F.M
Los Angeles, California
August 28th

I'm planning to ruin Hayes Griffith's unbiased, uptight, professional policies. I will corrupt him into showing me some favouritism if it's the last thing I do. I will also be using him to get my way with Roger in the studio today.

Now that you know my evil intentions with Hayes, we can get on with things.

"Hello." I crushed my lips against the critic's the second we were alone.

I had shocked everyone by insisting that I get the refreshments. Of course my ulterior motive was to drag Hayes along with me to feel him up. I'm a simple man really, with simple needs. It's rather difficult not to just throw myself on Hayes the second I see him, especially when it's already been two weeks. Two weeks? Since when did I find that a long time?

"Hello." He murmured between the slow pecks. "How is my old so and so?"

I pulled away for a second and gripped Hayes' chin. "The beard rash I'm experiencing suggests that you are still being tortured at work." I turned his face from side to side to inspect the rough dark stubble that speckled his sharp features. "So more importantly, how are you? Also, enough with the old."

"Tortured isn't the word." Hayes huffed.

Aside from Hayes' usual writing duties... he was now in charge of a fresh batch of interns. Yes, Hayes was in charge of six young adults, American young adults. He was being driven out of his mind. On top of that, one of the assistant editors was on his honeymoon and Hayes' boss decided that the critic could take over his duties as well as his own. As a result of all of this, Hayes was buried with work and stress. He actually had to pull a sickie to be here today.

I know. I didn't believe it either until he showed up.

Hayes exhaled slowly, "I wanted the Billy Joel album- it's bloody cracking by the way- but I was put on Black Sabbath duty. "Black Sabbath" He repeated with horror. "There was never a chance of a review making the magazine, yet I still had to write it."

Bloody cracking? "You poor dear." I laughed and kissed him again, "Hopefully Queen have been a nice palette cleanser for you."

"It's merely rubbing salt in the wound." Hayes murmured. The cheeky grin which he was trying to hide indicated he didn't mean it and just wanted to wind me up.

Hayes leant forward to kiss me again, this time with much more force. One hand slipped to my hip whilst the other gripped the back of my neck. I conceded a step and felt my lower back hit the canteen counter.

"Where's the T-shirt I was promised?"

Hayes merely sniffed impatiently and occupied my lips so that I couldn't make a stupid comment again. He finally pulled away after an agonisingly slow kiss and rested his forehead against mine. He then proceeded to let out a deep drawn out sigh.

"What are you sulking about?"

"I'm tired, I'm stressed, and I missed you."

"In that order?"

"No, missing you overshadowed the former two factors." Hayes chuckled and pulled his face away from mine. "Don't worry egomaniac."

"I'm not worried," I shrugged, "It's quite clear that you missed me." I dragged my hand down his trouser front.

Hayes inhaled sharply at that before he grabbed my wrist, removed it, and turned around. He muttered something about 'not starting what couldn't be finished', and stalked off into the hallway. How dare he leave me to make all the tea.

Not that I did mind you, I have people for that.

When I returned, Hayes was in deep conversation with Mack and that was that. Back to pretending we were just close friends. Not that the lads couldn't find out about us, they could, just not until I got ahold of one of Roger's demos. Blondie had been holding out on us, but couldn't know that the boys and I had been snooping. Hence, sending in the big bad wolf.

Hayes was innocently sitting there, looking all scholarly and broody. A binder was laid out on his lap, and his silver fountain was lazily scratching against a loose page. I knew he was editing a piece that one of his protégés wrote on Star Wars so he was really struggling through it. That was the reason he was frowning so deeply, not because Roger was thrashing out on the drums for one of the songs he was working on. I was in no rush to tell Roger that though.

Poor Hayes was really suffering for his little stunt that exposed the reality of AIDs. Rolling Stone had actually touched upon the disease back in February, angling it as 'America's New Plague: Contagious Sexual Cancer'. It was a brief paragraph that just mentioned the disease and how gay men were getting sick. More research had been done in the meantime apparently, and Hayes had been the one to update the magazine's stance. I read it, briefly, but found it difficult, and this illness wasn't one that I wanted to dwell on.

Hayes had gone against his boss' orders, and took a highly sympathetic stance towards the victims of AID's whilst also crucifying the general public for their response. Of course he had gotten in trouble, and was suffering for it now, but I couldn't help admire Hayes all the more for it. Even though I had no interest in getting involved with such issues, I loved Hayes for doing it. He was always bloody surprising me, it was brilliant.

