Hey all,

this was initially going to be part of the next update when Fred and Monica were reminiscing. But naturally it led onto something else which is is too long and deserves its own time, as you will read ;)

Enjoy!

(P.S. I hope you will like the illustration I left at the end, seeing as I thought it'd be appropriate)

Outside Hotel Montana, London

"How far away did you say your house was, Freddie?" Monica asked and the taxi driver packed her luggage into the trunk.

"Oh just a few blocks away... mind you, judging by the traffic it'll be several minutes by car." He opened the door for her and helped her step in.

"Where to, folks?" The driver asked.

"Stafford terrace please," Freddie strapped himself in. "Number 12."

When the cab started to move Monica nervously looked out the taxi window at the streets with Victorian flats passing by, "Honestly I feel awfully out of place right now."

Freddie giggled at her side, squeezing her hand, "my dear, for someone who was bundled onto a jet from a small island in Africa to London I cannot blame you.'

She turned to him, cocking a brow curiously.

"Oh... I was born in Zanzibar. It's off the coast of Tanzania" he explained, and she propped herself up on her elbow against the car door and listened.. "...an uprising occurred and my family had to flee when I was 18... I've actually only been living in London for more than fourteen years now."

"Had you ever been to London before then?"

He shook his head, "no...I went to school in India, because that's where my family is from... just commuted between Africa and India really."

She lifted her head, "you're Indian?"

He shrugged, "not really, perhaps a little. I'm actually Persian, or Parsi. My ancestors came from Iran initially... but I suppose, like the Tanzanians did to me, my people were shoved around and pushed out of their home by conquering invaders who tried to get them to follow Islam."

"You're an immigrant... wow. That's world's away from where you are now," She was astonished. "Don't get me wrong, it's fascinating."

"I'm sure your story is too. Go on, tell me." He pressed.

She blushed and shook her head.

"Go on." He jabbed her in the arm.

"Alright! Ok, I was born in Belfast, no surprise there." She laughed, pushing his hands away. "I have a grown older sister and a younger brother. I'm the middle child. I'm used to attention being divided unfairly from my parents. I'm from an Irish family who lives in a predominantly unionist area. I went to a Protestant school, got teased a lot for it."

"What do your parents do, if they don't give you much attention?" He asked.

"My dad works in trade for a wholesale business, which is going slightly bust, so he and his colleagues are planning to go independent and establish their own. And my mum is a housewife, but since my brother and I got a little older she has found time and ways to bring more money in... they don't like me going into creativity because they don't know how it's going to bring in the money."

"When I moved here my parents put so much pressure on me to get employed. My mum's working in M&S now, and my dad moved through a few bookshops until he got to a firm. But before we used to have help in the household. My dad had a high-end bureaucratic job in the British registration offices. As for my mum, she ran our staff around our apartment."

"So, you're used to people spoiling you?" She giggled jokingly.

"Now that I have moved on from those hardships and my family is stable maybe I just want somebody to spoil, maybe even a middle child like you!"

She blushed, "well, my family is rather archaic in their ways."

"Mine too. If my old folks could see what I get up to they'd fall over."

"How would they feel about me then?"

"You? Oh, they would like you- oh! We are cornering my street now!"

She looked out the window, "we are?"

Her jaw dropped at the row of grand white houses that contained up to several floors.

Freddie helped her out, "welcome. My door is the dark blue one."

She dragged her feet to the steps leading up to the entrance, looking at the green shrubs sitting on the pillars and windowsill as Freddie paid the taxi driver behind her.

He got his key out from under one of the pots as she picked her bags up and made her way up the steps behind him.

He opened the door. Monica wiped her feet on the doormat with an image of two cats waving "welcome".

Of course, at the time she didn't know  that it was to be the least tasteful commodity in this man's house.

"Please, do just set your things down anywhere." He shut the door.

She nodded, dropping her bags at her feet.

She looked up and down the hallway, minimal but donning a small Victorian stairwell and a small side table with an 18th century rococo vase.

That's when Monica knew it was best not to touch anything.

"Let me show you where everything is," he took her wrist and lead her to the door at the bottom of the hall. "This is the kitchen. I'm running a little low on food at the moment but feel free to take anything you need... and through that door in the left hand corner is the utility room."

Monica glanced around the small room, the kitchenware compact in the basic space. She was guessing he never got to use it much. There was a half empty bottle of vodka on the small table amongst the disorganised cutlery. She shuddered, for if it was bask home on Belfast her mum would've made sure the dishes were done and that any alcoholic spirits were out of sight.

He pulled her to the door in the top right hand corner of the kitchen, "and this is where my dining and living space is."

There was a large, ten seat dining table lit by the light spilling through the patio doors.

Monica's eyes panned down to the other end with a cabinet containing more antiques until a sight stopped her...

"Oh my goodness..." she gasped when she saw the magnificent grand piano decorated with ivory japonaiserie at the opposite end of the room.

