F.M.
Middle of the Road, U.K.
March, 28th, 1983.

"Did you shag Alex Moore?"

In hindsight, that wasn't a great question to randomly ask Hayes whilst he was driving. It was just fucking eating me alive to know whether Hayes had actually copped off with a man yet or not. He veered slightly, causing the Mercedes beside us to beep us to hell.

Hayes spluttered as he quickly sought to get control of the car back, "What? That's—what?"

"Did you and Alex shag?" I repeated impatiently.

"Why are you asking?" He managed to subdue his surprise.

"Because when you went out around New Year's Eve, you made to sure to make a point that you were going to give Alex a call... then you were rather preoccupied the past few weeks, especially at night."

Now, it's not like Hayes was gone completely wild, he went out early and went home early. He even ended up crashing at my apartment on the couch one or twice after I ran into him on the street. As I was a good friend, and he often smelt of a cologne that wasn't his own, I decided to be the responsible party and drag him home. He was quite different lately, confident. I suppose that's what happens when you stop lying to yourself.  It was brilliant and horrible all at once.

I was happy for him of course, but it was easy to feel a little used as a result of his behaviour. Only a short time ago it was difficult for Hayes to even let me touch him and then here he was out with other men most nights. All fucking thanks to his friend Freddie. I was getting around myself of course, but I couldn't get my mind to veer away from Hayes for too long. It didn't help when the few times he just randomly kissed me after a few drinks. It was always only after a few drinks. I wonder did he need liquid courage for his other men.

"Just because I was busy at night doesn't mean we slept together." Hayes chuckled, "We work together you know, I could have just copped off with him in the storeroom."

My mouth dropped open in absolute horror, I couldn't believe he would make such a comment. I was too scandalised by his change in humour to even be jealous, "Hayes Evelyn Griffith."

"No, Alex and I didn't do anything." Hayes murmured, "Don't worry."

'Don't worry'. Arrogant twat. "Then why did you say that you were going to call him?"

"Because I did call him," Hayes explained, "And he brought me out with a couple of his friends."

"So is that what's been keeping you busy most nights?" I asked, and an unnatural sense of relief nagged at me. At least he's not shagging an attractive fashion critic who he works with. Strangers I can handle.

"Well I could give you their names if you'd like me to be more specific." He said in that new godawful arrogant tone that made me hate him and want to kiss the fuck out of him all at once. I have done the latter on a few occasions when out.

The relief vanished. Did Hayes just suggest that he had been with multiple men? A few months ago he wouldn't even let me peck his cheek, and how he's suggesting that he's slept with a few men? It's ridiculous. It's absurd. It's insane— it's not fucking fair.

"So what exactly did you do then Hayes, with these  men, be specific."

My dear prude Hayes returned as his entire face turned bright red. "I'm not- you hardly want me to explain what we did."

"No," I forced a laugh. "I just wanted to make sure my innocent Hayes was still knocking about in that head of yours."

"Stop being so condescending."

"I doubt you even know what sex is, I just wanted to clarify that you knew what it entailed."

"I know what it is."

"Good for you dear."

"Are you jealous Freddie?" There was that bloody tone again.

"No. If I wanted you, I could have had you by now." My voice was clipped and cold rather than cocky in the way I wanted it to be. "I wouldn't want someone so inexperienced."

Hayes merely shrugged a shoulder, and proceeded to give me a flash of his professionally impassive journalist side, "That's an interesting view."

"An interesting view!?" I repeated under my breath, my frustration with Hayes growing by the second, "If I remember things correctly Hayes, you kissed me, just two days ago."

Hayes had tried to drag me onto the couch with him once he pulled me into one of the most heated kisses I have ever been a part of. Unfortunately, he was fucked, and I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. He actually proceeded to pass out after two minutes. That did wonders for my confidence, as did him forgetting all about it the next morning. I was Hayes' little gay Guinea pig.

I expected some sort of reaction, even a bloody jaw twitch, but instead Hayes just nodded, "You have an excellent memory Freddie, that is correct."

I am going to strangle him.

"You're an asshole. A fucking asshole." I found myself snapping, "Do you have any idea that your actions actually impact other people?"

I sound so fucking old, and boring, where the hell did that come from?

"You're the one who told me that kisses were just 'pecks', and mean less than nothing between two men," Hayes threw me the side eye, "What is it that you want from me Freddie?"

