Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy (JoeMazzello!JohnDeacon fanfic)

thirty eight**

i managed to get this written up for you guys tonight, which i'm rather proud of. and so obviously the ** means that there's smut ahead. you have been warned. i'll put a little (**) where it begins just in case some of you don't want to read it :)

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"Nothing?" 

It was past midnight, the weather was positively awful but Roxanne and John were warm and snug in her bedroom and John was trying to work out what she wanted to do for her birthday. 

So far, it was nothing but he didn't buy it, "You don't want to do anything?" 

She rolls onto her stomach and shakes her head, "Nope." 

He narrows his eyes at her, "Is this some sort of test?" 

"What?" 

"It is, isn't it?" he asks, "If I don't do something for your birthday, I'm a terrible boyfriend, right?" 

"No!" Roxanne laughs, resting her head against his chest, "That's not it at all." 

"Then what is it?" 

She shrugs, "I don't know, I've just...ever since I turned eighteen, birthdays just aren't that fun anymore. Like after next week, it's only eight years till I'm thirty." 

"Rox, you're twenty-two," he laughs, "Bit dramatic, is it not?" 

"Is it? John, look at this!" she sits up to turn on her bedside lamp and points to her hair, "Do you see that?" 

"What?" he squints, sitting up so he's sat against the headboard. 

"That!" 

Looking closer, he can just catch a glimpse of a single grey hair. One. 

"I'm taking your silence to mean that you can see it," Roxy huffs, resting her forehead on his chest once more. 

"Aw, love, relax. Two little grey hairs don't mea-"

"Two?!" she cries, scrambling to get up off the bed to go look in the mirror but he laughs and grabs hold of her arm to pull her back and hearing him, she smacks him gently, "You're an arsehole, John Deacon."

"I'm sorry," he grins, leaning down to kiss the pout off of her lips, "You're just so easy to wind up. Just like Roger." 

"Please don't talk about him while you're kissing me," she murmurs as she pushes herself closer to him. 

"Noted," he nods as she slips a hand under his shirt, letting out a hiss when her palm makes contact with his skin, "Christ, Roxy. Your hands are freezing!" 

"Then maybe you should warm me up," she teases, getting into a more comfortable position on his lap. 

"Maybe I should." 

(**)

Roxanne gently grabs his face in her hands so she can kiss him again, making him press his fingers a little harder into her back and he lets out a quiet groan when she swipes her tongue along his lower lip. 

Smiling, Roxy moves back to catch her breath, hips pressing further into his as she does so. 

"Shit," he breathes, hands falling to her hips so he can rock her into him again, "Shit, Rox." 

He watches as she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt that she's wearing, one of his favourite plaid ones, gently batting her hand away so he can do it for her. "Love this shirt on you," he murmurs, dodging her when she tries to kiss him, "Wait, let me look at you."