He let out a chuckle, "do you like it?"

"is that... where you write your songs?" She turned to him.

"Oh, partially," he leaned against the door way. "If I think up an idea for a song I scribble down what I can somewhere first, then I go to the next piano I happen to be near, be it here or the studio, and figure it out."

She went up to it, and ran her fingers along the ivory and the glazed surface, "It must've cost a fortune."

"Well, I only got it recently," he shrugged. "I'm actually getting richer now. I have a harpsichord too, but sadly, nobody wants to listen to a harpsichord in chart music, now do they?"

"I wish I was musical sometimes." Monica looked at the records on the walls that were painted orange.

"Oh trust me, it's a rough business, my dear." Freddie took her hand, his other arm ferrying her bags.

"Oh but I mean, to have the ear to be able to make the listener feel without words or pictures." Monica spoke as Freddie led her out the door and towards the stairs.

"Well, you're into art, aren't you?" Freddie asked.

She nodded, "a little, but I do get my doubts"

"I was only ever good at doing art that was, in a sense, pre-visualised... I'm far better at constructing meanings in music than I am with art. Unless you count the band logo, of course."

She stopped walking.

"That was you? You made that?!"

He nodded, "oh yes, we all construct the band's image... I often get involved with costumes."

She stopped when she passed a small framed photo of a familiar man and woman hanging up on the wall.

"Mary... and you" she murmured, studying their features.

"Oh yes, that was... when we were together." He took her hand awkwardly.

Mary had ashy hair falling down to her waist, not as curled as it was now. As for Freddie...

"I remember when your hair still looked like that on Top of the Pops... you look like some kind of ancient Incan that I would see in my history books with the straight black hair, and that bright woven jacket! And the jewellery too." Monica giggled.

He blushed, "oh now, I was only trying to fit in! Even if it does make me look like an inhabitant of Machu Picchu it still turned the ladies on."

She giggled, trailing off as she focused on their pose. It looked like they were on holiday somewhere, judging by the warm lighting, high rise apartments and beach in the background. He was hugging her from behind, arms across her chest and chin perched on her shoulder as she held onto his arms. Monica thought that they looked too much like good friends to have been together when it was taken, too little chemistry. Perhaps it was the way Freddie looked so innocent and-

"Let me bring your stuff in here" he interrupted her thoughts, carrying her bags into another doorway.

He lead her into the bedroom. She looked around as she walked in ...

"So this is where the man sleeps..." she thought as he set her bags down behind her.

Amongst the tasteful Edwardian mahogany furniture, large maroon rug and soft wallpaper there were already several varieties of domestic felines sitting and purring patiently on his large dishevelled bed.

"Oh! You have cats!" She rushed over to them, reaching out to pet them.

But she was quickly taken aback when one large tabby hissed, another two backed away or jumped off, and the black and white kitten only meowed and brushed against her hand in a friendly manner.

"Tom! Don't be so rude!" Freddie picked the overweight tabby up.

"Oh it's okay, I know how particular cats are," she picked the kitten up. "My family have one at home called Missy."

"Oh yes?" He coed delightfully. "What is she like?!"

She giggled gently, letting the small cat curl up on her lap, "she looks a bit like Tom actually."

Freddie kissed Tom's head and sat him down on the floor, "the one you have there is called Mandy."

"Well, I think Mandy already likes me" Monica smiled as the kitten licked her hand.

He giggled, "oh, I love them all. They're like babies to me I suppose."

She let Mandy crawl off her lap and back onto the pillow she was previously occupying, "you're a mad cat lady, that's great!"

He smiled and giggled, "You'd be surprised by what I have up my sleeve."

A pang of hurt had hit her for a second. She'd suddenly wondered how she not only getting into bed with a rockstar but also getting into his life.

"What... What about what's up my sleeve? What did you see in it?" She looked down at her feet sadly, fiddling with the elastic hairband on her wrist.

He gently lifted her chin, "oh dear, there's no other way of putting it... I saw a beautiful girl across the room, and when I got to know her a little more at the bar, she turned out to be an angel..."

She blushed and looked away, "but, why so soon? We-We barely know eachother..."

"Well, don't you want to get to know one another better?" He looked at her.

"Poor girl," he thought. "I certainly have taken her to a crossroads, haven't I?"

She fell back onto the bedding, eyes on the ceiling.

"I honestly do, and I should be happy... I'm in London, I'm learning new things," she murmured, pondering. "and, I also have met you... sweet, gentle, and of course, gorgeous."

He felt his heart melt, and he laced his warm, welcoming hand into hers.

"Perhaps it's the unfamiliarity... the uncertainty, which certainly is unconventional." He suggested, voice soft.

"Yes, it's that." She said.

"Well, didn't I promise you that I would help you settle?" He said. "I won't ever, ever forget that."

She smiled, and sat back up, looking at the hand intertwined with hers.

"Thank you, really." she said as sincerely as she could.

