Warnings: Oral (m recieving), handjob, hair pulling, p in v sex
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Your boyfriend Roger had band practice tonight, and he asked you to come along with him. You felt a little bit hesitant, seeing as you only had a short amount of time to get ready. “Roger, no, I don't think I'll have enough time to do my hair—” you protested.
“Pleaseee? I'll give you extra time to get ready!” He gave you those sweet puppy eyes that were irresistible. “Okay, I suppose.” You went to your and Roger's bedroom to put on your outfit. You picked out a black tank top, one of Roger's floral button-ups and some jeans. You then went to the bathroom to style your hair, fixing it to perfection. You put on the slightest amount of makeup - nothing too crazy, just a little eyeshadow, mascara and your favorite lip gloss.
You felt so pretty.
You walked out of the bathroom to the living room, where your boyfriend was sitting on the couch waiting for you. When he saw you, he stood up and walked over to you, his cheeks turning bright red. “Damn, love, you look amazing.” He said, before kissing your cheek. You smiled. “I mean it, you're always so beautiful.” Now it was your turn to blush.
“Says you.” You giggled. You thought Roger was so pretty. You admired his long, golden locks and his beautiful blue eyes. He looked as if he had been sculpted by the gods. He smiled before grabbing his keys. “Ready?” You nodded.
You walked out the door to the car. Roger started it and you both got in, fastening your seatbelts. Shortly, you started driving to Freddie's house. “Wanna listen to some music, love?” Roger asked.
You smiled and nodded. Roger turned on the radio and “Life in the Fast Lane” by the Eagles came on. You smiled and looked at your boyfriend, who was also smiling. You guys loved this song.
Once you arrived you were greeted by Freddie.
“Y/N, my darling!” Freddie hugged you. You giggled and hugged him back. You always loved how flamboyant he was. “Hi, Freddie.” You pulled apart from each other and he smiled. “You look fabulous tonight! Roger's always talking about how beautiful you are.” Freddie shot him a wink, and Roger's face turned bright red. “Come on, we have to show you what we've been working on!”
You both followed Freddie into the house and into the rehearsal room, where Brian and John were. “Hi, Y/N!” John walked over to you and hugged you. You smiled and hugged him back.
“Y/N! It's so nice to see you!” Brian said and did the same thing as John, to which you reciprocated. After a couple minutes of chatting and updating the other boys on how life had been going recently, they picked up their instruments and started playing the new stuff they wrote. Your eyes were on Roger the entire time, watching how he played the drums. You thought it was so hot, the way he would bang them, but at that moment, you wanted him to bang you instead.
You watched as his hair started getting messy, the slightest sheen of sweat covering his skin. He was so fucking hot. He also had the voice of an angel. His singing voice was so impressive, he could go from a rough, rocker voice to operatic, high notes.
After they finished playing, Freddie looked at you.
“What did you think, darling?” You looked up at him and smiled. “It was lovely.”He smiled back at you. “I'm glad you liked it, we've been working really hard on these songs.”
You guys went back to talking afterwards and had dinner together, just joking around and catching up on everyone's lives. While you were listening to John talking about what's been going on in his life lately, you felt Roger's hand rest on your thigh. You swallowed, acting as if you didn't feel anything.
As time passed, you felt his hand slowly move upwards, which caused a slight gasp to slip out of you. “Y/N, is something wrong?” Freddie asked with a knowing smile. “I just thought I forgot my purse at home for a second, but I just remembered it's in Roger's car.”
“Alright, darling.” He winked at you. After a while, you and Roger decided to go home. You both said goodbye to everyone and walked out to the car. Once you got in and started driving home, you felt Roger's hand on your thigh again. He would occasionally stroke it with his thumb every now and then, sending heat throughout your body.
When you got home, Roger parked the car, but he didn't unlock it and step out. “Roger, are we going in?”
He looked at you and chuckled. “You think I didn't notice you staring at me the way you did the entire time while I was playing?”
Fuck.
He chuckled again. “Let's go to the backseats, yeah? Is that ok?” You nodded. “Fuck, yes.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, climbing into the backseat as he did the same.
Once you were back there, he kissed you roughly. You both couldn't keep your fucking hands off of each other. As you were making out, you slid his button-up off of your body. Your lips disconnected as your clothes and shoes were thrown into the front seats.
You both were left in your undergarments as your lips met once again, your moans being muffled by his lips as Roger ran his hands up and down your body.
“Want your mouth on my dick.” Roger said breathlessly. You obliged, your hands moving to his boxers before sliding them off. His dick sprung out and hit his stomach. You spit in your hand, took his dick and started stroking him. “Fuck...” He rested his head against the door and his eyes fluttered shut.
You took him into your mouth and he let out a moan. You started sucking his dick and stroking him at the same time, earning heavenly moans and whimpers from your boyfriend. His hand found its way to your hair and he started pulling it. “Oh, fuck, Y/N…”
Soon, his moans got higher in pitch, telling you he was close. “Fuck, I'm gonna come, love... oh, fuck—” He let out a whimper and his hips bucked up into your mouth, his cum shooting down your throat. You pulled off of him and looked at him. He was panting, his chest rising and falling. "Mmm, fuck, you did so fucking good." He stroked your cheek with his thumb.
“Please...” You whined. “Please what, darling?” He kept stroking your cheek. “Please fuck me...” You said, feeling heat rush down to the part of your body where you needed him most.
He laughed. “Lie back for me.” You did as he said and rested against the car door. His hands moved to unclasp your bra, and he took it off. “Fuck, your tits are beautiful...” He said, taking a moment to admire them before slowly taking off your underwear. He positioned himself, lying on top of you. “Are you ready, love?” You nodded quickly.
Roger pushed his dick into you slowly, and you let out a whimper. He started to rock his hips against yours, and you started moaning. “Fuck, Rog...” He groaned as he started to speed up a bit. “You're so fucking pretty, love...”
Soon, he was pounding into you, and you felt the car shake with each movement. Tears fell from your eyes and your mascara was running down your cheeks, your moans mixing into sobs from how good it felt. “Roger! Fu-uck!” You tugged on his blonde hair as a moan escaped from his lips.
You felt the heat in between your legs start to get stronger, more tears running down your cheeks. “I'm gonna come...” Roger's hand moved to your clit and started rubbing it in time with his thrusts, adding to the pleasure you were already experiencing. “Come for me, love...” He moaned out.
You felt the pressure in your abdomen build up before you let out a string of moans as you came, your vision blurry as tears streamed down from your eyes. “Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna- fuck!” Roger whimpered as he came shortly after you did.
His thrusts became sloppy before he stopped, leaning down to kiss your lips. You kissed him back, moaning against his lips. He pulled back, wiping your tears with his thumb. “You did so good, darling...” He said, panting. “I love you so much.” He kissed you again.
“I love you too...” He smiled. “Are you ok, love?” You nodded. “How about we go inside and rest for a while, hmm?” You nodded once more and smiled. “I'd love that.”
You both got dressed and went inside the house. You showered together to rinse all the sweat off of your bodies, holding each other close. Afterwards, Roger changed into a grey t-shirt and boxers, and you wore his black t-shirt and your undergarments.
You both got into bed and cuddled each other. “I love you so much, Y/N.” He pressed another kiss to your lips. “I love you too, Roger.” Soon after, you fell asleep in each other’s arms.
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Guys I’m so sorry if this is bad. I hope you enjoyed it though!
A Different Kind of Eduation: P Is For Pet Play (Chapter 13)
ADKoE MASTERLIST
Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader
Series Summary: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.
Chapter Summary: Reader learns a few new tricks in Roger's latest lesson.
Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, role play, pet play, puppy play, training, holding, fingering, spanking, collar, butt plug, orgasm delay/cumming on command, a bit of degradation and humiliation
Words: 9951
A/N: I think writing is a winter sport for me. Which is part of why this chapter has been sitting at 85% finished for months. But, the weather is finally cooling down here in Aus and this chapter is finally done! I'm excited for ya'll to read it. Hopefully I've edited it enough lmao
(Also, apologies for any formatting weirdness, it's because tumblr now has rules about how many characters can be used before you have to put in a line break or whatever, so I had to go through and break up some paragraphs into smaller sections. It should still be okay but all my fics are also available over on Ao3 if you wanna read them that way)
(idk how many of you are still interested in this fic so if you want your name taken off let me know, or if anyone wants to be added i can also do that)
“Don’t you look professional,” Roger had teased, handing you a rather large glass of water in lieu of the wine you’d usually have, as you got settled in the study. You’d gone to his straight from work, so were a little more business casual than what he usually saw you wearing. The break from routine threw you off a little but mostly because you were too early for dinner so went straight to the study for your extra lesson. And you quickly got over it.
“So, pet play,” you’d said once you were settled, prompting Roger to start.
“We touched on the basics last time,” he slipped easily into his teacher mode, seeming totally unphased by the change to routine, “but was there anything else you wanted to know?”
You thought for a moment, “I guess I’m not totally clear on why people do it. And, like, you said it wasn’t always about having sex? I don’t really get how a scene with an animal can lead to sex but then also kink without sex sounds paradoxical.”
“Very reasonable questions.” Roger tapped his whiteboard marker against his palm as he decided where to begin, “Last week I said that there were any number of reasons people might be drawn to role play and that includes pet play. Different people like it for different reasons. But I suspect thats not really what you were asking about.”
You hummed and nodded your head, “Yeah, I guess my big question is why animals? Why don’t just do the naughty nurse thing or whatever.”
“Look, pet play isn’t something I am incredibly familiar with, certainly not when you compare it to other aspects of BDSM, so I can’t pretend to be an expert and I can really only speculate on some reasons people might be drawn to it. From what I’ve seen of it and the people I know who dabble in it, I think pet play offers an element of creativity that some other kinks don’t always seem to have. Creating your pet’s personality or even the costume you wear. Which isn’t to say roleplaying as anything else doesn’t also have those aspects, but I think for some people working out how to act like an animal can be more of a creative challenge or something more long term than your typical role play concepts. A person sinking money into animal inspired fetish gear is going to be inclined to revisit the role play multiple times, expanding on it, experimenting with it. But really, I think for most people, it’s not inherently about the animal, per se, but the animal opens up opportunities for exploration that other role plays may not. We established last week that part of what may draw people to role play is acting like someone else. You can be more demanding, or more sultry, or more adventurous than you regularly feel. Pet play just pushes that idea a bit further. Depending on the animal you choose and their temperament, it might be as far from you as you can possibly get.”
“Mmmm,okay,”
“I know it seems a little contradictory to say it’s not about the animal while trying to explain why other role plays may not appeal the same way.”
“Just a bit,”
“It is important to keep that in mind though, especially while we discuss how pet play can be incorporated into a sexual dynamic. It’s not acting out bestiality. It’s about roles – someone being in control of someone else in a concrete ownership way – and it's about scenarios that connect with the chosen pet. The way people who take on a canine persona act will likely be vastly different from those that take on an equine persona. And the scenes they choose to play out will in all likelihood be quite different too. For instance, a pony play scene might be physically demanding to simulate a racing experience – being ridden, using a crop, that sort of thing – or it might be an exploration of breeding through a scenario where the horse is put out to stud, or, for those who are more into a show horse type aspect, it might be more about dressing up in costumes – masks and hoof mitts or leather bodysuits - and being shown off at live kink events, maybe even performing a dressage inspire routine.”
“Sorry, hoof mitts?”
“A type of bondage gear, not always used for pet play. Basically, they’re something submissives can wear over their hands or arms as a type of restraint. They make it impossible to hold or grab things and sometimes they can represent animal paws or hoofs.”
“Jesus, alright.”
Roger chuckled, “We really are only scratching the surface with these lessons. Anyway, another example, cow play also known by the term HuCow, a portmantau of human and cow. Any guesses what that might entail?”
“If you say milking,”
“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,”
“No way,” you snorted.
Roger shrugged, “It’s not a crazy as it sounds. Lactation fetishes aren’t all that rare, which probably says something about the way breasts are viewed and sexualised but that’s a discussion for another time. But also, it doesn’t have to involve actual lactation, it could just be about squeezing the breasts or even “milking” a penis until it ejaculates. HuCow scenes can tick a number of boxes for people. Those with breast or pec fetishes might like it for the emphasis it can put on that part of the body. There is, like with pony play, a potential for exploring a breeding kink, both as a cow or a bull. You can also get into some gender based kinks like forced feminsation and the like. A male identifying person could be made to act as a female cow, maybe dress in a cow print bikini and have their nipples stimulated as if they were being milked.”
“Huh. Okay, that’s very specific. I guess I can see why some animal role plays might appeal to people more than other ones would. So, if we did do something with pet play, would you um, like me to be a, a cow?”
“If you were drawn to the idea, I’d be happy to explore that with you. But I was thinking something more along the lines of puppy play.”
“So no milking?” you teased, hoping to cut through some of your awkwardness with humour.
Roger smiled, “No milking, no. The first thing that came to mind was a training type scene. It’s fairly classic in the world of puppy play but with good reason. Training is a big part of owning a puppy, reinforcing desired behaviours, teaching them what behaviour is acceptable, teaching them tricks. But training can also be part of many other kinks and sexual dynamic. Sometimes it’s intentional training, sometimes more subconscious in just aiming to handle more intense sensations or to explore wider within a preferred kink. Impact play fans might train to be able to enjoy being struck with a crop instead of just a paddle. Someone might do throat training to be able to deep throat more comfortably. A dom might train a submissive to say thank you after a spanking or to ask permission to cum before each orgasm. We’ve done some light anal training in that I gave you a plug and you wore it to help adjust to the sensation and so you could take me better that way. It’d be my hope that, if you were inclined to try it, a scene about training might be easier to enjoy than something more out there like milking. You don’t have to respond yet,” Roger hastened to add, “I still want to answer your second question before we even think about prac.”
You were relieved Roger didn’t require an immediate answer and that he hadn’t forgotten your initial questions because you weren’t sure you could make a decision without knowing more. But you supposed you could also see the logic in his idea and, the way he’d explained it, training didn’t seem as scary as some of the other things he’d mentioned.
“So the second part of your question is a little more complex.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, “You were curious how pet play can lead to sex when one person is acting like a literal animal. The answer is, the same way any other kink can lead to sex. Remember, it’s not about the animal, it’s about the dynamics. Playing as owner and pet is often just a variation of dom and sub – there's the power element, control, the stuff we’ve talked about in nearly every lesson. And, like I said before, the person taking on the pet role is probably also taking on a different personality than normal so that can contribute to the sex. But a large part of the kink community, I would even hazard a guess that it’s the majority, would tell you that any kink can also be fun when there’s no sex involved. With pet play specifically, it’s a fun excuse to dress up, to play, or curl up with someone you care about and have a nap. It can be comforting to feel as if someone owns you when you wear a collar for them. There is tenderness in having your hair brushed and being petted, feeling looked after and cared for. Pet play can just be a different way to express affection for someone.”
“Not gonna lie, that sounds kinda nice.”
“It really is. That doesn’t just go for pet play either. It is entirely possible to be in a kinky partnership with someone and never have sex. You will find that every single kink we have covered, someone out there enjoys it in a non-sexual way. Bondage, impact play, sensation play, you name it. Though, of course, different people define sex differently and have different boundaries around it. Go to enough kink events and munches and you realise how wide the spectrums for these sorts of things are.”
“So like, they’ll just be tied up and not fuck?”
Roger chuckled, “Yeah, sometimes it really is just about the sensations and emotions involved in being restrained. If you continue to explore kinks after, uh, well after we complete this course, you may find that kinks you considered challenging or uncomfortable become more enjoyable when penetrative sex, or any sexual touch at all, isn’t part of it. It’s just about experimenting and figuring out what you enjoy and then defining those boundaries.”
You felt a little sad at the reminder that your tutoring would eventually stop but tried not to show it too much. You figured that, as much as Roger might say he enjoyed teaching you, he was probably also at least somewhat looking forward to their end, just to be done with the risks to his teaching position if nothing else.
“Now, not to completely undercut that idea,” Roger said, pulling your attention back to his lesson, “but, if you are curious and okay with trying pet play, I was intending on steering it in a more sexual direction. That is the core point of these lessons after all, to learn about kink and how to safely incorporate it into sex. Of course, it’s helpful to keep in mind that what I’m teaching you isn’t the only way to enjoy these kinks and that enjoying being spanked or called names or engaging in role play doesn’t require an enjoyment of any sort of sex; but sex is kind of what we’re here for.”
“So what are you thinking then?”
“I’ve already suggested puppy play but did you have any other ideas yourself? I don’t want to tell you what pet to be if there's an idea that interested you or something you’re more drawn to. Role playing as a pet might feel a bit different to role playing as my groupie, and I’d prefer you to be comfortable with the selection than just to do what I want.”
“I don’t know, um, I guess my only thought was just not a cow.” You gave a little shrug, feeling pleased when Roger laughed, “If you think puppy play is a good staring point for me, then I’m happy to go with that. How exactly would it lead to sex though? I’m still not sure I understand that part of pet play.”
Roger hummed in thought, “I think obedience and training is a very easy way to incorporate sex into a puppy play scene. I can reward you with physical touch when you obey my orders, or punish you if you don’t. Remember, you’re not being a dog you’re taking on personality traits and actions that align with behaviour common to dogs, but you’re a consenting adult who likes being spanked, so, if you want that tonight, I can do it.”
“I want it,” you said with an eager nod, the thought alone enough to make you squirm a little in your seat.
Roger smiled, “Okay, good. So rewards and punishments can be an easy way to incorporate sex and other kinks. In addition to that though, I can order you to touch me, or to position yourself in particular ways with the intention of turning us both on. I can tell you to behave in ways that will make you feel humiliated or demeaned, which we both know you get off on, or incorporate degrading nicknames that feel thematically relevant, like calling you a bitch instead of a whore. Even just the act of being bossed around will probably contribute. And they don’t call it doggy style for nothing do they.”
You realised you were biting your lip, “I like the sound of that.”
“I thought you might. Now there are a couple things to go over before we start, just so we’re both on the same page and know what to expect and what’s okay. Let me know if something doesn’t feel comfortable or doesn’t sound enjoyable okay?”
You nodded expectantly, curious to hear what else Roger had in mind.
“Now, while my intention is for this to involve sex, I do also understand how out of your comfort zone a lot of this is, so I’d want to ease you into it a bit and not focus on sex straight away. Um, I’m thinking that you’d be in just your underwear to start.”
“Sounds pretty sexy,” you joked.
Roger shook his head but he was clearly amused, “I never said it wouldn’t be sexy, just that it wouldn’t focus on sex right away. In addition though, and only if you’re comfortable with it, I have a collar with a lead that you can wear.”
You stomach flipped at the idea “Oh, um, a collar? Like a dog collar?”
“Well, it looks sort of similar to one a actual dog might wear but it is definitely made for a human. I did mention collaring very, very briefly when we were looking at bondage. They can represent a few things but one of the more common reasons behind collaring a submissive is as a symbol of ownership. Not necessarily in a master/slave way, though of course it can be. But if the sub wore a collar to a kink event it would be a very clear signal that that person already has a dominant. And in private it can be a signal that they are still okay with submitting to their dom, that they’re willing to follow orders or participate in a scene.”
“Could I maybe try it on first, see how it feels before I decide?”
“Absolutely, when we’re done here I’ll get it for you. I’d have some specific expectations too around what you are and aren’t allowed to do, things that could contribute to punishments and rewards. Obviously obedience is a major part of this so my expectation is that if I order you to do something, you will do it. Of course, if something is way beyond what you feel comfortable with you can say your safe word,”
“Pizzazz,” you said at his pause.
“Very good, you can say pizzazz and we’ll stop. We can stop for good if you want or we can just use it as a pause in the scene to check in with each other and adjust things. Does that sound okay?”
“Mmhmm, yeah, definitely.”
“Good. My other expectation is that you answer to puppy and pup. I may also use your name during the scene but I may decide to just call you pup, we’ll see how it feels in the moment. And in addition to that, I want you to respond accordingly to good girl or bad girl. Now, dogs can’t speak so I don’t expect to hear much talking from you unless I ask you a question and prompt you to answer with words, or of course if you want to safe word. You can make sounds though, whatever feels natural in the moment. If you feel like barking or whatever, go for it, but if that feels too weird don’t worry.”
He gave you a reassuring smile, “Umm, anything else? Oh, yeah, uh, dogs also can’t walk on two legs,” he laughed a little, “So, I would also suggest that you crawl around on all fours. And if I ask you to fetch something you should carry it in your mouth where possible. Does that seem reasonable?”
You readily agreed. Though the idea of crawling around hadn’t occurred to you initially, it made sense and you reasoned that being on the ground would probably contribute to feeling more puppy-ish, or at least more submissive.
“One final thing, and this is definitely not mandatory but I figured you might be into it. Do you want to wear a tail?”
Your mind jumped straight to the box of dress up items your kindergarten class had had including dinosaur tails you could tie around your waist. Surely Roger had to mean something else, “Uhh, a tail?”
Roger held up a finger, signalling you to sit tight, while he ducked out of the room. When he came back he held up a butt plug that, instead of tapering into the traditional shape on the outside end, was instead decorated with a fluffy tail.
“These aren’t always used with pet play and there’s a few different varieties. Technically I think this one is meant to be a fox tail, but I only thought of it a few days ago so my options were limited. You can definitely get ones that aren’t so fluffy, ones shaped more like a cat or dog tail that are thinner, firmer. There are little fluff ball bunny tails, horse tails, you name it there's probably a plug out there. The question is, do you want to wear it?”
Your decision came quickly, “I’ll wear it.” and then when Roger raised his eyebrows as if asking if you’d really thought it through you added, “I think it’s cute. And I think wearing a plug will help make me hornier which will help me get into the scene more.”
“Alright then,” Roger smiled, handing the plug over, “I also brought the collar over, if you wanted to have a look at it too before we start.”
You nodded, though it made you much more nervous than the tail had, and gingerly took it from Roger. The leather was smooth and cool to the touch but the inside was lined with a softer material that you assumed was for the wearers comfort. It had a simple buckle clasp, much like a regular pet collar, and a heart shaped charm dangling from it where a name tag would be on a real dog collar.
