hey! so this imagine wasn't a request, but i wanted to write it since i really like rog! <3 hope you guys will like it!!
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"What do you wanna do today?" Roger asked, looking down at you as you snuggled up next to him in bed. "It's such a lazy sunday today."
You giggled a little at his words, he had been at work for 6 days straight, only coming home at midnight to collapse in bed. Today was finally his day off.
"I wouldn't mind staying in bed all day." Roger grinned, his hand grazing over your thigh.
"But I don't want to. I wanna do something." you explained, huffing.
"We can do something." He answered, slightly hovering over you as his big, blue eyes never shifted their gaze from your own.
"What would that be?" You asked, pretending to be clueless.
"It's called something like screaming Roger Taylors name while he-" Rog started to explain, but you quickly shut him up with a kiss.
"Thanks for the explanation."
"Does that mean you're in for it?" He whispered, his lips brushing over yours. You just shrugged in response, before pulling him against your lips again, tangling your hands in his blonde hair.
His lips left yours and he started to kiss your neck, sucking on your sweet spot which caused you to let out a quiet moan.
Suddenly, you softly pushed him away from you.
"What is it?" He asked. Roger was clearly confused, he desperately wanted something else to happen and didn't even try to hide his disappointment as you stood up.
"It's almost 12 o'clock, how about we make lunch?" You asked, grinning.
"You know exactly what you're doing." He groaned, getting up shortly after you. "But yeah sure, how about we make lunch."
"Oh, Roger." You sighed, as you smiled to yourself, throwing on a shirt of his.
"Could you please stop making these noises!" He almost cried out, causing you to chuckle. He was too cute.
You made your way downstairs, being followed by your boyfriend. He was trailing behind you like a lost puppy, as if he didn't know where he was going. He was just wearing his black boxershorts, his soft, blonde hair touching his shoulders.
"What shall we eat?" You asked, rummaging through the cabinets as you tried to find something the both of you would like to eat. "What about spaghetti bolognese?"
"Sure." He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen countertop.
"Alright, there you go." You smirked as you slid the noodles over to him. "You'll cook today!" You almost demanded, a warm but also evil looking smile tugging at your lips.
"I can't cook!" Roger whined, looking at you with his big puppy eyes. "Please don't make me cook!"
"You have to learn it someday. Better now than never." He groaned in response, clearly not being too happy about having to cook a full meal.
"I don't even know how to boil an egg!" Roger complained, causing you to grin.
"I'll be here, just do what I tell you." You giggled, putting out a pot and filling it with water. "Now you're going to heat this."
"Can't we just do other things?" He asked, slightly annoyed and desperate for you.
"First of all, you cook."
"Bloody hell!"
"Can you stop complaining and just wait till the water starts boiling?"
"Alright, calm down." He spoke with his soft voice, but not even 2 minutes after that, he started complaining again. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"Really?" You asked, staring directly into his large eyes to see if he was lying. Of course he was. But you couldn't keep him from going to the bathroom, right? "Just go."
He practically ran out of the kitchen, through the hallway, into your bedroom. The only room where the telephone was at, and not even 5 minutes later you could hear him talking to another person. You couldn't leave the kitchen, so you were bound to wait for him to finish his call. And to be honest, you were a little mad at him.
A couple of minutes later, he stepped back into the kitchen, you had already put the noodles into the pot and started warming up the bolognese sauce.
"Who did you talk to?" You asked, trying to show disinterest. "I know you weren't in the bathroom, I could even hear you talking."
"I'm sorry..." He started, but you interrupted him.
"It's fine. Who did you talk to?" You questioned again. But suddenly you had to concentrate, because the sauce was getting a little too hot and you were focused on not burning it.
"John." Rog answered.
"Who's John?" You asked absently. Of course you knew who John Deacon was, you just didn't quite catch it because you were too focused on not burning the food.
"John Richard Deacon." Roger explained, a smirk tugging at his lips. "He was born on August 19th, 1951."
"Poor John." You pouted. "Stop making fun of him!"
"I'm not making fun of him!" Roger defended himself, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing your small body against his. "Deaky's amazing."
You smiled as he dipped his finger into the bolognese sauce, forcing his finger into your mouth. He almost smirked in satisfaction as you started to suck on his finger, your tongue flicking over the sensitive skin of his finger.
"I like where this is going." He grinned as he turned you around, kissing you roughly.
"Uh-uh. Not now, babe." You shrugged, pushing him off of you.
"Come on!" He pleaded, his voice full of desire and want. "Please."
"You know I love it when you beg for me, but it's still a no. Later." You assured him, turning around to finish off your meal.
