The Who Fic - The Good Old Days
I've been working on a Jeith fic for months, and thanks to whtevrhpnd2mary (to whom I probably owe my soul and then some), I FINALLY got it together and HERE IT IS! 8D Thank you all for waiting so patiently!! <3
Title: The Good Old Days
Pairing: Jeith, Pete/John, Pete/Roger
Rating: heavy R
Setting: 2002 Tour - Hard Rock Hotel, Las Vegas
Warnings: sadness, angst, het, drugz
x-posted to who_slash
Summary: John starts to miss Keith and seeks replacements for him during the Who's 2002 tour
The Good Old Days
Part 1: The Bird
“Keith,” John grunted through gritted teeth, trying to delay his impending climax.
He felt stirring underneath him, and his eyes flickered open to find a girl glaring up at him in confusion. His hips’ rhythm faltered, reinforcing the fact that there was no drummer to back him up and keep him on target.
This wasn’t the first time something like this happened, and probably wouldn’t be the last. He knew some of the fans knew about it. But frankly, he didn’t care what they thought about him or about Keith. It was all a blurry figment of the past anyways.
He pulled out silently and went to retrieve his pants. He didn’t finish; he didn’t need to. The lust was lost, as was the cause of it; it was just another memory now.
Part 2: Pete
John strode down the hall, passing a young couple who gawked at him as if he were only a creepy old man. But he ignored them, knowing that they were quite right.
He knocked twice on Pete’s door at the end of the hall and shoved his hand quickly back into his pocket. As usual, the door swung open in seconds; it always seemed that Pete was awaiting John’s knock whenever he came to him for help.
But his smiling blues eyes quickly changed to an expression of deep surprise when he saw John standing there. Speechless, he stood back to let him in.
John, also speechless, as always, headed straight for the bedroom with Pete right on his heels. They faced each other awkwardly, standing in the middle of the room.
“Do you…” John cleared his throat and tried again, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “Do you ever miss Keith?” he whispered hoarsely. Their eyes locked and hearts intertwined in a single second. “Do you ever miss him like I do?” He averted his eyes to the floor. “It’s not worth it anymore, Pete. I can’t do this.”
Pete laid his hand across John’s chest and pressed their foreheads together, causing a shuddering sigh to escape John(’s lips?).
“No one will ever miss him like you do,” Pete soothed softly. “Not Annette, not Kim, not even poor Mandy. He loved you, John. He loved you more than he loved anyone in the world. And I doubt there was a single person he didn’t love. But no one meant as much to him as you.”
John backed away, unable to deal with it any longer, needing escape from the emotions Pete was trying to unhinge.
But Pete only followed him, his slender fingers guiding John’s strong hand to sit next to him on the bed. John gave in, heaving himself down exhaustedly, his heart weary and soul in need of strength.
There was a special age-old connection between John and Pete. It was a strange relationship which had gone further than friendship on only a few rare occasions, but inside, John had always known that Pete was jealous of the close relationship he had had with Moonie.
Pete’s devastatingly sympathetic eyes met with John’s stormy blue in complete understanding.
“I need someone,” John whispered, echoing the words Pete had been hearing in his dreams for decades.
Without another word, their lips attached roughly, every passion being exchanged and intensified.
Pete broke away breathlessly. “I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered back, undoing the top buttons of John’s shirt so he could breathe a little easier. The room was suddenly stifling hot.
John nuzzled his nose and kissed him again, their eyes still locked in a deep gaze as they lost each other more and more by the second.
John caressed his chest while swirling his tongue around his entire mouth. It felt wonderful; the joy was almost excruciating. It had been so long, too long. Pete began to cling to John’s torso, but John held his arms up roughly instead, throwing Pete’s shirt over his head and then returning quickly to meet his lips again.
There was no confusion, no hesitancy, just acceptance and a hazy sense of wonder that lingered through the air. Pete lifted John’s shirt off and guided him down on top of him, their breaths catching as their bodies aligned perfectly.
“I’ve missed you,” Pete murmured, and a single tear fell from John’s cheek, trickling down Pete’s chest. Pants were tossed to the floor in an instant. “It’ll be just like the good old days. No one even knows who we are anymore, but we’ll always have each other.”
--------
John’s hips quickened the tempo again, his grunts serving as the bassline to the musical moans that went off every time he pressed against that special spot that made Pete writhe in ecstasy.