“Can you help me put it on?”
Roger nodded moving behind you to buckle it around your throat. He was gentle, carefully fitting it and checking that it wasn’t too tight both verbally and by slipping two fingers under the collar, before he finally fastened it in place.
You reached up to feel the soft leather, tilting your head in both directions as you adjusted to the sensation of it. Your fingers slipped down to the heart charm, the metal cool against your skin, and you felt your own heart quicken a little. You put it down to a few nerves now that you were on the verge of trying pet play, though you couldn’t totally forget what he’d said about ownership. Belonging to Roger didn’t sound too bad.
“What do you think of it?”
“I don’t mind it. It’s not as uncomfortable as I guess I thought it might be. I guess I probably wouldn’t want to wear it all the time but for a specific scene I think I’m okay with it.”
“Does that mean you’re interested in trying a pet play scene?”
“Might as well,” you laughed. You knew he was checking for good reason, that he was just trying to be safe, but it was tempting to remind him you’d not once backed out of a practical lesson, “I don’t necessarily think it’ll be super my thing but I am curious enough to try it out.”
“Alright, sounds good. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and get ready then, there's lube in the cabinet over the sink. Just give me a shout when you’re good to go.”
You nodded, feeling surprisingly calm, and collected the tail from where you’d set it aside on the desk.
It took you a little while to get ready – a few minutes to compose yourself once you were alone, the idea of acting like a dog suddenly sounding much more ridiculous than Roger had made it sound, and then of course there was the plug to sort out. The collar was a slight distraction too. Not because it was uncomfortable or difficult to wear, though you couldn’t exactly forget it was there either. But the sight of it in the mirror would make you stop, your fingers rising to run over the leather. You were kind of amazed that it didn’t feel worse. You’d also dithered about for longer than you might have needed to, trying to decide if you should leave your bra on or discard it since you’d had to forgo your knickers to wear the tail. Roger would probably appreciate it, if not prefer it, if you were totally naked. But then again, the bra would keep your boobs in place which was probably preferable while you were crawling around on all fours. In the end, you kept the bra on though you’d first asked Roger his preference when he met you at the bathroom door.
“It’s up to you,” Roger had said patiently, “although, I think I’m much more likely to cum prematurely and ruin my pants if you’re totally naked. Going to have a hard enough time as is.” He’d dropped his eyes deliberately to your cunt and you’d shifted where you stood, knowing he’d know if you squeezed your thighs together but tempted to do it all the same.
He let his gaze linger on your lower half, as if daring you, before he finally tore his eyes away, “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think so.”
“Okay, then on the ground for me.”
You lowered yourself to your knees right there in the hallway, and then to your hands. The carpet was a little rough against your knees and palms, the tail tickling the back of your thighs, but it was easy following Roger’s instructions and you waited for the next one, hoping he’d keep making it easy for you.
“Good girl.” He leaned over you as he said it, a soft metallic sound drawing your attention though you kept as still as you could. “Time for walkies,” he announced as he straightened, “Go on pet.”
You crawled down the corridor, your heart thumping as you realised just what a view you were giving Roger as he fell into step behind you.
You weren’t sure where exactly Roger expected you to go but made an educated guess it would be the bedroom since that was where you usually ended up. It was open when you reached it which you figured meant you were right, however, before you could enter you felt the collar being tugged from behind and Roger tutted, making you stop. A leash was clutched in his hand when you turned to look.
“Not in there pet. The lounge,”
You nodded, readjusted your direction and set off again, practically able to feel Roger’s eyes on your arse and wondering if the tail was hiding much from view.
When you crawled through the doorway of the lounge, you were pleased to find Roger had spent his time getting the room ready. The coffee table had been dragged aside, pushed up against the wall so it wouldn’t be in the way, and the curtains had all been drawn so there was no chance of any nosey neighbours seeing anything, a couple of lamps softly lighting the room instead. But that wasn’t all he’d prepared.
“You wanna play pup? Go get your ball,” Roger pointed towards the far side of the room where a fuzzy tennis ball sat on the floor, as he took a seat on the couch.
You obediently crawled around the couch to the ball, lowering your head to pick it up with your teeth. But you paused a few inches from it.
“Uh, woof?” you said, feeling rather self-conscious, but wanting to get Roger’s attention.
You succeeded, which you could tell by the way he was stifling a laugh, “Yes?”
“This ball hasn’t been anywhere near a real dog, right?”
Roger shook his head, “Brand new. I’m not that sadistic.”
“Just checking,” you smiled, before picking the ball up between your teeth. You hadn’t experimented with gags in any of your lessons with Roger, at least not yet, but you had to imagine wearing a ball gag would feel similar to carrying this tennis ball like you were. It forced you to keep your mouth open, made it difficult to swallow which meant you could feel yourself getting drooly as you crawled back towards Roger.
He held out his hand and you dropped the ball into it, finding it difficult to ignore how being on the ground put you closer to his cock. It was a small step from noticing that to realising Roger was beginning to stiffen, and then to realise he was probably at least partly aroused from seeing you drooling with a stuffed mouth and naturally you couldn’t help but wonder if he intended to use your mouth at all.
“Good girl,” Roger cooed, no idea what was going on through your head, as he reached out with his free hand to stroke your hair like he was patting a dog.
You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, the praise making you feel warm and pleased and eager to earn more, although your instant reaction to Roger’s positive reinforcement made you think maybe he’d had a point when he suggested puppy play. You were turning into Pavlov’s bloody dog, getting aroused whenever Roger praised you. “Alright, pup, you ready to learn some tricks?”
You gave an affirmative hum, hoping he’d find it an acceptable response and not demand you bark instead.
Thankfully he seemed fine with any non-verbal response because he smiled and moved toward the centre of the room, dropping down to his knees, “Here girl.”
At a click of Roger’s fingers you crawled over to join him, earning another good girl but this time the praise was accompanied by his touch. His fingers dipping between your legs to rub your exposed cunt.
“I’m glad you chose the tail over your knickers,” he said softly, “Think you might be too,” he added as he drew his fingers away, the tips glistening with your slick.
You whined in response and nodded.
Roger gave you a wink and then he was back to business, “Alright pup, we’re going to learn a few tricks today. Let’s start with an easy one, sit.”
You weren’t a hundred percent sure what Roger wanted but you thought the most likely option was to rest back against your heels.
“So close, pet,” Roger cooed, his hands firm on your knees as he directed you to open them, “Gotta keep your legs spread so I can reward you properly. Let’s try again, all fours now.”
You felt a little annoyed at yourself for not realising, and hurried to obey him, eager to show you could get it right.
“Sit,”
You sat back again, your arse against your heels, the plug being pressed firmly into you, your knees open. Roger took full advantage of your position, his fingers slipping between your pussy lips as he praised you again, drawing a soft moan from you.
The sound of pleasure seemed to be Roger’s signal to withdraw his fingers, “Time to learn another trick, pup. When I tell you to beg I want you to sit just like this but put your paws up,” He physically directed you as his spoke, positioning your hands at chest height, elbows bent, fingers curved over your palms. “And whine so I know you need something.”
You felt a little silly but whining wasn’t too hard since you did want him to keep touching you.
“Such a smart puppy girl,” Roger said as he rewarded you again, each stroke of his fingers making you more eager to have him inside you.
“Right, we’re gonna learn another trick now. Lay down.”
You bit back a disappointed groan as he removed his touch again, and did as you assumed he wanted, stretching out on your front.
“Roll over,”
Perhaps the increasing horniness was hindering your thought process because for a moment you didn’t understand what Roger meant. Did he want you to roll across the floor to the other side of the room? How would that be arousing for him? The whole situation seemed suddenly ridiculous and you forgot you weren’t meant to speak, “Really?”
“Pup,” Roger’s tone was warning, “Do what I say now. Roll over.”
“Sorry Sir,” you hurried to say as you prepared to roll yourself across the room until he told you to stop, still not sure why he’d be turned on by such a thing but willing to find out.
But a full 360-degree turn was not what Roger had in mind. He stopped you once you were on your back, his eyes raking over your bra clad chest and then down to your bare cunt.
You felt yourself blushing, partly from how he was staring and partly because you felt silly for thinking he’d jack off to you literally rolling around. Turning onto your back made much more sense.
Roger shuffled a little closer on his knees, “When I say roll over, this is what I want to see. But next time I expect you to put your arms and legs up too.” Once again he directed you as he explained, guiding your limbs into the air, knees and elbows bent. “This way I can see everything I own.” He gently parted your knees a little further so he could easily stoke between them, toying with your clit. “I can properly reward you for following my orders. Or punish you for speaking out of turn.”
You yelped as he suddenly spanked your pussy but he was quick to sooth the pain, or at least distract you from it as his fingers dipped into your entrance.
You moaned, willing Roger to press deeper, to give you more, catching yourself right before you’d added his name and a potentially pathetic, “please”. Begging would only work if you kept your words to yourself.
But at that moment Roger seemed inclined to reward you, his other hand coming up to rub your clit again as he started working his fingers further into you.
His paused again as his phone began to ring from where he’d left it forgotten on the couch.
He rolled his eyes, “ignore it, it can go to voicemail.”
You nodded, trying to block out the ringtone and focus on how Roger was touching you, his fingers pressing deeper and faster as if he were trying to make up for the annoyance of the phone.
"Finally” Roger muttered under his breath as the call rang out and the phone fell silent. His fingers were still plunging into you, stroking you just right, pushing you closer to release.
Your moan broke off in a disappointed squeak as Roger unexpectedly withdrew his hand, his mobile sounding once more.
“Jesus,” he sighed exasperatedly as he shuffled on his knees until the still trilling phone was within reach, hastening to deny the call. “Right, where were we?” his voice softened slightly as he turned back to you but a moment later he was swearing as his landline began to ring.
You sighed and let your limbs drop to the floor, craning your neck to look at Roger upside down, “Maybe you should take that.”
“I should’ve taken the bloody thing off the hook,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Alright pup, sit.”
You dutifully scampered back to your knees, taking up the position he’d taught you.
“Stay.”
You smiled in acknowledgment, a little amused he was continuing with the role play.
Waiting was easier said than done. Roger’s home phone was corded but the distance from where it hung to the doorway of the lounge was close enough that he could remain on the line whist he paced into your field of view and then back out. You caught snippets of the conversation – heard him apologise for missing the call and that he had company – and tried to work out who had called.
“Mmhmm,” Roger hummed as he moved back into the doorway, “Well look now's not really a great time for m-. No, of course not.” Roger rolled his eyes and then threw you an apologetic glance.
You smiled back, his constant walking making you too wary to move from your position. He’d told you to sit and stay after all, he’d definitely notice if you rearranged yourself. But the longer the phone call went on, the more uncomfortable you became. Your knees grew stiff and you had to wiggle around to keep from getting pins and needles. Without Roger there egging you on, keeping you in the moment, stimulating you, the whole puppy thing started to feel even more silly than it had at the start. You couldn’t deny you were wet (it was hard to ignore) but you felt that was probably more to do with Roger than the scene itself. Although, perhaps you weren’t being totally fair in your judgement due to your current rising discomfort. You pondered the lesson so far, trying to work out how exactly you felt about pet play and how it was Roger could so affect you, trying to subtly shift yourself without being noticed. The tail plug was much closer to the forefront of your mind now, firm on one end and tickling you from the other and you were starting to feel a little chilly, close to naked as you were, but worst of all was the sudden realisation you needed to pee.
When Roger next crossed in front of the doorway you waved to get his attention and tried to tell him you were going to the bathroom with a lot of pointing. He didn’t seem to understand but he did seem amused, leaning in the doorway and holding up a palm to signal you to stay.
You frowned and whined softly.
Roger smirked as he said, “oh, I totally understand,” to whoever had called. He seemed to enjoy tormenting you because he stayed there, watching as you squirmed, and you were sure he was letting the conversation go on unnecessarily.
At first you tried to beat him at his own game, attempting to ignore your growing need, but that just made you think about it more. You whined in desperation, louder than you’d meant to.
As soon as you realised that Roger had heard the sound your attention snapped back to him.
He chuckled into the reciever, “Nah, I’m dog sitting at the moment. No, no, I can see her from here, she's fine.”
It was mortifying to think someone else had heard you and you blushed as you pouted at Roger, but he seemed more amused than moved as he revealed he still had the tennis ball and rolled it towards you. At first you just let it sit where it had come to a stop near your knee but Roger clicked his finger and pointed at it. With a sigh you bent over, shuffling back a little so you could pick it up with your mouth again.
Roger hummed into the receiver before mouthing a clear, “good girl,” at you.
Unsure what exactly Roger wanted, you tentatively made to crawl towards him, but he stopped you with a raised palm. It seemed he wanted you to just sit there and wait, feeling yourself beginning to drool from the ball in your mouth, but unable to forget your bladder despite your arousal. Finally it became too much and you steeled yourself to beg for permission.
At first you stayed quiet, raising your hands to the position Roger had shown you, adjusting your posture so your back was straight and your chest was pushed towards him in the hopes it’d help persuade. Roger just looked at you expectantly and you realised he wanted you proper humiliated. Squeezing your eyes shut you whined into the tennis ball still between your lips. It took another louder whine before Roger became convinced.
“Hold on one sec, I think she needs to go outside.”
If you hadn’t been so embarrassed and distracted you’d have given Roger credit for doing such a remarkable job sounding natural when there was so much laughter in his eyes. He disappeared for a second as he placed the phone down, returning with a snort.
“It’s not funny,” you pouted, holding the tennis ball out to Roger.
“It is a bit,” but he took the ball from you, “What are you begging for?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Ask me again if you can go.”
“Can I go?”
Roger casually threw the ball to himself, “Dog’s can’t talk. Ask me properly.”
Silently cursing Roger, you let out another whine, trying to make it sound pathetic and desperate.
“Doesn’t sound like you need it that badly. Maybe I should make you hold it until I’m through with my phone call.”
You whimpered at the thought and raised yourself a little higher on your knees, hoping Roger would be open to some bargaining. He was standing close enough that you only had to shuffle forward a little to be able to rub your face along the front of his pants, whining and whimpering and pausing every now and again to look up at Roger and check he was understanding. If his arousal had diminished during the break, it was quickly returning. You could feel him as you mouthed around his fly, licking and panting against his hidden length.
“Oh she is desperate.” He teased, crossing his arms over his chest (which you assumed was to stop himself from grabbing you). “She must be if she’s offering to suck me off.”
You nodded, sucking on some of the fabric near his tip.
Roger hummed, “I do love putting my cock in your mouth. Unfortunately,” he stepped back, “I have a call to finish up. I want you back here and sitting like a good girl by the time I’m done.”
“Thank you thank you thank you,” You scrambled to your feet, pausing just long enough to kiss Roger’s cheek before you hurried past him to the bathroom.
“Sorry that took so long,” you heard him say as he picked up the phone again, “Continue.”
When you returned to the lounge, bladder in a much more comfortable state, Roger had taken a seat on the couch and was looking at his mobile.
“That was so mean!” you said, moving towards him and perching yourself on the arm of the chair, very aware you still wore the tail plug.
Roger laughed, “But you were such a good girl. And I like hearing you whine.”
“Should make you hold it, see how whiney you get.” You immediately realised what you’d said and felt your face warm.
But Roger seemed flustered too. There was a definite flush on his cheeks when he said, “We both know I’d be into it,” that made the statement all the more sincere and not at all the deflection he was aiming for.
“So would you also be a puppy? Or a different animal?” You asked, your curiosity beating out your embarrassment.
“Roger thought for the moment, “I think I prefer being a cat. I like to be pampered.”
You giggled and, without thinking, reached out to scratch the top of his head like you’d scratch behind a cat’s ear.
Roger leaned into your touch.
“And, um,” you didn’t know what to do next and tried to cover the awkwardness with a question, “what would you differently as a kitten compared to a puppy?”
“Well,” Roger shifted his hips, “a lot of the basics are similar – with both of them you can have the pet drink water from a bowl or play with toys. With a kitten I’d expect grooming to be part of it, like brushing my hair. If I wanted to still be more dominant whilst being kitteny, I might stalk you around the house and pounce on you. But usually if I’m acting as the pet I prefer to be on the subbier side, just being petted and pampered... maybe encouraged to lick my owner.”
You felt even more embarrassed at the hints about oral but the thought did cross your mind that perhaps you would enjoy such an act more if it was occurring at your command. Doing it because you felt it was expected or simply to please a lover felt embarrassing and awkward but if you felt in control of it maybe it would be easier to enjoy the sensations. Roger had proven you could enjoy it if certain conditions were met, perhaps being blind folded and dommed wasn’t the only way.
*****
It was only then you realised your hand was still in Roger’s hair, absentmindedly playing with it, and your thoughts switched from how it might feel to order him to go down on you to what other parts of him you could be petting and stroking.
Roger was watching you as closely as he could, enjoying the sensation of your fingers in his hair, but whatever was going through his own mind he kept to himself. However his rapidly stiffening cock gave him away a little.
You withdrew your hand suddenly which seemed to be a signal for Roger to get the lesson back on track.
“And what about my puppy? Are you still okay with it?”
You nodded, “Yeah, lets keep going.”
“Alright, well I really should punish you for getting back here late. You were meant to be done before my phone call finished.”
“That’s unfair,”
“No, that’s the rules. But maybe you can convince me you’re still a good girl. On the floor, now.”
You quickly dropped to your hands and knees, as eager to prove yourself as you were to distract yourself from the weird moment you’d just shared.
“Alright, lets see how much you remember. Sit.”
You quickly moved into position.
“Beg.”
You put your hands up and made a small whimpery whine.
“Roll over. Good girl.”
Each time you followed an order Roger had rewarded you with some brief touch- squeezing your breasts through your bra, letting his fingertips trail seductively along your body, teasing your clit, but it never lasted long enough.
“Clever pup,” Roger’s voice was low and gravelly, “back to all fours.”
You were a little surprised, even a little put out that, that he’d not climbed over you, not taken his cock out of his pants, not made any move to fuck you. Thankfully he decided it was a good time to move things along, standing up so you got a good view of just how aroused he was, and moving to kneel behind you. It meant he could better feel you up, able to reach the parts he wanted to touch most with greater ease, his fingers firmer than they had been before. You became a little breathless, the combination of the series of tricks he’d had you perform with how his fingers felt running over and between your pussy lips. Your breathing came harder and before you knew it, you were panting in anticipation, your tongue sticking out over your bottom lip.
“Fucking hell,” Roger said softly, “Okay pup, show me just how horny you are,” he pushed lightly between your shoulders, guiding you to lower your chest and raise your hips, presenting your arse and cunt to him. He still wasn’t in a particular rush though, opting to tease you a little more first. Roger started by stroking the tail you wore and making the plug shift within you before reaching for your cunt again.
“Someone enjoyed being my pet, didn’t they pup?”
You whined and nodded against the floor, trying to push back against Roger’s fingers.
He chuckled at how eager you were and allowed two fingers to slip inside you, working them in and out until he could comfortably fit a third.
You moaned as he stretched you, trying to help by rocking back against his fingers as much as he would allow. It was distracting enough that you nearly missed the sound of Roger’s zip coming down as he hurried to get himself ready with his free hand.
“Been such a good girl,” he grunted as he one handedly worked his pants down a little further, “Gonna get a very big reward.”
You whimpered as his fingers left you, but you knew they’d soon be replaced by something even better though waiting for it was almost torture, especially when Roger used the slick you’d left on his hand to lube his cock. Thankfully he was more interested in fucking you than toying with you any longer and he only stroked himself a couple of times before he began to sink into you.
Your breath hitched as his head pressed into you but it was quickly followed by a moan, echoed by Roger as he sank into your warmth.
He went slow to start, carefully pulling partway out and easing himself back in, testing to make sure you were wet enough that he could move comfortably.
He grunted as he sank deeper, “Take me so well, sweetheart. Must really love feeling owned with how fucking wet you are.”
You shivered as Roger leaned forward, his gravelly voice getting closer as his cock seemed to push even deeper, the sensations all capped off with a sudden sharp pinch as he lowered his head and bit a spot on your side. It made you yelp, more from surprise than anything else, but you felt yourself clench around his length too.
When he straitened up again he was chuckling, “Oh pup, you make it so easy for me.” His hands slipped back to your waist, one gently caressing your arse as he moved the tail aside, and gave a quick tug, pulling you into him.
Your breath hitched as he suddenly completely filled you, but he barely gave you time to remember how to breathe before he pressed in again. The temperate test thrusts Roger had given became quick and hard as if his eagerness to have you had won out over his self-restraint from moments before.
“Oh fu-u-u-ck,” you moaned, voice jolting as his cock filled you again and again, a rapid pace you had no hope of matching. Your arse suddenly stung as Roger lay a loud slap that made you squeal.
“No talking, remember. Still my pup.”
You whimpered as he gave you another slap to drive the point home.
“Just my horny bitch,” he grunted, “Who practically goes into heat whenever she sees me.”
A third slap was swiftly followed by a rough thrust, making you whine and then moan. For a moment Roger shifted all his efforts into his hips, making you squeal with each hard stroke of his cock, but then he eased off and another string of slaps landed against you. He made it clear that the spanks were for being late as well as speaking out of turn, which only seemed fair when they felt so good. And then, once he was satisfied, he focused once again on fucking you senseless.
At first you were worried you’d slip up again, accidentally say a word instead of keeping your vocalisations to simple noises of pleasure, and in doing so bring forth another run of spanks that would make you clench but delay the orgasm you wanted. But it quickly ceased to be a factor. Between Roger’s cock filling you just right and him giving a new order to rub your clit, it was nearly impossible to even think of a real word let along get your mouth to form them. Even when he slowed his thrusts down again you were in little danger of saying anything comprehensible. That was when he decided to put the tail plug to a more specific use than just decoration, spitting on your arsehole so he could fuck you with it. Really all you could do was take what he was giving, whining and moaning, and eventually cum. He did make you work for it though, panting as he told you to wait for permission. You’d never been made to wait for it before, at least not in this way, and you let your fingers slow their motions around your clit, afraid of hitting your release too fast. But the barrage of stimulation from the plug and Roger’s cock were enough to get you close. You squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered loudly, hoping Roger would understand what it meant.
