rogertaylorsprettyvoice

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

hii! would you write smut for john q/simon from dinner in america? thanks🫶

A Track Called Desire

sub!john q x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v, no protection, cumming inside, slight choking, sub john q!!, slapping, permission to cum, reader has a vagina.

You first met Simon, the lead singer of the band Psyops, at a show in the city months ago. You'd been standing in the back, nodding to the reckless riffs and energy-poring off the stage. He was magnetic, a sensual tension pulling you toward the man in a ski mask and ripped jeans. His scowl could cut glass. You never thought you would see him again, let alone in your town.

Yet here he is, slouched behind the counter at Vinyl Frontier, flipping through an old, dog-eared magazine with the same signature scowl and a cigarette dangling dangerously from the corner of his mouth. You're not even sure why you're here — boredom, maybe? — but the sight of him standing there made your pulse race in a way you've never felt before.

You browse the punk section, dragging your fingers along the worn-out spines of the albums you've seen a hundred times. You can feel his eyes burning through the back of your head, sharp and assessing, as you pull out a Psyops record you hear a low voice cutting through the low hum of the store's speakers behind you.

"Shitty record you got there"

You glance up at the rugged man, arching an eyebrow, "Yeah? heard the lead singer is a real pain in the ass." still shuffling through the records.

"You don't know half of it," he gives you a slight smirk while tapping his cigarette ash onto the dirty floor. "The name's Simon, if you have any questions, give me a holler."

It's a strange type of banter, easy but charged, you're not sure if he's flirting or just being an asshole — maybe both. Either way, something about it makes your knees buckle. Over the next few weeks, you'll find excuses to stop by the store, somehow, Simon is always there. He starts leaving you snarky album recommendations on sticky notes — "Try this if you hate yourself." "Not as good as you think." you always fire back with snarky responses, and soon enough, this banter becomes your guys's thing.

One night after closing, he finds you leaning against the brick wall outside cupping the flame from your lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth. "You always hang around like this?" He asks, Putting his arm against the wall and tilting his head with a smirk. He smells like smoke and cheap cologne, god you love it.

You look up at him, "Maybe I like your company." Your confidence makes him swallow thickly, a desperate look apparent on his face. "I'll see you around." You walk backward, giving him a soft wink before turning around and walking away. The tension between you two is palpable, stretching between you two like a live wire, but you won't make a move. At least not yet.

A few weeks later, you tag along with Simon to a dingy club for one of his gigs on the outskirts of town, watching him flail around with the same reckless energy that attracted your attention to him in the first place. fuck, you never knew how much you needed him until now.

After the show, he was restless and edgy, tension burning under his skin as you drove back, street lights fading into the background."You didn't have to come, Y'know?" he says, tapping his fingers against the window, his gaze fixated on the road ahead. "I know, but I wanted to."

He scoffs, but there's no bite to it. The car ride is quiet, the tension hanging thick inside the car, and as you pull up outside his place, he doesn't get out right away. Instead, he looks towards you, his gaze heavy.

"You wanna come in?"

The air was heavy with silence for a couple seconds, you knew exactly what he was asking. "Of course," you reply with a soft smile.

Inside, his room was a mess — records scattered everywhere, empty alcohol bottles scattered on his table. He throws his jacket onto the couch as he watches you from across the room, eyes dark with something you now recognize as hunger.

You walk up to him, causing him to retreat toward his wall full of posters, "You always let strangers into your place, or am I just special?" You mutter, dark eyes locked into his.

His breath shudders, his reaction causing you to laugh to yourself, "What happened to the confident man I saw earlier, huh?" You move his face down, angling it towards yours, his hot breath on your face, desperation is a good look on him.

"What's your deal?" he asked, trying to keep his cool, but the way your fingers caressed the side of his face made his breath hitch. "My deal?" You roll your eyes, giving him a soft smirk "I don't think you want to know." you say jokingly.

Your fingers intertwined with the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to you. "Try me," he says, looking down at you with glossy, pleading eyes.

Your eyes darkened as they met his, he could feel his erection straining in his pants. And before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours, his kiss rough and desperate, he melted into the kiss as your fingers tangled into his hair, slightly tugging, getting a soft moan out of him.

