a noise of acknowledgment. Keith looked around; scouting out the territory to make sure Pete was missing from their current conversation.
“I got a favor for you to do--”
“If it’s about getting the candy that Pete brought home, then no.” John said without looking away from his magazine.
Keith stood dumbfounded. “But how did you know--”
“Pete already told me the day he brought it home, saying, “If Keith tries to ask you for the candy, tell ‘im no, the lad will try any bloody trick to get into that candy.’”
Keith’s mouth nearly dropped. He was foiled again. Keith would not resort to bombing the covered since it would be excessively obvious and no way to avoid the loud and thundering tenor that would accompany the blast. He finally sighed and felt more dread because Halloween was only a mere four days away.
‘Four days too many,’ Keith thought, finally giving up. He would just have to wait out those days, unfortunately.
--
Over the next few days, it was horrible for Keith. He wanted that chocolate and he wanted it now. He moped around the house, moaning about how displeased he was with the current situation. John would shake his head, telling the younger boy to just relax and wait.
Another ray of light had come into Keith’s mind. It was in the form of Roger, who happened to be lazing about with nothing to do, standing off in the corner of a chair, thumbing through the current and trendy teenage magazine. The sight of Roger flipping through a popular teen magazine sent temporary guffaws through his frame but straightened up. He hadn’t abraded Roger in a while, nor berating him with all of the adventures that he wanted Roger to come along in and be an accessory to the prank.
He slid up to Roger, placing himself beside the blond man. That vague thought that if you never got Roger’s attention, he would remain completely oblivious to one’s actions or advances. He awkwardly placed himself by Roger and stared at him. Finally giving up on waiting for Roger to make a move, Keith reached out and tugged at a curl in Roger’s hair. In the process, Keith received a glare from it.
“I swear to god, if you’re trying to rope me into one of your pranks, I’ll--”
“It’s nothing to do with my pranks.” Keith quickly tried to answer Roger’s question and dissipate any of Roger’s suspicion. In return, Roger eased his from into a curious look.
“It’s not?”
“Nope. In fact…” Keith broke off to only try to heighten Roger’s sense of curious intent.
“Just fucking spit it out already.”
“Pete just bought a TON of candy and I think it’s not fair that Pete keep it to himself. I was thinking’ that maybe you could help--”
“You want me to try to convince Pete or just steal it, don’t you?” Roger caught onto what Keith was proposing.
“Yeah,” Keith said, scratching his head.
Roger looked at Keith for a moment. His thoughts were churning, letting them marinate in this proposal and allowing himself to thoroughly crystallize his thoughts. He weighed his options, both negative and positive, then to the pieces that he might benefit from. He did have a raging sweet tooth for the past few days; there was no way he could resist this.
“Okay, I’ll do--”
“THANK YOU!” Roger nearly burst from his own skin when Keith threw himself at Roger, hugging the singer.
--
Roger was positioned in front of the cabinet. Brows knitting together and chewing on his lip, Roger tilted his head. The cabinet seemed to rubberneck him back. With a shrug of his shoulders, Roger eased himself upon the tips of his toes and reach for the cabinet.
It was like Pete was psychic, his brain harboring some inhuman device that informed him of whenever someone was doing something wrong. At the moment Roger reached, Pete strode out behind Roger, causing the singer to jump again, and he perused Roger’s frame. No one spoke, just both equally gazing into each other’s eyes.
“… and what are you doing?” Pete asked almost dubiously, his eye lids deflating a portion. Roger retracted his arm, drawing it to himself.
“Uh, I-- uh…” The singer was at a loss.
After a short-lived tense moment, Pete then advanced with, “Keith put you up to it, didn’t he?”
Roger’s slate was blank, bereft of any half witty thoughts or comebacks.
Pete sighed, irritated at Keith’s unwillingness to subdue his intention in retrieving the candy. He shook his head, his mane of hair gliding with his head.
“I never thought Keith would employ you, of all people that Keith would seek out, to do his bidding.”
“Yeah, well, I was only in it for the candy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I catch you nearing the cabinet.” Pete turned around to head off to where he was at or going towards previously. “I’ll have to end up burying it in the yard if he can’t stop.”
Somewhere from afar, Keith smacked himself on his head in exasperation and cursed to himself at another, yet again, foiled plan.