“Cum, pet”
You couldn’t do it immediately but you hastily worked your fingers over your clit again, so close but not quite tipping over the edge.
You jolted with another spank, “I told you to cum.” Roger’s voice was low, a little breathless but entirely in control.
You whined, as you tried to do what he wanted, though your fingers felt stiff and clumsy.
There was another spank and then Roger pressed the plug into you, holding it down as he rammed his cock deep.
Perhaps it was the shock of both combined with your frantic rubbing, or maybe he just managed to hit the right spot at the right time, but you couldn’t help but tighten suddenly, moaning and shaking as you fell into your orgasm.
“There you go,” he grunted, giving the plug a little jiggle to keep you stimulated as you came.
You would have fallen limp if you’d been in another position, but Roger was still filling you and his grip was once again tight on your hips which kept your knees from giving out. Instead you just twitched from the aftershock, and whined when you felt him slowly pull back and sink in again.
“Stay there, pup, I need to cum too.”
The breath you’d only just begun to catch caught in your throat as Roger resumed fucking you, going neither as hard as he had or as slow as you might have liked. He didn’t bother with the plug though, focusing only on how your wet cunt felt around his cock. Thankfully it wasn’t long before he was holding himself deep, the grunts he’d made on each thrust giving way to moans as he came within you.
*****
“Good girl,” Roger said softly, tapping your thigh gently as he pulled out. He shuffled out from behind you, moving to your side as he tucked himself away, and then sat heavily down on the floor.
You allowed yourself to sag too and, knees a little sore, lowered yourself onto your back.
“Do you want a hand up?”
“In a minute,” you sighed, the thought of getting up too much to contemplate immediately, “Have you got anything I can cover myself with?”
“You mean you don’t want to lie naked on my living room floor?” Roger quipped, simultaneously reaching for a throw that was decorating the couch and then grabbing a cushion as well.
You just laughed, tucking the cushion under your head, “Seems a bit unfair that you get to wear pants is all.”
“Thats the perks of being the dom.” He tapped you teasingly with his foot, “How’d you find it all?”
“It was interesting,” you thought for a moment before continuing, “I think it’s another kink that like wouldn’t be the first thing I would think of but isn’t a hard no either. Like, I think it’s probably the stupidest I’ve felt during one of our lessons...well maybe the queening beats it, but still, I felt like a fucking tit at first.”
Roger laughed, “You got into it though.”
“Yeah I did. And I definitely understand it better now, but it wasn’t my favourite.”
He hummed thoughtfully looking over at you with a soft expression you couldn’t quite pinpoint, “That’s similar to how I feel about pet play too. I can be into it with the right person and stuff, but it’s not a go to of mine.”
You lay in a comfortable silence for a moment, considering things. Logically you knew Roger had favourite kinks and scenes he preferred over others, but it wasn’t something you’d properly thought of before. Maybe because he was so confident and capable at everything he’d taught you so far, it felt like all of them were his favourites.
After a moment Roger interrupted your thoughts, “Hey, you okay? Not too overwhelmed?”
“No, not at all, just thinking.” You pushed yourself onto your elbows to better see Roger, “Are you good?”
“I am,” Roger smiled, scooting a little closer. “Did you have any other questions regarding pet play? Anything you’re still curious about?
“Uhhh, yeah I guess so, um,” you instantly felt awkward as you tried to phrase your question, “When you wanted me to, uh, finish when you told me to....what was that about?”
Roger chuckled, “I s’pose I should have been ready for that question since we’ve not actually touched on it in a lesson. I guess it’s mostly closely related to orgasm delay or orgasm denial. Have you heard of them before?”
“Maybe? I think I’ve seen denial mentioned online.”
“Well, basically it’s when you delay or stop yourself or your partner from having an orgasm. There’s a bunch of different reasons to play with it and ways to do it. With our scene, because we’d spent so long working on you obeying commands and performing certain actions when told to, I thought it would make sense, and be kind of hot, if you came on command too. I’d be happy to do a full lesson on it next time if you want.”
“That does sound interesting but if I remember your curriculum plan thing correctly, shouldn’t we be getting to CNC next?”
“Oh so now you’re paying attention to my curriculum huh?” Roger sat up straighter and, sensing the shift to a more serious topic, you followed, letting the blanket drop since you were wearing your bra. “That was my plan yes. And of course we can stick to that original plan if you feel ready to move on. But I’m also happy to spend more time on other kinks first, even just other role plays. We could play doctor.”
You laughed, “Tempting offer, I think you’d make a pretty hot doctor. But I do think I’d like to learn at least the theory of CNC. It feels like an important topic and I think I’d prefer to do it sooner rather than later.”
Roger sighed softly, “You’re right, we should cover it so we don’t run out of time. I’m just very conscious that this is a heavier topic than anything else we’ve covered. Some parts of it might get tough. And I really want to make sure to approach it with the right amount of gravity, without making it seem super scary.”
You placed a hand on his knee, “I know that, and I appreciate it a lot.”
Roger gave you a soft smile before another slight sigh, “I that case, yes, next lesson will be looking at consensual non-consent. I have been thinking about this lesson a lot actually and I had an idea of something we could a bit different, especially if you decide to go ahead with a practical lesson after we cover the theory.”
“Different how?” Your question came out of curiosity not concern since you trusted that Roger’s ideas would be about your safety, but you couldn’t think of any ways to change what you were doing.
“Well, because we’d potentially be role playing a non-consensual sexual encounter, I thought it might be a good idea to do it somewhere else.”
“Like where? A hotel or something?”
“No, no, nothing so public. Um, I have a little cottage a couple of hours out of the city. It was a family holiday house, but it doesn’t get used for that as much now. I thought we could go there for the weekend.”
Your breath caught at the idea of going away with Roger but you did your best to keep your voice steady, not too excited, as you asked, “How come?”
"Well firstly, the neighbours are a little further away there so there’s much less risk of anyone misinterpreting whatever scene we would potentially be playing out and calling the cops on us. Plus, no one there would recognise you’re my student if they did see us together. Not to make it sound like some sort of bachelor pad or sex dungeon, but the last few times I’ve been there it has been for kink hookups so, even if we were spotted together, they’d probably just assume I’m bringing another girl over. Plus, because we are looking at CNC, a more unfamiliar location might help make the scene better. Assuming that we did that. Even if we went away, I wouldn’t expect you to participate in an actual CNC scene if you didn’t feel fully comfortable doing so.”
You nodded but didn’t say anything, your stomach flipping uncomfortably with a mix of nerves about how serious Roger was being and excitement at the idea of going on a weekend trip with him.
“But, more importantly, I want you to still feel safe in this house. I know CNC is technicaly what we’ve been building to but, since you’re so familiar with the curriculum, I’m sure you remember that it isn’t the last topic I suggested. I know I’m repeating myself but I’m happy to explore any kinks we haven’t covered or revisit kinks we have in the last weeks before the wedding, and I want you to feel okay doing that. CNC can be tough, it can be scary. It can play with sensations and emotions related to rape. And the last thing I want is for you to feel like I have raped you in what was previously a safe space. By moving the lesson to a different location, we could hopefully contain everything in a place that you won’t have to return to.”
You nodded soberly, “That sounds good.”
“Okay, well then, this weekend?”
“Yeah, this weekend.”
tags: fem! reader, big age gap, unprotected sex, sex in the work place, dirty talk, sassy roger, quickie, oral sex (giving), penetrative sex, nipple pay, aftersex care
You're 24, you work as a sound engineer for a famous label but you didn't realise today would be the day you'd be left alone in a studio with Roger Taylor.
Peter. I need to find Peter, you think to yourself. You're frustrated and it shows. I'm not a fricking secretary. You're walking through the hallways of the studio looking for the sign S-16 on the door. It's the best studio in the building, which makes sense because Peter is very respected here. It's also the furthest and the longer you're walking, the more annoyed you are. You're really hoping he's alone in there right now. The whole reason why you're walking in the first place is because he cut his phone line off. He really hates to be disturbed.
After hopping for a good 5 minutes through the endless hallways, you finally find the said S-16 door. If he was recording right now, the big red sign above the door would be on. You still discreetly check though the small round window and only see him sitting on his chair, his back turned to you, so you knock.
"Come on in.
- Peter, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Carl is out there fuming about god knows what and obviously he sends ME because I've got nothing better to do than run around like his secretary."
He looks amused, which is reassuring for Peter, but you quickly understand when you hear someone coughing behind you. This day isn't getting any better. You sigh and turn around only to find a familiar face smoking a cigarette on the couch behind the door. It takes you a minute to realise who's standing up to greet you and you feel embarrassed for showing your bad temper in front of a client, especially this one.
You know you should get used to meeting artists and act professional but you weren't expecting to meet Roger freakin Taylor.
He smiles at you and you proceed to shake hands.
"Y/N, please meet Roger, Roger, this is Y/N, our very promising sound engineer.
- Very promising, you say? Nice to meet you, Roger greets you.
- Well, I wouldn't go that far, but it's a pleasure to meet you Sir, you smile back trying to keep it cool.
- Sir? God, don't ever call me Sir, I'm not that old, am I?"
Roger and Peter laugh while you stare in disbelief. You stutter and try to take it back but they seem to forget about it when Roger sits next to your colleague. It took you only two minutes to embarrass myself and insult the greatest drummer of all times, great.
"Y/N, what does Carl want that is so urgent?
- A client is freaking out up there and he thinks it's your fault, but this is all I could understand before he sent me off to fetch you like his little pet."
Now, Peter looks pissed. He gets up from his seat with little to no conviction and says:
"I think I know what this is about.. Rog, let me go check on him really quickly. I'm sorry but Carl can be a real pain in the ass sometimes and he won't let it go unless I come find him."
Roger nods and looks understanding. Peter proceeds to go out, so you start following him outside, eager to watch him put Carl back in his place, but a voice stops you.
"Y/N, can I ask for your opinion?"
The drummer looks at you from his seat, waiting for an answer, but all you can think about is how Roger Taylor wants your opinion.
"I'm sorry, he adds sarcastically, I should have called you Miss, I knew I was moving too fast."
Your laugh lights up the room and the tension you previously felt vanishes.
"Much better, thank you, Sir."
Gosh, he looks handsome when he smiles. And when he doesn't smile. Or when he laughs. Of course, you know who Roger Taylor is, you've seen him before on pictures and on the telly, but now that you're face to face with him, you only have one word on your mind and it's gorgeous.
He doesn't look like he needs much to look good. He's wearing a plain white shirt and somehow looks like the most beautiful man on earth. Although, you have to admit that the way he's wearing it, rolled up sleeves, not fitted, with a button that shows a little more than it should, is very suggestive.
"I would like you to hear this demo I recorded with Peter. I think it's missing something but I don't know what."
The music resonates in the studio and you carefully listen to the arrangement. It's got a rock vibe, with a bit of grunge. For a full two minutes, you're focused on the song, so much that you forget about Roger's presence. The music stops but you hit play again.
"Listen here. Great beginning. But how about you take out some of the guitar harmonies to have a much clearer sound in the first verse to build it up towards the end."
Roger frowns and nods, he is focused on what you're saying. You go on about rhythms, musicality, what adjustments he should make to your opinion. He looks surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be invested like this. When you're finally finished, he gives you an impressed look.
"Now I get what Peter meant when he said promising."
You're flattered but can’t hide your smile.
"How long have you been a sound engineer?
- Well, I'd say for about two years.
- Two years and you talk just like Peter.
- That's because he's kinda my mentor and he's the reason why I came here.
- Wait, hold on, how old are you?
- I'm 24, you were not expecting him to get personal with you this quickly which makes you smile.
- Shit, I'm way out of your league then."
You both look at each other with a hint of challenge in your eyes.
"And you're like what? 40? you tease him.
- Try 36, he takes out a cigarette and stares at you while he breathes in.
- I don't mind, you say, looking straight in his eyes with a smirk.
- You don't mind?
- I don't mind, no, you say with a softer voice, never breaking the eye contact."
You don't understand how the mood shifted so quickly, but the room is now filled with an invisible tension. His eyes linger on your body and lurk you up and down. You love how he doesn't even try to hide his attraction to you. He fully looks like he could devour you right now.
You stand up from your seat to come closer to him and sit on the corner of the control table. You're only inches away from each other. His leg is slightly touching yours and this simple friction is almost too much to endure.
You're looking at him from above but his stare makes it so hard to maintain. His gaze is burning your skin. He’s sitting down, full of his cocky attitude, looking up with his doe eyes.
"I think that Peter, you pause, might be coming back, you almost whisper.”
He stands up and slowly pulls you closer with every word he says, his eyes locked into yours at all times.
“Yeah, he says, I think he’ll be back soon.
- We shouldn’t stand so close to each other, then.
- No, you’re right, we shouldn’t.”
But he doesn’t move. If anything, the tension makes it hard for you to not get any closer. His face is only a moment away from touching yours. His eyes, his piercing blue eyes, move between the tip of your nose and your eyes because you’re so close that he can’t even see your lips anymore.
A warm feeling arises from your lower back. It’s his hand, placed on your Venus dimples. It tickles you, very slightly, and the feeling grows on your stomach. The warmth climbs to your chest and shrouds your bosom.
Roger’s raspy voice suddenly brings you back from wherever you were mentally. You almost forgot about where you were.
“What should we do? his hand slowly lingers on your body.
- Maybe, lock the door? you ask with a smile.
- Or maybe not, says Roger.”
He loves the surprised look on your face. There’s something in his eyes - he’s provoking you. It’s impossible to look away, you are entirely focused on him and start to feel dizzy from the heat. His hand, previously placed on your lower-back, embraces your hip while finding a way under your tee-shirt. You shiver. His hands feel so cold on your burning skin.
With his other hand, he lifts your chin up then cups your face to get a good look at you. He tucks his fingers between your ear which makes you feel the need to gently rub your cheek against his palm. The scent of his perfume mixed with cigarettes completely takes over your analytical judgement; you give him one last look before you lose yourself and lean in, gently placing your lips on his.
Your hands find a way to bury in his neck while his right palm brings your hips together. The kiss is slow, very slow, so slow but so wet. It didn’t take you long to find the way to his pink muscle and yours are now dancing in each other’s mouth. Fingers buried in your hair, tongue caressing yours, pelvis pressed against his very tight pants; it’s almost too much to bare, you want more. No, you need more, you need him whole.
The kiss escalates quickly, making you whimper at how well he explores your mouth. His hands linger around your body, teasing you by caressing your sensitive breast, although he doesn’t yield to your moaning; he seems to like to torment you by grabbing you everywhere else. The feeling gets too overwhelming. You find your way to his shirt and start unbuttoning it until his chest is bare. You sense him smile against your lips. He must like your initiative.
He pulls you out. You instantly feel the need to reconnect with his lips.
“I want you so bad, doll.
- Do you want my mouth too? you say with your doe eyes.
- It’s already mine.”
The heat in your lower stomach migrates to your inner thighs and you can’t ignore the wetness anymore. Your hands brush his chest until they find a way to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. When you look down, you wonder how his pants did not explode. It’s so big you can’t wait to feel it inside of your drenched walls. But you’ve got something else in mind for him.
You kneel. He stares at you from above which makes him sexier than ever. He grabs your hair into an improvised ponytail. You take his member with your hand, slowly lick every inch of it, bottom to its wet tip, before shoving it in your mouth. Roger groans and lets go of the tension. You start moving a little bit, your hand follows your movement and you let your tongue play with it. It feels so freaking good. How can it feel so good? It’s unreal.
You look up to find him already looking down on you, mouth open, eyebrows frowned, wild blonde hair that he keeps pushing from his face. You want to hear his voice again, so you really shove it, deeper, until you feel it in your throat. The most beautiful sound comes to your ear while you’re trying to stay still. You would be moaning so loudly if he wasn’t in your mouth.
“Love, may I help you with my hand?”
You know exactly what he’s referring to because the grip on your hair gets tighter. You nod obviously, eager to see a glimpse of dom Roger.
You resume your sucking and moaning. You’re so dirty, he says, and with that, he thrusts his hard cock deep into your throat. You’ve never been taken care of like this. He’s intense, but not too quick, enjoying your wet mouth between each thrust. You can’t ignore it anymore; you’re drenched.
He gives it a little more strength before he finally pulls out. You can finally breathe. You hadn’t realised you couldn’t, you were too focused on the way he filled your mouth. You’re both panting - not for the same reason though.
“Come here, Y/N.”
He helps you back up, but doesn’t spare a second to pick you up and place you on the edge of the control table. He undresses your lower body, throwing your underwear in the room, and you lift your shirt to unravel your perfect tits, as he says.
“Roger, please, I need you in me, you whine.
- Fuck…”
He brings his hard cock towards your entrance and moans at the wetness of it. Slowly, he goes in while leaning in to kiss you, but you can't stop moaning, even against his lips. For a second, he intensifies the kiss and goes as deep as he can inside of you. You grab him by the shoulders, by his neck, ready to exhale due to the pleasure but he surprises you when he starts going faster, deeper, and groans while he fills you in really good. He grabs you by the back of your neck and goes faster. He doesn’t miss one opportunity to make you scream.
He slows down and locks his eyes into yours. His movements are like torture. So slow. The wet sounds fill the air and mix with your heavy breaths. He resumes kissing your lips then slowly goes down your neck. Oh my God, he's so hard. You're so hard, Roger. His lips go down and finally find their way to your breast. He licks your hard nipples and you let out the loudest moan while he's fucking you good. He licks them again and grabs your tits in his hand before whispering in your ear:
“You're such a little cunt…”
You don't think you've ever been this wet at the sound of someone's voice. Roger just knows how to make you horny for him and the thought of being his little cunt makes you so aroused that you forget how to breathe properly. The thrusts fill you again, and again, and again before you eventually feel it coming; your hands grab tightly onto him and you desperately look for his eyes before you manage to say:
“I'm coming, Rog…”
The world stops turning for a second. But he doesn’t stop. He’s harder than ever and your mind is completely empty. Your stomach tightens as well as your inner walls The air has left your lungs and your heart just might come out of your chest.
And then the tension just explodes in a loud moan. He's still going hard, frowning his eyebrows and you suspect he's not too far either. Every movement he gives you is like an electric choc that makes the pleasure last longer. It's like a wave of relief that takes over your whole body. You take his hand and place it on your tit before locking eyes with him.
“Don't stop looking at me, you tell him.”
He doesn't. In fact, he's as deep in your eyes as in your pussy and he feels like he's losing control over his own body. He’s going fucking crazy. Absolutely feral for you. He gives you a few more powerful thrusts before he pulls out and spits his thick semen on your stomach. You hear again his raspy voice groaning and he finally stops moving.
His forehead is pressed against yours and for some reason you both can't stop smiling. He leans in and kisses you, softly this time. His lips are so soft, gosh.
Roger helps you clean up and picks up your clothes on the floor to help you with that too. How was this man a literal beast moments ago and acts like the sweetest man alive?
You're both fully clothed now, cheeks still pink, and he takes it upon himself to make your hair look presentable. Roger grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him.
“I wish I had more time to actually taste you. You were so wet for me.”
But you don't have time to answer because you both hear footsteps approaching, and the door opens with Peter. A little bit disappointed, you let go of each other but not without a shy smile.
“Y/N? You're still here? Don't you have work to do?”
You hurry to the door, worried he might notice the state of your hair and make-up.
“I asked her to stay so I wouldn’t get bored.”
You don’t need to see him to picture the smirk on his face. Although, before you go, you look back and catch him already smiling at you.
Summary/AN: I initially intended this to be smut or implied smut, but it came out rather fluffy. I might write a part two if people are interested. The reader is horny and on her period, and has something to share with Roger.
Warnings: mention of periods and pregnancy (non-descrip.), sexual innuendos, etc. Mainly fluff.
Word count: Aprox. 700
Only four months into your relationship you had a pregnancy scare with Roger. Luckily, it was just your period acting up due to stress, but you still decided to go on birth control. Birth control is more acceptable these days, so you were able to get prescribed it rather easily.
Your doctor said, if you’re lucky your period will stop completely. You still got yours but the pill helped regulate your cramps and lowered your flow a bit. You still had horrendous mood swings. Whenever you were in your period you would get insanely horny as well. Hormones are hormones, what would you expect?
You got your monthly yesterday and let Roger know. He always seems a little bummed when you get it, partly because that meant most sexual things were off the table, but also because it pained him to see you in pain.
Roger was sat on the couch, T.V. on a low volume as he flips through a magazine. “These reporters are rubbish. They aren’t reporting anything!” he scowled as he read through the article about the band.
You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving his cheek a quick peck. “Whatcha doing?” you ask, and Roger tosses the magazine away.
“Just reading complete and utter lies,” he mumbles, giving the magazine a side eye. He brushes off the ill feelings about the article and turns his head to meet yours, quickly kissing your lips.
“What’s up?” he asks, and you smile. “Nothing much,” you explain. You find your way around the couch and land in Roger lap.
“I know you’re in your period, Y/N,” he says. “You know how I feel about that stuff.” Roger wasn’t entirely grossed out by menstruation, but he felt that you should be taken care of and rest while on your period, not handled like some one night stand.
“Okay, Mr. Jumping-to-conclusion,” you huff. Roger rolls his eyes with a smile. “I’m not saying that you had that intention, but you know how riled up I get when you sit on my lap like this,”
He was right. If you were him, you wouldn’t be able to resist when you had a breathtaking girl straddling your hips who wouldn’t hesitate to start grinding on you at any moment.
You shrug. “Well sorry that I want to show my beautiful boyfriend some love and affection,” you say, crossing your arms in a dramatic way, and Roger laughs. “Don’t be like that,” he chuckled, giving you a kiss which breaks you out of your bit.
