Smut
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Roger's POV

"God, Brian! Why in the world are you so fucking stubborn?!" Yelled Roger, who sat at his drum kit, gripping his pair of sticks.

"Roger, it's my song! I can do whatever I bloody please!" Retorted Brian as he stared down Roger, his jaws clenched and his arms crossed over his guitar.

Roger huffed, looking away from Brian, his gaze meeting the floor. He knew he was right, but it just didn't sound great.

"Alright, can you two stop fighting or something? We need to get this song finished with," Freddie told them, who stood on the other side of the studio, inside the control booth with John. Currently, Brian and Roger were recording their guitar and drum parts together or at least trying to.

"I'm getting a drink, " mumbled Roger, who snappily placed his sticks on his floor tom, not making eye contact as he got up from his seat, making way to the door.

"Roger! Where are you going now?!" Asked Brian, who apparently didn't hear Roger.

Roger simply answered him back by flicking him off with both of his hands before marching out of the room.

"Roger!" Brian tried getting his attention again, but it was too late. Roger opened the door and slammed it behind him. He hoped he made Brian feel guilty. He knew it was his song, but Roger and John felt like it should go another way, and Brian wasn't having it. He wanted to get Freddie's opinion on it, but he would always be on the fence.

He walked straight out of the studio and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"It's my song! I can do whatever I bloody please!" Roger mocked under his breath, making his way to the nearest pub. He kept replaying his drum part over and over again in his head, and it just didn't sound good to him. He knew he could make it better.

What does Brian know about drums anyway? Roger thought, opening the door to the pub. Since it was about five in the afternoon, everyone was getting off work, so the bar was quite busy.

He thought about it, wondering if he should get a drink or avoid the crowd and head back to the studio. No, he shook his head and went in. He flicked Brian off, he couldn't just waltz back inside the studio and pretend nothing happened. He had to let that sink in for Brian.

He shifted his way through the crowd, excusing himself to make his way to the bar. To his luck, he found an empty chair and plopped himself down in it.

He looked at the people beside him, looking to his left he saw a burly guy with a huge beard, and he wore jeans and large motorcycle vest on him. He looked very nervous, tapping on his beer bottle. He made Roger seem like some kind of angry chipmunk. To his right, there was a girl with smooth skin, and luscious hair. She had her face buried in her hands, and she looked like she had been sitting there for hours.

Roger looked away from her and flagged down the bartender who walked over to him while cleaning out a glass. "What's your poison?" The bartender asked, looking at the shot glass to see if it was clean enough.

"Uh, whiskey will be fine."

The bartender nodded, turning away from Roger to get his drink. While Roger waited, he looked at the girl to his right, wondering what was wrong with her. He propped himself up on his hand while leaning on the counter. Who is she? She's certainly pretty. What's wrong with her? Roger thought.

Interrupting his thoughts, he gets tapped on the shoulder so he spins around to see who did it. He prayed it wasn't any of his bandmates.

"Hi, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Taylor, but I was curious if you could sign my jacket for me?" She held out her jean jacket, which had lots of designs and patterns on it. He admired it and saw that she had a few signatures on it already from other celebrities.

Oh, it's just a fan.

Roger put on a smile and nodded. "It's no problem, sure. Do you uh, have a marker?" He asked, patting his pants down to see if he had one.

"Here you go, " mumbled the bartender, sliding his drink over to Roger.

"Thanks."

The fan nodded, whipping out a black Sharpie from her back pocket. Roger took it and uncapped it, signing the jean jacket fluidly. He smiled at the fan and finished signing it, capping the marker and handed it back to her.

"Thank you!" She chirped, slipping the jean jacket on.

"No problem. Have a good day, " he replied, waving to her as she left.

Roger sighed, turning back around. He took a sip of his whiskey, letting the cold, yet firey liquid slide down his throat. He turned to the girl on his right, who still hadn't moved an inch. He grew concerned and flagged the bartender again.

"Yes?" He asked, sounding very bored.

Roger ignored his tone and pointed to the girl who didn't seem to be waking up. "How long has she been like that?"