"Why are we whispering?" Freddie said, for all of a sudden they'd forgotten, and they both burst into giggles.

She'd noticed that the room had gone quiet. Most of the cats had left, except Mandy, and the only sound that could be heard was the traffic outside.

The silence only enhanced the intimacy, and her eyes roved to his mouth as she felt her heart beat faster.

Those soft, sumptuous lips...

Soon enough her mouth was on his, her fingers slipping through his hair.

Their hands snaked their way onto one another's bodies, moaning into each others mouths as they savoured their touch.

Instinctively she crawled onto his lap and straddled him as the kisses grew deeper by the second, his hands slipping to her waist.

She held onto him as his fingers slipped under the band of garment on her hips, the palms of his hands longing to feel the warmth of the skin on her bare thighs.

He gasped for air as she tugged as the bottom of his t shirt, and he lifted his arms so that she could pull it off quickly.

"Freddie..." she breathed as his hand pulled her neck to his mouth, and he planted tender kisses on her throat.

He tugged her trousers off as his teeth gently nibbled, his hands ripping her buttoned shirt open.

"God, yes!" He groaned hungrily as his face fell onto her cleavage, his hands reaching around the back for her bra clasp.

It was the first time he'd seen her bare chest. He eagerly planted his face into her breasts, causing her to let out a gasp as his tongue swirled on her skin's goosebumps.

Her hands slipped to his belt as he squeezed and sucked on each bosom, the strain in his jeans now pressing against her panties.

He kicked off his jeans and boxers as he revealed his throbbing member, his hands ripping her panties down her thighs.

She kissed his lips as his hands pulled her body closer, his hands keeping her naked body tightly pressed against his bare chest.

"How do I do this next bit?" She quickly raised her pelvis a little, propping one leg up slightly on the mattress.

Fumbling, he took it in his hand and aimed it at her opening.

"Go" he mumbled, and she lowered herself.

She let out a cry as she slipped onto his girth, head falling back as his hands roamed her curves.

His hips bucked lightly in rhythm with her body as she pumped up and down. A moan escaped his throat as she held onto him and explored his mouth.

He fell back in pleasure as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his arms sprawled out and tensed, and she continued to ride him.

She groaned as she increased her rhythm, his hands catching onto her waist for grip as he fell deeper and deeper.

She leaned down as his hands pushed her hips back and forth, his lips on her neck and shoulder.

Suddenly she decided to change things a little. She pulled off of him and started kissing his neck.

He looked down at her, "Babe, I was gonna... what are you-"

Her hand stopped him, gently placed on his lips as her mouth slipped down his torso.

"Oh fuck..." he groaned as he slipped his hand into her hair, and she took a spot between his thighs.

He sighed as he felt her tongue, his chest heaving as he felt himself losing control.

She looked up at him, head bobbing up and down as he hit the back of her throat, and it was then it was all over as he let out a loud, pleasured moan.

She chugged down his release, sitting back up and crawling over.

She bent down to kiss his lips, but suddenly he grabbed her thighs and pulled her hips to his chest. He had other ideas.

"Freddie, what are you doing?!" She gasped.

"Ride my face!" He demanded in a hiss.

"What?!" She squeaked breathlessly.

Before she knew it he'd shuffled below her body and perched his head between her thighs.

She groaned and held onto the mahogany headboard as he left marks on her legs, then he stretched his head up, "Let me taste your clit, babe..."

"Freddie..." she heaved as she obeyed him, thrusting her pelvis to and fro on his flickering tongue as his hands squeezed her buttocks.

"You're so wet!" He purred as he encompassed his soft lips on her, causing her thighs to violently tremble.

Here she was, with an intimate dominance over one of the world's most sought after rockstars as he made her head spin increasingly, his hungry moans growing louder as her juices lingered on his anticipating tastebuds.

She looked down at the feathered black hair below and in between her thighs, letting out a euphoric sigh as he took her to her climax, her fingernails gripping into the wood.

She collapsed onto the mattress when it was over, her heart thumping out of her chest as she tried to process her sinful fantasy.

He wiped his mouth, then rolled over to her and rubbed her cheek, "are you okay?"

She just laughed in her dizziness, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

He smiled, and held her face in his hands and kissed her passionately.

"You're irresistibly cute" he sat back up and cradled her in his arms, pulling the duvet around them both closely.

She reached up and rubbed his cheek, "that certainly wasn't what I had in mind when it came to settling in but I am not complaining... it worked."

He laid back with her and smiled, resting his head onto the pillows. The cats hopped back onto their master's bed and curled up onto top of the duvet around around the couple.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

"Mhmm" she nodded, "There's no place I'd rather be"

He kissed the top her head, his fingers tenderly making circles on the shoulder of her arm draped across his damp chest.

"What was that I just did?" Freddie questioned those actions of affection, watching Monica's eyes begin to droop in exhaustion. "Was it love?"