queen imagines🧚‍♀️

good old fashioned lover boy - taylor

1976

20 minutes of trying to fall asleep, and his not being home yet didn't seem to make it any better. Her eyes couldn't seem to stay closed unless he was laying beside her, in his usual position with his nose pressed against the back of her neck and his leg in between hers while he held her middle for dear life. Miraculously, the young couple was still as in love as they were when they first met in '73. They reminded each other of how love really felt on the daily without even trying. She trusted him with her everything, and it was the exact same thing for him. In other words, they were so deeply in love, there was no turning back now.

He'd told her about A Day At The Races, how important it was for all of them and Queen's ability to stay successful. They were in a good spot, the band. They had just about everything going well for them. Their music was amazing, not like anything anyone has ever seen before, not even The Beatles!

She could feel herself drift off again, sleep flooding her entire being; then the door squeaked open.

He tried so hard to be quiet, he really did. The last thing he wanted was to wake her, considering how late it was. He usually waltzed in about 3am these days, the long, painful hours taking away precious sleeping time; time for them to be together.

He removed his shirt and shoes and climbed in bed with his jeans still clad around his legs. The way the material of them rubbed against her legs when he stuck his knee between them like he always did made her want to turn around and ravage him. God, she'd missed him. She'd missed him all day. She missed him every day.

"How was your day?" His arms secured around her waist, his breath tickled the back of her neck when he pulled her close. Her hands settled over his, tracing over his fingers with her delicate touch.

"Recorded both tracks, they're finishing it up as we speak."

"And they don't need you there?"

He sighed against her hair. "They sent me home; fell asleep twice, both times at the kit."

"Oh, Roger, quit talking and sleep."

She felt him shake his head 'no.' "I want to hear about your day."

God he was stubborn. No matter how tired Roger was he'd always insist on hearing her day. It made her feel special. "My day is not as important as you getting rest, now hush and go to sleep."

He smirked against the back of her neck, pecking it before moving his head beside hers so their cheeks touched.  Her face was smooshed between his and the pillow, and she closed her eyes at the feeling of him so close to her.

"I see you cleaned."

"Nope," she said between her smashed cheeks. "It wush the maid you hired."

He sat up, grabbing her arm to yank her up beside him. His arms wrapped around her again and he buried his head in her neck. He kissed and bit, like he always did, something that couldn't get old even if she wanted it to. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck as they fell back, him settling between her legs.

After she had whispered sweet nothings to him for a few minutes, raked her fingers through his hair, Roger's groans and growls echoing in her ear as he attacked her neck, chin and jaw, he suddenly stopped. And she stopped to, but she stopped at his sudden stopping. She shook his shoulder, "Roger?"

He didn't answer.

"Roger?" His head had fallen against her chest, soft breaths emitting from his open lips. She smiled and her tense body settled.

The poor man fell asleep.