“What can I help you with, love?” he asks. You wrap your arms around his neck again, gently gazing into his.
“I want to have a baby,”
Rogers' soft gaze turns wide. “Y-you want to have a baby?” he stammers his words as he confirms your question. You nod and your smile slowly fades. “Do you not want one?” you ask. Roger quickly shakes his head. “No, no. Of course I want a baby. I’d love to have a baby,” his hands slowly move down to your stomach where your child would be resting. “I just- got caught off guard,” he explains.
You smile at his hands on your stomach, imagining you round with his child. “I want your baby.”
“Is this because you’re horny?” he questions. “Maybe,” you say. “But who says a baby has to be made out of pure, non-sexual love, and not lust?”
Roger nods at your point. “Well you’re going to have to stop taking your pills if you’re serious about this,” he explains. “I’m serious,” you tell him.
You've been thinking about this for a long time, actually. Even before you began dating you imagined yourself round with Rogers child, and his strong arms wrapped around to cup your stomach.
His lips suddenly crash with yours. He smiled against the kiss, humming as his hands moved up to grip your hair lovingly. You breathlessly part from the kiss. Roger leans his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna have a baby…” he whispers, and you smile. “Mhm…” you hum as his hands gently hold the non-existence fetus in your stomach. “You’re gonna be the best daddy there ever was…”
You hear a small snicker from Roger. “Trying to get me even more riled up?” he jokes. You hit his shoulder and laugh. “Shut up,” you say. He grins and gives you another kiss. “And you’re going to be the best mommy in the world, I promise…”
can I have a Roger Taylor smut, where he fucks you in public on his beloved car?
pretty please 🥹
ah, rogers beloved car. yes, i'd love to write this! thank you.
Praise
Warning: Smut smut smut! (MDNI)
Summary: Requested by an lovely anon. <3
roger gripped ur hips, his grasp firm. the cold metal of the car piercing ur back. you whimpered, your legs quaking at the slightest. "dumb whore," he muttered, his hot, lustful breath hitched against ur neck. you couldn't help but arch ur back slowly at the pleasure roger was giving you. it felt as if electric shocks were running thru ur body. "this 'whatcha wanted? stupid slut. only did it cause you knew this would happen, right?" he repeated to you. all you could answer with was soft moans and breathless whines. he moved his hands to ur neck while he pounded into you relentlessly. he started to choke you.
his grasp wasn't firm much, but it turned you on. you felt as people were watching. the car bounced hesitantly. he leant down, moving his hands and kissing down ur neck and leaving small, but noticeable, purple hickies. he moaned quietly, it sent chills down ur spine. he moved his hands again, bringing them to ur ass. he smacked ur ass, you gasped. "roger," you breathed out, a hiss purring thru rogers wet lips. he mounded you, not stopping.
you felt urself close to coming. roger went sloppier. your heat felt bruised, and ur insides felt as if they were on complete fire. "fuck," roger mumbled. you felt cum shoot into ur womb. you let out a faint gasp. you soon came, cum dropping down ur legs. roger got off you, pulling his pants,and boxers up. you breathed heavily. he helped you get ur clothes back on. "get in the car," he said simply. you nodded, getting into the car.
"you don't say anything about this, ok?" he told you. "okay.." you nodded. roger also nodded his head, before starting the car and driving off. roger taylor sure is in love with his car.
hi, this is just a short imagine I have been working on. I've been trying to work and get better on my smut writing skills. the smut I've written in the past has been Absolutely horrible, don't know how anyone actually even read it. if you wanna tell me your thoughts about if its good smut or not, please comment!! but anyway enjoyy!!♥♥
Roger came up from behind you, his loud footsteps and heavy breathing making his presence known. You could see his sweat dripping down his chest as he whipped his sweat with a towel. Roger groaned, staring at you, he walked over to you gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “You look nice,” “Mhm, you like this outfit?”. “Yea, makes you look so fuckable” he groaned desperately. Roger smiled, his tongue grazing the top of his teeth. “Hey, why don't you be a good girl for me?” he whispered. You nodded, guessing what he had in mind.
Roger slowly started to undo the buttons on your shirt, his hands sloppy with frustration but once he got the buttons undone he was fast to cup your breast desperately as he softly let his fingers wander passionately. You moaned over the sensation of Roger's overworked hands gripping at you. He Lightly took your nipple between his teeth as he trailed down your body.
You slid your skirt off and Roger smiled.
“Good girl,”
He reached for the sides of the chair you were on, kneeling to the floor.
Roger sensually glided his fingertips along the inside of your thigh, a shaky gasp escaping your lips.
“fuck-”
“Already so wet,” Roger groaned.
roger let his hands grip your things sucking on the soft skin, you could feel there was gonna be marks the next day
You whined because of his teasing.
“Don't worry, by the end you'll be a soaking incoherent mess”
Roger then slid two fingers into your cunt slowly, then Sucking harshly over your sensitive clit.
You moaned uncontrollably.
His perfect stamina and speed makes your drip onto his hands.
He smirked seeing you frantically gasp and tremble.
You could feel his fingers pushing into you as his swollen lips and wet tongue roughly sucked at your clit.
You could feel yourself reaching climax but to your disappointment he moved his mouth away from your clit, and pulled his two fingers out from you as a wet sound followed.
“Roger please” you desperately begged.
“Don't worry I'm not gonna stop, just figuring out what way I should let you finish”
You tilted your head back. “God” you breathed.
Roger placed his hands on your hip-bones pushing himself up. You melted yourself into the chair as he looked deeply into your eyes.
“Please, roger, just fuck me”.
“sit on the make-up desk”
You quickly stood up propping yourself up onto the desk.
He carelessly took his clothes off.
As he walked close to you, you ran your fingers over his hard penis. “Uh uh” he tutted “you can suck me off after if you want to, but now, I just wanna be inside you”.
Roger looked into your eyes.
He grabbed you hips needlingly and slid himself into you, your loud gasp making him chuckle.
Roger's head fell forward to your chest, his hair falling in front of his face as he closed his eyes in pleasure.
He started to pound into you recklessly but still so loving at the same time. Letting his hair fall onto his face and he groaned louder.
“I- fuck- it feels so- jesus christ” you stuttered.
Roger roughly grunted as his fingertips dug into your hips.
You reached your orgasm, your fingernails digging into his back as his warm breath breathed into your shoulder.
Roger then jolted as he came into you, his soft groans and whimpers.
“Fuck, your so amazing” he whispered his eyes scanning your body.
He slowly slid out of you, his fingertips touching your wetness. Roger examined your cum covering his hands. “I'll get you a towel”.
Roger picked up a clean towel and carefully whipped all the mess off you including his cum. After he picked up his pants and underwear sliding them back on.
You walked over to him.
“Are you tired?”
“A bit” Roger chuckled, “why?”
“Well remember what you said earlier? About me being able to suck you off…..only if your still-”
“y/n, i'm never too tired for that”
He slid his pants back off falling into the chair.
I've tried my best with this, but I still think it feels a bit awkward 😭. I hope it is good to the person reading this. I'm also gonna write part 2! anyway, again, hope you enjoyed!!
Roger can't sleep and calls a random number left of a napkin. He expected to find someone to help tire him out. He never thought he'd find love.
[Reposting and major editing of an old fic I had posted on an old blog & crossed posted on ao3]
Warnings: SMUT, +18 ONLY - MINORS DNI; swearing & cursing; unclear timeline (lmao); Brian is a bit of a douche. It's a long ass one, over 20K words. Read at your own risk!
Sometimes, being a rockstar isn’t all it’s cooped up to be.
Especially when on a world tour because it really has a way of derailing one’s internal clock. It’s the reason Roger can’t sleep. He had been hopeful that between the jet lag, the excitement of being back in his own bed, the hectic rehearsal and recording schedule as well as the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed at the local dive bar with his mates would be enough to tire him out. Apparently, he’s very mistaken.
He'd done what he usually does: counts sheep, lays in the dark, read the really boring book Brian has suggested. Nothing seems to be working this time around.
For what feels like the thousandth time, Roger turns over in his bed. He almost misses those rock-hard mattresses and non-existent pillows in the hotels around the world. He groans, casting his eyes to the red numbers glowing in the dark room. It’s nearing 1.30am and as much as his body is begging for sleep, his mind wouldn't shut off.
Throwing the light blanket to the side, Roger swings his legs off the bed. There’s no point in laying around, letting his frustration build. He eyes his discarded jacket, deciding that a quick smoke might help him relax just enough to be able to finally fall asleep. Stretching his arms above his head, his back cracks and with a loud sigh, quickly followed by a loud yawn, he lazily crosses his bedroom to reach the jacket he left by the door, fishing his half-empty pack of cigarettes from the pocket. As he rummages around the pockets for his lighter, a crumpled piece of paper flutters to the ground.
With furrowed brows and cigarette dangling from his lips, Roger picks it up from the ground. After having found the lighter, Roger starts walking towards his bed. Lighting the cigarette, he takes a deep drag, letting his lungs fill with nicotine, immediately giving him a sense of calm.
Feeling more relaxed, Roger clamps his teeth gently around the filter, using his now free hands to uncurl the piece of paper. Once he sees the hastily scrawled digits, his lips stretch into a massive grin.
Taking another drag and flicking the ash into the empty ash-tray on his bedside table, he tries to recall when the number was slipped into his pocket. It had to be from earlier that evening as the number had the London area code and he hasn’t worn the jacket on tour as he’d forgotten it at home. However, no matter how hard he thought back to his evening, no specific girl sprang to mind. There had been quite a few that came to chat him and the lads up, but none of them stood out. He doesn’t even remember being particularly flirty with anyone of them.
Roger casts another quick glance at the clock. It’s still early enough that if the girl really was out at the dive bar with them, she’s probably getting home now as he left much earlier than regular, hoping that the jetlag and general exhaustion would lead to a good night sleep.
Deciding that the woman had clearly hoped for a call from him, Roger picks up the receiver and dials the number. Making himself comfortable, he waits for someone to pick up.
It rings much more than he thought it would and he debates if maybe he shouldn’t be calling this late, if it’s better to try again during working hours.
Suddenly, the phone stops ringing, and there is a very groggy and angry voice coming through the line, “Someone better be dead.”
Rogers chuckles. “Well, hello to you too love”.
In response, he only hears a groan and it sounds so deep that he questions if he’s actually speaking to a girl.
“Who is this? And why on earth are you ringing my flat at...” there’s a small pause, as the person on the other line is clearly reaching for something “1.17 in the bloody morning?!”
Roger cringes, closing his eyes as guilt floods his body. He really shouldn’t have called but he really isn’t great at making decisions when tired and slightly inebriated. “I’m sorry, love. Thought you’d want me to call as soon as I found your number.” He hates that he can’t recall a name or even a face.
“I am not your ‘love’!” the girl says angrily, “I have absolutely no clue who you are. Or why on earth you are calling me. I certainly did not give you, my number.”
For a moment, nothing is said on either end and Roger decides d to play it cool, act confident and pretend as if he actually remembers exactly who he’s talking to. “I know we didn't spend that much time together but I -”
“Let me stop you before you start,” she interrupts and Roger can hear her shuffle around, most likely sitting up in her own bed. “I have no idea who you think you are but I can guarantee that I did not give you, my number. And before you ask, no, I don’t have any roommates.”
The girl grunts in discomfort, questioning why she’s entertaining this jackass when she can just hang up and disconnect her phone for the night.
“Oh” the syllable is so sound and dejected that she can’t help but feel a bit sorry for him, even though he woke her at an ungodly hour.
She has no know why she speaks again. “You must have made a terrible impression if some random bird decided to leave you a fake number.”
There’s an offended scoff that comes down the line almost makes up for the unwanted wake-up call. “No girl has ever done that to me. Or would need to do it. I’m a catch, thank you very much.”
“Sure you are, big boy.” She says concededly.
“Are you saying that I’m not?”
She snorts, short and derisive, “I’m sorry to break it to you but it seems that the girl who gave you the number didn’t think you were all that special.”
Roger pouts, stubbing out his long-forgotten cigarette, “You don’t sound all that sorry to me.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not.”
Roger can’t hep the small laugh that bubbles out, “And would you feel inclined to illuminate me on why?”
“Could it be because some random bloke decided to call me at stupid o’clock trying to get in my knickers?”
“You wish,” and even though she’s never seen him before in her life, she knows he’s smirking.
“Are you really telling me that you weren’t calling in hope of a shag?”
Roger shrugs, deciding to lay down and make himself comfortable, “I’m not going to lie and say I would be unhappy if it happened but that wasn’t the main reason I called.”
She bites, “Why did you call?”
“I…” Roger pauses. Why did he call?
“Are you ok?”
Roger blinks, surprised by the sudden care that seems to colour her voice. “What?”
“I just mean…” she sighs, laying back down and glancing at her alarm clock. “It’s late. Or early, depending on how you want to see it. And your voice sounded a bit off. There must be something on your mind if you think that calling a random stranger in the middle of the night is a good idea.”
She really can’t explain the sudden interest in the man. She doesn’t know him but he sounds so sad, and is clearly lonely. It tugs at her heart in all the best and worst ways. Thank you, childhood trauma.
A small, grateful smile forms on Roger’s face and his voice softens noticeably. “You’re very kind, love. I’m just a bit jet lagged.”
She hums in surprise, “That sounds fascinating! Where did you get back from?”
“That, I’m afraid, is only for friends.” He tuts, “And I don’t even know your name.”
She laughs and Roger’s heart does something weird in his chest that he pointedly ignores.
“Touché”, she’s still laughing. “The name’s Y/N.”
“Lovely name for a lovely voice,” he says softly. “I’m Roger.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roger.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N.”
There’s a small pause and it would be the perfect moment to hang up but neither seem to want to.
“Well, now that we’re friends, want to share why you’re jetlagged?”
Roger laughs, bringing his free arm behind his neck, “I was in America.”
“Fancy!” She says with a laugh, “What were you doing across the pond?”
“I’m in a band and we were on tour.”
-----
What should have been a one-time thing evolved into something more.
Roger and Y/N find themselves speaking on the phone nearly every day, even when Roger left for tour again.
The first month, it was Roger that called every day. It had started because of a particularly rough day in the studio and remembering the kindness and care in Y/N’s voice, he decided that her friendly voice was what he needed to feel better.
When the second month rolled around, Y/N asked for a way to contact him if she was having a bad day.
And thus, the tradition was born.
It’s been six months now and every time the phone rings, Y/N can’t help the flutter of her heart or the smile on her face. Roger has somehow weaseled his way into her life and she couldn't be more grateful. He’s become her best friend, her confidant, someone she can trust blindly and who would always listen to her and have her back. She feels like she knows Roger better than the people she hands out with daily. They’ve opened up about their lives, their dreams and insecurities. Y/N knows that Roger wants to make it big but he’s afraid that the drugs, the booze and the sex may cloud his mind and stop him from living his dream. He shares how much he loves his band mates but how they tend to get under his skin, especially when writing new music.
Y/N shares how she took over her mother’s bookstore while being an editor on the side to make ends meet. She opens up about her limited social interactions and how she feels like she’s a bit too clingy and overbearing.
They talk about their childhoods and what they do to relax.
The two of them understand each other in such a deep, soulful way that should scare her but only gives her a sense of calm.
Y/N has even come up with a sort of table to help keep on top of the time difference when Roger is traveling. She glances quickly at the alarm next to her bed and is excited to see that Roger should be calling her in a few minutes.
She makes sure her tea is still warm as she fluffs her pillows, settling down on the bed while tucking herself into the blankets. She waits impatiently for the phone to ring and when it finally does, she grins brightly.
“Hello there, rockstar!”
It only takes hearing his voice to know that something is up. “What did they do this time?”
“Who says they did anything?” Roger knows he’s pouting and that his tone is a clear indication that his band mates did indeed do something wrong, but he doesn’t feel ready or willing to talk about it.
“Rog, please don’t.”
They’d done this before: one of them – usually Roger – is in a mood and takes it out of the other, making everyone involved feel like shit by the end of the call. Y/N isn’t sure if she has the energy for it today but has never and will never be truly able to ignore Roger when he’s clearly upset about something.
“I know something is bothering you and I’m almost certain it has something to do with your mates since you were fine before leaving for rehearsal.” There’s a brief pause and Y/n adds softly, “I worry about you.”
Roger sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine.” He knows he’s being a bit too short with her and that nothing was her fault, but he can’t really help it. He doesn’t want to deal with it.
“Rog…I…” her mind can’t seem to form the right words to explain the thoughts running through it. She’s well aware of his temper and how it flares up around his mates; how he likes loads of sugar; how he can’t see without his glasses but still refuses to wear them.
Y/N knows that this time, something is different but she can’t really explain why or how without admitting that she feels more than friendship towards the drummer. And she isn’t ready just yet to wear her heart on her sleeve just yet.
She ends up settling for the next best thing. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, I understand. But please, don’t lie to me. I know something is up and I will never force you talk about it.”
Roger sighs in relief, some of his anger evaporation as he finds himself smiling “Thank you. How was your day?”
It’s at times like this, with Y/N talking happily about her day, rambling on and on about things he doesn’t quite understand and people he doesn’t know that he questions how he got so lucky to have gotten a random number that led to having this amazing girl in his life.
“I still can’t believe that no one except Peter Pan warned me about how much it sucksbeing a grown up,” Roger can tell she’s pouting and it makes him laugh.
The laughter however is cut short when she tries asking about his day and the previous night’s concert. “I’m in a rock band. It goes as well as rock concert goes.”
Y/N blinks, surprised by the venom suddenly lacing his tone. “What kind of answer is that?” She tries to keep her tone neutral, not letting it show how affected she is.
“The one I’m giving you.”
They may have been talking for six months but she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to keep up or understand his mood swings. “Why are you taking your shit out on me?! What’s your problem?!”
As understanding as she may be, Y/N has never had much patience for people taking their anger out on innocent bystanders, who just happen to be at the right place for the wrong time.
“You’re my fucking problem!” Roger snaps, voicing raising as he continues, “You ask all these fucking questions and pester me worse than my mother ever has. You’re not her. You’re not even my girlfriend. You’re a stranger that just doesn’t know when to let go.” His chest is heaving as he sits forward on his bed, empty hand curled into a fist. “God, we haven’t even met are you’re already so fucking clingy –”
With tears in her eyes, Y/N hangs up the phone. She tries reasoning with herself. She knows he’s upset, that something got him in this horrible mood but she has nothing to do with that. He’s hurt and wants to hurt others around him and he did succeed, if you ask Y/N. He’d said the one thing that he knew would absolutely shake her confidence and make her feel like garbage. They’d talked about it, multiple times. Roger had even reassured her at every turn that she was absolutely not clingy and that he loved every second they got to spend on the phone together.
He'll apologize when he feels better.
He values you.
You’re his friend.
Y/N keeps repeating these mantras over and over again as she stands on shaky legs, heading towards her small bathroom.
The phone starts ringing but she ignores it. She lets the tears fall, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water on her face. The phone stops ringing, just to pick up again a few seconds later, confirming her suspicion that it’s Roger trying to get hold of her.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly makes her way back to her bed, sipping on the now lukewarm cup of tea. She glares at the ringing phone, wanting Roger to feel what she’s feeling, even just a bit.
Almost thirty minutes go by before she feels as if she’s got her emotions under control and is ready to speak to Roger, who hasn’t stopped calling since she hung up.
With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and picks up the phone, placing the receiver against her ear.
“I’m so sorry, love!” Roger’s voice floods her system as he stumbles over his words. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Or, I mean I shouldn’t… it isn’t…”
He takes a stuttering breath, collecting himself before he attempts to explain himself again. “You had nothing to do with my shit mood and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean anything that I said, I just knew that those were things that would hurt you and it isn’t an excuse and I understand if you’re angry and don’t want to talk to me for a while but please know that I am extremely sorry and that I will do whatever I need to for you to forgive me and I’m such an ass. I’m so fucking sorry Y/N. I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”
“Will you now?” He can tell that’s she trying to be upbeat and wants to make him feel better but that isn’t her job. Not this time.
“I swear it, Y/N. On my drumming career. I won’t ever hurt you like this again and whatever you need me to do to get your forgiveness, I will do it. Name your price. Whatever you want, it’s yours. I s–”
“Really? Absolutely anything?”
Roger nods and realising she can’t seem him, he vocalizes his answer.
“Even if I asked you to rob a bank?”
He laughs, tears of joy springing to his eyes. “Just tell me which one.”
The line goes quiet for a few seconds but Roger’s guilt crawls up his throat. “I really am so extremely sorry, Y/N.”
“I know. I forgive you,” her voice is so soft, full of kindness he doesn’t deserve and his heart does some funky fluttering in his chest.
Roger’s shoulders lose their tension as he melts into the hotel mattress. Knowing she isn’t to upset with him and that they’ll be able to jump back from this soothes his fears of losing her. He’s not sure he’d ever be able to get over it if it were to happen.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispers and he can hear how upset she is and if he could transport himself to London to sooth all her fears with a hug he would. His urge to book the first flight out is almost uncontrollable. “I didn't mean to make you feel like I was pushing you to talk about something you didn't want to. I just worry about you, and I can't do anything if not ask what's wrong.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for love.” He shakes his head, clenching his hand against the comforter. Never before has he felt such a strong urge to hold a girl in his arms. His voice grows softer as he smiles gently, wishing her could be by her side. “You were just...just being a good friend. I should have seen that instead of the inside of my own ass.”
Y/N hums noncommittally. When she speaks again, her voice is a bit uncertain but sympathetic, “You've had a bloody terrible day, haven't you?”
“It wasn't exactly one for the books.” Roger can’t help the twinge of anger that laces his tone. He really doesn’t want to get into it, knowing full well he won’t be able to control his temper if he does.
“You're also tired.” It’s not a question. She knows. She always knows.
Roger smiles sadly, heart swelling in affection for the girl on the other side of the line “Yeah, I am.”
She sighs, frowning as she doesn’t want to let him go but knowing that he needs his rest “I should probably let you rest.”
“Please don't hang up.”