Roger paused his drumming for a moment to sneak a glance over at Hayes. The critic took his glasses off, rubbed at his eyes, muttered an audible 'what the actual fuck' and got back to scratching away at the article. I watched as he 'x'ed out an entire paragraph before scrawling a large question mark in the margin.

Roger, who thought the reaction was aimed at him, let his mouth drop open with concern. I decided to stir the pot as I leant over Hayes' shoulder to glance at the article. I pressed my chest against his back, and subtly let my hand drop down his spine. He sat upright with surprise. I made a show of pretending to read what Hayes wrote, and then glanced back up towards Roger.

"Well?" He mouthed.

I shook my head slowly, "Bad."

Roger audibly gulped before he removed himself from his drum kit. "What's wrong?" Hayes whispered with concern as he glanced up at me.

"Nothing my darling." I chuckled and took a seat beside him. I didn't let my hand move away from his lower back.

"Tell Roger he sounded off."

"But he didn't."

"Just say his name."

Hayes sighed deeply before he turned in his seat slowly. "Roger?"

Roger who was now standing with Brian, deep in conversation, half jumped out of his skin. There was an awkward clatter as his drumsticks slipped from his hands. He leant down to pick them up, and ended up kicking them halfway across the room. There was a painful moment where you could see him decide whether to walk over and pick them up, or leave it for now. Roger went with the latter as he stood up straight and brushed himself off.

"Yes Hayes?"

"I was thinking of getting tea, would you like a cup?" Hayes asked and ended it with a concerned purse of his lips. "Are you alright—"

"—fine. I'm fine."

"That's good." Hayes smiled sweetly.

Roger and jammed about for a bit after that, just a piano, drum, scat, jumble. All I had was the chorus, which involved the line 'Coming On Far Too Strong'. It sounded quite funny after the strew of nonsense that made up the verses.

"I like it." Roger chuckled, giving his drumsticks a twirl.

"Well it has to fit in somewhere, but just er, yeah." I trailed off with a laugh.

We got back to it, and I started fitting in random words from another song I had been working on during my solo album sessions. "She can fight it out man to man. She's a dirty so and so. She can do it, do it, do it, she can... mhm dah dah dah... baby's coming on far too strong!"

"Speed it up," I instructed Roger with a chuckle, "She's a sexy lady, she can bring you to a very sticky end."

Roger was laughing silently as he kept up with the jaunty piano tune. I snuck a glance over at Hayes who was shaking his head as if scandalised, whilst continuing to stew over his interns' articles. I don't know why he acts like such a prude, he's definitely not. Far from it actually.

After another few minutes, Roger and I stopped messing around. Brian strode over with purpose, Red Special in hand. He had some guitar heavy riff in mind that he wanted Roger to keep time with. I left them to it for now, and bounced back towards Hayes.

I returned sipping a cup of water. Hayes was watching me carefully all the while, an impish grin twitching at his lips. We silently stood side by side for a moment as I scanned over Roger's draft lyrics that we had stolen earlier thanks to Hayes' intervention. I don't know how someone's mere presence could make me so bloody happy. I was practically thrumming with giddiness.

"I didn't realise how much your voice has changed." Hayes commented out of nowhere. "Once compared to what you sounded like a few years ago. It's quite deep."

"Hm?"

Hayes merely shrugged wordlessly as he turned over the page that I had been scribbling on. He was making a point not to look at me.

"In a good way?" I frowned, searching for the critic's... criticisms.

A faint smirk, "Mhm."

"Ah," I grinned catching on to what Hayes wasn't communicating aloud, "So you really like it."

"Mhm," he hummed once again, and briefly brushed his fingers against mine as I reached for the paper once again.

"Stop trying to make me behave unprofessionally," I sighed as if deeply inconvenienced.

Hayes apologised insincerely as he ran a hand down my back on his way to sit down. He only pulled away after accidentally brushing his hand over my ass. Once again he apologised insincerely. I can't believe that Hayes Griffith would come to my place of work and distract me in such a manner.

Not that I could be distracted.

"Do you want a tour of the studio?" I blurted out a moment later.

Hayes chewed on the end of his glasses thoughtfully, "I have already been here for half of the day. Is it not a little late?"