I want you to stop treating me like I was just a fucking stepping stone so that you could cop off with all the other men you want.

"My god, you just love sidestepping the real issues," I clipped out, "Perhaps politics really would have been your best career choice, it would suit you down to the ground dear. A real chip off the old iceberg aren't you?"

The comparison to his twat father was definitely a step too far. I knew that the second I said it, it's why I said it. When I wanted to hurt someone, I knew exactly where to shove the knife. Hayes' jaw clenched, and he pulled up into some off the beaten track laneway.

"This car hasn't been driving right all evening." He suddenly declared and flung open the car door.

"Hayes!" I yelled out after him, "It's raining you twit!"

That didn't seem to matter to the critic as he slammed the door shut. The bonnet popped open as rain pelted down, obscuring my view of Hayes as the windshield wipers were no longer in use. See? I know enough about cars. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and leant over to roll down the window. Hayes was now under the fucking car. I could do nothing but wait until he returned because Hayes ignored me each time I called his name.

"Filler cap was loose." Hayes sighed as he flopped into the bloody backseat. Whatever that means.

"I told you that boy at the mechanics couldn't be trusted, that he looked twelve, and I was right. He didn't know what he was doing, but you said 'stop being mean and pay him'." Hayes shrugged off his soaked jacket and threw it to the side. "Now there's probably no bloody oil left!"

I turned around and all my words died in my throat. Hayes was unbuttoning his oil soaked white shirt. I actually had to physically restrain myself at the sight of toned stomach. Arguments don't matter when there are abdominals involved. Words to live by ladies.

Before I could launch myself over the seat and into the back, Hayes pulled on a knitted grey cashmere cardigan. His slender fingers clumsily worked each latch until they were all buttoned.

"You aren't going to kidnap another pheasant are you?" I asked suspiciously once I calmed myself down, "I have seen that look in your face before."

"I'm fine."

"Are we going to continue our drive?"

Hayes took several deep breaths, but struggled to exhale before he nodded. He then attempted to climb on through into the front seat. Hayes and I had been getting along famously for the past few weeks, well aside from the odd spot of bickering which was normal. Ever since I got into the car this evening, Hayes has been impossible. As if he were purposefully trying to turn me off of him.

I think it may have something to do with meeting his brother. George and Annie seemed like lovely people, and ever since the New Year kicked off, they have been inviting me places alongside Hayes. We all had dinner together last week, and they invited me out to their holiday home in Wales. I told them about my writer's block, and about how helpful Ridge Farm had been in recording Bohemian Rhapsody. We were all quite drunk on wine by the time George suggested that I join them in Gower because Hayes was already being dragged along. Hayes has been trying to get me to decline the offer all week, but here we are.

I think he's afraid that his brother will see through him. That if Hayes even smiles in my direction, George will realise that his brother is gay. George and Anne know that I am, and don't give a shit. In fact I flirt shamelessly with George as a joke and he finds it hilarious. I know why Hayes is paranoid, and I understand it, but he truly has no need to be. His family just think that I'm a tart, and don't even bat an eyelid when I purr anything towards Hayes. Perhaps if the critic were to bring along one of his conquests to the dinner table then he would have something to worry about. Why would he need to worry about his frumpy, friend, Freddie!?

I am handling this all very well, thank you very much.

"I say we call the whole thing off," Hayes declared, "How about me and you go back to Kensington, and relax there?"

"No." I grumbled, "I am packed for Wales, I am going to Wales. If you want to go back to London that's fine, but I need to get away for at least twenty four fucking hours."

"Okay," Hayes ran a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry, I'm just stressed. Please ignore my attitude." He said all in one breath.

"I will." I sniffed primly

Hayes' lips curled into a small smile, "Good." He sighed with relief once the car started up once again, "Would you mind grabbing me a cigarette?"

I plucked a cigarette out of my own carton of Marlboro and set about lighting it up. I leant over, tapped him on the chin and his lips parted in surprise. I let the cigarette rest there, before I reached into the carton once again to retrieve one for myself.

"Cheers." Hayes mumbled and took a long drag.

Hayes' damp hair was curling about his face and the nape of his neck. He looked fucking glorious, and after seeing where the dark patch of hair on his chest trailed down to, I was left almost gritting my teeth. His hipbones practically made an arrow shape that pointed where to go. I wondered if he would be able to keep driving if I leant over, unfastened his belt and just—

"I'm putting on Barry Manilow, and I don't want to hear a word about it."