You push him onto the couch, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. His hands go instinctively onto your waist, but you slap them off, placing them onto the cushions. "You're always acting like you're in control," you say, tracing down his torso with your hand, stopping above his belt. "But I don't think you are, not really," you whisper into his ear as you snake your hand over his straining erection, slightly palming it.

He lets out a soft whimper, hands twitching at his sides, not knowing what to do with them. "Maybe you're right." He muttered under his breath.

Your hands sneak under his shirt, nails dragging down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake, he gasped, hips bucking forward in search of friction. "Then you're going to let me take care of you, okay?" you say as you press soft kisses against his neck, deliberately slow, teasing. "And you're going to do exactly as I say, like a good boy." His cock twitched under you from your praise.

"Take off your shirt for me." You order. He hastily takes off his shirt. You place soft kisses down his torso, leaving soft hickeys down his chest.

"Good boy," you cooed, and the way his body reacted — shivering beneath you, cock twitching — made you realize how much he needed this.

You unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down to his ankles. You get on your knees and look up at him, locking in his dark, watery eyes. Still looking at him, you place soft kisses over his clothed erection.

"F-fuck!" he whimpered out, bucking his hips. You pull away, and the look he gives you makes your stomach flip. "Tell me what you want." you asked, "You," he bashfully whispered, "A little louder for me," you said with a cocky tone. "You, I need you so bad it fucking hurts." You felt your core tighten as he looked at you with glossy, pleading eyes.

"Take your underwear off for me, okay?" Simon took them off at the speed of light, flicking them somewhere behind him. You grab the base of his cock and start stoking him painfully slow, gaining loud whines and whimpers from him. "F-fuck, stop teasing, will ya?" he says as bucking his hips into your hands. You reach up and slap him, "Did I say you could move? Huh?" you say as you jerk him off at a frenzied pace. His back arched off the couch, choked up, holding back his moans as his hips began to shudder, you pull away right before he could cum.

He lets out a loud, unfiltered groan and a string of curses, you hastily take off your pants and panties before straddling him, "You're going to help me get off, ok? Be a good boy for me." He quickly nods as you line up his tip with your hole, slowly sliding him into your wet gummy walls. At first, it was painful as you sunk into his length, but as a couple seconds passed, the pain quickly turned into pleasure. Simon lets out a loud groan "Shut up," you say, giving him a slap in the face as you start to bounce up and down on his cock. Simon looks pathetic beneath you, tears flowing down his cheeks, face red with desperation, he places his hands on your hips in an attempt to pull you down harder on his hard length. You wrap your fingers in his dark greasy hair and tug on it as his cock hits your g-spot, "Fuck Simon, right there." you exclaim, throwing your head back as you ride the tall, muscular, writhing man beneath you. Simon lets out a loud, unfiltered moan from the tugging sensation, you sneak one hand out of his hair to slap him with and then place it over his neck, applying little pressure.

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum soon." he whimpers out as he bucks his hips into your wet cunt, you grab his hand and place it on your clit, "Not until I get off, okay," you say sweetly, rocking your hips hastily as you feel his cock twitch inside you. As his cock hits that one sensitive spot deep in your cunt your head rocks back in ecstasy as he rubs circles onto your clit, "Simon, I'm going to cum." You moan, his pace increasing slightly, "Do you want to cum with me?" you ask sweetly "Please.. I've been a really good boy, can I please cum?" he pleads, begging for release. "Go ahead, baby, cum with me," you say as you replace his hands with yours and move his to your tits, soon enough you both reach your climax, feeling his warm cum coat your gummy walls as his cock twitches, he lets out a loud moan as he grabs your hips and fucks you down onto him. His actions gain a loud whine from you, "Simon!" you exclaim, his action being the last thing you need to unravel under him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you both come down from each other's high, cum leaking around his soft cock still placed inside your cunt.

"Are you okay?" you ask, catching your breath, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to slap you, it was in the heat of the moment," you tell him embarrassed. Simon moves your sweat-slicked hair off of your forehead, "Are you fuckin' joking? That was the best sex I've ever fuckin' had." he gives you a small smirk as he pulls you into his chest.

He places your hair behind your ear and leans in to whisper, "Trust me, you don't know how long I've been dreaming about this."

