This is the only draft I wrote playing in the 80s!

***

The band had just finished shooting the music video for their song 'It's A Hard Life' in which Roger and John, but also Freddie and Brian, had to wear ridiculously absurd outfits.
Which Freddie picked for them obviously. He also insisted on coloring John's hair grey because it would fit better to his costume, and giving them all make up.

They haven't been that fond Freddie's idea about the scenery and costumes, but since it was tradition that the songwriter got to decide what kind of music clip was being filmed for their song, the other three had to go with it.

"Grey hair!" John complained when he and Roger finally got to leave the film set. "How in the hell will I ever get this out?!"

Roger chuckled at this while struggling to get the neck piece off.

"At least it suits you. Look at me!! This fucking thing just won't come off!" He moaned frustrated and violently pulled on the itchy fabric thingy on his neck. "And I bet I am going to a rash tomorrow."

The two slowly shuffled to their dressing room without talking another word - they understood each others mental and physical pain the day had gotten them. A truly traumatic experience.

Before John could reach the door handle, Roger sprinted forward and opened it for him with a curtsey.

"My Prince."

"Shut up, you raccoon."

He was referring to Rogs black circles around his eyes - the now smeared eyeliner.
John went over to the mirrored wall, armed with some tissues and make-up remover he got from one of the stylists.
He sat down on one of the seats and squirted the oily liquid on a tissue. Roger joined him while he started to clean his eyes.

Roger kept complaining about the day while his boyfriend cleaned him up.
He said that he was bored all day and that all the waiting between the scenes were driving him crazy. The only reasons he didn't leave were John and that the recording would have taken even longer if he just went home.
John threw some "I know."s in.

"And those tights. I can't believe Freddie put me in fucking tights!"

"Have you seen me?" John now joined the complaining. "I look so bad."

"I think you look absolutely adorable, Deaky."

"Really?" John pulled up one eyebrow.

As an answer, Roger got up, grabbed John's chin and gave him a smooch.
John smiled and kissed along Roger cheek to his neck, where he licked a small piece of skin before he gave it another kiss.
Roger accidentally let out a high-pitched moan.

"Oh god. Sometimes I think that there's no way that you're not a bratty little bottom. Actually... you are bratty..." John laughed.

"I did not make that sound."

"I don't believe it. I absolutely believe that you are a bottom, sir." The bassist ignored Rogers poor excuse and continued to caress his partners irritated neck with his lips.

His one hand held Rogers head while the other slowly moved down and then rested on his crotch.
He could feel everything through the thin wool.

"Well, then. Fuck me." Roger said with a heavy breath and his heart was beating fast.

"Huh?"

"Did I stutter? Pound me like prom night, baby!" He exclaimed. "Let's get these thights off and-"

John stepped back and watched Roger immediately starting to pull the tights off with wide eyes.

"You're mental. Were technically still at work. What if Freddie or Brian walk in?"

"That didn't bother you after that one News Of The World concert, remember?"

God, yes, John remembered. This was probably one of the best times he did it with Roger.