Trust Hayes Griffith to efficiently murder a mood.

H.G
Kensington, England
March, 22nd

"Thomas," I nodded curtly, "Gerard."

"Stop being so formal with them!"

I chuckled, and wearily dodged around the two cats. "We aren't acquainted well enough to be on a nickname basis."

Freddie rolled his eyes, but he cracked a smile and made space for me on the couch by drawing his knees upward. "You should hear what they call you behind your back."

I snorted a small laugh. I didn't even bat an eyelash when Freddie stretched back out again and lay his lanky legs out on my knees. Naturally, my hands fell to rest on his shins. Over the past few weeks, Freddie and I fallen into a sort of comfortable friendship... or as he liked to call it 'a relationship without the fucking benefits'. I think he was joking, but he threw out a lot of 'jokes' of the same nature so I didn't know what to take seriously or not.

"Have you had a chance to decline George's dinner invitation?"

Freddie frowned, "Why would I ever decline such a gracious offer, and George is a dish, I need to see him."

"Annie did say she was worried about how you were checking him out."

"I would steal him away from her in a heartbeat." Freddie deadpanned.

"He actually does like you." I laughed lightly.

"As much as Julian?"

"Don't start."

Freddie childishly pointed his chin away from me and dragged himself further up the chair. I caught hold of his ankle and held him there. I thought he may kick me with his other foot, but instead he melted dramatically into the fabric.

"Don't tell me my George also favours Julian."

"I don't favour anyone."

"I'm sure you don't."

"I didn't think you and Jules would clash so much," as if on cue Freddie rolled his eyes at Julian's nickname, "considering you two are very similar."

"What the fuck!?" Freddie hissed, "We are nothing alike!"

"It's a compliment!"

Freddie regarded me suspiciously, "Why?"

"Figure it out." I drummed my fingers against his shin, "You're wearing the patterned socks, what's wrong?"

People often have cues as to how they're feeling. As a journalist who has interviewed many celebrities, Freddie Mercury had one of the most unique and cute cues I had ever come across. When in a poor mood, the man pulled on brightly coloured socks in an attempt to cheer himself up. Now of course you take it with a pinch of salt, but bright socks in tandem with another factor, usually meant something was wrong. It rarely happened that Freddie would mope around for too long. I admired him greatly for it.

I asked him before how he did it, and his answer was remarkably simple. "If I'm unhappy, I pinpoint the reason, and fix it." If only I could have adopted such an attitude I could have avoided the past fifteen years of pure misery.

Freddie drew his long legs toward himself again, my fingers seemed to protest at the loss of contact. I clasped my hands together to distract myself whilst a frown etched its way onto his brow. "I was in Munich as you know, trying to record music."

"Oh. Do you need me to feign excitement?"

"I need you to feign being supportive!" Freddie whacked me on the thigh.

I cracked him a smile, "I'll give it my best shot."

Freddie muttered something unsavoury about me under his breath before he turned his body toward mine. His dark eyes filled with a determined intensity which immediately tipped me off as to the subject matter of this conversation.

"Usually when I write a new song, I go with the melody first, much easier that way. Then I fit the words in." He explained before he glared at me, "Do you have a problem with that honey?"

"Pardon?"

Freddie plucked my glasses off, and tossed them rather carelessly onto the coffee table. "You need to work on your expressions." Everything briefly blurred before I blinked Freddie back into view.

"I can't bloody see myself."

"No, don't try and say 'oh that's just how my face falls naturally you filthy pleb'," Freddie attempted a rather awful take on my voice, "You did that 'I disapprove and am offended by your actions' scowl."

"I didn't mean to." I shrugged, "Continue."

"Right," Freddie proceeded cautiously, "Well, Hayes, I think I have simply exhausted myself on the piano. I have crashed into a wall. I can't go on."

"Mhm."

"Mhm? Bloody mhm?"

"You're an artist, it's only natural for the well of creativity to dry up every once in a while. That flash flood of inspiration will come back at any moment, and you'll be ready to irritate me with your music once again."

Freddie inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly through his nostrils. "You were almost helpful."

"And you're Freddie Mercury, so stop worrying."