It’s Y/N heart’s turn to beat erratically as she grins ear to ear when she realizes that he cares for her as much as she does for him. “Okay.”
“Just for a little while, please.”
His voice is a whisper and she answer in the same tone, “As long as you want, rockstar.”
Roger lets his eyes drift shut, rolling onto his side as he holds the receiver tightly in his hands so he won’t accidentally drop it. He could never seem to get enough of her and he doesn’t even know what she looks like yet. What will happen when they finally meet? One thing he knows for sure is that he won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.
“I’d do just about anything to be with you right now”
Had he not been holding the phone tightly against his head, Roger would have missed it. She had spoken so softly, lovingly.
The blond smiles. “Really? Anything?”
She hums, fanning her heated cheeks as she thanks her lucky stars that he can’t see her. She hadn’t expected those words to slip out of her moth but they’ve been talking for so long and they’d just had their first fight.
“I'd swim across the bloody ocean if I could.” He means so much to her that she really would do anything to cross the distance separating them.
Roger blushes, eyes bright and cheeks hurting because of his blinding smile. She makes him so giddy, “All that work just for me?”
Y/N feels her cheek warming up even more, “You’re worth it.” She wonders how he doesn’t realize just how much he means to her or that she would do anything for him.
He hums to himself, grin never faltering as his minds comes up with all these different scenarios he’d love to make come true. Y/N laughs, almost as if she can read his mind, prompting him to ask what caused his favourite sound of the world.
“I think you might actually like me when we finally meet,” she admits finally, still laughing and it really is the best sound to ever reach his ears.
He feels a blush start to spread across his face as he realizes exactly what she said. Never being one to censor himself, he decides to push their carefully set boundaries. “You know, I sometimes imagine you’re here with me sometimes.”
“Yeah?” her laughter, just like her breath, is cut off abruptly. This is certainly not the turn she thought the conversation would be taking.
The drummer hums his assent, turning so he’s laying on his back, eyes locked on the ceiling as he imagines the girl of his dreams in bed next to him. “Yeah. I don't even have a picture of you in my head or anything...I know it doesn't make sense but –”
“No, it does!” She reassures. She never wants him to think that she doesn’t understand what was going through his mind.
He smiles, “Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“What would you do if you were with me, right now?” because he knows exactly what he wishes they could be doing but he needs her to want and imagine the same thing.
“Why?” She has to put a hand over her mouth to stop the squealing his question brought to her lips. Why he makes her feel like a twelve-year-old girl with her first crush is beyond her but she wouldn’t give up this feeling for anything in the world.
“I don't know. It helps me picture you.”
She’s quiet for a second as she thinks over how much she’s willing to say out loud. “I'd make you tea...probably make sure you were all cozy, with plenty of blankets and pillows and the works. You deserve to be pampered.”
No one has ever cared about him as much as she does.
“Then what?” He’s aware he’s being greedy, but he can’t seem to help it.
YN swallows thickly, nervous as she forces herself to talk openly “I'd climb into bed with you. Hold you really close to me. I'd run my fingers through your hair –”
Roger moans, low and almost imperceptibly, at the thought. YN giggles, though she feels a warm ache forming below her stomach when she hears the sound. “You’d like that, huh?”
“Fuck yes.” His voice is hoarse and tired and it really isn’t doing much to help the situation between her legs. Y/N shifts on the bed, clenching her thighs while trying to concentrate on anything but the grovelling and sensual sound of his voice.
“What else?” He wants the conversation to take a specific turn but he’s beginning to get extremely drowsy and his voice betrays that.
Y/N smiles at the sudden sleepiness in his tone and her mouth goes dries as she tells him what has been on her mind for at least a few weeks now, maybe more. “I think...I think then I might have to kiss you, Rog.”
The line is strangely quiet and for a moment, she thinks she’s taken things too far and has completely misread the situation.
Roger gives a dopey, sleepy smile, hope filling his chest with a warm feeling. His voice is nearly a whisper in the receiver, “Where would you kiss me?”
She chokes back a sob, relief flooding her system as he doesn’t seem to mind the idea of her kissing him. In fact, she realizes with a start, he’s egging her on. “Maybe your shoulders...or your tummy.”
Roger hums wantonly into the phone as his mind conjures up the images she’s barely describing.
“Where would you want me to kiss you, Rog?”
The question is enough to wake him up. Roger groans, his voice huskier than a few moments ago “I can think of a few places.”
Y/N blushes, stuttering while trying to come up with a response while getting far too hot under the collar for her own good. Just as she’s opening her mouth, she hears a knock sounding through the phone.
Roger barely manages to hold back an angry curse as he gets up to open the hotel door, receiver still held against the side of his face. When he sees Brian, he rolls his eyes, “What do you want?”
Brian flinches at his friend's tone, holding up a tray of food as he grumbles “Fred wants to make sure you eat something before going to sleep.”
“Thanks, but I'm not hungry!” he responds before closing the door in the guitarist's face. He hears a faint mumble of "Whatever" as Brian heads back to his own room.
“Y/N –” he speaks, hoping against all odds that the mood hasn’t been completely lost. He needs to know what her answer is. Does she want to do to him all the things he wants to do to her?
“You should get some sleep, Rog.”
Roger wants to punch Brian for ruining what could have been the best night of his life so far. He was so close to getting somewhere with this amazing girl and that twat ruined his mood once again. He clears his throat, trying to not let tears of frustration gather in his eyes. “Y-Yeah...Yeah. You're right. I'll call you when I wake up?”
Y/N smiles warmly, quickly drying the single tear that had fallen at their lost moment, “I'll be here.”
Roger's chest buzzes. He whispers a faint 'Sweet dreams love' and waits for her reply before hanging up. He sighs, arm over his eyes.
One day, that girl will be his and he will be hers.
—————----------------------------------
“So” her friend drags out the ‘o’, looking at Y/N with pursed lips, “You like him.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, bringing the fuming cup of tea to her lips. She knows she’s just buying herself a few seconds as she debates how to actually address this whole thing. She knew she’d regret telling her best friend about Roger and their unorthodox friendship – or is it a relationship? Y/N shakes her head, aware of the piercing stare locked on her. She also knew that talking to Winnie would be a double-edge sword but she really needs to talk to someone about this whole Roger thing, just to make sure that it isn’t all in her head and that he too feels something for her. And to make sure it isn’t just some fever dream her mind has conjured in answer to her stress levels being through the roof.
It's been over a year since their first conversation. Roger has travelled the world and made his way back to England just to leave again but they had yet to meet. Y/N is starting to think that he might be ashamed of her. That, or he’s hiding who he really is.
“So what if I do?” Her cheeks start to colour as she avoids looking at the person across from her.
Winnie scoffs, shaking her heard “It's worse than I thought.”
Y/N's jaw drops at the remark, chest feeling a bit tight. “What do you mean by that?”
Winnie rolls her eyes, “I haven't seen you blush this much since...Well, I've actually never seen you blush this much. You've gone completely pink.”
Y/N's eyes fall to the table. She can feel her cheeks growing even pinker and hates her friend for being right.
“Y/N/N…” Winnie says with a frown, “I've got to be honest, here. I don't like it. At all.”
Y/N’s heart sinks. She never thought her friend wouldn’t approve of Roger and the words are like a knife to the chest. Sure, she knew that Winnie would be a bit skeptical but she never thought she’d be so against the idea of Roger. “W-Why not?”
Winnie doesn’t want to be harsh or hurt Y/N in any way but she also doesn’t want her best friend to get her hopes up and then her heart broken by a complete stranger. She reaches her hand across to the table and covers her friend’s. “Y/N… Just think about it rationally for a moment. The bloke calls you in the dead of night. You have no idea where he got your number or who he is and he's already trying to get in your pants –” Y/N opens her mouth to argue but Winnie talks over her. “How do you know he's not 70, huh? He could be anyone, Y/N. He could be your dad, for Christ’s sake!”
YN cringes, holding her head in her hand as she rubbed her temples. She feels utterly defeated. And a bit naïve. Even if she explains every detail to Winnie, she wouldn’t understand.
Winnie sighs, “What if he's got nothing to offer?”
Y/N clenches her jaw, anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. She knows it isn’t fair to be mad at Winnie. That her friend is only trying to look out for her. Still, she feels the urge to protect Roger and their whatever-this-is. “When has that ever been a problem for me? And that's just it, Win. He does...He offers me so much every day and he never expects anything back. He's kind to me...and he's silly and warm and sweet and–”
Winnie's expression softens as she sees the tears burning in Y/N's eyes as she takes Y/N's hands in hers again. However, she doesn’t back down, “You don't even know his last name.”
Y/N sniffles, refusing to let a single tear roll down her face. She takes a deep breath. “I don't really see where the problem is in that.” Winnie's brows knit together and Y/N crosses her arms, “He doesn't know my last name, either. It's not like I'm asking him for anything, Win. He's just great to talk to. He's kind and funny.... he’s smart. Wickedly smart, but he doesn't know it.” Y/N laughs breathlessly, getting lost in her memories of all their conversations. “Acts like this tough, careless thing sometimes but he's so soft on the inside. So good to me. He has the sweetest little laugh, too...gets all croaky when he's tired.”
Winnie squeezes Y/N's hand comfortingly, giving her a sympathetic smile. Realizing that nothing she says is going to change Y/N’s mind, she says softly “Just take care of yourself. That's all I ask.”
Y/N’s responding smile is as bright as the sun, “He's good. I know it. I can feel it. I’m going to be fine as long as I have him.”
“I hope so for you, darling. You deserve some happiness.”
Y/N takes another deep breath, reaching for her cup of tea.
Winnie grins too, “Just know that if he hurts you, I'll have his head. I don't care how old he turns out to be.”
Y/N laughs, rolling her eyes. “Thank fuck I know you've got my back, Win.”
---------------------
Roger is so lost in his thoughts that when John sits down beside him on the small sofa of the tour bus, he flinches, knocking over his beer. John laughs at him, passing him a dirty shirt from the floor to help clean the mess. Roger mumbles a quick "thanks mate" before trying to dry the small table.
“You okay mate?” Brian asks from his spot at the table. The guitarist is barely paying attention to his game of Scrabble with Freddie. For the past few days, he had been paying closer attention to his best friend because something is definitely off. He can’t put his finger on what but he sure as hell is going to find out.
“‘Course I am. Why'd you ask?” Roger is now working on the stain on his trouser, not really listening to his band mates.
Freddie frowns, waiting for Brian to place his next tile and nudges him with a foot under the table to get his attention. When Brian keeps ignoring him, the singer exchanges a quick glance with the bass player, both of them confused about what’s happening.
Brian shrugs, trying to act nonchalant and failing, “You've been acting weird lately.”
Roger's head whips up, eyes zeroing in on the guitarist “What'd you mean?” his tone came out too suspicious and the drummer has a feeling he knows exactly where this conversation was headed.
“You've been extremely well-behaved lately and you spend most of your time holed up in your hotel rooms. What's going on?” Brian decides that beating around the bush wasn’t going to work with the blond.
Roger rolls his eyes, doing his best to hide the smile threating to pull his lips up as he tries to dissuade his friends from asking too many questions or giving them more reasons to be concerned about him. “’S just talking to a friend. No need to get your panties in a twist, old chap.”
“A friend?” Freddie's amused and now feels the need to be part of this conversation, especially if it makes Roger a bit uncomfortable.
The drummer shrugs, his ears going pink as Brian rolled his eyes, already tired of vague answers. “What friend?”
Roger keeps himself busy by wiping the now fully absorbed beer from his pants. “Just a friend.”
John chuckles when he notices how much the lack of tangible information is bother Brian.
“You don't have friends that we don't know!” the guitarist points out.
Roger rolls his eyes, head falling backwards as he drops the shirt to the ground “I do too! We don't do everything together Brian.”
“What's her name, Rog?” Freddie decides to cut to the chase, use to seeing through all of Roger’s bullshit.
The drummer sighs, knowing that the more he tries to get out of this conversation, the more they will pry. He mumbles, “Y/N”
John smiles as Freddie's lights up like a child on Christmas morning. The singer sits forward and leans into the drummer’s line of sight. “And where did you happen upon this friend, hm?”
Roger's cheeks grow pink. He can’t and won’t even try to stifle the pleased smile forming on his lips. Brian’s face pinches in confusion: he's never seen Roger like this in his life. Roger hates when people get all warm and mushy; he always crinkles his nose up with displeasure when John rambles on about Veronica, and yet, here he is, looking as if he’s about to do the same thing.
“If I’m completely honest, I haven't exactly met her in person. Yet.” He confesses sheepishly.
Fred raises his eyebrows, the conversation already taking a turn he didn't expect. “Pardon?”
Roger sighs, rubbing his face as he tries to explain the whole situation as best he can. “We kind of met by accident. Before leaving for tour, I was talking to a girl in a pub back home and well... she gave me a fake number that turned out to be Y/N's.”
John nods, intrigued by the blond's story, “Is it safe to assume you called the number?”
“Yeah.” Roger grins, “Wasn't the bird from the pub, obviously. The girl on the line didn't have any clue who I was. She was pissed, to be honest.” Roger laughs thinking back to the night they met. “She's from London and with the fact that she hadn’t been out and about that night, I accidentally woke her up at one thirty in the morning. She put me in my place for it, too. We started talking after that, I guess.”
Deacy is happy to see his friend so smitten. “How long have you been talking?”
Roger takes a sip of someone's drink, stopping to think. “About a year, I reckon. Maybe a bit more.”
Brian chokes on his own saliva. “A year!? Really?” He looks to the other boys, and even John has his brows raised in surprise.
Roger looks confused, “What?”
“Rog, I don't think I've ever seen you talk to any girl for more than a few hours.” The bass player is quick to point out. “And even when you do, it’s because they’re a good shag.”
Roger frowns, a bit hurt by the comment. He knows he’s never had a serious relationship and that he loves sex but he isn’t some emotionless sex fiend. He is capable of being committed and in a monogamous relationship. He’s just never had the right motivation before. “Tt's not like that.”
Fred smirks, “So you're saying she’s just a friend?”
Roger stutters for a second before falling silent, his face going warmer. “I just… I think she's nice, and easy to talk to.” He knew he wouldn't be able to explain their bond eloquently enough for them to truly understand. It’s more that simple attraction or wanting a relationship. There’s something about Y/N and their bond that he will never be able to explain.
“You realize you broke up with Jo so you could spend more time with your drums? Rog, you're not exactly fantastic at commitment.” Brian feels the need to point out.
Roger’s heart sinks at the lack of support from his friends and wishes he hadn’t let any of this slip. “She's important to me, whether you understand us or not. I want to fly her out here so we can meet –”
Brian scoffs, arms crossing over his chest “You sure she's not just trying to sneak her hands in your pockets, mate?”
Roger is stunned into silence and his temper flares. “What?!”
“How can you be sure that she's not just trying to make a few bucks off you? We make good money now, Rog. People know that.” Again, Brian is pointing something out as if it’s the most obvious reason in the world for a girl to talk with him for so long. Why else would a girl want to spent a whole twelve months speaking to Roger, right?
Roger doesn’t even know where to start or how to respond. The fact that Brian would even imply that YN would ever think about doing something like that is infuriation.
“There are plenty of smart girls out there, mate.” The guitarist carries on, oblivious to the turmoil going through the drummer’s mind. “You've got a keep an eye out for the ones sniffing out gold –”
Roger sees red. “Don't fucking dare finish that sentence, Brian.”
The guitarist rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the drummer's outburst. “All I'm saying is you ought to be careful.”
“I know you think you're smarter than the rest of us but I'm perfectly capable of handling myself.”
Freddie rubs his temples exasperatedly, knowing that this is not going to be the end of the conversation and it’s going to end poorly for all parties involved.
“Roger, you're letting yourself fall in love with this girl and you don’t even know her! She's a complete stranger!” Brian raises his voice, “You've never bloody met her!”
“Fuck off, Brian. You have no fucking idea what or who you're talking about.” Roger slams the bottle against the table and storms off towards the back of the bus “Leave me the fuck alone for the rest of the day.”
----------------------------------
Roger’s eyes blink open as soon as he registers the phone in his hotel room starts ringing. He scrambles for the receiver, nearly falling off the mattress in the process as the sheet tangle in his legs.
It's been nearly a fortnight since he's last spoken to Y/N. It seems the two have less and less time as the summer months have rolled around. There are interviews to do, books to edit, concerts to play, shelves to stock. All their work seems to be never-ending.
“Y/N?” Roger chimes, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He knows that the likelihood of it being anyone else is nonexistent but he always likes to make sure she knows that she’s always his first thought.
“Hi, Rog.” She smiles to herself. Hearing his voice always makes her days better.
Relief washes over Roger's body at the sound of her voice. “God, I've missed you.” He admits, chest aching happily. “Missed you so much. Every day. Fuck, you don't know how good it is to hear your voice.” Roger relaxes against his pillow, playing with the phone chord as his eyes close blissfully.
Tears well in Y/N’s eyes as she tries swallowing around the knot lodged in her throat. “I’ve missed you too, Rog.”
Roger's brow furrow. Her voice’s hoarse, as if she’s been crying. And tired. Immediately he can tell that something’s wrong but he tries clearing the thought from his head, trusting that she would tell him anything she wanted him to know.
“Had a dream about you last night.” He mumbles, smiling at the memory as he tries to make her smile. “I can't remember what you looked like in the dream but it couldn’t have been anyone but you. It felt like you.”
She smiles against the speaker.
Roger eyes furrow as he tries to recall if they’ve ever shared physical details of each other. He knows they’ve shared what’s in their hearts and minds but never have they spoken about what they look like. He needs to know. “How tall are you?”
Y/N doesn’t answer and Roger's worry comes back stronger than before. “Y/N?”
“Hm? What was that Rog?”
The drummer doesn’t like how tired she sounds. They’ve had had their share of bad conversations but she’s never ignored or not answered one of his questions. “How tall are you?”
“Oh... uhm... I guess /your height/.”
It took her too long to answer. Roger bites his lower lip before sighing, knowing that the only way for him to feel better is knowing that she’s okay. “There's something wrong.”
Y/N pauses, finally fully present in the conversation. Her heart beats a bit too quickly in her chest. “W-What?”
“You're not acting like yourself. Something's wrong.” Roger hates how certain of this he is.
She goes silent while trying to hold it all back, but it’s no use. Her face crumbles as she lets out a sob against the receiver. Calling him had been the best and worse decision she made today.
Roger's heart feels like it’s shattering as he fights helplessly to calm her from oceans away.
“Y/N...” He feels stuck. Someone he loves is sobbing and he’s a million miles away. “Y/N, my love, what’s wrong? What's happening?”
His mind is working a million miles a second. It’s been so long since they last spoke, that there are hundreds of things that could have happened. Is she hurt? Did someone she know get hurt? Has the press somehow found out about their conversations and been harassing her?
She chokes on her words, trying to explain as best as she could but her breathing is still too choppy and labored for her to be understandable.
Roger listens as she struggles to breathe and he doesn’t think he’s ever known fear before his moment. The sounds coming from the woman he loves sound painful and he wants nothing more than to hold her and soothe all her pain. “Y/N, my love, just breathe. Can you do that for me? Take deep breaths.” He does what he’s asking her to do so that she has something to mimic. “Just do what I am okay? I'm right here baby.” He keeps his breathing slow and steady, guiding hers until she settles. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, sniffling painfully. Roger wishes he could reach through the phone and scoop her up in his arms. He's trying to figure out how angry the boys – and the label – would be if he were to fly out to her for a few days.
“I had to fire them all.” She admits in a whisper.
His stomach drops, “Who love?”
“My employees... I couldn't pay them anymore.” She starts crying again, her voice breaking and he can barely make out the words tumbling from her lips.
Roger frowns, a thought he doesn’t like pushing to the front of his mind. “Who's been running the store when you aren't there?” Y/N cuts herself off abruptly and when she finally answers, he hates what he hears. “It's just been you. Oh, love, it's just been you all by yourself?”
Her sobs grow louder as Roger hushes her soothingly through the phone as he fights off his own tears. “Oh baby, I'm so sorry.”
“I-I didn't want to. I had to.” Y/N needs him to understand. She really has no other choice and she hates how powerless she is. She’s trying her best to ground herself but everything hurts.
“I know, sweetheart.” He reassures her, “They understand.”
“M-My landlord threatened to evict me and I've got no food in the pantry and I just didn't know what else to do.” She grabs her hair tightly as the pain in her chest increases.
Roger's throat tightens to the point where taking a breath is painful. “Why didn't you say anything, darling? I would have sent you mone–”
'No. No. I don't want to take money from you.” She states resolutely. “That's not fair and it’s not me. I will figure something out.”
He rolls his eyes at her stubbornness. “What's ‘not fair’ is that you're suffering, Y/N.” He pauses, “When's the last time you had a meal? Like, a whole meal, not just a snack.”
When doesn’t Y/N answer, Roger knows that it has been too long.
“I've been eating little things here and there.” She finally admits with a small, fearful voice, “I don't have time to sit and eat at work, anyway.”
“Y/N,” his tone doesn’t allow for any room for her not to answer, “when was the last time?”
She swallows thickly, “A week ago. I think.”
Roger feels like someone has punched him in the throat. His eyes burn as he fights off tears. Now is not the time for him to breakdown. He can do that once he knows she has some food in her system and she’s taken care of. He counts to five and takes a deep breath before speaking again. “Haven't been sleeping either, I bet. I can hear it in your voice. You're exhausted.”
Roger pauses and then add stubbornly, “I'm sending you money.”
Nothing she says is going to change his mind on this. She needs it, he has loads and he will never sit back and let her suffer when he can actively do something to make things easier for her.
“Roger, no.” She counters immediately, “Absolutely not!”
“Y/N, you need it! I want to help you. I need to help you. I need you to be safe and happy and healthy –”
“I can do it, Rog.” She guarantees, “I just need to work harder.”
She’s stubborn but so is he.
He sighs her name. Nothing he says will convince her to take the money. She’s too proud of that but there is nothing she can do to stop him from sending it anyway. Y/N doesn’t need to know until she gets it.
