It's worth suffering in silence to hear yourself out loud, screaming for help.

Pete Townshend sat alone in the recording room. That pure silence that the walls created was, at some point, quite annoying. But in that place he could hear his own thoughts, not if he had stayed at home, or with the members of his band, or even alone in his hotel room. The minutes became hours, and the hours became days.

Nobody knew where he was. But nobody seemed to complain. Neither a call nor a visit was made to that place.

His only companies were those big, noisy instruments that were kept silent. Pete looked at the guitar, or at the drums, feeling that they were the only ones who could understand his worried mind. He had many problems, but the one who made him an inmate of the real world had a simple name: Roger.

That bastard! It was the only thing that occurred to him every time he thought of him.

But why Roger was it the fault of Pete's depression? Daltrey, simply knew how to be himself. If he wanted to wear jeans and an unbuttoned shirt, he could do it.
He was a mature man, ready to live his life as he wanted.

He was the one with the wicked mind and fantasized about taking him to his hotel room to be happy again.

Happy as it used to be when Roger smiled at him, or when he spent time alone with him.

But that word would never mean what it used to be. Not since he saw Roger with that girl, his wife.

The love in his eyes when he looked at her was... unbelievable. His eyes shone the same way Pete’s did when he looked at Roger. Everybody knew it, everybody could see that. The love in the air was pure and intense.

The more thoughts he gave to that idea, the more his heart ached.

His fists hit the
desk. He did not let the tears fall from his blue eyes. The guitarist simply sat in front of the drums and started playing, without following any rhythm patterns. His anger decreased slowly. But his depression remained.

“Which song are you playing? May I join in?” A soft voice spoke through the microphone. Pete jumped on his seat. He was not expecting that!

A man with very recognizable blonde curls looked at him with his big blue eyes on the other side of the window. The man waved his hand and entered the room.

“Roger? What’re you doing here?”  Don’t make eye- contact, you fool!, Townshend thought.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been missing for days.”  That enormous, shining smile on Roger’s lips remained.

“Nothing.  I was just… practicing. Y’know.”

That grin. Pete felt happy, but then he remembered that the reason for Daltrey’s happiness was other person instead of him. His heart ached again, he did not know if he could handle it anymore.

“So, why the sad face?” The blond took Pete’s jaw to make him face his own eyes.

Some warm feelings increased in his chest. Those silly feelings for someone who would never love him the way the guitarist does. He shook his head and did not make eye contact.

Quickly, he got up and walked away from Roger's body.

“Why do you want to know? It’s not of your business” Pete said.

"It's, in fact, I need to know what the problem is, because it's affecting the band leader." Roger walk a few steps to get closer. But Pete still managed to escape.

There was a disturbing little game that they were playing unconsciously.

“Stop following me!” the guitarist shouted.

"Stop running away, then!" Roger took Pete's wrists and placed them against the wall. "Is it something I've done? Have I sung badly? WHAT?"

They locked their gazes. Roger’s face was way too close to Pete. And those deep eyes were eating him alive. But Townshend could not escape. Daltrey was stronger. And the way he felt his warm air hitting his lips… he was not sure if he could control himself for much longer.

“Get off me!” Pete screamed.

"Never! I really need to know what happens to you, you worry me Peter"

“Get off me, or I will…”

“What? What’ll you do? I’m stronger and faster. You can do nothing to—“ And his lips silent with the feeling of the other’s warm mouth. Their breathing increased. Pete enjoyed every single second that passed with his lips against Roger’s.

He broke the kiss and pushed Roger. The blond could not move. "I ... I certainly did not expect that"

“Go... Go away” Pete murmured at the other side of the room with his back to Roger. “I’m damned, wicked, insane...”

"Wicked?" Roger said, thoughtfully. How could he complain with a man like him?
The world was something distant.

Pete’s mind could not stop thinking about that kiss. So wrong, but so right. They were alone; nobody would enter because nobody knew they were there. He could repeat that bloody kiss for the rest of his days until someone needed to use the recording room. The only problem was Roger.

He was expecting the typical phrase 'I love you, but not in that way', then his heart would break, and he would die of loneliness. Nothing could return the time when they were just good friends.

He heard footsteps going away, then the door was closed. "Damn!" Pete shouted at the thought that his action caused Roger to flee.

Two strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to turn. His gaze met two blue eyes before feeling that dizzy feeling in his chest. His lips felt the sticky sensation of Roger's mouth for a few more minutes.
They did not move or try anything else.

Then, Roger broke the kiss and carefully opened his own lips to catch his breath. He kissed him again, slowly, without fear that the moment could end and never happen again. He parted his smiling lips to allow his tongue to enter. The taste of the blond's mouth was exquisite. He would never forget that.

He could not even have time to ask himself why all of that was happening. It was love that Roger felt for him, or just an occasional lust moment?

He put his hands on his back, while Roger felt Pete's face with his fingers. The kiss deepened. Those warm feelings inside the guitarist became warmer; his blood ran faster through his veins. All those crazy thoughts I had while I was lying in bed, when he used to daydream about Roger in ways he could not say. In a quick movement, he turn to Roger causing the blonde's back to hit the wall. He would not let it go. His lust was awake.

“Keep calm” The other man murmured, with his soft voice, “I’m not going anywhere. We have plenty of time”.

The need in his body increased. But Roger could not know it. He did not have to know. It would be embarrassing if he felt those growing feelings on the lower part of his body. But some affective hands would not hurt anyone…

Silently he put his hands inside Roger's shirt and felt the soft skin of his back on his fingers. His hands ran desperately over her back, touching each place with skin. Roger approached his body, feeling his own crotch against the guitarist's. A soft sound came from Roger's throat. Apparently Pete was not the only one enjoying that moment.

The guitarist slowly moved his hands from Roger's back to his torso, unbuttoning every button of the shirt they found in his path. Everything was so slow that Pete could not wait. His desperation was driving him crazy, while Roger stroked Pete's soft torso.

The guitarist placed small kisses on his way through his perfect and shaped torso and abdomen. With his free hands, he unbuttoned his jeans, without letting them fall, caressing his hips. Roger gasped.

Pete needed him, his mind and body were heated and he could not fight against that.

“Hurry…” Roger whispered.

“Why? Do you need something?” Pete teased, between kisses. He made his way to his belt, and bent down on his knees.

Now, he regretted every moment he was wasting thinking about what would happen if Roger realized how much they loved each other. Because Roger seems like he already knew.

Roger, on the other hand, was suffering; His body was beginning to warm, and his lips could not contain those guttural moans that came and went each time he felt Pete's fingers near his private parts.

“Rog not...” the dark-haired man said, as he inserted his fingers into the pocket of the other man's jeans. He pulled Roger's car keys out of his pants.

“Mhmm?” he groaned, in a mix of pleasure and confusion.

“... not here”  Pete abruptly stopped all his movements and stood up looking with a smile at Roger's confused face “In the car ...” He showed the keys making them swing in front of Roger's face.

Townshend opened the door. “You are going to stay here?” Pete looked at Roger's remarkable erection “With that?” He raised an eyebrow “We have things to do” he smirked. He emphasized the word 'things'.

Pete with a beard was something really attractive to Roger. Maybe that should have been enough for the singer to unconsciously bite his lower lip with an accomplice smile.

They left the room impatient to get to the car ...

That night the two slept in the back seats with the glasses of the car fogged as company.