When I could see that he was still stewing over his lack of inspiration, I decided to give him an opportunity to poke fun at me instead. I began fiddling with the silver Cartier watch my father had gifted me for Christmas. I now have one for every day of the week because he has his assistant purchase a present for me... he has a new assistant every year so I have a lot of the same gifts lying around.

"You know, I am reminded of a poem by Sylvia Plath, all about the search for inspiration—"

"No." He groaned, "Don't start this."

"Black Rook in Rainy Weather," I continued, "Would you like me to explain it to you, stanza by stanza? It is quite lyrical, follows an ABCDE, rhyming scheme, perhaps you could take something from it."

"I dated a man not too long ago," Freddie murmured, "He was French-Canadian, we broke up because he barely spoke a word of English, but now I realise what a bloody good thing that was."

I tried not to laugh, instead, I stood up and set about buttoning my blazer once again, "Fine. I'll take my staggering intellect somewhere where it will be better appreciated."

"Off you go." Freddie proceeded to swat me on the bloody arse with the back of his hand, "I always enjoy watching you leave dear, cheers me right up. Thank you."

I whirled around to find Freddie cracked up with laughter. Much better. "How dare you."

Freddie reached forward and grabbed the front of my blazer, he tugged me back down to sit beside him. "At least that explains your behaviour." I huffed.

"What do you mean by that?"

"If you're purposefully trying to be annoying in an attempt to make me walk away, then you're doing a smashing job."

"Where would you be if I didn't start annoying you dear? You love it really."

"I would be in New York." I replied, "Perhaps I should check your 'broken clock' because it conveniently is set to show the time difference. I could then tell you precisely what I would be doing."

I leant my head back against the couch, and tilted my head slightly to face Freddie. He was staring down at me with a scowl, "Stop lording that over me."

"I like having someone that concerned with speaking to me." I shrugged a shoulder.

Freddie's lips tugged in the corners as he shuffled closer to me. "Is that so?"

"No I made it up to make you feel better." I murmured dryly, and gently patted his cheek. I let my fingers fall down his neck to drag over his collarbone before pulling away completely.

Freddie laughed softly again before his tone turned deadly serious, "What do I wear tonight?"

"Your best Sunday frock obviously."

"I was hoping you would say that, I have a lovely gown selected."

Because it was Freddie Mercury who I was speaking with, I paused and felt the need to clarify some details, "Freddie, please tell me you realise that I'm joking about the frock."

A beat. "Well now what the fuck am I meant to wear now?"

"Sorry," I smiled crookedly once again, "I should have given you more notice."

Freddie leapt up out of his seat, "I barely have time to do my hair and makeup!" He huffed, "I'll never be George's mistress if I look like this! You know that, it has always been my dream to be a politician's mistress!"

That joke went down a bomb at dinner, because George simply found Freddie to be the funniest person who ever lived. I remained relatively quiet, and just let Freddie, George and Annie chat and joke around. It was simply enough to watch and listen to Freddie speak. I loved how expressive and excitable he was, how his hands simply had to move to keep up with his words. More than anything I loved how gentle his normal speaking voice was. I always found it near impossible to relax, but a few words from Freddie and I found myself mellowing out.

"I don't know how you can come up with song after song!"

"I don't either, that's why I'm experiencing a slump dear." Freddie sighed, "And I really wanted to get a jump on the solo album before the other old queens come squawking for me to come back and right the hits for the band."

I chuckled at that. It was my first contribution in a while.

Freddie turned to flash me a small smile, before he returned his gaze to George. "From what you told me Freddie, it seems like you need a nice break. How can you write when you're out being a rock star every night? Alcohol inhibits—"

"—Oh you sound so old." Annie rolled her eyes and gave my brother a nudge.

"George may have a point," Freddie hummed, "When the boys and I were finishing Bohemian Rhapsody, we escaped to Ridge Farm and had no choice but to work."

"I have had an idea!" George suddenly blurted, "Gower!"

Immediately, I knew where my brother's mind had gone to. Awful. This would be an awful idea if he were to involve Freddie.

"Sorry?" Freddie asked. He observed George as if he had overindulged on the wine, which he certainly had.

"When Annie and I got married, Mum and Dad gifted us with a house in Gower, it's in Wales." George explained, "We used to spend a lot of weekends there as kids. It's beautiful; lovely beaches, remote, relaxing. The perfect place to get inspiration!"