The bartender shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes?" He responded unsurely.

"Really? How many drinks did she order?"

"Just one. I think she's tired. She just came in and sat down, and asked me to give her a vodka. She said she needed something to wake her up, but that's all."

"Hmm. Well, alright. Thanks." Roger nodded to him, taking another sip of his whiskey.

The bartender nodded and sauntered back to wherever he came from.

Scared, Roger slowly brought his hand over to the girl's shoulder and tapped on it, wondering if she was alright. She didn't move an inch, so Roger tapped her again.

"Hello? Miss? Are you alright?" He asked, now worried because she wouldn't wake up. He tapped her again. "Miss?"

Slowly, she looked up from her hands and turned around to see who in the world was tapping her. She turned and faced Roger and was taken back by his appearance.

"Did you wake me up?" She asked him snappily.

Roger was surprised by her attitude but responded anyway. "Y-yes. I was just wondering if you were alright. You seemed like you were out for a long time there."

"Oh. Well thanks, " she nodded at him gracefully.

Roger took another sip of his whiskey then looked at the girl again, who was looking at her empty glass. She had gorgeous skin and luxurious hair and her eyes seemed to sparkle, even when she looked obviously tired. Before Roger could say anything, the girl turned to him and caught him staring.

"Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer, " she mumbled, not amused with Roger at the moment.

"Oh um, sorry. " Roger turned away to face the front of the bar. Why was he being like this? He was never nervous around girls before. Maybe it's because we got off to a bad start, Roger thought. Yeah. That had to be it. "Hey, I'm sorry if we got off to a bad start, but I'm Roger Tay-"

"I know who you are," she interrupted him, flagging down the bartender for a refill. He took the glass and went to go do so.

"Oh." The perks of being famous, he thought, sighing. He never really got to formally introduce himself anymore, unless they had no clue who he was.

"I'm (Y/N) (L/N). It's nice to meet you, Roger Taylor. "

Roger smiled. "It's nice to meet you as well. "

For a while, you and Roger sat at the bar, drinking, and chatting away. You told stories of where you were from, why you were in the bar, and you listened to Roger's stories about the band.

After many drinks and laughter, Roger calmed down and looked at you intently. "Hey, how about we get out of here? It's getting kind of stuffy anyway, " he mentioned, the air starting to smell like drunkards and bad decisions.

She giggled. "What are you suggesting?"

He looked around the room, but quickly something caught his eye all too soon before he could make a move on her. It was the band. John, Freddie, and Brian were grouped together looking for Roger.

"Well, whatever I'm suggesting, we've got to move fast. Follow me," he replied, slapping some cash down on the counter, hoping to pay for his and her drinks. He grabbed her hand, pulling her off the bar stool, moving through the crowd, trying to avoid his bandmates.

With luck, they both make it out of the pub unnoticed. With her hand still in his, Roger hails a cab to take them both back to his apartment, and they arrived quickly.

---

You watched Roger unlock the door to his flat. He opened it and allowed it to swing open. He let go of your hand and gestured to the door, letting you walk inside first. You nodded, thanking him before walking in.

The apartment was small and unorganized, but it looked somewhat organized, like an artist's dream.

"It's not much, but it's here for now while I'm in town," Roger told you, shutting the door behind you. "Sorry about the mess. Freddie got mad and threw some stuff the other day and never bothered to clean it up."

You shrugged, sort of admiring the mess. "It's alright. My flat isn't too organized either." You looked around and went over to the main mess and bent down to pick up a piece of paper, looking at what was written on it.

Mama, just killed a man

You rose an eyebrow, interested, but not really. "What's this for?" You asked Roger, showing him the piece of paper.

Roger's eyes widened, quickly coming up to you and grabbed it. "It's uh... Freddie's been writing something. He has lyrics just written on pieces of paper... It's kind of all over the place. But it's going to be good! He thinks it's going to be better than Killer Queen. I hope he's right."

Your eyes widened. Not many songs were up to par with Killer Queen, so you hoped it was going to be great. "Are you writing any songs?"