Notes: This is my first time writing smut, so I sincerely apologize if this was boring or not good! I hope you enjoyed it.

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

iconic puffy pink dress

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

(roger taylor x y/n)

No lock in the studio

tw: NSFW and explicit language!

word count: 2,790

tags: fem! reader, big age gap, unprotected sex, sex in the work place, dirty talk, sassy roger, quickie, oral sex (giving), penetrative sex, nipple pay, aftersex care

You're 24, you work as a sound engineer for a famous label but you didn't realise today would be the day you'd be left alone in a studio with Roger Taylor.

Peter. I need to find Peter, you think to yourself. You're frustrated and it shows. I'm not a fricking secretary. You're walking through the hallways of the studio looking for the sign S-16 on the door. It's the best studio in the building, which makes sense because Peter is very respected here. It's also the furthest and the longer you're walking, the more annoyed you are. You're really hoping he's alone in there right now. The whole reason why you're walking in the first place is because he cut his phone line off. He really hates to be disturbed.

After hopping for a good 5 minutes through the endless hallways, you finally find the said S-16 door. If he was recording right now, the big red sign above the door would be on. You still discreetly check though the small round window and only see him sitting on his chair, his back turned to you, so you knock.

"Come on in.

- Peter, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Carl is out there fuming about god knows what and obviously he sends ME because I've got nothing better to do than run around like his secretary."

He looks amused, which is reassuring for Peter, but you quickly understand when you hear someone coughing behind you. This day isn't getting any better. You sigh and turn around only to find a familiar face smoking a cigarette on the couch behind the door. It takes you a minute to realise who's standing up to greet you and you feel embarrassed for showing your bad temper in front of a client, especially this one.

You know you should get used to meeting artists and act professional but you weren't expecting to meet Roger freakin Taylor.

He smiles at you and you proceed to shake hands.

"Y/N, please meet Roger, Roger, this is Y/N, our very promising sound engineer.

- Very promising, you say? Nice to meet you, Roger greets you.

- Well, I wouldn't go that far, but it's a pleasure to meet you Sir, you smile back trying to keep it cool.

- Sir? God, don't ever call me Sir, I'm not that old, am I?"

Roger and Peter laugh while you stare in disbelief. You stutter and try to take it back but they seem to forget about it when Roger sits next to your colleague. It took you only two minutes to embarrass myself and insult the greatest drummer of all times, great.

"Y/N, what does Carl want that is so urgent?

- A client is freaking out up there and he thinks it's your fault, but this is all I could understand before he sent me off to fetch you like his little pet."

Now, Peter looks pissed. He gets up from his seat with little to no conviction and says:

"I think I know what this is about.. Rog, let me go check on him really quickly. I'm sorry but Carl can be a real pain in the ass sometimes and he won't let it go unless I come find him."

Roger nods and looks understanding. Peter proceeds to go out, so you start following him outside, eager to watch him put Carl back in his place, but a voice stops you.

"Y/N, can I ask for your opinion?"

The drummer looks at you from his seat, waiting for an answer, but all you can think about is how Roger Taylor wants your opinion.

"I'm sorry, he adds sarcastically, I should have called you Miss, I knew I was moving too fast."

Your laugh lights up the room and the tension you previously felt vanishes.

"Much better, thank you, Sir."

Gosh, he looks handsome when he smiles. And when he doesn't smile. Or when he laughs. Of course, you know who Roger Taylor is, you've seen him before on pictures and on the telly, but now that you're face to face with him, you only have one word on your mind and it's gorgeous.

He doesn't look like he needs much to look good. He's wearing a plain white shirt and somehow looks like the most beautiful man on earth. Although, you have to admit that the way he's wearing it, rolled up sleeves, not fitted, with a button that shows a little more than it should, is very suggestive.

"I would like you to hear this demo I recorded with Peter. I think it's missing something but I don't know what."

The music resonates in the studio and you carefully listen to the arrangement. It's got a rock vibe, with a bit of grunge. For a full two minutes, you're focused on the song, so much that you forget about Roger's presence. The music stops but you hit play again.

"Listen here. Great beginning. But how about you take out some of the guitar harmonies to have a much clearer sound in the first verse to build it up towards the end."

