get down, make love → r.t.
summary: roger wasn’t expecting to get a lap dance to one of his band’s songs. maybe it was time to try something new. he wasn’t complaining, though. doesn’t get very far.
pairings: bh!roger taylor x reader.
warnings: language (have you met me?), SMUT SMUT SMUT. this is absolute TRASH. I NEED HOLY WATER. but specifics: lap dancing, thigh riding, daddy!kink, praise!kink, safe sex, alcohol mentions/drinking, smoking, absolutely and completely nc-17.
word count: long as fuck. (3k.)
song inspirations: get down, make love - queen. with a little of i feel love - donna summer.
author’s note: wow, i’m really doing this. i’m really being THAT TRASH. but we all love it. keeping most of it under a read more for the youngin’s eyes. lower case intended. if you guys have any requests, i’d love to write some!
roger was finally home. it had been ages -- felt like fucking ages.
you had been by his side from how long as you can remember. growing up with each other and ended up being accepted in the same uni. it wasn’t planned, no. but fate continued to bring you two together. you remembered all the moments that were milestones in your head. the moment where you first saw ‘smile’ perform, the moments where roger was freaking out about tests and midterms and you were rubbing the tension away in his shoulders. he swore that he was going to drop out of the dentistry program to become a drummer professionally, to be a rockstar. you were his best friend at the time, and you were honest with him. ‘smile’ wasn’t going to get anywhere with tim as the lead singer -- he had no personality on stage. sure, he could sing well and play well, but there was no spark. there was something lacking.
that’s when tim left the band. you were leaning against the door of the van, while he was sitting with brian. you three shared a six pack before heading into the pub for more. it was like an angel was sent from above with freddie came up to you guys. he was persistent and of course, roger had to make an asshole comment about his teeth. it didn’t bother you or really brian at all. he had something and it was present. “rog, fuck his teeth, you know he has something.” you grumbled at him.
‘smile’ gave him a chance. that night you met mary, standing in the audience beside her. you tried to focus on the band, but noticed the frustration in roger’s and brian’s face. apparently, he wasn’t getting the words right, but the new version, the way freddie was singing them, had more power than the original lyrics if you said so yourself. and of course, you told roger and brian. with the help of freddie, ‘smile’ changed to ‘queen’ and there was a record deal. you were there for that, too. you stood away from the table when they sat down with their new manager. during the celebration at everyone’s favorite pub, you and roger finally shared a kiss. sure, it was alcohol fueled, but sometimes a little liquid courage never hurt anyone.
then, he was finally yours. you were finally his.
you two were in the apartment that you shared, watching ‘jubilee royal variety’. it was a quiet night, just happy to have roger hope from all the touring and recording. you had the demo for their new album ‘news of the world’ sitting by the record player just begging to be played again. your eyes wandered from the tellie and to roger. he was perfect, so fucking beautiful. he was holding a beer bottle, a cigarette dangled from his lips and moved to his fingers every few seconds. he was practically smoking through the carton. but you didn’t mind. you could tell that he was relaxed, happy that you were cuddling against his chest. your front teeth sank into your lower lip as you saw his veins that trailed his arm, watching the cigarette that rested between his fingers, how it moved to his lips.
the two of you had only slept with each other once since he had gotten back. it was the night he returned and hands couldn’t help but roam. it was one of the best times you two have had sex; it was so needy, so passionate. it was the perfect mix of rough and slow. if you were honest with yourself, it was one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.
“baby?” you called, trying to get his attention. It had been a few more minutes that went by. the thought you had in your head was fucking reeling. roger moved forward, placing a new cigarette in between his lips. his eyebrow arched at you, mumbling his reply that he had your attention. he sparked it, meeting your eyes, “turn off the tellie, yeah? i’ll be right back.”
there was another brow raised from roger, but all you could do was smirk, “what you have up your sleeve, love?” your fingers moved to your lips, zipping over them. heading to the bedroom, you changed quickly. you couldn’t keep him waiting nor yourself. a black bra that was slightly see-through, with a pair of panties that went up to your belly button. of course, you were wearing a garter belt and thigh nylons with it. you didn’t wear shoes though, knowing that wasn’t going to be comfortable right now, but you did wear one of his t-shirts, going down to your thighs. there wasn’t much left for the imagination.
stepping out of the room, you had a smirk on your face and roger’s face was priceless. you wish you had a chance to snag a polaroid of it. he was flicking the cigarette into the ash tray, looking up while his head was still down, but his eyes widened, pupils bursted at the sight of you, “fuck..” he grumbled, speechless of what was in front of him. moving to the turn table, you put down the demo record to well, the most fitting, ‘get down, make love’. you’d never think that you’d be giving your boyfriend a lap dance to his own band, but maybe he’d like it, but maybe he wouldn’t. it was worth the fucking risk.
