𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

(33) 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺

Warning: Mature content ahead, read at your own discretion. And enjoy, obviously ;)

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//

March, 1973

Emma

I leaned into Roger, our bodies sweaty and tacky with the remnants of our love-making. The only barrier between the two of us was Roger's shirt, which I draped over my body shortly after we'd finished. The air was thickening up even more, the fresh smoke from Roger's cigarette floating into it as he inhaled and exhaled the deadly toxins. He passed me the stick, sharing hits with me every now and then. There was a reason his room had such a distinct scent: cigs and sex.

"We should use those again. I quite enjoyed that." He huffed in a gravelly tone, reaching over and tapping ashes into the tray by his bed. "Must admit, the shop I got them from was a bit dodgy and didn't have a sign on the outside, but I think it was worth it." He gave me a cheeky look as if he was questioning my thoughts.

"It was interesting, to say the least. Never done anything like that with anyone before, so I don't have much experience with shoving a rope of small beads up somebody's arse." I bluntly said, trying my best to hold back a smirk.

"I'm not gay, Em. I should imagine a lot of straight men like that." He grumbled, dragging the stub across the discarded ash drop outs. He then rested his hand behind his head, tilting up his chin to stare up at the ceiling. "There's just so much stuff you can do out there. And we only explore, like, ten percent of it. Why? Because we're scared of being judged by the stranger on the other side of the street. The world would be a whole lot nicer if people didn't have to have secrets, if we all just minded our own business instead of worrying over what Sally next door is doing."

Roger often did this after sex. Talk. Not that I minded, I was just in awe at his brain at times where his hormones and serotonin is through the roof. His mind would run wild with the what ifs and whys of society and how we can make it better. He was so oblivious to his own wisdom at times, reducing himself to the blonde man slag he presented himself as on stage whenever he had to interact with strangers. We all knew he was smart and had a lot to say about a lot. It was just a matter of getting him riled up enough to speak his mind. I just laid there, my eyes looking up at him, fixated on everything Roger Taylor.

Since Maria went to the studio to confront Roger about Daisy, he'd brought down his walls regarding what he shared with me. I thought he'd already told me everything I had to know about who he was, but as the days went passed, I truly got to see the real Roger Taylor and I could say with confidence that I was falling more and more in love with him every minute. It felt progressive – good. We were heading in the right direction, and that's all I could ever ask for from him. As long as he knew that I should be his priority, that was the most important thing to me.

"I do love you, you know."

Blinking, I snapped my eyes back up at him after having drifted off into a daydream in my thoughts. His pale blue eyes didn't shift once, and they weren't blown with the power of lust anymore. It was him. The real him.

"I know I don't really tell you that, but I thought you should know." He leaned down and placed a firm kiss to my forehead.

"I love you, too, Rog." I whispered into his chest when he pulled me closer into him.

After a few minutes of environmental whirring: the cars in the big city outside the window, people on the path just next to the student house chatting to each other, only just audible through the slightly open window, Roger let out a small chuckle to himself. He noticed my confused look and shook his head. "Nothing. 'S'just everything seems to be happening for us right now. Is it just me or is everything just... nice?"