Roger frowns and nods, he is focused on what you're saying. You go on about rhythms, musicality, what adjustments he should make to your opinion. He looks surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be invested like this. When you're finally finished, he gives you an impressed look.

"Now I get what Peter meant when he said promising."

You're flattered but can’t hide your smile.

"How long have you been a sound engineer?

- Well, I'd say for about two years.

- Two years and you talk just like Peter.

- That's because he's kinda my mentor and he's the reason why I came here.

- Wait, hold on, how old are you?

- I'm 24, you were not expecting him to get personal with you this quickly which makes you smile.

- Shit, I'm way out of your league then."

You both look at each other with a hint of challenge in your eyes.

"And you're like what? 40? you tease him.

- Try 36, he takes out a cigarette and stares at you while he breathes in.

- I don't mind, you say, looking straight in his eyes with a smirk.

- You don't mind?

- I don't mind, no, you say with a softer voice, never breaking the eye contact."

You don't understand how the mood shifted so quickly, but the room is now filled with an invisible tension. His eyes linger on your body and lurk you up and down. You love how he doesn't even try to hide his attraction to you. He fully looks like he could devour you right now.

You stand up from your seat to come closer to him and sit on the corner of the control table. You're only inches away from each other. His leg is slightly touching yours and this simple friction is almost too much to endure.

You're looking at him from above but his stare makes it so hard to maintain. His gaze is burning your skin. He’s sitting down, full of his cocky attitude, looking up with his doe eyes.

"I think that Peter, you pause, might be coming back, you almost whisper.”

He stands up and slowly pulls you closer with every word he says, his eyes locked into yours at all times.

“Yeah, he says, I think he’ll be back soon.

- We shouldn’t stand so close to each other, then.

- No, you’re right, we shouldn’t.”

But he doesn’t move. If anything, the tension makes it hard for you to not get any closer. His face is only a moment away from touching yours. His eyes, his piercing blue eyes, move between the tip of your nose and your eyes because you’re so close that he can’t even see your lips anymore.

A warm feeling arises from your lower back. It’s his hand, placed on your Venus dimples. It tickles you, very slightly, and the feeling grows on your stomach. The warmth climbs to your chest and shrouds your bosom.

Roger’s raspy voice suddenly brings you back from wherever you were mentally. You almost forgot about where you were.

“What should we do? his hand slowly lingers on your body.

- Maybe, lock the door? you ask with a smile.

- Or maybe not, says Roger.”

He loves the surprised look on your face. There’s something in his eyes - he’s provoking you. It’s impossible to look away, you are entirely focused on him and start to feel dizzy from the heat. His hand, previously placed on your lower-back, embraces your hip while finding a way under your tee-shirt. You shiver. His hands feel so cold on your burning skin.

With his other hand, he lifts your chin up then cups your face to get a good look at you. He tucks his fingers between your ear which makes you feel the need to gently rub your cheek against his palm. The scent of his perfume mixed with cigarettes completely takes over your analytical judgement; you give him one last look before you lose yourself and lean in, gently placing your lips on his.

Your hands find a way to bury in his neck while his right palm brings your hips together. The kiss is slow, very slow, so slow but so wet. It didn’t take you long to find the way to his pink muscle and yours are now dancing in each other’s mouth. Fingers buried in your hair, tongue caressing yours, pelvis pressed against his very tight pants; it’s almost too much to bare, you want more. No, you need more, you need him whole.

The kiss escalates quickly, making you whimper at how well he explores your mouth. His hands linger around your body, teasing you by caressing your sensitive breast, although he doesn’t yield to your moaning; he seems to like to torment you by grabbing you everywhere else. The feeling gets too overwhelming. You find your way to his shirt and start unbuttoning it until his chest is bare. You sense him smile against your lips. He must like your initiative.

He pulls you out. You instantly feel the need to reconnect with his lips.

“I want you so bad, doll.

- Do you want my mouth too? you say with your doe eyes.

- It’s already mine.”

The heat in your lower stomach migrates to your inner thighs and you can’t ignore the wetness anymore. Your hands brush his chest until they find a way to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. When you look down, you wonder how his pants did not explode. It’s so big you can’t wait to feel it inside of your drenched walls. But you’ve got something else in mind for him.

