Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 84

The kiss was forceful—Roger's grace inhibited by the alcohol that lingered in his bloodstream—but Brian quickly melted into the gesture, wrapping his arms around the blonde and pulling him close.

As the temperature in the room began to rise, Roger pushed the notebook out of Brian's lap and onto the floor and replaced it with himself. He straddled the curly-haired man with his thighs and felt the bulge already starting to grow inside the professor's trousers. The blonde's lips curled up into a smirk, and while working hard not to break the kiss, he slid his hand down between them. A moan emanated from the back of Brian's throat, the feeling of Roger's hand around him sending a wave of pleasure throughout his body that spread from head to toe.

Roger gradually picked up the pace at which he moved his hand up and down, their lips no longer connected but their mouths still close enough for their panting breaths to mingle. The friction the blonde created with his rapid movement excited him as well, and with the tension starting to build down below, he knew he was close. Through lidded eyes, he could tell that Brian was too—his eyes squeezed shut and the grip he had on the blonde growing increasingly tighter; so tight that there was the possibility that, come tomorrow morning, when Roger would switch out today's shirt with a new one, he'd find dime-sized bruises sprinkled across his hips.

Dark marks like that wouldn't have been an uncommon sight for him a year ago, but back then, they weren't something to be proud of. In fact, they instilled a great sense of shame in him—disappointing reminders of what he put himself through just to keep a roof over his and his boyfriend's heads and to keep them from going hungry. This time, though, the marks would bring him back to this moment, where it was just him and Brian and no one else.

Suddenly, he ripped his hand out from between them and started grinding desperately against the professor, clutching onto his shoulders and chasing the high that was just a few more soft grunts away. He muted himself by crashing his lips into Brian's, feeling himself start to unravel. Just before he could climax, though, Brian unexpectedly flipped them, lying Roger down across the couch cushions—punching a surprised gasp out of the blonde—and hovering over him.

Forgoing an apology—not that one was needed—the professor sat back and began to hastily undo his pants, yanking the belt out from its loops and struggling to get his fly down. It didn't take long for Roger to do the same, forgetting all about Tim and Geoff and Chrissie and Liz and Stewart and Sting and all the guitar parts had yet to learn. The only thing that mattered in that moment was Brian, shimmying his pants down and exposing himself in a way he never would have done before last year.

There was just something about Roger, akin to alcohol, that lowered the professor's inhibitions. He didn't care that they were in Freddie's living room, or that at any moment, either of the homeowners could come downstairs and find them copulating on their couch in the midst of their marital preparations. The only thing he cared about was Roger, knowing the blonde was what he wanted and knowing that there wasn't going to be many more chances for him to show it or convince Roger to want him too.

"I need to—" the blonde began to say when Brian shut him up with another kiss, grazing his hand over the wetness that stained Roger's front and using it to slide his fingers inside him. Roger's back instinctively arched, his lips parting in a silent scream of pleasure as Brian began to gingerly open him up. The rush of ecstasy was almost too much for the blonde to bear, his arms trying to push the professor away but his legs wrapped tightly around him, keeping him close. It was only when Brian finally entered him—slowly and with permission that was met with an impatient "for fuck's sake, yes"—that tortured agony evolved into pure bliss.

There were no questions from Brian about whether or not he was hurting Roger; nor were there any questions from the blonde about whether he should be on his stomach or his back. The two were way past that point, knowing there was no need to ask about what felt right and what felt wrong. This felt right, more right than either of them had felt in over a year. They tried their best to move on, to put that wild winter behind them by focusing on their new lives as a husband and father and as an Englishman in New York, but they couldn't. Everything they did, every thought they had led them to this moment right here.