"We managed to convince Hayes to join us out there for a day or two," Annie butted in, "And if you're not doing anything, you could keep him company. It's very hard to turn him off work mode, he ruins his own holidays each time. Jules had to throw his notebooks off of a yacht at my birthday before, or else Hayes wouldn't socialise."

I am still annoyed that my collection of leather Smythson notebooks were destroyed somewhere off the coast of Britain. I was forced into close quarters with my family, so my bitchiness was really flowing and I had nowhere to let it out.

"I am right here!" I snipped, "I can also turn off work mode whenever I bloody want," I sipped at my wine, "and I socialise."

Everyone fixed me a look that suggested I was crazy for saying such a thing. I glanced over toward Freddie, who actually seemed to be considering the first offer. He patted my knee gently, "Dear, we all know that's not true."

George snickered before I cut him a glare. "Don't feel any pressure Freddie, it's just a suggestion! And after your story about Ridge Farm, it seems like a distraction free, picturesque location would help you. There's even a piano!"

"Freddie doesn't like the country." I said quite childishly.

"I do like the country in small doses, I just prefer living in a city. I can rough it for a day or two."

"Oh trust me, our house in Gower won't involve you roughing it." Annie chuckled.

Freddie remembered who the Griffith's were, and conceded with a small laugh. "That's right, I'm sure it's won't." He smiled over at me, "Wouldn't you just love to show me all your old haunts there?"

I shrugged, "I have only been there about three times, and two of those occasions were with Annie and George."

Freddie's expression hardened for a moment. It was clear he was wondering why George had said they spent many weekends there as kids, and I had not. I was simply in Belfast at boarding school, so I missed many family outings over the years. I didn't know any different, so it never bothered me. I was also the youngest, so George and Oliver had my parents at a time when they were less busy, and found parenting wondrous and new. Posh parents don't have that unlimited supply of love and affection that normal parents seem to have, they need to spread it sparingly. Their reserves were already drained by the time they had me.

"Hayes was in Belfast for the majority of his childhood, he didn't get to Gower much." George explained, and I was surprised to hear the annoyance dripping from his tone.

"I had a few weekend trips in Ireland with Mum and my governess." I felt the need to throw in defensively. "Dad even joined us sometimes."

Under the cover of the table, Freddie loosely linked his pinky with mine. Reluctantly, I let the gesture slide. I wasn't reluctant because I didn't like the comforting touch, it was more because I felt on edge and conscious about every single one of my interactions with Freddie in front of my family. I was so sure that at any second someone was going to pull me up and exclaim with  horror that I was so clearly attracted to Freddie. I couldn't even think of a way of denying it either. The only possible response to 'do you fancy Freddie' is a simple 'obviously, have you met him', and I don't think that would go down well.

"When are you going to Wales?"

"Next Friday."

Freddie sighed, feigning a serious expression, "And you're sure you can trust yourself around me George?"

George laughed at that, which caused me to smile. Knowing that George could take Freddie's joking flirtations, seemed to give me a small flicker of hope. I liked that George liked him, and didn't get defensive over a few harmless comments. Letting a few jokes slide was in no way an indication that George would ever be alright with me being gay.

"That's fine, it finally gives Hayes and I chance to pick up our old affair." Anne offered me a sultry smile that made me laugh.

"Yes," I sighed seriously, "It's been what, a few months Annie?"

"At least that."

After that I don't know what flowed freer, the conversation or the wine. All I know is that Freddie Mercury was actually joining me in Wales, and that I had to somehow hide the fact that I wanted to be with him, desperately, from my brother and sister-in-law. But, that was a problem for another day. I'm sure I could make him back out, or else he will want to pull out himself and was only being polite. Freddie would not be able to stay in a boring holiday home for more than a few hours, he'll want to get back to London, or Munich, or New York. It'll be fine.

"There are some renovations going on," George unbuttoned his collar, "So you may have to share a room, or else Hayes can take the couch."

That's it. I'm not going.

"Oh Hayes and I will be fine, those boarding schools used to have bloody ten to a room." Freddie said innocently, before he arched a brow towards me, "Are you a top or bottom—"

He definitely, purposefully, said such a thing just as I was about to take a sip of my drink. He also paused for a calculated length of time. I almost drowned myself once I fully inhaled my glass of wine. I spluttered, coughed, and my eyes even began to water.