There is one thing that he can’t drop though. “Promise me, and I mean promise me you'll eat and you'll sleep. I want three meals a day and eight hours at night.” Y/N sighs, knowing that keeping that promise is going to be rough but Roger keeps speaking, “I know money is tight and it seems like it's hopeless right now but swear to me that you'll take care of yourself.”
Y/N's voice thickens as she whimpers pathetically. Never had she thought she’d be the kind of girl that needs a man to keep her together, but here she is. “I need you to hold me.”
Pain shoots through Roger's chest and this time, he can’t keep his emotions at bay. Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to not sob too loudly. It hurts. It bloody hurts how badly he wants to be with her.
Roger moves the receiver away from his face, letting out a few sobs before he composes himself. He takes a deep, shuddering breath as his nose burns because of the tears he’s trying – and failing – to hold back. He does his best to keep his voice steady when he speaks to her again, “What if I fly out to you? Just for a few days. I could –”
Y/N’s tears start anew. “I want that, so badly but Rog, baby, you can’t. The tour –”
“To hell with the tour!” he says through gritted teeth, “I don’t care about the bloody tour! I care about you.”
Her breath catches in her throat. They’ve both tiptoed around their feelings, both making it clear that this is more than a simple friendship but never had either of them been so direct. It gives her hope and now, more than ever, she refuses to let him give up on his dream. She will get through this and knowing he’s willing to drop everything to help her is enough.
“I care about you too, Rog.” She admits softly, “But there are so many people counting on you. It’s your dream.”
“Maybe I have a new one” he mumbles. “Okay. If I can’t come to you then I can fly you out.” He needs to see her and make sure, with his own eyes, that she’s really doing better. He can’t lose her.
Y/N sighs wistfully, wanting nothing more than to accept his offer. “You know I can’t. Not right now, at least. The shop –”
Roger curses in frustration. “It’s not fair!”
“I know.”
Silence fills the line. Roger’s anger quickly dissipates and all he’s left with is unrelenting sadness. He feels so unlike himself; pitifiul and needy. He feels as if he needs Y/N more than he needs oxygen.
“Soon,” Roger’s voice breaks the silence, “Promise me. We’ll be together soon.”
Y/N smiles through the tears, “I promise.”
“And promise me you’ll eat and sleep. I need you to take care of yourself.”
“I promise, Rog. I will get as much sleep and food as I can stand.”
“Good.” He swallows thickly, “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She lets out a wet laugh, “Good thing is you’ll never have to find out.”
Roger finally relaxes a bit, breathing deeply. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you out of my sights once we meet.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
---------------------------
Roger keeps his head down, with his visor of the baseball cap pulled down almost over his eyebrows as moves quickly through the city. He’s hoping that between his disguise and Queen still being relatively unknown in the US will help him avoid any run ins with the press. It had been hard enough leaving the hotel without being seen by his mates or any of the roadies. He really doesn’t need word of his morning excursion getting back to Brian.
With a grimace, Roger walks into the American branch of his bank and lines up to speak to a teller.
It takes longer than he would have liked to get all the documents set up and money withdrawn but Roger definitely feels lighter as he steps back out into the sunlit streets and heads to rehearsals. Luckily, he was careful enough that no one noticed his prolonged absence.
The green room is still empty when Roger enters, heading straight for the vanity against the opposite wall. Slipping off his hat, he removes all the bank documents from his back pocket and sits at the mirror. He slides the signed check and bills into the same envelope, setting it aside as he removes his jacket. He definitely feels a lot better knowing he’ll be able to help Y/N in a way that matters and that will make her life easier. It also helps that their conversations have returned to being a daily occurrence, helping him ensure that she is as well rested and fed as she can be. Although she’s doing much better with his support, Roger doesn’t miss the stressed tone or how her work load seems to be constantly growing.
Roger only wishes he had managed to get to a bank sooner though this way, since it’s been a bit over a month since he offered her the money, she shouldn’t suspect anything.
Roger digs around the vanity for a pen and when he finds none, he uses one of Freddie’s eye-pencils and a tissue to write a short message to his girl. He hesitates, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his friends aren’t going to barge in. He really doesn’t want to try explaining the money or check to them.
Roger sighs, mussing his hair as he tries to put pencil to tissue. There is so much he wants to say but he isn’t even sure where he should start. He knows that no matter what he says, she is going to rip into him so with a chuckle, he scribbles down one line before signing the tissues and placing it delicately inside the envelop with the money and check. He knows he’s doing the right thing, and even if she won’t happy about it, she’ll be grateful.
For once in his life, he’s grateful for his foresight of asking for her full name and address so that he could send small trinkets and post cards when calls aren’t enough.
“Morning, Rog.”
Roger nearly jumps out of the chair, quickly turning to see a confused looking John smiling at him, a cup of coffee in hand.
Roger exhales, laughing at his own reaction. “God, Deacy. You scared the living shit out of me. Didn’t hear you come in.”
John laughs too before sipping his coffee as he takes a seat on the couch. Roger turns back to the envelope, hiding it under his arm.
“Didn’t see you at breakfast this morning, I though you’d still be in bed.” John chimes, brow quirked.
Roger clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. “Just had to um...run some errands is all.”
John nods though he clearly doesn’t believe him. “What are you doing here so early?” The drummer desperately wants to change the subject before he gives himself away.
John shrugs, smiling “I tend to get here early to help the roadies with the amps. I built most of them from older models that'd been trashed so they can be a bit finicky.”
Roger hums in understanding, slipping the envelope into the pocket of his jeans as Brian and Freddie waltz in. The drummer nods at both, fighting back a yawn.
“Sleep well?” Freddie asks with a smirk.
“Not well enough.” Admits Roger, standing from his chair and lazily making his way over to the costume rack. He doesn’t notice the envelop slipping from his pocket when he bends down to look for his converse. Roger curses under his breath, “I’m going to see if I can track down my trainers. I could’ve sworn I left them here yesterday.”
Brian quirks his brow curiously as the drummer trots out the door, stepping forward to snatch the envelope off the ground. Freddie cranes on his tip toes to peek over his shoulder, curiosity lighting up his brown eyes, “What've you found?”
The envelope hasn’t been sealed yet so Brian doesn’t feel too guilty as he snoops. The guitarist runs his thumb over the hastily scrawled name and address, Y/N Y/L/N.
“What’s inside?” The singer asks, hoping it’s a love letter and that he can take the piss out of the usually emotionally constipated drummer.
Brian pulls back the flap of the envelop and frowns when he notices that there’s cash inside. He moves toward the couch where John is sat, quietly observing the situation as it unfolds. The guitarist clears off a small section of the coffee table and dumps the content of the envelop on it. A wad of cash falls with a small thud, as a tissue and slip of paper flutter down after it. He quickly counts the cash and his eye widen in shock. £500. And the piece of paper is a blank check that has been signed and dated with today’s date. The name on the check is the same of the envelop and it finally hits him: it’s the girl Roger had mentioned on the bus.
Don’t be too angry. R
Brian feels like his brain is going to explode. A blank cheque?! He’s sending her a blank cheque! Anger boils in his veins as he tries to comprehend how his best friend of years goes from dumbing his girlfriend of almost ten years in order to become a successful musician to blindly sending money and blank cheques to a complete stranger. Clearly, something has happened because not even Roger would be that stupid.
Brian grips the empty envelop tightly in his hand as Roger wanders back into the room, muttering about his missing shoes.
Brian walks up to Roger where he’s now lounging on the couch next to John and throws it at him. Roger eyes the envelop before his eyes fall to the coffee table.
The blond lets out a frustrated sigh, looking up into Brian's eyes. For this, his reaction angers Brian even more.
“Mind sharing with the group, Rog?” the curly-haired man asks condescendingly. “Mind explaining why your ‘friend’ who isn't taking advantage of you is getting direct deposits?!”
Roger does his best to swallow back all his annoyance, but apparently, Brian isn’t done digging into him. “A fucking blank cheque, Roger!? A blank cheque, really? Are you trying to get robbed?”
Roger can’t even get his explanation fully out of his mouth before Brian cuts him off. “She's lying, Roger! She's a con artist!”
“She's not!”
“And you're giving her exactly what she wants! She'll be laughing all the way to the bank!”
“SHUT UP!” Roger screams, raising to his feet and pushing Brian back. “You've all got spouses or children. I don't. I've got no one to take care of. Tell me what's so fucking criminal about sending some money to help someone I love.”
The three other people in the room are shocked into silence. Never before has the drummer tossed around the l-word so easily. Roger picks up the money and the check from the table, carefully tucking it back into the envelope and smoothing it out.
Roger heads for the door, turning to look back at the group one last time before he leaves.
Roger chuckles into the receiver. “Well, hello to you too, darling.” He had been waiting for this call for about a week.
“Do not ‘darling’ me right now. I told you not to send money!” Y/N has rarely experienced such a mix of emotions. Anger, love, humiliation, sadness, helplessness, love. She whines into the phone, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “Why didn't you listen? I'm not a charity case!” She hates feeling like a burden.
Most of all, she hates how loved and better she felt when she opened the envelope.
The blond frowns. It was never his intention to upset her, “Love, I –”
“Don’t you dare use your pet names on me right now, Roger Taylor!'’ Roger tries to hold back his laughter.
“I told you I can do this on my own!” she explodes, “I am perfectly capable of handling –”
“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” He interrupts. Roger toys with the phone chord, blowing some of his bangs away from his face. “You could run circles around me, darling. Just because you're able to do it on your own doesn't mean you have to.” He smiled softly to himself, “You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore. I can't physically be there for you, and I hate that. If it were up to me, I'd be stopping by the store to bring you food or help lug books around.” Y/N exhales, hand running through her hair. God-damnit. Why does he have to be so bloody perfect and far away? “And as much as I wish I could change it, I know I can't be there right now to hold you and promise it will all get better.”
“Rog–” There’s so much she needs to tell him.
“Let me do this, Y/N.” He begs, “Just this one thing to help you keep a roof over your head and eat and take care of yourself.”
Y/N gives up all hope of arguing with him about this. And just like that, she’s crying for a completely different reason. Her voice wobbles as she sobs into the phone, “You're so stupid, Roger. You're such a goddamn idiot.”
He laughs as he too starts crying, smiling lovingly to the empty room. “I thought we’d already established that.” She gives a breathy laugh, clutching the money and cheque to her chest like a security blanket. “Hasn't ever kept you from talking to me before, though.”
Y/N wipes her tears with her shirt sleeve, sniffling pitifully. She knows she’s never felt love like this before and she never will again. Not even her parents had shown interest in supporting her; she never thought any less of them because of that.
But here’s Roger. Sweet, stupid Roger forking over hundreds of pounds and sending it to her from worlds away without batting an eyelash. All because he wants to help in any way he can. She can hear him as he rambles on, still trying explain how it “really isn’t a big deal".
“Roger–” her voice’s is so soft that he misses it completely.
“–I just care about you and I wanted to help and–”
“Roger!” She yells with a laugh.
He stops, eyebrows quirking as he smiled. He hears her take a deep breath and waits impatiently for her to speak.
Y/N’s heart is beating like a hummingbird's. “I love you.”
“What?” Roger feels completely frozen until she repeats those three beautiful words to him.
There’s another long silence and panic set in YN's stomach as she bites her lip. She really doesn’t want to pressure him into saying it so it’s her turn to start rambling, “I'm not just saying that because of the money and I don't expect you to say it back but I just needed you to know because it’s true and –”
“I love you too.” He interrupts her panicked mumbles.
Y/N's whole body relaxes. She exhales, hands shakily holding the phone as she lets out a watery, “Thank Christ” that makes Roger laugh.
“God, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much.” Now that he can say it aloud, he doesn’t think he'll ever be able to stop.
Tears well in Y/N's eyes again, “I...I want you, Roger. I want you here.” She sounds selfish but she doesn’t care.
This is the moment she’s been waiting for. Now that it’s out in the open, she needs to see him, feel his body against hers. She wants to show him exactly how much she loves him.
His heart aches, “I know, my love. You have no fucking idea how much I want to be with you right now. Fuck, I'd fly out to you right this second if I knew you'd actually let me.”
Y/N chuckles, sniffling “It's really tempting.”
He grins, “Tempting enough to let me?”
She shakes her head, “I can't be the one to deprive the world of Roger Taylor. I know how that feels and it's too damn painful.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Why can't you just be selfish once in a while?”
“I'm afraid I'm not as strong headed as my rockstar boyfriend.”
Roger smiles brighter than the sun, face red and heart full at her words. “Boyfriend, huh? I like the sounds of that.”
“Do you now?”
His smile seems to grow, “Love it, actually. 'Specially hearin' it from my girlfriend.”
Y/N giggles, loving his ability to make everything better with just a few, simple words. “Be careful saying that in front of all your groupies, might break their hearts.”
Roger scoffs, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Groupies!? Who do you think I am?” Y/N laughs and it’s his favourite sound in the world “You're the only groupie I've got, darling. Take you with me everywhere.”
“That's my official title then?” She jokes, “Resident Groupie?”
“Yes. And it's a paid position so you have to accept the money I sent.”
Y/N gasps, grin on her lips “You absolute wanker!”
“You love me, really.”
Her smile softens, “I really do.”
---------------------------------
Roger's shoulders and hands ached as he plops down on his hotel bed. He winces at the contact between the sheets and the raw skin of his worn hands, biting his lower lip as he reaches for the phone. Hearing his girlfriend's voice always make it all worth it.
The line rings more times than Roger is used to and a very bad feeling sinks in his gut. Even more concerning is the fact that he goes to voice mail. The drummer frowns, setting the receiver back on the base before lifting and dialing again. Still no response. He tries a third time. Nothing.
Finally, on his fourth try, YN answers the line and relief washes over him.
“Hey, Rog.”
“Oh, thank god! I thought something had happened to –” He freezes, heart dropping when he realizes that she’s crying. “What's wrong my love?”
Y/N sniffles, hating herself for being the girl that cries at the sound of her boyfriend’s voice. She isn’t even sure what to do. If she tells Roger that his best friend called her and said she was a gold-digging whore, he’ll react rashly and she isn’t there to stop him from doing too much damage to the band or himself. On the other hand, these phone calls are all they have. Honestly is important, they both said so from day one and fuck, they’re in a relationship for crying out loud. She knows Roger loves her. He’s proven it more than enough times. It’s just that… If his best friend, the people he spends every waking moment with think that of her, maybe it’s because he’s said something. And she’s sure it isn’t only Brian thinking those things. They couldn’t have come to that conclusion on their own. Could they?
“Is it work? Did something happen?”
“No...” She hums, trying to gather herself. She’s not going to tell him.
Roger frowns, worry clawing at his chest. She isn’t tired of him, is she? “Talk to me, love. Please.”
His plea breaks some of her resolution and she fights hard to not start sobbing. She’s sick of crying every time they call. “It's nothing, just having a rough day.”
“No, it isn't.” Roger insists, brow furrowed determinedly. Something is gnawing at him to not trust her words.
Y/N swallows, mind running in circles. “Rog…You know I'd never lie to you, right? I'd never do anything to hurt you.”
Roger blinks in confusion, “Of course I do, sweetheart. Where's all this coming from?”
“Nowhere.” She lies, “I just want to make sure you know how much I love you.” She hesitates a moment. “Promise me you understand that, though. That when I talk to you...I'm never trying to get anything out of you. I'm not...digging for gold.”
Alarm bells ring loudly in Roger's head. Brian. Fucking Brian. “Did Brian call you?”
“No.” She answers too quickly.
“Brian called you, didn't he?” Roger is beyond furious as his voice raises along with the anger in his chest. “He called you and ran his fucking mouth, as he always does and hurt you. The fucking arse can’t accept that he’s not the smartest person in the room and wants to ruin everyone’s happiness because he’s a miserable bastard. Once I get my hands on him, I –”
Y/N sobs, “Don't fight with him! Please, don't. He was only trying to protect y– ”
Roger slams the receiver against the base, fists clenching as he tears through his door and down the hall towards the conference room turned music room, where he knows the lads are still rehearsing. He’ll apologize later to Y/N but right now, he needs to not be talked down. Brian deserves everything coming his way.
Roger slams the door open and as soon as he’s face-to-face with the guitarist, Roger punches him in the face.
Brian stumbles backwards as Roger keeps shoving his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! What in the absolute fuck is wrong with you?!”
Brian's eyebrows furrow as he catches his balance, still trying to keep Roger at bay as he massages his sore jaw.
Roger's face is red, rage clear as day in his blue eyes as he spats his words at Brian, Freddie putting himself in the middle of the two. “Somehow, by the grace of fucking god, I'm happy for the first time in my miserable goddamn life and you have to go and try to fuck it up!” Tears welling in his eyes, Roger shoves his kit to the ground, cymbals crashing as pieces of set scattered across the floor. Freddie is grateful that it was just the four of them in the room, though the ruckus is sure to gather unwanted attention.
Brian rubs his bruising jaw, rolling his eyes at Roger's reaction. “I did it for your own bloody good, Roger! She was just going to keep leeching off you –”
“I don't fucking care, Brian!” Roger kicks his bass drum, foot going through the decal of his own face as he shoves Freddie away. “I don't fucking need it! I don't need any of it!”
Brian's eyes fall to his shoes as guilt filled his gut. Maybe he had been too rash and cruel. Maybe he should've given Y/N a chance to explain herself.
“What am I going to buy with all this money you've saved me, huh? Cars? Drugs?” Brian opens his mouth to argue but Roger cuts him off. “I love her, Brian! I don't care if she takes every fucking cent I have!”
Brian scoffs, guilt quickly being replaced by frustration at how idiotic his friend is acting. “Do you hear yourself? You've never met this person, Roger! You're being ridiculous! You're asking to get your heart broken!”
“I'm fucking grown, Brian! I can handle myself, you condescending prick! She's all I've got!”
The room goes eerily silent.
Brian clears his throat, pursing his lips. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “Since when don’t you have us?”
Roger stares right at Brian, daggers in his eyes. He scoffs sickly, “This? The band? The so-called friends that call up my girlfriend, making her cry and calling her a gold-digger?!” He gestures to the group, knowing that John and Freddie had done nothing to stop Brian from making the girl he loved question their whole relationship. “This is over. The second tour's finished, this is never happening again.”
Deacy knits his brows, “Roger–”
Roger takes a menacing step towards Brian, grabbing the front of his shirt in his tired and sore hands. “You ever speak to her again and I'll rip your fucking balls off.”
The blond turns from the group, retreating down the hall and back to his own room.
Brian, Freddie, and Deacy stand in shocked silence.
Brian sighs as he raises his fist to knock on Roger's door. He feels bad. He really does. And he doesn’t want the band to break up because of a girl. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t still think Roger was acting like a mad man.
The guitarist hopes that the few hours he had left Roger to wallow in his self pity has been enough for the drummer to calm down and reconsider the whole quitting nonsense.
“No, Y/N! I won't! I won't forgive him.”
Brian freeze, dropping his hand to his side. Why on earth would Y/N be defending him? Brian rests his ear against Roger's door, curiosity itching beneath his skin. There’s a pause as Roger listens to Y/N's response.
“I understand that he was trying to look out for me. I get that, but I'm a grown fucking man, Y/N. He thinks he's the smartest person alive and I'm sick of it! I could have lost you!”
Brian rolls his eyes. He doesn't think he’s smarter than Roger. He just thinks Roger is dumber than him.
“No, I'm quitting! Soon as tour's over I'm flying out to you and I-.... No, I'm not! I'm not being dramatic!”
Brian smirks, chuckling to himself. “I wouldn't miss them. Not for a second. I can play drums anywhere. I don't need them! ... It is not bullshit!”
Brian’s surprised. Impressed even. He never thought that this girl would be defending them after everything he'd said to her. “I don't want to talk to those wankers. They treat you like you're some conquest. They don't even see it. I'm not like that anymore, Y/N. I'm just not that person anymore. You need to know that.”
Something in his words give Brian pause. Roger’s right: it'd been ages since he'd heard any moans coming from the other side of Roger's door. The drummer barely showed up at after parties anymore. Hell, even when women throw themselves at him, he just smiled politely, signing whichever body part they present him and returns to his previous conversation with the lads or their entourage.
There’s so many things Brian was used to seeing Roger numb himself with. Booze. Drugs. Sex. Anything that would bring him any sort of temporary relief. It had all stopped suddenly. Roger is now more focused and plays better. He fights less. He even started apologizing for things. He smiles more. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. No more dark circles under his eyes; no more empty bottles; no more smears of white powder left on tables.
Things are different now. They had been for a long time, he’d just been too conceited to notice. The changes seem to coincide with her sudden appearance in Roger’s life.
Brian bites at the inside of his lower lip, sighing as he knocks on Roger's door.
Roger curses, mumbling something to Y/N and brings the phone with him as he pries himself up off the bed and shuffles over to the door, flinging it open roughly.
“What the fuck do you want?” Roger spats. He’s vaguely aware of Y/N's voice in his ear, telling him to take it easy.
“To apologize.”
“Apology not accepted.” Roger tries to slam the door in his face but Brian’s quicker, smacking his hand against the hard wood.
“Really? I'm trying to be nice and you're going to bitch about it?” the guitarist can’t help but roll his eyes.
“Yep. That's the plan.” Roger is just about to try slamming the door shut again when he hears Y/N call his name loudly on the other line. He holds the receiver to his ear. “What did you say, love? ... No! Y/N, I don't want to hear anything he has to say.... Why should I?” The blond exhales angrily, eyes shooting daggers at Brian as he holds the receiver against his ear. “Come on in.”
The air is tense as Brian sits down next to Roger on his bed, biting at his thumbnail as Roger hits the speaker button on the base of the phone. “He can hear you now, love.” Roger mumbles. “Don't see why you're bothering with letting him apologize after he –”
“Just let him speak, Roger.” The voice from the speaker is crackly with static, sweet yet exasperated.
