𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

33. Emphasised Masculinity

March, 1973

Emma

I leaned against Roger, our bodies still warm and sticky from our passionate encounter. The only thing separating us was his shirt, which I had draped over myself moments ago. The air in the room grew thicker, infused with the scent of smoke from Roger's cigarette as he inhaled and exhaled the toxic fumes. He passed the cigarette to me, sharing occasional puffs. His room had a distinct aroma: a mixture of cigarettes and sex.

"We should try those again. I rather enjoyed it," he rasped, tapping the ashes into the tray by his bed. "The shop I got them from was a bit sketchy, no sign outside, but I think it was worth it." He gave me a mischievous look, as if he was curious about my opinion.

"It was certainly interesting. I've never done anything like that with anyone before, so I don't have much experience with inserting a string of small beads up someone's arse," I replied bluntly, trying to hold back a smirk.

"I'm not gay, Em. I'm sure plenty of straight men enjoy it," he grumbled, dragging the stub across the ashtray. He then rested his hand behind his head, tilting his chin up to gaze at the ceiling. "There's so much out there to explore. We only scratch the surface, maybe ten percent. Why? Because we're afraid of being judged by strangers on the street. The world would be a better place if people didn't have to keep secrets, if we all just minded our own business instead of worrying about what our neighbours are up to."

This was typical of Roger after sex. He would start talking, and I didn't mind at all. I was fascinated by his mind, especially when his hormones and serotonin were running high. His thoughts would roam freely, contemplating the what-ifs and seeking ways to improve society. He often underestimated his own wisdom, reducing himself to the playful blonde man-slut persona on stage when interacting with strangers. We all knew he was intelligent and had plenty to say about many subjects. It was just a matter of getting him riled up enough to speak his mind. I lay there, gazing up at him, completely captivated by everything that made Roger Taylor who he was.

Since Maria confronted Roger about Patty, he had started opening up to me more. I thought I knew everything there was to know about him, but as the days went by, I discovered the real Roger Taylor, and I fell more in love with him with each passing minute. It felt like progress, like we were moving in the right direction, and that's all I wanted from him. As long as he understood that I should be his priority, that was the most important thing to me.

"I do love you, you know," he suddenly said, snapping me out of my daydream. His pale blue eyes remained steady, devoid of lust and filled with sincerity. "I know I don't say it often, but I thought you should know," he continued, leaning down to plant a firm kiss on my forehead.

"I love you too, Rog," I whispered, nestling closer to him.

As we lay there, I became aware of the ambient sounds around us: the cars passing by in the bustling city outside, faint chatter from people on the nearby path drifting in through the slightly open window. After a while, Roger let out a small chuckle, seemingly amused by something. I looked at him curiously, and he shook his head.

"Nothing. It just feels like everything is falling into place for us right now. Is it just me, or does everything feel... nice?"

I'll admit, moments like this sometimes made me frustrated with my boyfriend. He was always so optimistic, and I never quite understood why. Being positive doesn't get you anywhere; it disconnects you from reality and ultimately leads to disappointment.

"It's alright, I guess," I mumbled, sighing softly. "I just can't shake the feeling that good things don't last forever."

"Would those good things include marriage?" he asked, making my heart skip a beat. My eyes widened, but this time he didn't meet my gaze. "Marriage... Roger..." He appeared deep in thought. Was he...?