𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

21. The Vacant Guitarist

Waking up next to Brian felt like a cosy dream, with the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains and caressing the bedsheets. The room was chilly, but as I turned to face the tousled mane beside me, a surge of warmth enveloped me, prompting a natural smile to grace my lips. Staying the night hadn't been part of the plan, but our late-night adventures had carried on longer than expected, and it just didn't feel right to leave him like that. Snuggling deeper into the covers, I shivered slightly in the absence of clothing, my teeth chattering from the cold. My eyes scanned the room in search of my discarded clothes from the previous night, spotting the pile not far from the bed. With utmost care not to wake Brian, I slid out of bed and swiftly dressed myself, finding some solace in the comforting layers of fabric.

Making my way over to the mirror in Brian's room, I gazed at my reflection, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I observed the red and purple marks scattered across my skin, tracing them with my fingertips, affirming their existence. A dull ache tingled in my lower stomach with every step I took, a soreness that made itself known, a reminder of the newfound intimacy that had unfolded the night before. It was a different kind of intimacy, one I had never experienced before and never thought possible. Then I noticed my hair, tangled and unruly, my face flushed and my eyes slightly puffy. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed that I had been crying my eyes out. But that wasn't the case. Not at all...

"I know you're beautiful, but you'll have to tear your gaze away from the mirror eventually," a voice interrupted my thoughts. Started, I spun around to face the bed, finding Brian's head peeking out from under the covers, his hair playfully scattered across the pillows. A bashful grin formed on my face, and I padded back towards the bed, resting my knee on the mattress and slowly lowering myself. Blushing furiously, I kept my hands around my face, as if attempting to shield my shyness from Brian. He rolled over, propping himself up against the headrest, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"You doing alright?"

The upper half of Brian's body was on display, his lightly hairy chest tapering down to the skin clinging to the ribs. From my position at the foot of the bed, I couldn't help but admire him. His question pulled me out of my reverie, and he extended his hand towards me, inviting me into his arms. I hesitated for a moment, aware of his lack of clothing underneath the sheets, but eventually succumbed to his embrace. Resting my head against his shoulder, I looked up at him taking in his scent. The faint trace of sweat from the previous night mingled with his familiar cologne, creating an intoxicating blend.

I chuckled a little at his question, bringing a hand up to play with his stray curls. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just a bit sore," I replied, a warm smile spreading across his face. He leaned his head down to nuzzle against me, his nose gently brushing over my forehead.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, love. I can get carried away when it feels that good. Which doesn't happen often," he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing butterfly kisses along my nose. "As long as you felt good, that's all that matters to me."

Raising an eyebrow, I remained unconvinced of his words. "You can be so soft sometimes."

"I wasn't last night," he playfully growled, nipping at my nose with his teeth, causing me to retreat backwards. His head moved lower, and he pressed tickling kisses along my jaw, eliciting uncontrollable giggles from me. I attempted to pull away from his teasing, but his firm grip on the back of my head made it nearly impossible.

"Brian Harold May, behave yourself," I scolded him playfully, my giggles mingling with each word. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself as he pulled away, a mischievous grin adorning his face.

We revelled in a peaceful embrace for as long as we could, eventually realising that we'd have to get up at some point. Glancing at the clock, which read half-past-ten, I let out a whine as I rose from the bed, watching Brian stand up, showcasing his nudity in all its glory. He avoided making eye contact, likely because the thrill of intimacy had subsided for the moment, but he couldn't ignore my whine, his concern evident.