He shook his head. "Not at the moment, no. But I want to. I haven't come up with anything yet." He kicked around some papers on the floor, moving them out of the way. You looked up at Roger to ask another question, but he looked kind of uncomfortable. You looked at him, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, looking for any signs of-

Oh my God, you thought, finding the problem. He had a hard-on. You chuckled, looking down at the ground.

"What's so funny?" He asked, chuckling with you.

You shrugged, a sly smirk crept up on your lips. You slowly rose up from the floor, walking over to Roger, getting dangerously close to him. You were so close, that you could hear his uneven breath. He really was uncomfortable. "You seem a bit... Distressed." You glanced down at his erection, then looked back up at him.

He shrugged. "It seems I am, " he replied cheekily, his crystal sea-green eyes searched your face, admiring your features.

You stepped closer to him, your hands touched his chest, wandering upwards towards his neck, then rested there. "Do you need any help?"

Roger stared at you deeply, his eyes began to grow dark with hunger. Roger's hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He leaned in, his lips drew closer to yours. But before he closed the space, he thought about it.

"Yeah, I might need a little help." He chuckles, which made you do the same. He closed the space between both of you, running his hands down your body.

You smirked into the kiss, intertwining your fingers with his golden locks. Roger deepened the kiss, tilting his head to the right a bit so he could gain more access. Your hands roamed his body, feeling his muscles underneath his shirt. Your hands went to unbutton his shirt, but he stopped you, breaking away from the kiss, and you moaned at his loss.

"What?" You asked breathlessly, wondering if you did something wrong.

"Let's take the rest of this into the bedroom, shall we?" He smirked, his soft hands caressed your sides.

You bit your lip, liking the idea, so you nodded. Roger grabbed your hand and led you into the bedroom. He shut the door behind him and locked it, and didn't even give you time to think, as he immediately pressed his lips against yours.

You moaned as his warm, soft lips came in contact with yours. You yet again ran your fingers through his soft hair as he backed both of you up towards the bed. Your hands traveled down from his hair and went to his shirt, unbuttoning it almost effortlessly. You quickly slipped it off of him, letting it drop to the floor. He grabbed on to your hips, leading you towards the bed, pushing you down on to it, with him falling on top of you as you went.

Roger pressed his erection up against your pelvis, making you moan. You wanted him. Even though you had just started, you already wanted him inside you.

He pressed his hard groin against you, starting to grind. Your hands moved down from his hair to his chest, exploring what the drummer had to offer.

Roger shivered under your touch. He liked the feeling of your warm hands on his skin.

His hands ventured from your waist and to the bottom of your shirt, lifting it off over your head revealing you in your bra. He pulled away from kissing you to admire your body, as he knew he would probably be here once, and he had to get a good look at it while he was here. While he was on the road, he hardly had any time for real relationships, which he hated, but it was hard.

Roger's hands slipped behind your back to un-clasp your bra, grabbing the fabric and tugging on the clips almost expertly. He had taken it off in a matter of seconds, letting the cold air hit your breasts.

Tingles were sent down your spine as your nipples had gotten hard from the cold air, and Roger's touch. As he rested his left hand on the curve of your breast, and his right on your arse, you gasped at the feeling, longing for his touch for the longest time.

His lips attacked yours once again but soon left, as they traveled down your chin, and on to your neck. You bit your lip, wishing he could go ahead and just take total control of you. You became agitated and started rubbing your thighs together to create friction, hoping it would help with your throbbing center.

His lips continued to travel downwards, sucking and pulling at your skin with his teeth, which made you moan loudly. You felt him smirk against your skin. You groaned, tired of him taking his sweet time.

Roger seemed to take notice of your struggle and his right hand traveled down and around to your thighs and grabbed hold of them, trying to keep you still, which made you whimper. You were suffering.

"Rog..." You gasped, as he had now taken your right nipple in his mouth, and started to massage your left breast. It felt so good, but you knew you needed more.

He looked up at you with his fiery blue eyes, filled with passionate hunger. "Yes...?" He asked, his left hand still at work.

"Take me, please."

He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he should or not. He chuckled and shook his head. "You'll have to wait a little bit longer."

