“Nice guy” (Roger x Reader)
words: 1607 words (woohoo!)
rating: fluff, a little bit of smut (but it stays soft!)
please be indulgent, english is not my native language ! :)
tagging some of my fav tumblr writers @drowseoftheafternoonsundays & @borhapmusings
tell me if you liked it or want to be tag!!!!
You were sitting on a sofa, looking at the crowded pub. Claire, your long-time friend had pushed you to go on a date with a friend of her. You were clearly uncomfortable, looking at the ground, playing with your own fingers. Claire was gone, waiting for this man outside of the pub, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Theses previous months were not that good, you remembered. Your boyfriend, Chris, left you, because you were cheating on him. It was your fault but you were pretty sure that you would have done it someday: you were a sex-addict, and it was difficult for you to have a “normal”, healthy relation with someone. However, Chris has not been indulgent and had put you down, telling you that you were sick. It was pretty traumatizing. In the months followed by your loss, you were back into your depravity: in stranger's beds, drinking a lot, and smoking a lot. It was hard to be far from it. But now, Claire was here, presenting you “a nice guy” as she has described him.
You saw them walking back in the pub. He was looking good: long blonde hair, light beard, sunglasses, fur coat, flare pant. His lips were pink and a little bit chapped. His hands were musician hands, you thought. Not a guitarist, his fingers were not that long and thin, but maybe a drummer. The microscopic scars at the sides of it were telling you that. Your eyes went on his pants, and you forced yourself to look at his face, not wanting to lose yourself already. You smiled at him and he answered by the same sweet smile. Claire was looking at him, a hand in his coat.
“So, darlin', let me introduce you to Roger!” Claire was a little bit overexcited.
“I could have introduced myself, Claire” Roger chuckled “Nice to meet you, hm..?”
“Y/N” you answered. It was so natural to do presentations. But your brain just wanted his reward, and you knew it. You hated it.
You both sat down and Claire already left you, looking for alcohol. Claire didn't know the fact that alcohol was your only friend, during the previous months. There was an awkward silence. He took off his sunglasses and smiled at you. His smile was electrifying.
“You're a drummer, aren't you?” you asked suddenly. Surprise was on his face and he smile even more.
“Yeah, in a band called Queen, hope it will get bigger.” he paused “how do you know it? Do you know my band?” he looked like a child, happier than ever.
“Hum, no, sorry…. Your hands are just drummer's hands, y'know.” you grinned, a little bit sorry. You have seen hundred of different types of hands, running on your body. His reaction was pure gold.
“It is even better! Someone new!” he chuckled a little bit and look at you. “Let me try to guess stuff! In my opinion you are …. a baker!” he was playing, you could see it in his eyes. His body was relaxed, and he had took off his coat. He was wearing a flowery shirt, so trendy.
“No...” you were laughing “I'm a writer.” you smiled softly, a hand on your own knee. Claire came back with drinks and stopped your chat.
The night was good. You were almost not thinking about how much you wanted to fuck him. After four tequilas, you decided to come home. Roger wanted to chaperone you. You were walking together, side by side. He was smoking lightly, and humming a song. You were boiling, inside. Silence was between you, as you clenched your fist, trying to control yourself. It was so hard, lord. He grabbed suddenly your hand, smiling.
“Do not clench, love.” he said. You looked at him and bite your lips so hard it was bleeding. “and you're bleeding. Be careful.” His tone was amused, as a grin was on his angelic face.
Your mind was abruptly back, and you stopped walking. You looked at him, letting his hand go, and you touched your lips, blood on your fingertips. You sighed loudly.
“Please, Roger, promise me one thing.” you asked, looking at the blood and then at him as he nodded. “if I’m trying to get you in my room, stop me. Please.” you were nervous, telling him that.
“If you want.” he smiled softly.
Okay that was weird. First, you had begged him to do not fuck you, and then, he accepted. He opened his mouth as if he was going to talk, then, closed it. He reopened it a while later, when you were walking again.