He ran a strong forefinger along Pete’s untouched cock and the man’s head shot back, mouth wide open in a silent moan as he leaked a little.
It felt so good to be with a man again. It was so impossibly right. And he was certain that nothing could ever take away the beautiful feeling he got from being with Pete…
A knock at the door was left unheard, but it didn’t matter since the hotel room’s key was within easy access.
John moaned into Pete’s cheek, tucking Pete’s legs around his body as the pace moved impossibly faster.
“Getting closer?” Pete panted. “Are you going to come, John?” The man on top of him threw his head back in a silent moan.
“If you keep talking like that,” he grunted in his baritone voice.
Someone was calling outside the bedroom door. “Pete! Sorry I’m late. I’m ready for you now, I promise.”
Their moans grew louder; they couldn’t hear the stranger, but he began to hear them.
“Fuck me, John, fuck fuck fuck,” Pete was blurting out reflexively with each of John’s thrusts. He nearly screamed as John slammed into his prostate again and somehow drew a circle on it with the head of his dick, growling in his own ecstasy all the while.
The door opened.
Roger stared at them and they stared at him. A purple thong peeked out from underneath the singer’s perfectly white bathrobe, and the colors contrasting with his tan so well that he simply glowed with perfection, looking like an aging angel. Pete’s aging angel.
John pulled out of Pete silently and slipped back into his jeans, heading out the door without a word. He didn’t finish; he didn’t need to. The lust was lost, as was all hope; it was just another memory now.
Part 3: The End
He fled the room; he fled the world.
He walked the hotel hallways for what seemed like hours before coming to a final conclusion.
He needed girls. He needed drugs. He needed both in mass quantities. There was nothing else he could use to ease the pain that was taking over every part of his being.
He stoically headed back to his room and made a few calls. Numbness was only minutes away. All he had to do was wait.
Ten minutes was all it took before a knock at the door answered his prayers. Five girls, each younger than half his age, were waiting for him with fresh skin and painted lips. He stood back wordlessly to let them in.
Just as he was closing the door, the cocaine arrived. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Everything was beautiful; everything was perfect. He now knew it would all turn out just fine. After tonight, everything would be simply wonderful, and he would never be sad or lonely again.
Title: The Good Old Days
Pairing: Jeith, Pete/John, Pete/Roger
Rating: heavy R
Setting: 2002 Tour - Hard Rock Hotel, Las Vegas
Warnings: sadness, angst, het, drugz
x-posted to who_slash
Summary: John starts to miss Keith and seeks replacements for him during the Who's 2002 tour
The Good Old Days
Part 1: The Bird
“Keith,” John grunted through gritted teeth, trying to delay his impending climax.
He felt stirring underneath him, and his eyes flickered open to find a girl glaring up at him in confusion. His hips’ rhythm faltered, reinforcing the fact that there was no drummer to back him up and keep him on target.
This wasn’t the first time something like this happened, and probably wouldn’t be the last. He knew some of the fans knew about it. But frankly, he didn’t care what they thought about him or about Keith. It was all a blurry figment of the past anyways.
He pulled out silently and went to retrieve his pants. He didn’t finish; he didn’t need to. The lust was lost, as was the cause of it; it was just another memory now.
Part 2: Pete
John strode down the hall, passing a young couple who gawked at him as if he were only a creepy old man. But he ignored them, knowing that they were quite right.
He knocked twice on Pete’s door at the end of the hall and shoved his hand quickly back into his pocket. As usual, the door swung open in seconds; it always seemed that Pete was awaiting John’s knock whenever he came to him for help.
But his smiling blues eyes quickly changed to an expression of deep surprise when he saw John standing there. Speechless, he stood back to let him in.
John, also speechless, as always, headed straight for the bedroom with Pete right on his heels. They faced each other awkwardly, standing in the middle of the room.
“Do you…” John cleared his throat and tried again, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “Do you ever miss Keith?” he whispered hoarsely. Their eyes locked and hearts intertwined in a single second. “Do you ever miss him like I do?” He averted his eyes to the floor. “It’s not worth it anymore, Pete. I can’t do this.”
Pete laid his hand across John’s chest and pressed their foreheads together, causing a shuddering sigh to escape John(’s lips?).