"It's never too late honey."

Hayes chuckled at that, "You look unnaturally excited about the prospect, and you know I can't say no in that case." He stood up from his chair.

Oh I know you can't, it's brilliant. I cracked a smile, "That's the right attitude to have."

Hayes glanced about the studio before he leant forward and pressed a brief kiss to my lips, before playfully knocking his knuckle against my chin as he pulled away. "Come on then."

I decided to show Hayes the best spot in the entire building- the third floor loo. When we bypassed all of the recording rooms etcetera, Hayes grew suspicious. Of course I never had any intention of showing Hayes the studio. It's a building with rooms, who gives two tits? I just knew he would have to leave for the hotel soon, and I needed to get my hands on him before he left.

"See this sink? Porcelain I believe..." I babbled as I kicked the door shut behind us. A second later I locked it.

"Have you lost it?" Hayes laughed and I had never seen those steely blue eyes so... warm.

"Years ago." I replied without a thought, "Now, what do you think of my song 'Coming on Far Too Strong'?"

"It's just a drum beat and you scatting, what am I meant to think?" Hayes scratched at his dark stubble. I'm not opposed to it.

"You're meant to be encouraging." I sighed, "I mean really, I shouldn't have to explain this."

"Sorry." Hayes tamed his expression into perfect mask of indifference, "Your nonsense is better than some of the other nonsense I have heard today."

I grabbed the lapels of Hayes' suit jacket and tugged him toward me. I kissed him slowly, until he pressed his hands to my back and forced me closer.

"Now what do you think of it?" I pulled away with a chuckle.

Hayes shrugged a shoulder, willing to play this daft game with me. I dipped my lips to his neck in response and let my hand slide down his toned stomach. I backed him up to the sink and relished the low moan that escaped him. I worked my way up to his jaw before I kissed him again. Hayes' fingers dug into my waist as I teased the seam of his lips with my tongue.

My hands slipped down to his belt, "Freddie?" He rasped which had me fumbling to unloop it much quicker.

"Yes dear?" I moulded my lips to the column of his throat.

"This is hardly," he swallowed once my teeth grazed over a particularly sensitive area along his neck, "fair."

"What isn't?"

"Working me up like this." His fingers dragged up and down my back in a slow and sensual manner.

"You think I won't follow through?" I lifted a brow and pressed my hips to his.

"You bloody better later" Hayes ground out.

"Who said anything about later?" I asked innocently as I slid to my knees.

Hayes' fingers wove through my hair, unsure if he was going to pull me away or keep me there. With one hand, I pulled out his shirt, and with the other I set about unzipping his trousers.

"You seem stressed, I just want to help." I chuckled and began working my hand up and down his hard length.

Seconds later and I had him in my mouth, and was doing my best to undo the uptight critic. Hayes' grip in my hair managed to tighten as he guided me along, forcing more of himself down my throat. It was quite a task on the jaw to accommodate all of him, which definitely wasn't a complaint. A rough rhythm was found in no time at all, and the sight of Hayes struggling with pleasure was almost too much for me.

He somehow managed to make my name sound filthy as he groaned it out. My tongue twisted over him, which elicited a rasping moan from Hayes. He rolled his hips at a quicker pace, unable to help himself. My fingers scratched at the underside of his thigh to steady myself. I glanced up to see staring right back at me. His eyes briefly shut with lazy lust before his jaw clenched. I couldn't think of a better sight.

Minutes passed like this before Hayes finally couldn't hold off any longer. A breathy moan had escaped me once he sharply tugged my hair and forced himself further than before. That seemed to put him over the edge because only seconds later he lost himself.

I pulled away, swallowing as Hayes half collapsed back agains the sink. His breaths came out a little ragged as I set about putting him back together.  As I tightened his belt once again, Hayes brushed a quick kiss to my lips. His hands gripped my own and his gaze was bloody sinful.

"Where do you think you're going?" He murmured and palmed his large hand down against the straining front of my jeans.

"You can make it up to me later." I somehow managed to get out.

"I want to make it up to you now—"

"—I need to get back to recording," I grumbled, "and you need to go because you're bloody distracting." Hayes laughed at that, and placed another kiss to my cheek this time. "So, later."

"I thought we were going out later though."