Freddie then had the gall to look at me with confused concern as he slowly added "—bunk?"

"It just—" I stammered, "— it went, well it went down the wrong way." I managed to get out.  "I'm sorry."

"That's alright dear," Freddie gently rubbed the centre of my back, "Would you like some water?"

"Oh don't worry," George finally caught up to Freddie's previous words, "It's a twin room, so you won't be on top of each other."

Everyone needs to stop speaking.

"That's a relief." Freddie let his fingers dip lower down my back, and I attempted to think of anything else but his hands on me.

There is no way that Freddie is going to Wales. He's just not. It's never happening. It's not even an option. I will make him not want to go. Freddie is not going.

***

Gower, Wales
March, 28th

"I can never understand the Welsh accent."

"It's a difficult one." I agreed with a bland smile.

Freddie squinted at me, "Are we still fighting?"

"No."

I forced my eyes away from Freddie as he passed through the door in front of me, because they threatened to drop low when he wore those particular white jeans. Why does he bloody insist on squeezing himself into clothes that tight?

"I was a prick in the car, I'm sorry. Now can we be friends again?"

"I'm not angry with you." I sighed and slowly closed the door behind us, holding both my bag and Freddie's.

The Gower House was large and drafty, rustic, yet homely. It was a relatively new build that had one of  the best view of the beautiful Three Cliffs Bay. It was no wonder why Gower had been the first part of the U.K to be ever deemed a designated 'Area of Outstanding Beauty'. However, it was too late now to see anything but black waves spilling onto the dark bay like oil. It would be better appreciated in the morning with some sunlight.

I switched on a light overhead, "George mustn't he here yet." I frowned, "It's not like him to be late. No matter, the piano is in the living room and the spare room is the last door on the right once you head up the stairs."

Freddie shrugged off his navy bomber jacket, revealing a white tank top that had 'Heaven' scrawled across in red cursive. It was warm, but not tank top warm. "You can't wear that around my family."

"It's George and Annie."

"It's inappropriate." I hated the way that came out.

"Oh sorry, can you see my tits?"

I cringed slightly, "You know what I mean."

"That the shirt basically says 'I have lots of sex, all the time, with many men'?" Freddie shoved the jacket into my chest before he walked past me, right on into the living room.

"You deserve an award." I bit out, surprised by the sudden onslaught of jealousy.

"Thank you dear, I already have several for my contributions to music."

"How's that Grammy?"

Freddie's Nike runners scuffed on the wooden floors as he skidded to a halt, "Why are you being such a fucking twat?"

Because I'm messed up, confused, and you make it worse. I want you so badly that it's painful, and I somehow have to pretend that I don't feel any of this because my brother may turn me away if he knew what was going on.

"I'm sorry you're right, let's go back to being friends."

"Hayes." Freddie sighed and reached out to brush his fingertips over my cheek, for a moment I leant into the touch. The sense of comfort was instant.

I heard a creak, and quickly ducked away from Freddie as if burned. Turns out my family weren't there, and that houses battered by wind and rain are often creaky. I glanced over at Freddie, who was staring at me as if I had slapped him.

"There's only so many times I can take you pulling away from me as if you're disgusted Hayes." 

I flinched at his tone, "Freddie I'm so sorry, I thought—"

"I know what you thought," he pushed past me, "I understand don't worry honey. I'm going to sleep, it was a long day. I hope that couch is comfortable."

I followed after him as he plucked up his bag, and trudged up the stairs. He went left when the room was right. I gently tugged his elbow to direct him in the correct direction. He immediately pulled himself out of my grip.

"Freddie, can we talk?"

"I was like a gateway man for you, and it feels fucking shit Hayes!" He snarled without turning around, "A fucking stepping stone!"

Huh?

"If you were never attracted to me, you shouldn't have used me as an experiment to test whether you wanted a man or not."

That's what he thinks?

"You're a walking 'do not disturb' sign, and I still managed to find myself caring about you! It's my only bloody fault of course, I pushed you into thinking you needed to get out there, and now I can't stand it that you have." Freddie seemed fairly exasperated, so I wasn't too shocked when he let out an extremely frustrated "just fuck off" and slammed the door shut in my face.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. I then lifted my fist, and tapped furiously on the door. When Freddie didn't answer, I fought against my usual reservations, and threw the door open.