“No one will ever miss him like you do,” Pete soothed softly. “Not Annette, not Kim, not even poor Mandy. He loved you, John. He loved you more than he loved anyone in the world. And I doubt there was a single person he didn’t love. But no one meant as much to him as you.”
John backed away, unable to deal with it any longer, needing escape from the emotions Pete was trying to unhinge.
But Pete only followed him, his slender fingers guiding John’s strong hand to sit next to him on the bed. John gave in, heaving himself down exhaustedly, his heart weary and soul in need of strength.
There was a special age-old connection between John and Pete. It was a strange relationship which had gone further than friendship on only a few rare occasions, but inside, John had always known that Pete was jealous of the close relationship he had had with Moonie.
Pete’s devastatingly sympathetic eyes met with John’s stormy blue in complete understanding.
“I need someone,” John whispered, echoing the words Pete had been hearing in his dreams for decades.
Without another word, their lips attached roughly, every passion being exchanged and intensified.
Pete broke away breathlessly. “I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered back, undoing the top buttons of John’s shirt so he could breathe a little easier. The room was suddenly stifling hot.
John nuzzled his nose and kissed him again, their eyes still locked in a deep gaze as they lost each other more and more by the second.
John caressed his chest while swirling his tongue around his entire mouth. It felt wonderful; the joy was almost excruciating. It had been so long, too long. Pete began to cling to John’s torso, but John held his arms up roughly instead, throwing Pete’s shirt over his head and then returning quickly to meet his lips again.
There was no confusion, no hesitancy, just acceptance and a hazy sense of wonder that lingered through the air. Pete lifted John’s shirt off and guided him down on top of him, their breaths catching as their bodies aligned perfectly.
“I’ve missed you,” Pete murmured, and a single tear fell from John’s cheek, trickling down Pete’s chest. Pants were tossed to the floor in an instant. “It’ll be just like the good old days. No one even knows who we are anymore, but we’ll always have each other.”
--------
John’s hips quickened the tempo again, his grunts serving as the bassline to the musical moans that went off every time he pressed against that special spot that made Pete writhe in ecstasy.
He ran a strong forefinger along Pete’s untouched cock and the man’s head shot back, mouth wide open in a silent moan as he leaked a little.
It felt so good to be with a man again. It was so impossibly right. And he was certain that nothing could ever take away the beautiful feeling he got from being with Pete…
A knock at the door was left unheard, but it didn’t matter since the hotel room’s key was within easy access.
John moaned into Pete’s cheek, tucking Pete’s legs around his body as the pace moved impossibly faster.
“Getting closer?” Pete panted. “Are you going to come, John?” The man on top of him threw his head back in a silent moan.
“If you keep talking like that,” he grunted in his baritone voice.
Someone was calling outside the bedroom door. “Pete! Sorry I’m late. I’m ready for you now, I promise.”
Their moans grew louder; they couldn’t hear the stranger, but he began to hear them.
“Fuck me, John, fuck fuck fuck,” Pete was blurting out reflexively with each of John’s thrusts. He nearly screamed as John slammed into his prostate again and somehow drew a circle on it with the head of his dick, growling in his own ecstasy all the while.
The door opened.
Roger stared at them and they stared at him. A purple thong peeked out from underneath the singer’s perfectly white bathrobe, and the colors contrasting with his tan so well that he simply glowed with perfection, looking like an aging angel. Pete’s aging angel.
John pulled out of Pete silently and slipped back into his jeans, heading out the door without a word. He didn’t finish; he didn’t need to. The lust was lost, as was all hope; it was just another memory now.
Part 3: The End
He fled the room; he fled the world.
He walked the hotel hallways for what seemed like hours before coming to a final conclusion.
He needed girls. He needed drugs. He needed both in mass quantities. There was nothing else he could use to ease the pain that was taking over every part of his being.
He stoically headed back to his room and made a few calls. Numbness was only minutes away. All he had to do was wait.
Ten minutes was all it took before a knock at the door answered his prayers. Five girls, each younger than half his age, were waiting for him with fresh skin and painted lips. He stood back wordlessly to let them in.
Just as he was closing the door, the cocaine arrived. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Everything was beautiful; everything was perfect. He now knew it would all turn out just fine. After tonight, everything would be simply wonderful, and he would never be sad or lonely again.