--
Now it was Halloween and Keith was the absolute first person to almost literally fly towards the candy, his body projecting itself like a just-launched missile. Keith nearly yanked off the doors in order to reach said sweets. Pete had just barely reached the kitchen without hearing the blustering and bloodthirsty shredding of the plastic bag that contained the candy; small sounds of the contents of the bag made contact with the ground and then Pete had just made it into the kitchen. Keith was there, viscously tearing the bag and shoving chocolate in his mouth with an almost animalistic hunger.
Keith didn’t notice the guitarist’s presence, feeling no need to cover what he was doing. His brown eyes finally found Pete, his lips turning into a smile, his mouth smudged with chocolate. Ahead of what Pete’s mind could alacrity what his next move would be, Keith grinned, showing dark, thick splotches of brown chocolate oozed through Keith’s teeth and staining them. Pete wanted to gag.
“Get ‘nto the spirit, Pete!” Keith laughed. It was hard trying to decipher just what Keith was trying to point at.
Pete just shook his head.
--
Pete had been caught up in his own musings that he had forgotten why he was hovering in the entrance of the room. He had to fend Keith off all week from the candy and now, here was Roger sitting there, perched on a chair, eating it all up when Keith had said earlier that it was for all the children who passed by.
But as he watched Roger settle back into his favorite position, his eyes hearkened with interest as Roger languidly pushed another piece of chocolate into his mouth, watching that firm jaw chew each piece, that Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing down gracefully. An idea suddenly morphed into his mind, and his eyes glinted deviously. He slinked up behind Roger, his eyes still trained on the smaller figure and plopped himself beside Roger. Again the basket full of sweets nearly bounced from the force of Pete sitting down. For such a skinny motherfucker, Pete could sure hit something with some force behind that gangly, awkwardly-angled body.
Before Roger had even the slightest moments of protest, Pete had darted forward and quickly snatched bucket, setting it aside and pushed Roger flat against the couch. Roger peered up at Pete in mild irritation at Pete interrupting his feasting of candy, but it was all cut short when he saw Pete raise those bony fingers, a piece of chocolate in between those fingers. He brought it to Roger’s mouth and charily pushed it between his lips. All train of thought was perfectly set aside for when that chocolate hit his tongue, that sensual flavoring delighting him. The thoughts that gave an effort to conjugate within his mind were precisely squashed when Pete had pushed another into his mouth.
He was confused. Roger couldn’t make up his mind in whether he wanted Pete to be feeding him or upset that Pete was sitting on him slightly. There was a pang in his lower region as Pete continued to gaze at him, eyes half-open, his face twisted in a perverted way. Every time Pete fed him chocolate, he let his hand linger on Roger’s face and mouth, each slowing to almost a near halt.
The next time that Pete inserted a piece of chocolate into his singer’s mouth, he jolted forwards, covering Roger’s mouth and his own with each others. The taste of sweetness and Roger mingled together, combining and separating as Pete probed the older man’s mouth, extracting this taste and filing it under his ‘Favorite Tastes’.
As the two continued on the couch, there was an interrupting knock on the door. Both separated furiously and scrambled to sit up. Again, another knock echoed into their room. Pete inched himself off the chair, striding over to answer the door.
“Trick or treat!” A chorus of sounds sped into Pete’s face. They were those kids that they were waiting for.
“Uh,” he uttered, looking back for where the candy was. He then spotted Roger in that state he had left him in and briskly walked over to the candy, swiping it up, and hurrying to the door, passing out the candy. He nearly slammed the door in the trick or treaters’ faces and dove back onto Roger. He then proceeded to assault Roger’s mouth, thin and lean arms coming up to clutch Pete around his graceful neck. Their teeth collided together and both were pushing past each other’s tongue, both wrestling furiously to gain an advantage.
Another pounding modulation tore the pair apart again, both glaring at the door. Pete let out a huff of anger and sped towards the door.
Another chorus of ‘trick or treat’s’ had bombarded Pete again and he barely paid attention as he loaded up their sacks. Before the guitarist could completely close the door, there was an audible gasp as one of the teenagers at the door wedged their foot into the door.