"We are." I slipped him my hotel key, "So you better pretty yourself up. You look a right mess." I attempted to tame my hair back down.

A lopsided smile appeared, "I wonder why." He carelessly tucked his shirt back in.

"I wonder." I hummed against his lips.

"Alright," Hayes huffed, "I suppose I'll see you later then."

"If a sordid sex song appears on this album, you have only yourself to blame."

"Oh no," Hayes let his nose scrunch, "I better go then." His arms slipped around me for a simple yet tight hug. The man throughly enjoyed the simple gestures. "Bye," another peck to my cheek.

After one more fleeting moment of contentment, Hayes pulled away. "Right," he slipped my key into his pocket, "I'll see you later."

"And I'll see you... in a T-shirt?"

"Piss off." Hayes laughed and swept a hand over his hair as he cracked the door open, "Better say goodbye to my biggest fan, Roger."

"It would mean a lot to him," I laughed, "Don't work too hard, you have to stay up past eleven tonight."

Hayes scowled playfully, "Eleven?"

"We'll have to go all night darling," I called out after him, "I love you."

As usual Hayes reacted adorably with a flustered smile, and said it right back as if it were second nature.

H.G

After carefully reading through four of the six articles I had been presented with by Rolling Stone's 'fresh talent', I was ready to whack my head off of a wall.

My eyes were falling open and shut as the seconds ticked by. It was only five o'clock, and I wasn't meeting Freddie until ten. Ten. I stalked around the hotel suite, attempting to enjoy an article where the author didn't know their antimetabole from their chiasmus when discussing modern prose. I know. Ashley Miller was not going to be America's next Sarah Sontag, that's all I'll say.

After my mind had been numbed to the point of not caring anymore, I decided to go for a swim. Thankfully, the open pool on the top floor was virtually empty when I eventually dragged myself up the stairs for an extra workout. A couple were busy giggling with each other in the corner as I slipped into the lukewarm pool. Seems I don't care as much about obnoxious couples when I'm in a relationship myself.

I did a few laps, hoping to kill some time and wake myself up. I have been to the Rainbow bar twice in my life, and it's somewhere you have to bloody have your wits about you. It's not my bag, but it's Freddie's so I suppose I'll tag along if it means spending time with him.

I killed about an hour in the pool before I finally dragged myself out. I wrapped the fluffy white hotel towel around myself and made my way towards the exit. Once again I attempted to avoid the couple who were still there, chattering away as I dried myself off. I rubbed the towel over my hair and face, and almost dropped it when my vision was no longer obscured. The girl from the couple I had spotted earlier was striding up towards me. It wasn't just any girl either.

I caught a flash of red hair, and readied myself to dive back into the pool or perhaps off the top of hr building. No. Oh god no. I whirled, and went to walk away when a hand wrapped around my wrist.

"Hayes?"

I paused and forced a smile onto my face, "Emma, hello." I tossed my hair out of my face, "Sorry, you know how blind I am without my glasses."

Emma observed me carefully for a moment, "Hm."

"How are you?" I made myself ask. Usually I couldn't handle small talk with people I couldn't stand, but I felt I owed Emma at least that much.

"I'm fantastic," she flashed a pearly white smile, "This is Drew."

"Hello," a handsome chap stared me up and down, as if deeming me a threat. The poor lad certainly had nothing to worry about. Ex fiancé or not. "Hayes Griffith isn't it?"

I held a hand out, "Yes, it's nice to meet you." Drew proceeded to half crush my hand in a silly show of dominance.

"You too buddy." He slipped an arm around Emma's shoulders.

"What are you doing here in L.A?" Emma asked as she half shoved herself out of her new beau's grip.

"Just having a break."

"Alone?"

"No, I'm with someone." I shrugged and continued to pat my hair dry. It was quite nice saying that when I referring to Freddie.

"Who is she?" Emma asked, and actually had the nerve to sound annoyed. It had been over a year since we ended things.

"You wouldn't know them." I chuckled dismissively, "But I better get going now, it was lovely running into you." I lied smoothly.

I made it about two steps before Emma tugged on my arm once again, "We really need to talk Hayes, I have been meaning to call you—"

"—I really don't have time for this Emma. If you really do need to talk, phone me, but considering you haven't thus far, I doubt it's too urgent."

Emma narrowed her eyes on me, "Okay then, don't say I didn't try."