“Interesting song choice, love…” he purred, eyes not prying from you anytime soon. Your hips started to sway to the beat of the song, getting caught into it. roger’s icy hues were on you, locked as he was lost in you. he continued to drag his cigarette, his inhales in time with the music -- a drummer’s curse. everything had to be in time.
your hands moved down his chest as you stepped closer, feeling the fabric of the tight white and red striped short sleeve. his legs started to spread apart, knowing what was coming next. he was making a sturdy hold for you, but you weren’t going to straddle him just yet. your hips continued to grind with the beat. his eyes didn’t move. occasionally, his tongue would run over his lips, before taking another drag of his cigarette. there was silence between you two, allowing the music and tension to speak for itself. you moved closer to him finally, finally straddling him. your hips rolled forward against him, already feeling him harden from the contact. there was a smirk on your lips when you saw his adam’s apple bounce, jaw clenching. but you were going to continue to tease. using his shoulders, you were helped to your feet, your leg brushing against his groin. he was about to take another drag of his cigarette, but nearly choked on the smoke.
you turned around, hips rolling. his eyes were glued to your ass, fingers curling into a fist knowing that he can’t touch you. good fuck, that’s all that he wanted to do was touch you. eyes did venture to your hips, up your back slightly and how his shirt rose up and gave him a peak for him. your ass made contact with his length, rolling against his. back against his chest, hand behind the back of his head. his hands remained at his sides, knowing the unspoken rules. you moved your head to the side to place kisses onto his neck, causing him to growl. “you’re playing with fire, princess.” he grumbled, causing you to bite down on you lower lip. “soon that fire is gonna burst.”
a smile was now on your lips, moving back to face him. hands were on his shoulders, holding yourself in place. the tension needed to be fixed, “once second, baby.” you mumbled, taking the needle off the record. you knew the song was going to change, and you weren’t sure if another queen song was going to kill the mood. even though roger hated disco, you put on the ‘45 of donna summer’s ‘i feel Iove.’ but roger didn’t give a fuck what music was on in the background; he wanted you back on his thigh. your moans were music enough for him.
once the opening chords hit, you straddled his thigh. hips started to roll, hands on his shoulders. there wasn’t much to cover yourself, feeling the roughness from his jeans almost as if you didn’t have any panties on at all. his hands moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. he finished the drag, exhaling the smoke away from you. while leaning forward, he moved behind you to crush what was left, hands going straight to your hips, started to guide you. noises started to mew from your lips, a smirk coming to his lips.
he was starting to place kisses onto your neck, marks for the world to know that you were his. his thumbs pressed into your hips from under the shirt. there was going to be marks on your hip bones, another reminder of the night. he hummed against your neck, “you’re doing so well, my love. taking my thigh so well.” his breath was hot on the shell of your ear. sure, it was only the two of you in the apartment, but he whispered in your ear, making sure it made your skin grow goosebumps.
it wasn’t like you were behind his drum set in the studio, in the back of the van with just shades hiding you. you weren’t in public, you were in the privacity of your own apartment, but roger knew that the whispering was going to turn you on more. your hips grinded down harder onto his thigh, where he started to flex the muscle, a harder service for you to be on. you were wet, and for some reason, you could feel sometime heightening already. maybe it was how your clit rolled against his thigh and just a bit of fabric was holding you. maybe it was his hot breath that tickled your skin, the words he spoke that were not safe for work. maybe it was how his hips guided you, helped you picking up paces or slowing you down.
your first orgasm was close, fingers in his hair, tugging on the blonde shaggy locks. your own thighs started to shake against his, a smirk coming to his lips, “you’re close, aren’t you? come on, beautiful,” he purred, your forehead rested against his own, seeing his lust blown pupils staring back at your hooded ones. there were light sweat beads on the dips of your neck, biting down on your lower lip to hide the unholy noise that was going to hit your throat, “no, love. lemme hear you. let me hear how good my thigh feels against you. be loud for daddy.” he growled, and that was it. your thighs clamped against his, your orgasm shaking through your body. your fingers curled against his hair, gripping. “good girl…” he whispered, both of your eyes closing.
he gave you a second to catch your breath, before helping your legs wrap around his waist, picking you up, “come on, i’m not done with you yet.” you grinned, laughing as your lips finally met in a kiss. roger knew how to navigate the apartment with you on his hold and his eyes closed with a kiss. it wasn’t the first time and definitely wasn’t going to be the last. he laid you down on the bed, letting your legs unhook from his waist. his hands were quick to remove the shirt that hit your main surprise.
his hands moved down your torso, taking in the beauty that you were. the curves you had, the color of your skin and how it felt in his hands. how soft you were, how you could easily break under him. “can’t believe you’d pull a stunt like this, hm?” his voice was low, dripping with lust.