Brian smiles a little, feeling marginally better about things knowing she’s not too angry or hurt. “I, um...I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know I was wretched. I just got worried. Roger can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes and I –”
“I am not! You're the one that bloody –”
Y/N heaves an exasperated sigh, “For god’s sakes, Roger, just calm the fuck down and let him explain.”
Roger grumbles something under his breath. Brian can’t help but smirk. “Brian, I understand where you were coming from. You were only trying to protect him.”
Roger scoffs. “You're really going to side with Brian!?”
Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a headache forming. Men. “You're being such a baby.”
Roger groans, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenches.
Brian is starting to like this girl more and more. She knows how to put Roger in his place and he lets her. It’s refreshing, “I... I may have been wrong about you.”
Y/N smiles, “No shit!”
Roger can’t help but grin. That's my girl.
Y/N sighs, “But we'll get to you apologizing to me later. Right now, you two need to get your heads out of your asses and forgiving each other. Queen won't end because the two of you can't act like adults.”
Roger scoffs, “Fat chance.”
Brian shakes his head exasperatedly. “I swear, you're a child.”
“And you're a pompous asshole!”
“Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I'm pompous.”
“Oh, so now you don't think I'm smart?”
“Not when you act like a twat, I don't!”
“Piss off!”
“No! You –”
Y/N drops her phone back onto its base. Roger should have known she wouldn't sit there and listen to that crap. Roger and Brian go silent at the dial tone. The drummer curses, grumbling as he redials her number. It only rings once before she picks up.
“You two finished?” There’s silence and Y/N giggles. “I can't believe two grown men are being such babies.” Both of them open their mouths to argue in self defense but can’t before she’s laughing at them.
Brian sighs, “Rog, I'm sorry. I know you're not stupid and I –”
“You sure bloody act like it –”
Y/N exhales sharply, “Roger I swear to god if you don't stop interrupting, I won't pay my phone bill this month.”
Roger immediately goes silent and Brian laughs smugly. Roger flips him off.
Y/N shakes her head, “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Brian. You're already on thin ice.”
It’s Brian’s turn to go quiet and Roger’s to laugh smugly.
“Why do I feel like a mother scolding her two idiotic children?! Roger, Brian was just trying to look out for you. It was a shitty way of doing it but he loves you and wants you happy. Brian, Roger is hot headed, you know that better than me but because of you, I almost lost him and Roger was right in his reaction. You had no right to call me and call me a gold digger and an actress. You should have trusted your friend's judgment.”
Brian held out his hand, “I'm sorry, Roger.”
Roger takes it, giving it a reluctant shake. “I'm sorry, too.”
Y/N sighs in relief until Roger speaks again, “You need to apologize to Y/N as well. And you should know: she didn't ask for the money. I sent it to her without her knowledge and she yelled at me.”
Freddie walks by the open hotel room door, having heard their screams from the hall and leans against the post, observing the scene in front of him. Brian rubs his neck, cheeks turning red. “I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have been so quick to judge.”
“You're right, you shouldn't have but I forgive you. I'm still hurt but I know it was done in good faith.”
Brian nods, guilt eating at him. “I understand completely. I... I wouldn't have forgiven me had I been in your shoes.”
Y/N smiles, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. “Lucky for you, I'm very forgiving and understanding. And as much fun as this is, I'm going to be late for a meeting.”
“Make sure to eat something, please.”
“Don't worry rockstar, I'm taking care of myself. I love you.”
Roger smiles sappily, “I love you too.”
After she hangs up, Freddie smiles and makes his way into the room and drops down next to Brian, “I like her.”
Roger grins, “Yeah, she's amazing.”
“I'm sorry I didn't stop Brian.”
The drummer shakes his head, “It's all good mate. You lot were just trying to look out for me. I was just angry because she was already hurting and you managed to make it worse. I hate hearing her cry.”
The two nod, realizing what a mess they had made. Freddie claps his hands, “Well, now that it's settled that you're not quitting the band and we're all friends again, we should celebrate! I won't take no for an answer, my darlings!”
————————————————————
Y/N’s pulled out of her thoughts as the phone rings at nine am. She knows it’s Roger: no one else calls her but she almost never gets calls from Roger this early in the day. There’s only a four-hour time difference, but it’s still rare for her to get a call before the middle of the night.
It’s nine and two minutes, meaning Roger is calling her at five in the morning his local time.
She picks up the phone in an instant, worried that something is wrong, “Rog? Are you ok?”
“Y/N? Y/N! It's me! It's Roger!”
She chuckles, realizing what’s going on. She can hear the smile in his voice as he basically screams across the distance separating them. “Hi, Rog. Sounds like you're having fun.”
He laughs drunkenly, stretching his legs across the couch he’s sitting on. “And you sound –” He groans longingly, “You sound so sexy, Y/N. So beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. Prettiest girl I've ever seen.”
Y/N giggles, face heating up at his words. “You've never seen me before, Rog.” She hears a few snickers from around him. “Am I on speaker phone?”
Roger nods, forgetting he was on the phone in his drunken state. He’s just happy to be speaking to his dream girl.
“Hello Y/N!” Brian calls, taking another swig from his nearly empty beer bottle. Y/N returns the greeting but Roger frowns, quickly switching her off speaker. “Brian doesn't get to ever talk to you ever.”
YN smiles sympathetically, “Aw, Rog. I told you I forgive him, so did you. He was just being friendly –”
“I don't have to see you to know you're pretty.” He interrupts, drunken mind already returning to the most important thing. “I just know it. I do.” He frowns, grumpy that she dares question how highly he thinks of her. “Prettiest girl in the universe.”
He yawns, rubbing at his eyes. “Wanna meet you so bad. I think...I think it's scary.”
YN hums, confused. “What's scary?”
“W-What'll I-...What is-...What if you don't think you like me as much? What'll I do then?”
Her heart stutters, “Oh Rog, of course I'll like you. I love you.”
“But you love hearing me but what about seeing me?” He croaks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “What if you don't like seeing me?”
Y/N sighs, “Roger, I'd love you if even if you were bald with green skin.”
“What if it's worse than all that?”
Y/N laughs, “Worse than bald with green skin!?”
Roger hides his drunken smile, as if she was there to see it. “I'm serious! I'm being serious and you're laughing at me!”
“Aw, Rog, I’m sorry. I won't laugh anymore.” She speaks through her giggles. “I'm listening. Really...”
Roger sighs, self consciously looking down at his body. “I...I'm not big.”
Y/N quirks her brow, intrigued by where this conversation is going. “What?”
“I'm not so big and muscly! I'm skinny! I mean...well...My shoulders are ok but –”
She chuckles, “Roger, my love, I promise I'm going to love the hell out of you no matter how muscly you are.”
Roger groans, “You've got to stop that.”
She frowns, “Stop what?”
“Stop...Just stop being so goddamn perfect all the time.”
Y/N scoffs, “I'm far from perfect, Rog.”
He groans again, “You sound so goddamn sexy.”
She laughs at him, loving how his drunken mind seems to go in circles. “Is it my 'I just woke up and haven't spoken yet' voice?”
Roger moans, running his hands through his hair. “You're just teasing now! You have any idea the kind of things I want to do to you?”
“I might have a vague idea, yes.”
Roger let his eyes fall closed, mumbling. “God, I just want to suck on your tits.”
Y/N's jaw drops, “Roger!” She feels her face turn scarlet, knowing he’s just a few steps away from his band mates and they are absolutely listening in.
“I mean it!” He whines, “You make me so fucking hard –”
“Roger, I am not having this conversation with you in front of your mates.”
He whines again, “'m not asking for full on phone sex!” His lips turn up in a smirk, “Maybe I could just get you off? The boys aren't listening.” He glances at his friends but he’s too drunk to really see, “At least I think they’re not.”
Y/N buries her face in her hand, “They most definitely are, Roger.”
He frowns, not comprehending what the issue is, “But I love you.”
“I love you too, rockstar.” She smiles, “Do me a favor? Put an aspirin and a glass of water by your bed.”
Roger feels himself tear up, “Are you hanging up?”
She knits her brows sympathetically. “I've got work, baby.” The last thing she wants to do is hang up on him when he sounds so adorable and horny but she’s already running late.
“Call me?” he asks, “Once you get home? The minute you get home.”
She’s smiling, “I don't think you'll be awake.”
“Wake me up, then.”
She chuckles, “Ok, rockstar.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Roger wakes up hours later, unsure on how he managed to get back to his room and with a pounding headache. He reaches for the aspirin and water he vaguely remembers putting on his bedside table, as requested by his amazing girlfriend.
While going to wash his face, he notices an envelope by the door. Reaching down to grab it, his heart flutters when he sees the name of the sender: YN LN. It’s priority mail, meaning she probably spent quite some money on it and it’s dated three days ago.
His hands shake as he tears the envelope open and tears filled his eyes as he finally knows what the girl of his dreams looks like.
Y/N makes her way into her small apartment, keys held in her teeth, a grocery bag in one hand and mail in the other. She stops in the kitchen, quickly putting her groceries away before sitting on the sofa and going through the mail.
As usual, there are a few store coupons, a reminder that her rent is due in two weeks and an envelope from Roger. She’s come to love and hate these: postcards are great, full of witty comments and loving remarks. Envelopes usually mean that he either sent her money or a small gift. Stupid, sweet Roger.
Y/N's heart is beating like a hummingbird's as she opens the letter from Roger. She pulls out a single photo, clipped from a magazine with a single word written across the bottom.
Guess.
She smirks, sliding the photo back into the envelope and hurries to her room. She dials his number the minute she gets to the phone, sitting on the edge of her bed. It only rings once before he picks up. He doesn’t even get a chance to greet her. “You think you're so clever, don't you?”
Roger laughs, knowing exactly to what she’s referring to. “Yes, actually, I do.”
“You're such a wanker.” She’s laughing, shaking her head as she looks over the photo of Roger and his band mates.
He laughs, adjusting his pillow as he rubs his eyes, waking himself up a bit more, “Thought that was why you love me?”
Y/N smiles, kicking off her shoes as she lays back, “You want me to play that game? Fine, I'll play it, rockstar. I bet you twenty pounds I'll get it on the first try.”
“You really think you will?” Roger loves how confident she sounds. God, he loves this woman.
“Of course I will, drummer boy. I'd know you anywhere.” Her smile’s soft, the love she feels for the boy knew no limits.
He bit his lower lip, a grin breaking out on his lips 'You're on, sweetheart.'
YN pulls the photo closer, excitement rolling in her stomach. “Let's see...”
Every face in the picture is a beautiful one but she knows immediately that her Roger is the blond one but there’s no reason to make him aware of her discovery just yet.
She grins, the idea of making him sweat extremely amusing. “Suitor number one, here...Tall! He's got some legs on him, doesn't he? And just look at those curls! Gotta love a man with curls.”
Roger feels jealousy boiling in his stomach, but he does his best to ignore it, not wanting to give anything away. He starting to regret sending her a group photo. “Number two...Oh! that jacket is lovely. I like the silk. He knows how to dress, for sure.” Roger chuckles. Good old Fred.
“Number three...Number three looks like he's quite a sweetheart, doesn't he? So smiley! And that little striped vest!”
Roger purses his lips nervously, knowing she’s about to focus on him and talk about her first impression. What if she doesn’t find him attractive?
“Number four is this blond fellow.” Y/N smiles, her heart fluttering as she gazes at the man she loves. “Sparkly pink shoes, looks a bit tired. Might be drunk in this photo, actually. Stunningly handsome. Looks like he's got a bit of an attitude too.” She pauses for a moment, making Roger smile. She’d described all his friends perfectly and he can tell from her voice that she knows. He loves her even more for it.
“Yep, there's my Rog.”
Roger laughs, cursing his mind for doubting her even for a second. “I do not have an attitude!”
“You do!” She counters between laughs, “I would too if I wore pants that tight!”
He smirks, “I just wanted to show off my cute ass for you, love.”
YN grins, “Wait 'til you see mine, pretty boy. I can guarantee it's cuter.”
Roger's face goes red. The power this woman holds over him was astounding.
She hummed blissfully, head relaxing against her pillow as she admires the photo once again. “You're beautiful, Rog. Knew you would be...”
How she ended up being so lucky, she will never know but she will thank her lucky starts everyday from here on out.
Roger's heart stutters. He wants to ask her if she really means it but his heart knows she would never lie, especially about this. He looks over at her picture, propped against the base of the phone. He’s been carrying it in his wallet and keeps it next to his bed when they stop at hotels. His eyes scan her smiling face. “Do you have any birthmarks?”
She giggles, thrown but the sudden question. “What?”
“You know, birthmarks.” He realizes that it sounds random but he wants to know everything he can about her. At this point, he’s aware of her family history, of her interests and hobbies, and friends but he knows almost nothing about her body except for what he can make out from the picture. Roger wants to memorize every inch of her.
She quirks her brows, “I've got a little one on my back but it just looks like a mole. Why?”
“Just curious.” He admits, “What about scars? My hands and arms are covered in small ones because of the drumming and stupid fights.”
Y/N laughs at that, not at all surprised by his sheepish confession. “Mm... I have a scar on my left wrist. Got it when I was probably around five-ish. I was riding my bike and ran into my garage door. The glass window shattered on my arm. It both scared and scarred me.”
Roger smiles, imagining how her body looked liked, her scars and all. “Are you ticklish?”
“Depends on where you try it.”
Roger grins, “I can't wait to figure it out.”
They settle for a moment, letting the familiar silence wash over them. Words hang unspoken in the air and Roger decides to through caution to the wind. “I wish I could touch you. Just explore you. Every inch of your gorgeous body.” He’s wanted to say these words for so long.
Y/N smiles, a warm feeling washing over her. Roger can’t help but imagine her sitting in her room, holding the receiver to her ear. He hums, picturing his hands running down the smooth skin of her stomach. He swallows thickly, arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Have you got a soft spot?” God, he wants to be with her so bad it’s a physical pain.
She smirks, her voice lowering a bit and taking on a sultry tone, “Why ever would you asking Rog?”
He chuckles, pants tightening at her tone and implications but two can play at that game. “Think you know why, love.”
She feels heat pool in her stomach, “Maybe you should wait and find it yourself.”
He groans in frustration, “What if I don't want to wait? What if I want to hear you moan my name right now?”
Y/N clenches her thighs, biting her lip to hold back any sounds that might escape her lips. Roger isn’t done though. “If you like that, just wait till I get my hands on you. I'll ruin you in the best ways. You'll be screaming my name.”
YN's head falls back, hitting the wall with a small thud as she moaned, panties growing wetter by the word. “Is that so drummer boy?”
Roger nearly moans, “Well, you know what they say about drummers, don't you?”
Y/N bites her lip. “What do they say?”
He smirks, “They do it harder.”
The silence is pregnant. Roger's boxers are tented and he’s feeling too hot under the hotel blanket so he throws it to the side before speaking again. “I had a dream about you last night.” His tone leaves little to guess about the nature of said dream.
“Lucky you,” She’s breathless, mind buzzing and body aflame.
Roger chuckles huskily, “And you said I have an attitude. What I am to do with you?”
Y/N smirks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Are you taking requests?”
Roger moans shamelessly, boxers too tight to be comfortable as he rearranges himself. “I wouldn't mind having you under me.”
It’s her turn to whimper, legs rubbing together to alleviate some of the building pressure in her core. “I wouldn't mind having you on top of me.”
Roger closes his eyes, imagining the scene and wishing it was currently reality. “You won't get anything if you keep talking back.”
Y/N giggles, “You didn't think I'd go down without a fight, did you rockstar?”
God, he loved her. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude right out of her. “Honestly, I thought I'd be the one going down...”
Roger doesn’t expect the moan that comes out of Y/N's mouth and he wishes he could hear it in person. He smirks, “I bet you're an absolute mess right now.”
“You're welcome to come over here and find out.”
Roger wants nothing more, “That's tempting, sweetheart.”
She smirks, “It was meant to be.”
“You're such a brat.” He loves it.
“You didn't know that?” She’s playing coy, riling him up and Roger is soaking up each word.
“You've got quite the mouth on you.”
She bites her lip, “You'll love it even more once you feel what I can do with it.”
Roger moans, palming himself over his briefs. “I'm so bloody hard right now. All because of that mouth of yours, you minx.”
Y/N whimpers, “What do you want me to do about it?”
Roger squeezes himself, hips canting up from the bed. “I can think of a few things, actually.”
She palms her breast, bra getting in the way and she quickly rids herself of it. “Yeah? Want to know how wet I am for you? Would you like me to touch myself? Let you hear as I moan your name?”
Roger's breath comes out in pants, hand slipping beneath the elastic of his briefs to grip his cock. “That'd be a great start.”
She smirks, loving how worked up he sounds. “Bet I can finish too.”
Roger laughs breathlessly, “Damn right you will, love.”
Her underwear is soaked, fingers itching to remove them and get some relief and her mouth works faster than her brain. “What are you doing right now?”
Roger swallows around the knot in his throat, “I'll give you three guesses.”
“What if I get it wrong?”
Roger smirks, “Don't find out.”
Y/N has always loved a challenge, “What it I want to?”
“It might involve you not getting to cum, so I'd think about it real hard.”
“Is that a hint, lover boy?”
Roger moans, finally slipping his cock out of his boxers and slowly starting to run his hand up and down his shaft.
“That sure was pretty, rockstar. Let me hear it again.”
“You first, love.” He pants, “Touch yourself for me. Let me hear those pretty little sounds I know you make.”
Y/N lets her hand slip past the band of her panties, fingers teasing herself as she slowly circles her clit. She moans, making Roger speed up his movements as he smirks. “So you can follow directions.”
She moans again, applying more pressure to her clit. “Only you for.”
Roger can’t get enough of the sounds coming from the phone. “You sound so sexy. I can’t wait to taste you baby.”
Y/N slides her finger lower, teasing her entrance as Roger continues speaking, “I’ve had some many dreams about you, baby. Dreamt about watching your face as you clench around my cock.”
Y/N moans loudly, the images in her head and the words spoken in her ear driving her mad. “Roger”, she whimpers, fingers sinking into her slick core, “want your cock in my mouth, Rog. Want to feel it against the back of my throat.”
Roger curses, hips bucking wildly as he pumps himself. “God, the sounds you make will be the death of me.” He closes his eyes, holding the receiver close to his ear to make sure he won’t miss a single sound, “I'm so hard baby. Leaking all over my hand.”
Roger swipes his thumb over the tip, gathering the precum and using it to aid his hand. “Wish it was your hand.”
Y/N whimpers, fingers pumping her heat faster and faster. “Feels so good, Roger. I need you so bad.”
Roger curses again, “How'd you want me, love? You want my face buried in your cunt? That make you feel good?” The more he speaks, the closer she gets to her release. “Or would you want me inside you? I'd fill you up so good, baby.”
It’s Y/N's turn to curse, closing her eyes as she pictures his blond hair between her thighs. “I bet you'd look beautiful between my legs, rockstar. I want you so bad. Need to feel every inch of you stretching me. Fuck, Rog.”
She lets out a pathetic whimper, phone held between her shoulder and ear so both her hands are free, one to tweak her pert nipple and the other rubbing her clit furiously. “So close.”
Roger places the receiver on his shoulder, using his now free to cup his balls as the other increases the speed of his strokes. “hat's right love, cum all over your pretty fingers. Let me hear you.”
His vision goes fuzzy, chest warm as he lets himself cum while listening to Y/N whimpers and moan his name as she orgasms.
Roger whimpers as he finally lets got of his cock, breath coming out unevenly. He can hear Y/N's own sounds reducing, breath steadying. Never in his life has he felt such a strong need for aftercare. Through the years, he'd humor the stranger in his bed, playing with their hair or kissing them before they finally left. He never saw the point in pretending that the night of passion they shared was going to lead anywhere but he wasn't a complete jackass.
For the first time in his life, Roger wishes he could hold this amazing girl in his arms, kiss her lips as she relaxes against him. Maybe even clean her up, if she'd let him.
“Rog?” her voice sounds tired yet satisfied, and it makes him smile.
Roger sighs, a smile on his face. “You have no idea! No more sharing a tour bus with those three wankers, I get to sleep in my own bed and eat food that isn't prepared in a restaurant or that comes in a take-out container.”
Y/N grins, putting a pillow behind her knees as she gets comfortable in the sofa, “Sounds like a dream.”
Roger hums, not completely agreeing. His dream is now something more domestic. “And the record label said we'll be in London for a while.”
The unsaid words hang in the air. Roger desperately wants to ask her to meet in person. They’ve been together for a bit over a year, speaking for almost three. If he’s honest with himself, he’s scared shitless. So much could go wrong and he needs her in his life.
“Oh.” Y/N isn’t sure on how to reply. She wants to meet him, hug him, see the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs or how cute his face is when he pouts. She’s scared but she knows she needs him in her life and it’s time she feels his arms around her. “Maybe we could grab a coffee?”
Roger grins, voice full of emotion. “Yeah? You sure you want to hang out with a rockstar?”
“You sure you want to hang out with a book worm?”
Roger laughs wetly, heart beating furiously in his chest. “I wouldn't want it any other way.”
—-—————————————————-
Every corner he turns, Roger can’t help but let his eyes drift over the crowded streets, searching for that familiar face. He keeps a hand in his pocket, thumbing over his photo of Y/N like a security blanket as he trails behind the rest of the boys. He unwraps another strawberry sweet, popping it in his mouth as Freddie grabs John's arm, leading them all into another women's clothing store.
Roger has been back in London for almost a month now, and both him and Y/N have yet to find the time or courage to meet in person. It’s an odd, nervous game each time he goes out now, like a "Where's Waldo" from hell. What if he’s right beside her and he doesn't even know it? He shakes the thought from his mind immediately: he would know her face anywhere.
“C’mon Rog,” John sigh, an arm wrapping around the drummer’s shoulders as Freddie digs through a rack of leather pants. He pulls a pair off the rack, holding them up to Brian but they fall about mid shin against his outrageously long legs, making the guitarist scrunch his nose in annoyance. “You’ll meet her soon enough, mate. You don't have to go searching every time you're out.”