“I gotta ask you something,” said one of the teens. “What are you dressed as? You look so much like Peter Townshend!” The reply was certainly exuberant.
Pete rolled his eyes, not in the mood to play silly games with the youths when he had a particular singer that needed ravishing at that moment. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am dressed up as ‘im.” Pete shut the door before he could hear another word or phrase from the teens, or even question whether or not the statement he had just made had a valid sense to it. He rushed Roger again as he was beginning to pick himself off the couch.
Again Pete flattened him out on the couch, delving into that mouth he had been missing for the past few minutes. As both became heated again, another infuriating knock came.
“F’r fuck’s sake!” Roger cried. Pete unwillingly drew himself up and angrily advanced on the door. The same process went, loading up the bags of teens or children, the same question on whether or not he was dressed up as Pete Townshend. With enough sense in mind, Pete slammed his hand into the porch-light switch, cutting of any electricity flowing to the circuits that would keep it alive, effectively silencing the light for the night.
Pete was back in his position again. He was crushing his mouth against Roger, the smaller man swiveling his hips against Pete, making it known what he wanted. Pete obliged and responded back, the same feverish moves mirroring Roger’s. He busied himself in the time to remove the clothes from Roger’s body; all the while he was licking stray swabs of chocolate from his mouth. Roger’s hands sought out more of Pete’s body, hoping to feel more. Both were wrapped up in each other, drowning in the sensations of being close to one another, having the knowledge that this will provide nothing but closeness and the highs that each were seeking.
Both had enough sense to break from the trance their minds had so blissfully entered to peel themselves away from the sofa and travel back to a more suitable place, that place being a bed in the privacy of their own room. Pete knew that Keith had practically dragged John out with him to go to the pub in hopes of catching the Halloween discounts and the drinks that would be conjured up.
They had finally made it to the bedroom. There were many delays in getting there-- the most prominent one was when someone would be shoved against the wall, a heavy-induced make-out sessions taking place several times. Roger‘s back met with the crisp-smelling sheets and Pete was on him fast. Clothes were scattered across the floor, strung-out with no thought in mind to at least make themselves have the effort to put them in the laundry basket.
Roger grasped strands of dark brown hair, yanking on them to pull Pete’s head down to meet with his own. Hands were all over Roger’s body, feeling the firm flesh ripple with quivers. Pete positioned himself between his singer’s legs, establishing a position from which he could work from. He broke away from Roger’s mouth and pressed his fingers into the mouth he was just preoccupying. He needed Roger to get them as slick as possible, seeing that both were to thrilled with the other to really try and get up to reach the lubricant lying in the drawer that was only a moment away.
After he pulled them away, strands of saliva leaking off of his digits, Pete pressed his finer into Roger, his mouth shooting forwards to cover that moan of slight pain, greedily eating it up for his own self, extolling in this taste that he just couldn’t indulge himself enough in. After the initial feeling of a foreign feeling wore off, Roger encouraged Pete to move on, uttering near incoherent passes to Pete. Happily wanting to follow this request, Pete withdrew his fingers and replaced them with something larger, firmer and quickly filled Roger with his very own essence.
Roger nearly thrashed back, the feeling of impalement much stronger then what it previously marked itself as. Pete got down to pushing his hips forwards, a sluggish pace forming. He kept at it until Roger was nearly bucking his hips up towards his own at a needy speed. Pete increased his movements, his eyes boring into Roger’s face, his senses hungry in wanting to watch. Those blond, cork-screw curls in his face, around his head, and soaking in sweat. The sheets crinkled around their form, the bed starting to rock with their movements, dully smacking the wall with it.
Pete nearly blustered into Roger’s ear that he was almost there, his hands wrapping in almost dead-lock hold around those sinewy-like hips. Roger arched his back as he was overcome with those sensations that he dearly longed for. Pete followed at almost the same time, both falling under the spell. When both could finally think clearly, Pete rolled off of Roger and settled next to him, gazing at Roger’s content face.
“I think I could get more into Halloween,” Pete said, debilitation evident in his voice.
Roger only laughed, turned and faced Pete. “If you dress up next time, then maybe I could along with you.”
“Role-play, eh?” The guitarist suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. “I did enjoy feeding you that chocolate. Maybe Keith was right in needing to buy sweets; everything is much more fun then.”