“Your friend, Claire, told me about… your problem, and Nick...” you interrupted him “it's Chris.” you were focused on his talk, as he resumed “… well, Nick or Chris, he was a filthy bastard.” he laughed “But yeah, guess I can hold myself from shagging you. You are… interesting.”
Months went by, and you and Roger were meeting a lot. You were dating but, not exactly. He was kind to you, never provoking you on a sexual side. Your relation was based on a strong friendship, movie nights, and chaste kisses. It was surprising that Roger did not touch you during these long months, sleeping in the same bed, knowing by now his reputation. You were clean: no sex, no alcohol and some smokes but it was fine.
Queen was becoming popular and tonight was their last gig in London. Your friend would be gone outside of England while you stayed here. You were at the bar, seated on a chair, waiting for them to get down of the scene after the show. Roger came to you, smiling. He was wearing a small leather jacket, nothing under, and a forest green flare pant. You were drinking lemonade, holding your glass firmly. You were obliged to put it down on the counter when the drummer kissed you softly, a hand on your waist.
“You stink, and you're all sticky.” you laughed, hearing him groan. You put his hand far from your skin and smiled at him. “You were marvellous, as always!” You were trying to keep a certain distance, not tempting you.
The rest of the band was coming to see you. Freddie left a peck on your cheek, and Brian squeezed your hand softly. John waves at you, a bright smile on his face. They were all a bunch of tease about your relation with Roger. They commanded beers and chatted with you all night. You could see Roger distracted by groupies, talking to him with awe. You hated that. Roger should be so frustrated he would go fuck these groupies one day, you thought. You needed to change that, but you were afraid of wanting more.
You lighted a cigarette outside. You were mad at those girls. Roger had seen that. He was smoking too, looking at your eyes.
“Stop being grumpy.” he whispered softly, closer from you. You felt the smoke of his cigarette on your face and cough a little. You look at him. He was so close, and since a long time, you could feel your lower belly burn a little.
“Fuck...” you murmured, without knowing it. He suddenly kissed you, keeping you against him, with tenderness. You were officially dead.
“I'm gonna miss you babe...” he brought his lips on your neck. You tried to push him back, but, your brain wanted it so badly. It has been almost 9 month since you fucked someone.
“Me too but… Take me home. Now.” you said abruptly. You were breathing loudly, eyes lost in your vice. He understood exactly what you wanted.
The front door was pushed with violence. You two were trying to strip yourselves while not falling. Moans and groans filled the dark place. A hand went on the light and turn it on. He looked at you, taking a short calm moment. Your hair was messy, your eyes were full of lust and your lips were rosy at the hot make-out session you've made, trying to get home. You smiled at him and jumped. You were laughing, as Roger was holding you firmly, kissing your neck.
“I've always dreamed to shag you. But know what? I'm gonna love you tonight.” He kissed your collarbone and you shudder under his touch and his words.
You were in the bed, naked, against your man. You were drawing little circles on his skin with your hand and petting his hair softly with the other. You were both panting from that fuck you just had. It was intense, and full of love. But at the same time, none of you has said I love you. Roger was looking at you, smiling a lot. You were just somewhere else, because of the loss of the action. But you knew it: you couldn't shag all day long. He turned back a moment, taking a smoke on his mouth, and handing you one. He lighted both cigarettes and pressed a sweet kiss on your forehead.
“Pretty good sex and then, cigarette. A perfect routine.” he smiled.
The crème blanket was crumpled against and under your body. His hand went on your waist, his eyes on your uncovered breast. Your eyes where closed, head in the pillow.
“Stop looking at my birthmark, Roger...” you blushed a little bit. You hated that birthmark but you couldn't do anything against it. You heard him smile. The fabric was softly creased as he went closer, kissing slowly your birthmark. You hissed at his mouth, and put one hand on his lock.