“are you complaining?” your brow arched, a smirk on your lips. he both love and hated when you teased him. it riled him up, but he loved hearing you talked back. when other girls didn’t and completely submitted to him, there was no challenge and you gave him that.
he shook his head, hands already hooking to unclasp your bra. he was careful with it, knowing it was new and you probably loved it. then again, he could always buy you another set, “does it look like it?” he grumbled. but you reached forward, tugging on his shirt which was quick to be removed.
“and your jeans. its only fair.” you pouted, moving up to unbutton and unzip his jeans. the zipper followed the curve of his hardened length. his hands moved in your hair, pushing it back after kicking off his jeans.
“you’re so fucking beautiful, yn. i love you so fucking much.” he was always open about his love for you. arm always wrapped around you when he had the change. you were his, and everyone knew. even if groupies tried, he pulled you closer to show you off. he treated you like fucking royalty.
he pulled down the garters down your legs, the nylons following. you were quick to echo the three words, getting ready for the next round. his fingers hooked around your panties, rolling them down slowly, placing kisses onto your thighs, some nips to make marks to replace the old ones. “you’re mine.” he growled, your ankles now against his back. his tongue glided against your folds, causing a shiver up your spine within seconds. it was slow, attentive, trying to tease the fuck out of you. your hands were quick to find his uneven hair, tugging on it. he knew he needed to speed up. roger sucked on your clit, giving it much needed attention.
icey hues moved up to burn into you, fingers collecting your wetness to push a finger inside. he was started to stretch you out, making sure that the second he pushed in, there wasn’t any pinch. a second finger was added quickly, causing your back to arch. his tongue ran from your folds to your clit. eating out was one of his favorite things, just to know that his fingers and tongue could make you cum was incredible to him. it was shocking. your walls started to clench around his fingers, a signal to him that your second orgasm was approaching. he was quick to remove his fingers, giving you a growl of frustration, “roger!”
“love, you’re not cumming on my fingers tonight.” he laughed, going to his knees to remove his boxers. his length was finally freed, pre-cum dripping and it was begging to be touched. while he leaned over to the night stand to grab one, your own fingers wrapped around him. roger exhaled, bucking his hips into your hand as you used his pre-cum as some sort of lube, “darling, my love, i w-want to be inside of you…” he breathed out, a low growl in his throat.
“fine, fine.” you pouted, letting him open the foil and push the rubber onto his length. he moved in between your legs, settling in. you knew this was going to be quick. it was going to be slow and hard, just how most sensual nights were. both orgasms were going to hit hard.
“are you ready?” he asked, wanting your consent, even if he knew you were going to give it.
"yes." you were clear, concise and to the point. your consent was clear as day. that was what he wanted to hear. he leaned down, ghosting his lips over your own, pressing the tip in slowly, waiting for the walls to expand. he wanted no pain, nothing. you squeaked, before moaning out as he continued to push his way inside. the moan was more of a relief, needing him and getting that.
your lips were back onto each other once a pace started to happen. your hips were in time with his. the sounds of your moans, his breathing, both of your skin on each other filled the room. roger’s eyes moved around you face when you needed to pull back for some oxygen.
a few more kisses were shared, short, but your lips dragged against each other. his breathing was heavy, a patch of sweat coming to his forehead from how his thrusts were picking up speed. you had your own beads on your forehead and on your collarbone and the dips in your neck. names were exchanged, hitting your eyes differently than how they would normally say it.
your thighs started to shake, your nails dug into his shoulders, "i'm close, roger..." his eyes opened to watch your face twist, seeing how the moon hit certain planes of your bone structure. he could feel himself about to jump off the ledge you two had met on.
"come on, baby.." he mumbled, praising you, encouraging you to reach your peak. your walls started to flutter, tightening around him. that alone could make him hit his orgasm.
your own was like a wave, crashing on your chest. it hit hard, a heavy brick on your chest that soon broke, "fuck, roger..." you tried to speak through the pleasure, but couldn't. your breathing was restricted as it tried to catch up with itself. your fingers tugged on his blonde locks, while your foreheads grazed each other's. your back arched, shaking as you rode out you orgasm.
his was just as strong, a smack in the face. fire was burning from inside, ready to burst and burn his skin. "yn..." he muttered, almost stuttering it out. your names were prayers, being spoken in the most fragile moments in your lives. roger’s body trembled as he reached his orgasm, before resting his face into your neck. he placed lazy kisses onto your skin, trying to catch his breath.
“rog…” you whispered, “i’m so happy you’re home. i love you so much.”
he smiled, pulling himself off of you to lay down beside you, “i missed you, my beautiful girl.” he mumbled, “i love you.”
vaporwave
2087
theartofmadeline