You kneel. He stares at you from above which makes him sexier than ever. He grabs your hair into an improvised ponytail. You take his member with your hand, slowly lick every inch of it, bottom to its wet tip, before shoving it in your mouth. Roger groans and lets go of the tension. You start moving a little bit, your hand follows your movement and you let your tongue play with it. It feels so freaking good. How can it feel so good? It’s unreal.

You look up to find him already looking down on you, mouth open, eyebrows frowned, wild blonde hair that he keeps pushing from his face. You want to hear his voice again, so you really shove it, deeper, until you feel it in your throat. The most beautiful sound comes to your ear while you’re trying to stay still. You would be moaning so loudly if he wasn’t in your mouth.

“Love, may I help you with my hand?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to because the grip on your hair gets tighter. You nod obviously, eager to see a glimpse of dom Roger.

You resume your sucking and moaning. You’re so dirty, he says, and with that, he thrusts his hard cock deep into your throat. You’ve never been taken care of like this. He’s intense, but not too quick, enjoying your wet mouth between each thrust. You can’t ignore it anymore; you’re drenched.

He gives it a little more strength before he finally pulls out. You can finally breathe. You hadn’t realised you couldn’t, you were too focused on the way he filled your mouth. You’re both panting - not for the same reason though.

“Come here, Y/N.”

He helps you back up, but doesn’t spare a second to pick you up and place you on the edge of the control table. He undresses your lower body, throwing your underwear in the room, and you lift your shirt to unravel your perfect tits, as he says.

“Roger, please, I need you in me, you whine.

- Fuck…”

He brings his hard cock towards your entrance and moans at the wetness of it. Slowly, he goes in while leaning in to kiss you, but you can't stop moaning, even against his lips. For a second, he intensifies the kiss and goes as deep as he can inside of you. You grab him by the shoulders, by his neck, ready to exhale due to the pleasure but he surprises you when he starts going faster, deeper, and groans while he fills you in really good. He grabs you by the back of your neck and goes faster. He doesn’t miss one opportunity to make you scream.

He slows down and locks his eyes into yours. His movements are like torture. So slow. The wet sounds fill the air and mix with your heavy breaths. He resumes kissing your lips then slowly goes down your neck. Oh my God, he's so hard. You're so hard, Roger. His lips go down and finally find their way to your breast. He licks your hard nipples and you let out the loudest moan while he's fucking you good. He licks them again and grabs your tits in his hand before whispering in your ear:

“You're such a little cunt…”

You don't think you've ever been this wet at the sound of someone's voice. Roger just knows how to make you horny for him and the thought of being his little cunt makes you so aroused that you forget how to breathe properly. The thrusts fill you again, and again, and again before you eventually feel it coming; your hands grab tightly onto him and you desperately look for his eyes before you manage to say:

“I'm coming, Rog…”

The world stops turning for a second. But he doesn’t stop. He’s harder than ever and your mind is completely empty. Your stomach tightens as well as your inner walls The air has left your lungs and your heart just might come out of your chest. 

And then the tension just explodes in a loud moan. He's still going hard, frowning his eyebrows and you suspect he's not too far either. Every movement he gives you is like an electric choc that makes the pleasure last longer. It's like a wave of relief that takes over your whole body. You take his hand and place it on your tit before locking eyes with him.

“Don't stop looking at me, you tell him.”

He doesn't. In fact, he's as deep in your eyes as in your pussy and he feels like he's losing control over his own body. He’s going fucking crazy. Absolutely feral for you. He gives you a few more powerful thrusts before he pulls out and spits his thick semen on your stomach. You hear again his raspy voice groaning and he finally stops moving.

His forehead is pressed against yours and for some reason you both can't stop smiling. He leans in and kisses you, softly this time. His lips are so soft, gosh.

Roger helps you clean up and picks up your clothes on the floor to help you with that too. How was this man a literal beast moments ago and acts like the sweetest man alive?

You're both fully clothed now, cheeks still pink, and he takes it upon himself to make your hair look presentable. Roger grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him.

“I wish I had more time to actually taste you. You were so wet for me.”

