Roger's P.O.V.

As much as I was looking forward to spending the first night in our new home, sleep didn't seem to be on my to do list.

No matter how hard I tried to shut off my brain and sleep it just wouldn't let me be.

I had so many different thoughts buzzing about my mind, things I needed to get for the house and things I needed to do in it, jobs I had to do for the album...but...the topic dominating my head was the conversation I had had with Freddie earlier.

I had been wanting to ask him those questions for so long but never found the excuse to. Never thought he would actually sit me down and talk to me about it properly. In a jokey way I would have expected but for him to get a little red faced over a few of the topics well...he really was taking it seriously.

I hate to admit it, I thought it was dreadfully cute when Fred started blushing on the odd occasion and he would hide his smile when he got all embarrassed. I did hate when he did that. I wish he wouldn't worry about how his teeth looked. They were wonderful to me and...

You fucking idiot, Roger.

Stop complimenting Freddie and focus your energy on John. He's the one you want. Not Freddie.

And it was true. Since climbing into bed it was those scenarios that Fred had described to me that I was picturing in my mind with John.

Allowing my mind to stray and create devilish images in my head about what John might look like naked.

It was wrong of me. I was simply skipping over the parts of us dating and being cute with each other to focus on the parts where I get to fuck him.

Of course I wanted to go all the way with John. I wanted to ask him out on date after date, getting to know each other...I mean, we already knew each other really well but like getting to know each other really well, one on one. I wanted to have those tingles down my spine the first time we hold hands and giggle nervously...I wanted my heart to thud out of my chest when I realise our heads are moving closer together and I figure that we're going to kiss for the first time.

I wanted to shake uncontrollably when asking him to finally be my boyfriend.

I wanted to get in bed tentatively, making sure I don't take up too much room when we share a bed together for the first time.

I wanted us to stare lustfully at each other and finally approach something sexual.

I wanted to kiss him roughly whilst clambering on top of him, ripping the duvet off of our hot bodies and going on to rip off his pyjamas.

I wanted to hear his little grunts of impatience whilst I teased him, sitting on his crotch and lightly grinding on his growing dick.

I wanted to feel that hint of fear mixed in with mostly adrenaline and want when I realise that it actually was about to happen.

I wanted to have the argument with myself where my brain was telling me not to but my dick was telling me otherwise.

I wanted to take of his boxers and finally see what he had been hiding. I wanted to start kissing him again whilst leaning over him, one hand holding the weight of my body whilst the other travelled blindly across his bare flesh, his body fidgeting with anticipation until at last...I let my wandering fingers wrap around his length.

I wanted him to gasp into our kiss and I wanted to feel his breath accelerate.

I wanted to carry on until he...

My eyes snapped open and I let out my own deep breath. Kicking the duvet off my sweaty body...it appears my brain was rather talented at making these images seem far too real. The single image of making John orgasm and making him groan my name tipped me over the edge and I had to stop.

I was torturing myself. Mentally and literally.

My own erection throbbing away, a result of the vivid images my mind had created.

I stared frustratedly up at the ceiling trying to think about other things and not the want that was present in my boxers. It was impossible, no matter how hard I tried to bleach my mind of the amazing images they were always paramount...always at the front.

See. If I hadn't been a coward this last month I might actually be able to call him my boyfriend now. I would have been able to sneak across to his room and let him sort out this hardness for me.

I stared longingly at my closed door, his room next to mine...I wondered if he was asleep. Maybe he was thinking about me?

I turned onto my stomach only to let out a small yelp and a shudder as my cock made contact with the bed when my body slid across the mattress when I shifted. Any contact right now was too much. I needed to ignore it but it was begging me to touch. I knew if I gave in to myself I would have trouble not to moan out John's name...I didn't know how thin these walls were...he might be able to hear me...

I buried my face into the pillow and held back the want to scream into it.

Trying so hard to force my eyes shut and will the power of sleep to overcome me was wishful thinking. The only way my mind and body would relax would be to release myself.

I threw myself onto my back once more and silently growled under my breath as I reluctantly gave in to my body and wrapped my fingers around my shaft.

Fuck you, John Deacon for making me do this.

And alas. As soon as I thought that name in my head a strong ripple of pleasure ripped through me. It was no use, I might aswell use these images in my head to an advantage now. I didn't want this to last long, the sooner I finished the better, it was already an inconvenience.

I had to bite down hard on my bottom lip to diminish any sort of moan escaping through my lips as I allowed my mind to play me the imaginary images of Deaky's face when I enter him for the first time, it would most likely be uncomfortable at first but quickly his face would turn from discomfort into blissful pleasure. He would stare into my eyes whilst I fucked him, our hands intertwined.

Maybe his hand would be around his dick...aiding him further.

I wanted him so badly to stutter my name whist he came...even if his eyes were closed, just to hear that would probably make me finish too.

And as those larger than life imaginary images flashed one by one in my mind I had to turn my head and bite the pillows to restrain myself from being louder than I already was.

With one last allowance of imagining Deaky underneath me I let out one last choked groan before releasing myself inside my boxers.

"Weak bastard..." I heavily whispered to myself between loud breathing as I slowly regained composure.

Sitting up, wiping away a few beads of sweat from my forehead, I peeled off my shame soaked boxers, screwing them up, grimacing and throwing them in the corner.

Jesus. I really do hope Fred doesn't start playing the role of Mother and do my washing...I would never hear the fucking end of it if he saw those.

I dug out a fresh pair and screwed them up, holding them in front of my privates when I carefully opened my bedroom door to go to the bathroom to clean myself up. Knowing my luck one of them would come out and catch me stark naked.

I'd never hear the end of that either.

After splashing my face with cool water, cleaning myself and giving myself a little pep talk in front of the mirror and putting on my fresh underwear I turned off the bathroom light and started to plod back into my bedroom. I had almost closed my door until I heard a whisper.

"Rog? Are you okay?" The mousy voice sounded.

I poked my head out of the door and almost collapsed right there and then.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

"J-John...umm. Yeah...I'm I'm okay...why?"

He fully emerged out of his room now and walked up to me, in the pitch black of the hallway I could still make out that he too, was only in his boxers.

Again. Almost making me collapse.

God damn the night time. The darkness was hiding everything that I wanted to look at on him.

"I heard you, coughing or something..." he said softly.

Make that 3 times down and out for Roger Taylor.

A sudden hot flush started within me as I stuttered and struggled to make up an excuse.

The walls were fucking thin!

Either that, or I was being
unintentionally loud without knowing it.

"No...yes! Yes...I just swallowed some water...went-went down the wrong way...that's all." I ran my fingers through my damp hair.

He giggled, I could see his teeth twinkling in the dark, "Since when do you drink water?"

"When nobodies looking." I shrugged, looking down. Actually. Thank god for the night time. It was hiding my Crimson face.

He poked me in the ribs, quietly chuckling, "Well, as long as you're alright, night, Rog." He smiled, turning around and going back to his room.

"Night, Deaks." I whispered after him, unable to put any emotion into it as I was too astounded to do much else.

I stayed stood like a statue until his door clicked shut again.

"Fuck." I whispered to myself.