I rolled my eyes at that before I rushed away from the woman I would have married if I had not met Freddie. I can't believe I came so close to throwing away the rest of my life. How could I ever have thought lying to myself was the way to go? I was still unwilling to admit my family's role in my unhappiness, and was content to take the sole blame.

Not that any of it mattered anymore.

I had a quick dinner, a long shower, and wasted my remaining time by finishing the interns edits. Two of them were half decent at writing, but needed to find better content. The rest were rather forgettable.

I reached for a white button up shirt before sighing in defeat. I picked up a polo shirt that I had been once thrown in for free for all of my business with Bottega Veneta throughout the years. I stole a maroon 'bomber' (?) jacket from Freddie as it had been strewn carelessly across a chair, and because I didn't have anything more causal than a blazer in my suitcase.

I ran into Roger first outside of the club, who went pale behind his sunglasses. A few minutes of small talk later, and Freddie finally appeared. It was a struggle not to hug him tight, especially after running into Emma, but I held myself back for now. I didn't know what he wanted his band mates to know or not know.

It was nice bumping into Stevie Nicks, and even better getting say hello to Ringo. It had been awhile. Poor Roger looked as though he was struggling to keep calm after witnessing both interactions. After some more teasing from Freddie, I decided that Roger needed to be left alone after all he had been put through today.

"How did the rest of your recording session go?" I asked as Freddie attempted to order a drink. I placed a hand on his lower back.

"I'm a musical genius," Freddie leaned back into the touch, "How do you think it went?"

"Poorly based on what I heard earlier." I deadpanned and ordered a drink of my own.

"Fuck off," he laughed before he slipped his free hand into mine. I glanced about, half paranoid, but was able to shove such feelings aside as I squeezed his fingers gently.

"What did you do back at the hotel?" Freddie asked and sipped at his drink, wincing slightly at the double vodka that could have really been a triple. "Aside from miss me?"

"Finished some work," I scoffed at his remark and took a swig of my whiskey, "went for a swim, and you'll never guess who I ran—"

"You went for a swim? When I wasn't there to witness it?"

"Freddie, focus."

"Describe the swimming togs—"

"You're a twit," I laughed and pulled him down to sit in a booth beside me, "I ran into—"

"I bet they had the Union Jack plastered all over—"

"— Emma was there."

Freddie sobered at that, his deep dark eyes flickered about my face with concern, "How did that go?"

"Made me appreciate having the opportunity to spend time with you even more."

"You fucking charmer," Freddie laughed and lay his arm on the back of my seat, inviting me to shuffle in close. I did so immediately. "Seriously, New York, are you alright after running into her?"

"Yes, I really am fine." I ducked my head so I could place a kiss on his cheek, "Thank god you came along in your tight jeans or I would be married off by now."

Freddie considered me for a moment, wondering whether to go down a serious or frivolous route. In the end he placed a large hand on my knee and feigned a stoic expression.

"It was really the jeans that did it for you?"

I patted the side of his thigh, "You had it planned, don't lie."

"Every time I saw you, I dropped down a size." He joked, "I'm glad the lack of blood circulation paid off."

He then decided to make a highly inappropriate joke about excess blood circulation just as I finished off my whisky. I spluttered, causing him to laugh that infectious laugh of his. A few more jokes were exchanged before we decided to go and get another drink.

The alcohol was really flowing tonight.

Roger appeared again and began offering to buy me a few whiskeys. I let him, as long as I could repay the favour. Freddie needed to get in on the generosity too, so at all times there was a drink in our hands. I still wasn't a nightclub man, not with the overload of stimuli on my overly sensitive face senses, but I managed to have fun this time around.

Freddie disappeared for a little while, he ran into some old friends. Roger took that opportunity to beg me to introduce him to Ringo. After torturing him all day, I figured I owed him that much. Thankfully, he wasn't half as nervous as he had been earlier as I attempted to steer the conversation into places Roger could have some comfort in.

After a while I left them to it and went in search of the bar. Swaying slightly with every step, I realised that it may not be the best idea, but it was the only idea that I had. That and finding Freddie, but I didn't want to smother him too much. I'll just let him find me in his own time. Stevie and Christie forced a glass or two of brandy on me, which I didn't protest to all that much. My mind was swimming by the time I finished up my conversations there.