Freddie was sitting on the bed, angrily kicking off his shoes. He shot me one sharp glance with those dark eyes of his, and went back to aggressively readying himself to get into bed.

"Don't you dare tell me how I feel."

"What?"

"You just told me how I used you, how I feel about you. I have gone my whole life with people telling me how I feel, and I won't have you do it too." I explained in a calm manner, but couldn't keep the chill from my tone, "Especially when you are so fucking far off."

Freddie only glanced up at me once I cursed, but I didn't think that was the sole reason he looked as though his temper had been doused in ice cold water. He actually looked... upset. I thought myself desensitised to celebrities, but seeing someone like Freddie with glassy eyes, was completely jarring. Unbelievable. That was my first reaction. Then I realised I had caused that awful, awful expression and I felt sick. I have upset people before, but I never felt guilt like this.

"You weren't a stepping stone," I assured him, hating that he believed such a thing. "You're my destination Freddie, and I'm trying my fucking best to pull myself into some semblance of a secure man so that I won't keep hurting you."

Freddie didn't say anything, although he appeared as though he were contemplating his next words very carefully. He rolled his top lip over his bottom one, drawing my attention to his soft mouth. I didn't have the courage to pursue Freddie when sober, because I knew I was inexperienced. He even called me that earlier. I also knew that there was a high chance I could freak out and want to do a runner mid way through. I could be a clumsy, cowardly disappointment, and I didn't want that to happen with Freddie.

When he continued to stay silent, I was pushed to my last resort. Actions speak louder than words, but words are all I know. I haven't got very far with them so far, it's time for a change.

Without giving Freddie a chance to think, I slid my hands either side of that annoyingly attractive face, and pushed my lips against his. He tasted of smoke and spearmint, and it's somehow the most intoxicating mix to ever be created because I keep coming back for more. My thumbs dragged down his cheekbones, scratching against the fresh stubble that drew even more attention to his sharp features.

The second Freddie met the brush of my lips, stroke for stroke, my shattered mind seemed to click back into place. This is right. This is what you have always needed. Freddie cautiously slid a hand over my hip, and I immediately took a sharp breath at the touch. Freddie mistook that for me prepping to pull away, so he did so first. His mouth fell open slightly as he began to move away, so I took the opportunity to take things further.

My tongue teased over the seam of Freddie's lips, brushing against his own momentarily. A moan rasps in his throat. The sound catches me off guard, as does the overwhelming desire that now sears through me. Before I can do my very best to draw the sound from him again, Freddie dragged himself away.

His eyes were dazed, his expression tortured. "Hayes what are you doing?"

I merely stared down at Freddie, unable to vocalise exactly what I wanted to do. My face must have portrayed it because Freddie let out a frustrated sigh. "Don't look at me like that, for fuck sake Hayes. I can barely fucking—"

I cut him off with my lips, finding it to be a very effective method of shutting him up. This time I don't hold my body back, I covered his with my own. Freddie's back ended up pinned to the bed, and I'm looming over him, pressing against him. His tongue desperately swept against mine. Desperate. I had never felt desperate for anyone, ever. Looking back I was obviously attracted to Julian, even Alex, perhaps a few others, but it was never like this. Freddie was a need, not a want.

Freddie's hands now decided to roam. His fingers scraped along my spine before he dug them into the fabric of my cardigan. The next thing I knew, he had rolled us over so that I was now laying flat on my back. I let out a shocked gasp once Freddie ducked his face, and began trailing his lips over my neck. Open mouthed kisses were peppered all about the column of my throat and his hips jutted into me. I was struggling to contain the fervent desire I felt when his hard length pressed against my abdomen, snapping me back to the reality of this situation.

And what a bloody fantastic reality it was.

My hands skimmed the end of that ridiculous tank top as I hauled it off over Freddie's head. Having that torso flashed around on stage all the time was truly a lesson in restraint whenever I watched Freddie perform, and now I could do whatever I wanted. Now that Freddie was sitting up slightly, I took the opportunity to manoeuvre our bodies into different positions once again.

My lips, along with my tongue dragged over his collarbone, before I continued trailing my kisses elsewhere. Everywhere. My fingers scraped along his sides as I lowered my body down. We were surprisingly silent, aside from our panting breaths and low rasping moans. It was as if we were both afraid that any words would ruin this completely.

Freddie impatiently set about ripping open the buttons of my sweater, his other hand slowly slipped down between our bodies. He gripped me. Hard.