You groaned, now fisting the sheets in an intolerable manner. Why was he doing this to you? To tease you? To torture you? Whatever he was doing, he was enjoying it.

His hands finally moved and went down to your pants to unbutton them. He slid the zipper down and slid off your jeans and tossed them carelessly to the floor. He smirked at you as he started slipping off your underwear, letting it slip to the floor.

He stared at you in awe, his hands gliding up and down your thighs, admiring your beauty. He spread your thighs apart and started kissing your pelvic area, traveling down to your center. His kisses seemed to be getting sloppier as he reached your center.

He tongue started to work magic on you. You sat up on your elbows to watch him. At the moment his tongue hit your core, you let out a long moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. Roger chuckled, seeming to enjoy the noises that escaped your mouth.

"Are you enjoying this?" He asked, looking up at you as your eyes met with his again. It seemed it was his only plan to please you at the moment, and my, he was doing a damn good job.

You threw your head back as he inserted a finger into you, letting another moan escape your lips. "Christ, yes, I am," you shut your eyes, biting your lip as he kept making sensational feelings with his finger, now, his tongue joined in again for the action making you heave a pleasured sigh.

"Are you enjoying this?" You asked him, your head still thrown back.

Roger looked up at you, loving the position you were in with your neck exposed, your hair draped on to the pillow as it cascaded down, leaving the light on your breasts, making you seem all too perfect in the bedroom. Roger continued to finger you, nodding at your question. "Hell yes. You taste fantastic."

You chuckled at his response but soon gasped as he pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the loss. "What was that for?"

He smirked at you, unzipping his pants, then taking them off, along with his underwear, revealing his long, hard cock. "What? Would you rather prefer my fingers over this?" He pointed to his erect member. "Because I can put my pants back on," he replied cheekily.

You shook your head quickly, laying back down on to the bed, gripping the sheets to be prepared. "Just fuck me."

He shrugged. "Will do."

He slowly slid into you, lowering himself on top of you. He started to gradually get faster over time, the room was filled with your moans and panting.

Roger nuzzled his face into your neck, while your hands grabbed on to his back for support, sometimes raking his skin with your nails from the pleasure.

He got faster and continued deeper into you, hitting the spot that you desired the most almost every time.

"Yes, that's it Roger," you moaned, making Roger smirk. His lips pressed up against your skin giving you soft kisses that sent shivers down your spine. You enjoyed every single second that continued to go on with your night, not wanting it to end.

Soon enough, his thrusts started getting more and more sloppy, indicating that he was near to the end.

You felt the familiar twists and turns in your stomach that you too were almost there.

"Oh fuck! (Y/N), I'm almost there," he gasped, biting his lip.

You nodded. "Me too."

Finally, you felt it. You let out a long moan, matching Roger's as he came inside of you, letting you do the same. He seemed to shiver as he did so, landing on top of you as he did so.

You smirked, tugging a blonde piece of hair behind his ear, satisfied with the deed that you had completed with the drummer. He smirked back at you, kissing your lips before he had pulled out and rolled over beside you.

You truly hadn't felt anything like that before, and you loved it. More importantly, you wished you could see Roger again, but you knew that wasn't going to happen since he was a rock star, and well, you weren't.

In his current state, he looked gorgeous. His chest rose up and down breathlessly, as he was tired from his activity he performed. His blonde locks draped on to the pillow like clouds stretching over the sky. His chest seemed to gleam from the sweat, and his eyes still weren't the least beautiful, even when he was sleepy. You couldn't help but stare.

Quickly Roger turned to look at you, his teal eyes wandered over your body. "Will I be able to see you again?" He asked you, propping himself up on his left elbow on his side to face you.

Your eyes widened. "Yes, of course. I don't see why not," you smiled at him, offering your best smile.

He smiled back, nodding. "Okay. How about this Saturday at the bar we met at?"

You nodded. "Okay. Six?"

"Sure. That will work."

Roger smiled and leaned over to give you a kiss. "Okay. See you at six."
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Thanks for requesting EstherComth! Christmas imagine will be up in a jiffy. 💕