Freddie was a few feet away when our gazes locked. I don't know how my eyes even managed to focus, but the man was like a bloody beacon. He looked devastating and dishevelled with his unruly hair and shadowed sharp features. He cracked me a grin that was designed to break hearts before he playfully mouthed the words along to the chorus of the catchy ABBA song surrounding us. Yes, I find the occasional ABBA song catchy, I'm not completely impervious to popular music.

"Gimme, gimme, gimme, a man after midnight." Freddie's lips moved in an exaggeratedly slow fashion, and his brows playfully arched. "Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?"

Twit. I couldn't help but smile as I wove through the crowd of pulsing bodies. Freddie reached forward a moment later and looped his hand around my wrist. He tugged me towards him, and I was met with his sturdy chest.

"It's well after midnight." I tsked as he cautiously looped my arms around his waist. There was no objections from me despite of us being in a crowded room.

"Sorry for the wait."

I jokingly checked my watch, "I suppose that it's fine."

Freddie decided to test my boundaries even more by placing a quick on my lips. I frowned as he pulled away. It looked like he wondered did he take my comfort with public affection too far. I put his fears to rest when I pushed my head back towards his and captured his lips once again.

A few minutes later and we were rushing out of the bar. Coats and Roger were long forgotten. After Freddie and I fell in the door of his hotel room, clothes were also forgotten.

I began grumbling about how bloody tight his white  tank top was as I attempted to peel it off. It seemed all traces of patience had escaped me. My hands fumbled with his jeans as I kissed my way down his chest. His fingers scratched against my bare back, before smoothing out over the planes of my shoulders. Everything was frenzied, and desperate. I simply felt like I couldn't get enough of him, and even if I had all of him it wouldn't be satisfactory.

Freddie's head was buried in the pillow as I slowly pumped my hand up and down his arousal. His own hand travelled down past my hips, and he was a lot less gentle about it then me. Being under the influence, I was finding it difficult to hold the hover I had over Freddie's body, my elbow was going to bloody collapse at any moment. I ducked my face so that it was buried in the crook of his neck, and I set about trying to cover the canvas of skin with kisses.

"I need you," I murmured, glad of the extra shot of confidence alcohol had given me.

Freddie took those words in the way I had usually meant them, which usually ended with me pushing myself inside of him. That... arrangement had worked until now. It was what was most comfortable for me, and Freddie never seemed to mind, but right now I was ready for us to switch places. The first time we had slept together it was a rather fledgling affair on my part, where all I wanted was to be inside of that irresistible man. Somehow not one smart remark ever left Freddie's lips, even when I'm sure I wasn't an immediate expert. So although the thought of him being on top was a little nerve wrecking, I knew I could trust Freddie to make sure it was all alright.

"Go on then." Freddie chuckled breathlessly into my ear before his teeth grazed down along the lobe.

"No," I rolled onto my side, wishing that he could read my bloody mind. "What I mean is, I want you." I pressed my lips to his collar, still dragging my hand up and down along him, hoping that he would catch on.

"Oh," he moaned before he had a lightbulb moment, "Oh." Freddie propped himself up on his elbow, "I don't know Hayes..."

"I'm asking you to, I want you to."

"I—"

"Do I really need to convince you?"

Freddie shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle, "Hayes, I don't need any fucking encouragement if it's what you really want." His fingers scratched down my abdomen, "I just want you to be sure dear. I'm fairly happy for you to be the one giving it—"

"I'm sure," I breathed out impatiently.

Freddie's dark eyes were practically dripping with obvious desire, and it only made me want him more. "Okay," he kissed me slowly. "Okay."

I have experienced Freddie's exploratory ministrations with his fingers weeks before, and at first it was a confusingly pleasurable sensation. The confusion was long gone by now, so my breath merely hitched with anticipation as he began readying me for him. He kept kissing me tentatively as his free hand fumbled about on the dresser for the half empty jar of Vaseline.

"It's going to hurt a little," Freddie whispered gently between kisses, "But if it's unbearable—"

"You'll stop?"

"Of course I'll bloody stop," Freddie's eyes widened, "Hayes we really don't—"

"Freddie. Shut up."

"Bloody hell," Freddie muttered before I brought his lips back to mine.