"Fuck." I whispered.

Freddie smirked against my lips, never ceasing to be amused when I cursed.  It seemed to encourage him further as he began palming my aching length with sadistic fervour.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I grabbed his wrist and pulled Freddie's hand away. I then proceeded to work my way down his body, kissing and sucking at every inch until his thighs were bracketed between my elbows. Freddie's head flew up from where it rested on the bed, to stare down at me the second my fingers brushed over the button of his jeans.

"Hayes?" Freddie breathed out in a way that only had me slip down the zip of his trousers much quicker.

"Fucking hell—" Freddie blinked his eyes shut before he forced then open again, "—Hayes you don't have to do this."

Freddie's eyes were overflowing and dazed with desire. They were half closed in a manner that appeared as though he were struggling. No I didn't have to do anything, but Freddie clearly wanted me to. I surprisingly found myself wanting to do anything Freddie wanted me to.

"I know." I dipped my fingers underneath the waistband of his jeans, "Now lift your hips for me."

Freddie's dark brows lifted in surprise at my tone, as did his hips. The next few seconds were a blur of tearing off different articles of clothing, and kissing. It was all fiery and intense, like nothing I have ever experienced. I think it was why my usual clumsiness brought on by nerves was mercifully  kept at bay for now.

My eyes remained on Freddie as I slowly pumped my hand up and down along him. I didn't exactly know what I was doing, but based off of his hazy gaze, clenched jaw, and rolling hips, I seemed to be okay. Just as I was about to let my lips join my hand, Freddie's voice brought me to a standstill.

"Have you ever done this—"

I didn't give Freddie to ask the question that would make me lose my nerve. Instead I just went for it, and took him in my mouth. In response Freddie let loose a shuddering groaned that made me wonder why I had not done this much sooner. Freddie's fingers wove through my hair, and gripped me tightly. I'm actually bloody doing this.

"My fucking god." He moaned huskily as he began slowly lifting his hips to meet my mouth.

Freddie took another fistful of my hair, and slowly pushed himself further into my accepting mouth. I began to quicken the pace, wanting all of him at once. I splayed my fingers over his thigh in order to steady myself. Freddie must have finally accepted that I was fine, and could handle what we were doing, because his thrusts suddenly became more rapid and deep.

I ran my tongue along the underside of his unbelievably hard length, and moaned once his entire body seemed to actually shudder. Freddie then attempted to drag my face away with a sharp tug of my hair. I held my position and let my tongue swirl further.

"Hayes," he rasped, "Please, I'm going to- you can't—" with a particularly deep stroke that hit the back of my throat, Freddie released himself.

I felt his body collapse fully into the bed at that, even his hands seemed to fall limp from my hair as I gulped deeply. Feeling a little shell shocked myself, I placed a few small kisses up the centre of Freddie's body as I dragged myself back up onto the bed. His eyes were closed, his lips were parted, and he simply looked shattered. I couldn't help by feel satisfied that I had done that to him. Just as Freddie was about to reach out, and I'm sure, about to return the favour, I rolled off of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Freddie asked with alarm, suddenly out of his trance.

I simply locked the door, before I returned back to the small bed Freddie already occupied. I probably should have done that in the first place, but I got too caught up in the moment. I lay back down, and tugged Freddie close to me. His warm body moulded perfectly into my side. He relaxed, and proceeded to rest his head on my chest. I smiled faintly.

"I thought you were going to do a runner."

"Not without my trousers." I murmured and shifted uncomfortably due to the unattended build up of desire beneath my boxers.

Freddie scoffed before he attempted to nestle his face against my skin, "Not that it wasn't fucking incredible, but I know you haven't done that before." He lifted his head away to gauge my expression, "So what is it you do with all your men?"

"I never ah gave," I chuckled awkwardly, "Just received."

"How the fuck did you manage to get away with that?"

"I suppose I'm just so intimidatingly attractive that my mere presence is enough for all the men I have encountered."  I sighed as if it were an ordeal, "I like to think that I am building their confidence. It's quite taxing being so charitable."

Freddie laughed, the sound struck deep in my chest, "You're awful."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I have a better idea," Freddie purred and let his hand scratch down my chest, "I'll show you how it's really done."

I bloody love Wales.

____

A/N-

Hope you all enjoyed 😌