The blond groans, letting his head fall back against his friend’s arm. “You have no idea how hard this is, John.”
The bassist frowns, “Sure I do. I've got a family. I miss 'em more than anything when I'm gone.”
Roger sighs as Deacy gives him a firm pat on the back. “But it's not the same, though. Yeah, you miss Veronica and the kids when we’re away but...but at least you know what it feels like to hold her. Kiss her... All I have is that one photo of her. You get to go home, to a house full of life and love. I went home to an empty flat.” His hand hovers over his coat pocket where said photo sat, tucked away.
Freddie gives a sympathetic look as he folds his arms over his chest. “It’s going to happen darling. You just have to be patient. The universe is waiting for just the right moment to spring her on you!” He winks, grinning brightly.
Roger rolls his eyes, “Fuck the universe.” He doesn’t care if he sounds like a child. He’s waited long enough. “It's been three bloody years. I'm tired of waiting.”
Brian smiled softly, “I'm sure she’s just as eager as you are, Rog.”
Roger wanders outside the shop, tired of their optimism. He just wants to meet the girl of his dreams. Is that too much to ask for? He ends up flipping through a little rack of postcards set up next to the door. He chuckles to himself, trying to figure out how funny it would be if he sends Y/N a 'London' one.
He pulls her photo out of his pocket, admiring it as his eyes wander about the crowd. He knows he'd recognize her in an instant. The moment he sees her, there will be not doubt in his mind. No other smile in a crowd of people could be as bright as hers. He’s so busy people watching that he barely notices it, tucked away on the street corner.
Author’s attic.
He freezes, heart speeding like a train as his eyes fixate on the store on the opposite side of the road. It’s a quaint little shop. Vines climb up the side of it, nearly obscuring the sign. It'd clearly been painted ages ago and cracks had long since riddled the letters. Roger feels like he can’t move a single muscle. It can’t be that simple, can it?
Roger pays the boys no concern, abandoning them in the shop as he forces his feet to move from their spot glued to the pavement. He stumbles across the street, eyes locked on the store as his heart sits in his throat.
Please, let this be the right place.
A small bell chimes as he allows the door to close behind him. The place is exactly the way he'd imagined: books lining every available surface, books piled by the register, books stacked beneath a potted plant. There are even books arranged beside a small armchair under the front window. It smells of coffee and old paper, and it feels welcoming and homey.
“I’ll be right with you!”
Roger feels like he’s stopped breathing: he would recognize that voice anywhere. Tears gloss his eyes, his hand trembles as he reaches into his pocket, fingers grazing over his worn picture of her.
He turns towards her when she buzzes into the main room, arms full of thick story books.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!” She chirps, eyes not leaving her work as she flits around her desk, putting things in their right place. “Things have been so busy around here lately.” She chuckles, “I've barely been able to keep my own head on my shoulders!”
He watches her with a smile, tears threatening to fall. He blinks them back quickly, refusing to let her see him cry. His throat tightens with emotion and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. He wants to say something suave, something that’ll make him sound poetic and well-educated. Something that won’t make him sound like the love-struck idiot he is, but his mind seems to only hold her name. “Y/N...”
She turns around so fast he fears she might get whiplashed. Her eyes are wide as she meets his blue ones. The room spins for a second, and she can't quite tell if she’s imagining it or if it’s real. Her rockstar. Home after all this time. Seeing him here, in her world of books, with his messy blonde locks. He’s even prettier than any photo she’s ever seen.
His name is a breath on her lips, “Roger.”
She drops the books in her arms to the side, stumbling over her own feet as she runs to him, falling into his arms. She presses her face against his neck, her arms lock tightly around his shoulders. She can’t even try to contain the sobs that wrack her body. He smells of cigarettes and wood. He smells like home.
Roger can't believe how perfectly she fits in his arms; how normal it feels. He wraps an arm around her waist while his other hand buries in her hair, crushing her tightly against him. Her hair smells amazing, something sweet he can't quite place.
He sniffles, kissing the crown of her head as tears stream down his cheeks. His voice is weak and pitiful when he speaks, “It's so nice to finally hold you.”
Y/N gives a watery laugh, lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck. “You're home.”
Roger moves his hand down to the nape of her neck, making her pull back to look at him as he moves his hands to cradled her cheeks. Never had he seen such beautiful eyes, so expressive and full of love. Roger's thumb grazes her cheek, soothingly. His voice’s barely a whisper. “Knew I was right. You're the prettiest girl I have ever laid eyes on.”
Y/N laughs, head thrown back. She kisses his cheek, making him grin like a child on Christmas morning. “You're so beautiful, Rog.” She admires him, tucking some hair behind his ears. “Don't even need muscles.”
He tickles her sides, and she giggles, nose scrunching as he pulls her close again. Her laughter trails off as he smiles down at her, forehead resting against hers. He feels her hand rest on his chest, right above his heart as she clutches his shirt.
His eyes linger on her lips before locking with hers again. Her breath stalls. Roger is slow in cradling her face, indulging in her as he runs his thumb over her skin. His hand drops to hold the back of her head, tilting her into him as her nose nudges against his. Their lips graze.
A bell rings.
They jump apart, heads turning to the door to find his three friends staring at them. Brian and Deacy’s eyes are wide with shock and confusion: they turn their backs on Roger for five minutes and here he is, nearly making out with a store clerk after bitching about not being able to meet the girl he loves. Freddie just looks amused.
Roger groans, failing to hide the smile on his face. “God damnit Brian! Why do you always have to ruin everything?!”
Y/N burst out laughing, her head lulling back as Roger's hands holds her hips. Once she cracks, he can't hold back his laughter any longer, her smile infectious. His grin widens at Brian's confused expression. Freddie gives them a knowing smile, waiting to see if Brian could figure it out.
The singer knew who she was the moment he'd seen the two: Roger's protective stance, the starry-eyed look he has in his eyes, the way they are so comfortable with each other. It’s more than enough to hint at the girl's identity. Not to mention that he'd seen Roger fall asleep on the tour bus couch multiple times, still clutching her photo in his hand.
Freddie glances at Brian, chuckling as he decides Brian wasn't getting any smarter about the situation. The singer takes a step forward, lifting his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose. He gives Roger a wink, “So this is the girl you love?”
Roger goes red as Brian's eyes light up with realization, a grin on his face as Freddie smiles knowingly. “What did I tell you, darling? Trust the universe.”
Roger rolls his eyes, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging up in a smile.
Brian finally pipes up, “Wait a second, so you're –”
“The actress trying to get in to your best friend's wallet.” She gives an amused smirk, extending her hand to shake his. “It's a pleasure.”
Brian blushes. Honestly, he had hoped that when they finally met, she wouldn't bring up the horrible things he had said to her. Without making eye contact, he timidly shakes her hand, “It's nice to meet you. Again, I want to apologize fo –”.
Brian feels two slender hands rest on his cheeks. He slowly lifts his eyes, meeting hers.
Y/N wears a kind smile on her lips as she speaks, “I'm just teasing. It's all good, Brian. You were just trying to be a good friend.”
The guitarist nods, unsure in his smile as Roger wraps his arm around her waist once again, pulling her towards his body. Brian observes how connected the two seemed to be: their movements are almost synchronized, and although they had just met in person, they somehow work perfectly together, like a couple who had grown up together.
John smiles at the group, “As much as I would love to get to know you, I think it's best to leave you and Roger alone for a bit. You deserve some time to get acquainted.”
Roger grins, kissing Y/N's temple. The girl smiles, her hands resting on the drummer's. “I like that idea. Rog, want to grab that coffee?”
----------------------------------------
“Sorry for the mess Rog! I didn't think I'd be having any visitors today.” Y/N bites her lips as she moves around the messy living room, trying to clean up a bit but Roger wraps his arms around her from behind, making her stand straight. He gently moves her hair to the side, placing a gentle kiss where her neck meets her shoulder.
“I don't care about the mess,” his voice is as soft as his touch, “All I care about is being here, with you.” Y/N hums, relaxing in his arms with her eyes closed as she enjoys the warmth emanating from his body. “It's all I've cared about for a while.”
Roger chuckles, content to stay like this forever. He can’t get enough of her. Her smile, her hands on his, her smell filling his nostrils. If this is a dream, he never wants to wake.
“Did you really keep all the post cards I sent you?” Roger isn't sure why he asked, but he needs to know if those pieces of cardboard were just as important to her as they are to him.
Y/N nods, gently taking one of his hands in hers and silently makes her way through the flat. The drummer lets his eyes wander, taking in as much as he can. She leads him to her bedroom and it feels oddly reassuring to be here. He had imagined this room so many times; he had pictured her laying on that same bed so many times, playing with her hair as she talked to him.
It's surreal. It’s almost exactly like he imagined it to be in his head: soft and warm and homey. He loves it. Every inch of it screams her name. It’s cozy. A big patterned rug covered the wooden floor, and her bed’s made up with a pretty knitted blanket. And there, right above the bed, hangs a little bulletin board, holding every post card he'd ever sent her.
She smiles as she watches him wander around her room, a grin on his face. She stops herself from apologizing for the mess once again, as she moves to her bed to remove some papers and books from it.
Roger runs his index finger over the leather-bound spines of the books lining the few shelves on her walls. She must have hundreds. Her walls are lined with them and still, she doesn't have enough room for them all.
Roger pulls a small red one from the bedside table. The Velveteen Rabbit. He smiles a little to himself, flipping through the brightly illustrated pages. Y/N walks over to him, arms wrapping around his middle from behind as she kisses his shoulder before resting her head against it.
“My mum used to read this to me all the time, especially when I was sad.” He mumbles quietly, stopping on a drawing of the little boy holding the plush rabbit. “It was my favorite.”
Y/N's heart grows a few sizes at the image of a young Roger seated in his mother's lap as she read to him.
Roger's heart stutters as he flips through the pages, recounting the story of the little plush bunny, turned real by love. A knot forms in his throat as he admires the book's last illustration: the rabbit, sitting by a raspberry bush in the little boy's garden, visiting the one who had brought him to life.
Y/N feels Roger stiffen a little, and she meets his glossy eyes as he turns in her arms, “What's wrong, rockstar?”
Roger laughs breathlessly, her gentle touch calming him immensely. “Nothing. It's just...” He shakes his head a little, refusing to let his voice go watery. “It's just that I never really got it until now.”
Confusion knits her brow, “Got what?”
Roger smiles a little, looking back down at the book and then at the girl holding him. “I guess...well...Sometimes it takes being loved by someone to finally make you feel alive.”
Y/N's heart feels full of so much love she doesn’t know what to do with it. She stands there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She does the only thing she feels she can do: she tightens her arms around his waist, giving him the biggest, warmest hug, he'd ever received. His arms wrap around her, stroking up and down her back.
“I love you.” Roger whispers against her ear. It feels amazing to be able to tell her as he holds her in his arms.
“I love you too.”
Their foreheads meet as Roger's nose nudges hers, heat building slowly between them. Y/N takes a little step backwards, knowing if she inches any closer, she'd want to jump his bones more than she already does.
Roger smirks, taking a step forward. She goes a bit breathless, smiling playfully as she takes another step back, only for her back to be pressed flush against her bookcase.
He chuckles, toying with a loose strand of her hair. “Caught you.”
Y/N tries to steady her breathing as his hand cradle her face. He runs his thumb over her lower lip. “What're you going to do now?”
Her eyes trail to his lips subconsciously, “I'm going to wait for you to kiss me, rockstar.”
He grins, pressing into her. He thinks back to that night he first called her. He thinks over every moment he had been so desperate to hold her in his arms.
The moment he kisses her, Roger is brought to life.
Her lips are softer than anyone's he'd ever kissed before. The kiss is gentle, her hand moving to cradle Roger's face as they melt into one another. He tastes of sweets.
Her skin smells of cinnamon and it reminds him of the tea Freddie would drink in the morning.
Roger inhales the sweet, spicy scent as he deepens the kiss. Her fingers laced in his hair, soft and fine between her fingers, and he hums a moan against a sensitive spot below her ear, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss.
Y/N feels overwhelmed in the best way. This is what she had craved for over two years and now that it’s finally happening, she’s afraid she won't be able to commit to memory all the feelings. Roger's lips moving against her own, the rapid beating of their hears. The feeling of his breath on her neck as he lays gentle kisses on it. It’s enough to make her mind spin.
She lets his hands grip her thigh tightly as she gives in to the urge to grind against him. He refuses to let his hands leave her body: some small part of him still afraid she'll disappear at any moment.
Roger pulls her closer, keeping an arm against the wall as he grabs at her ass, rutting against her clothed heat. She lets out a whine, thoroughly enjoying the friction as wetness pools between her legs.
Y/N wants more. Craves it. Needs his hands all over her. Needs his red-stained tongue against every inch of her body. She pulls away from his lips, panting as he drags his eyes over the curve of her hips and breasts. He takes one step back, eyes locking with hers as he pulls his shirt off. Her eyes roam his chest, mouth still ajar as she tries to catch her breath. He holds her loosely in his arms, pecking her lips. He will never get enough of her sweet taste. Roger will never get enough of her.
“Rog, I...” Y/N fumbles over her words. “I...” She needs him to know. She needs him to know how much she loves him. She needs him to know how uncomfortably wet her panties are becoming. He chuckles, meeting her eyes, as she tries to remember English. Roger feels a thread of concern build in his chest. Has he made her nervous? Has he gone to far?
He presses a sweet kiss on her forehead, “What's wrong, love?”
Timidly, she takes a step away from the bookshelf, moving so that Roger is now the one with his back to it. His brow quirks with confusion. Her eyes are locked with his, cheeks flushed and hair messy. Roger swallows thickly, heart racing in his chest as he watches her slowly drop to her knees in front of him.
Her hands tremble as she unbuttons his jeans, tugging down the zipper and pulling them down off his hips. Roger has to force himself to grab her wrists, pausing her movements. “You sure?”
Y/N doesn't say a word. Instead, her eyes stay locked with his as she leans forward, mouthing at his cock through his boxers. Roger gives a whimper, his hand lacing in her hair as his head tips back against the wall. He curses under his breath at the feeling of her hot mouth on his cock.
Roger has been sucked off before. In fact, Roger has been sucked off a lot, but never once has it ever felt as good as it does right now and he isn't sure if it’s because he’s in love with her, and he's been dreaming of seeing her pretty lips around his cock for months now, or if it’s the way she’s taking him into the back of her throat, dragging her tongue over his shaft, but he can barely remember his own name. He knows e should be embarrassed by the sounds passing his lips, but he can't find it in himself to care.
Roger hadn't even realized how long it'd been since he'd had physical sex with someone. He'd forgotten how good it could feel.
He whines her name hoarsely, his fingers itching to be against her skin. “Y/N, you've got to stop, love. I won't last.”
He watches as she pulls off of him, kissing the head of his cock one last time before Roger pulls her up to meet his lips again. He has her on the bed in seconds, nearly tripping as he finishes shedding his jeans and boxers. He mounts her, wasting no time in grabbing the waist band of her pants and pulling them down over her ass, taking her panties with them. He wants to tease her. He really does but the moment he sees her cunt, all soaked and ready for him, he loses all coherent thoughts.
Her jaw drops open, seeing stars as he flattens his tongue, dragging up slowly over her sensitive folds. His mouth is hot and wet against her as he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, sucking it expertly as her back arches off the mattress.
Roger has never been more grateful that he’s experienced. It’s as if every girl he's ever been with, had been a practice run for Y/N. He knows where to suck, where to prod and lick and devour to make her squirm and buck into his mouth. He watches her face intently as she moans and ruts against his face, the arousal from her inner thighs smearing across his cheeks. He loops his arms around her thighs, her hands clutching the bed sheet like a vice. She gasps loudly as he shoves his tongue inside her, fucking her with it as he explores the inside of her hole. She cries out, head pressing into her pillow as her legs start trembling. He can feel her clit throbbing as he returns his mouth to it, pushing two fingers inside her to replace his tongue. She screams hoarsely, and Roger smirks against her heat as he fucks her harder, crooking his fingers inside her.
“Roger, I'm cumming. Don't stop, Rog, please don't stop!” She gasps, hips rolling as she rides his face, a numbing, warm pleasure washing over her. She gives a breathy sob as Roger works her through her high with his fingers, face still buried in her cunt.
She squirms beneath him as she grows sensitive, overstimulation setting in. She whines as he presses his thumb to her clit, rubbing circles over it as he sucks at her folds. “R-Rog you can stop –”. She whimpers as he hums in response, continuing his tongue's assault on her pussy.
“Rog...” She groans again, her hips settling as the discomfort begins to melt into pleasure. God, she’s so sensitive. It’s so much. So much at once. How is she already this close? Roger chuckles against her, watching her face as his lips finds her clit again. She lets out a high-pitched moan as the pleasure begins to build again, warmth tingling till the tips of her toes. The fire in her belly increases and she grips his hair tightly as she comes on his tongue again with a silent scream. He brings her back to earth, resting his chin against her stomach as she finds her bearings, cheeks pink and chest heaving.
“Want to go again?” Smug bastard.
Y/N fights to catch her breath, “Jesus, Rog, if you go again, you'll bloody kill me.”
Roger laughs, crawling up to meet her lips. She groans, tasting herself against his tongue. “Taste like fucking candy, don't you?” His voice is thick with lust.
Y/N peels off her shirt, leaving her wearing nothing but a thin bra. Roger hooks his finger under one of the straps, pulling it down so that he can roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her moan and arch into his touch.
Y/N wraps her hand around his cock, pumping him slowly and Roger curses, eyes rolling back as he grinds against her hand. His name slips from his lips breathlessly. Heat bubbles in Roger's veins and without a second thought, he rips her bra down the center, exposing her tits. Y/N gasps at the sudden movement, breasts heaving as Roger kneads one in his palm, mouthing at the other. She barely notices his other hand sinking lower until he has two fingers pressed up inside of her.
Y/N whines, sobbing breathlessly as he fingers her. She’s wet and tight around his fingers, clenching as he hits her g-spot with ever movement of his talented fingers. Roger groans, the idea of his cock buried inside her nearly bringing him over the edge.
“I love you.” She moans, his name like a prayer falling from her kiss-bruised lips.
Roger curses, cock twitching in her hand at the wet sounds her cunt makes against his knuckles. He nuzzles his face in the crook of her neck, sucking dark bruises into her skin.
“I need to be inside you.” His voice is desperate and hoarse. “Please, I need to fuck you.” He’s desperate with the need to be buried inside of her, to be connected totally and completely.
Y/N pulls his face up to hers so she crashes her lips to his, cradling his face as he kissed her desperately.
“Ruin me.” She whispers, hands tangled in his hair.
Roger has to grip his cock roughly to stop himself from cumming. He whimpers, lining himself up with her entrance. Y/N cries out as he sinks into her.
“Tight fucking cunt. Shit.” Roger groans into her neck. “Love you so fucking much.”
Tears of emotion well in her eyes. “I love you too.”
Y/N’s breath comes up in short pants, back arching as pleasure flows through her body. “I love you, Rog. You feel so good inside me, baby.”
Y/N bucks into him as he fucks her, the head of his cock hitting her sweet spot with every smack of his hipbones against hers. His left hand finds hers, fingers lacing between her own. He squeezes her hand lovingly, thrusting harder against her. His eyes stay locked with hers as he kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips. “My gorgeous girl.”
He moans as her free hand finds his hair. “You fuck me so good, Rog. Oh god.”
She can feel him throbbing inside her as he watches himself disappear inside of her again and again. Tears stream down Y/N's face, “I'm close Rog.” Her eyes screw shut with pleasure.
“No, look at me, baby. Look at me while you cum. I want to watch you cum on my cock,” He kisses her jaw, releasing her hand so that he can rub her swollen clit, “I've got you, sweetheart. Cum. Cum for me.”
Y/N's eyes lock with his as her body trembles, her stomach pulsing with heat and pleasure as wave after wave of bliss overwhelm her. She sobs hoarsely, clenching around him again and again.
Roger buries his face in the crook of her neck as she tightens around him, letting her pull him over the edge with her. He whimpers into her neck, biting at it to muffle his moans as he spills inside her. Her legs wrap around his hips, heels pressing into his lower back as he relaxes against her, trembling. He kisses her long and hard, emotions pouring through the simple contact.
Y/N's leg go lax, releasing Roger from her grasp but as he tries to get out of bed, she latches onto his arm, forcing him to lay on his back so she can rest her head against his chest, legs tangling with his.
Roger smiles fondly down at her, an arm behind his head as the other wraps around her shoulders, pulling her as close as he possibly can. “I was going to grab a wash cloth to clean you up, but I think you may have other ideas.”
YN nods, placing a gently kiss over his heart. She turns her face upwards, eyes drinking him in. “I just got you, I don't want you going anywhere so soon. Sheets can be washed and we can shower later. I need this moment with you.”
Roger has never felt so happy or content his whole life. He places the hand under his head on her cheek, urging her to move her face closer to his. He closes his eyes as he gently places a kiss to her swollen lips, feeling completely at peace.
Roger never believed in fate or in soulmates. Not until he met Y/N. It had been Fate that had given him her number, it had been their destiny to meet and fall in love. She completes him, understands him and his crazy lifestyle like no one ever could. He wants this moment to last forever.
Roger wants to wake up everyday beside Y/N, kiss her whenever he wants. He wants to see her in the crowd of every single one of his shows. He wants to be the one she calls when she needs help moving around books or shelves in her store.
Roger wants a life with Y/N.
“Marry me.” He wants to spend the rest of his life getting to know every single facet of her body and soul.
“What?” her heart had just returned to normal and now it’s beating erratically again, eyes wide as saucers as she looks at his angelic face.
“Marry me.” There’s no doubt in his mind that this is what he needs to bet truly happy for the rest of his days. “It doesn't have to happen right away. You're it for me. There will never be anyone else. You're the love of my life, Y/N. I want to spend every waking and sleeping moment with you.”
“Ok.”
Nothing about their relationship has been normal. Not the way they met or how they fell in love. She never wants to spend another moment away from him.