Freddie spent an age carefully prepping me to take him, and testing how much I can take, before I finally saw his sensible resolve vanish from his face. He pulled my knees up, before settling his body in the space between. He teased a slicked finger in, one by one, waiting for me to tell him no, I can't handle anymore. I could barely think, never mind vocalise my current thought process. I panted out a few shaky breaths as Freddie stared down at me.

"Hayes..."

"Please." I managed to rasp.

It seemed that was all the encouragement Freddie needed, because the next thing I knew his cheekbones hallowed from a deep swallow and he had retracted his fingers. Slowly, he attempted to push himself inside of me.

"Relax darling," he interlocked one of his hands with mine, "Relax."

Freddie eased more of himself inside, moaning all the while. He didn't fully push himself in, he was being as careful as possible, gauging my reaction at each inch. Yes, it hurt, and once he finally seated himself fully inside me, I thought for a moment that it was unbearable. That is until he started to move. His lips captured mine before he cautiously rolled his hips. Each time he rocked himself back inside me fully, he pressed against that thoroughly hidden point of pleasure. Then it was unbearable for completely different reasons. It was just too good. Too pleasurable.

"You're doing so fucking good," Freddie sighed raggedly, "Are you okay?"

I kissed him in response, and hooked my legs around his lower back. Freddie accidentally bit my bottom lip from the sharp change in space around him. His unfairly handsome face was twisted in pleasure, and his thrusts soon became much more urgent. Freddie slid his free hand through my hair, and down my chest, before he finally gripped my length. My breaths and heartbeat turn jagged as he continued to rock himself in and out of me, whilst his other hand moved up and down my aching arousal. Each snap of his hips elicited a louder moan of encouragement.

Freddie was close, and he wanted me to go with him. He pulled back and settled himself onto his knees. I groaned with frustration at the sudden lack of contact. Freddie smirked before he immediately tugged me back by the hips so that he could push himself inside me once again. The new position caused Freddie to let out a few obscene curses with my name woven between them.

Seconds later, with a deep push of his hips, he finished inside of me. I followed suit a moment later when he fell between my thighs to take me in his mouth. After all of the unbearable pleasure that I had been subjected to, I simply couldn't handle his lips along my sensitive length.

The word euphoric finally bloody makes sense to me. That's all I can say for now.

A star speckled eternity seemed to stretch out behind my closed eyes as my limbs went slack. My chest heaved up and down in an attempt to regain my composure. Freddie's breaths mingled with my own in the satisfied silence. He pressed his flushed chest to my side and lazily draped an arm over my abdomen. His leg then proceeded to tangle with my own.

"I like this dumbstruck Hayes." Freddie eventually cooed once we had settled a bit. "There's a lot less Latin."

"Mhm," I hummed groggily in response.

I don't exactly know how I'm meant to go around functioning after shagging like that. I was sore, tired, and on a bloody high. Freddie often commented, begrudgingly, about being sore the next day whenever we had slept together previously. I just thought that he was messing with me, until now.

"How do you feel?" The man beside me was half hyper again already.

"Good." I peeped an eye open to see him grinning impishly.

"Really gay I would imagine?" Freddie arched a brow, because of course he would make a joke like that right now. "I dub thee Gayes—"

"—shut up you wanker," I laughed, and attempted to turn away from him. Not that he let me.

"I mean technically we both are wankers," Freddie mused, "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones and all that jazz."

I chuckled in disbelief, "Do you ever shut up?"

Freddie considered it for a moment, "No." He patted my chest, before letting his fingers drop to trace the planes of my abdomen. "Are you actually alright, you weren't- it wasn't- uncomfortable?"

"Yes, Freddie," I pressed my lips to his temple, "I'm better than alright."

Freddie squeezed himself closer to me at that. I gently ran my thumb down his spine, deep in thought. Every vicious and thunderous cloud that once hung over me seemed to have faded away due to the rays of happiness that sunshine personified - Freddie Mercury - had stunned me with over the past couple of months.

"I have so cinched our new album a five star review." Freddie murmured, ruining the lovely moment. "I really took one for the team."

"Oh you'll have to try much harder than that sweetheart."

Freddie arched his brows before he was suddenly looming over me, "If that's how you want to play it Griff." He teased my lips with his own, "Fine."

——

A/N

Hope you enjoyed!
Also thanks so much for the engagement with this story, because I'm not entirely confident in it at times. So thank you for your votes and comments! 🤍