But you don't have time to answer because you both hear footsteps approaching, and the door opens with Peter. A little bit disappointed, you let go of each other but not without a shy smile.

“Y/N? You're still here? Don't you have work to do?”

You hurry to the door, worried he might notice the state of your hair and make-up. 

“I asked her to stay so I wouldn’t get bored.”

You don’t need to see him to picture the smirk on his face. Although, before you go, you look back and catch him already smiling at you. 

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

guys I just finished writing a Roger one shot. very excited. smut incoming.

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

roger taylor x french reader - fluff (sassy roger)

hi I wanted to post a snippet from a fanfiction we're writing on Queen with my best friend. but it's in french. (2205 words)

let me know if you'd be interested in me translating my work. :)

FR : pour ceux qui parlent français, j'avais envie de poster un extrait d'une longue fanfic qu'on écrit avec ma meilleure amie. Roger rencontre Jane pour la deuxième fois avant leur concert. (2205 mots)

On se mit en route tout en appréciant le silence entre nous. Le truc avec Mac, c'est qu'on avait pas toujours besoin de se parler, on était pas gênées par le silence, il nous faisait du bien, surtout quand on passait beaucoup de temps ensemble. Après une dizaine de minutes, nous arrivions dans le quartier universitaire où nous croisâmes pleins d'étudiants marchant dans la même direction que nous. Le tumulte autour de nous, la musique qu'on entendait du bar, les gens qui parlaient dans un brouhaha , tout ça fit monter en moi une certaine excitation. On s'engouffrait dans le couloir étroit placardé d'affiches pour des fêtes et autres événements qui prenaient place sur le campus. Je croisais quelques personnes que je connaissais de vue et je leur fis signe avant de rentrer dans la salle d'où la musique provenait. À ma grande surprise, la scène était vide des musiciens de la veille. Je reconnaissais leurs instruments, surtout la batterie avec le sourire dessiné dessus, mais la musique provenait de hauts-parleurs.

Le pub universitaire n'était pas particulièrement rempli, il était encore un peu tôt. Molly m'entraîna jusqu'au bar où elle commanda deux bières qu'on trinqua ensemble. Accoudée au bar, une fille que je ne connaissais pas s'approcha d'elle et elle commencèrent à discuter. Je jetai un coup d'œil à la scène, puis dans la salle, mais aucun musicien en vue, pas celui que je recherchais en tout cas. Je posai ma main sur le bras de Molly pour lui faire comprendre que je m'éclipsais sans l'interrompre dans sa discussion et partis avec ma pinte en main.

Je présumais qu'ils ne devaient pas être bien loin et j'entendais une certaine agitation dans le couloir. En sortant, toujours aucune trace d'eux alors je m'approchai d'une des filles que j'avais croisée plus tôt.

- Est-ce que tu aurais vu le groupe, par hasard ? lui souris-je.

La fille aux cheveux châtains me répondit qu'ils trainaient souvent à l'arrière du pub, tout en me pointant une sortie au bout du couloir. Je la remerciais et me mis en route vers la sortie. J'entendais déjà des voix provenant de l'extérieur. Je pris une gorgée dans ma bière amère et poussai la lourde porte en bois qui me fit atterrir dehors où quelques personnes étaient en train de fumer et discuter sous les étoiles. Il ne me fallut pas longtemps pour trouver celui que je recherchais ; une tignasse blonde accoudée sur le capot d'un van, en train de lui-même fumer. Il discutait avec, je présumais, les deux autres membres du groupe.

Je m'avançais sans trop y réfléchir vers eux tout en prenant quelques gorgées. Ils étaient tous les trois en pleine discussion sur leurs chansons lorsque j'arrivai à leur hauteur. Sans m'attarder plus longtemps, je m'approchais du type debout, tout en posant ma main sur son bras, je levai la tête pour regarder le grand brun.

- Excuse-moi, tu n'en aurais pas une pour moi ? lui dis-je en pointant la cigarette à ses lèvres.

Il acquiesça gentiment et sortit son paquet pour m'en tendre une que je pris avec ma main de libre pendant que le guitariste continuait de parler avec animosité. Cigarette en bouche, bière dans ma main droite, je tenais la cigarette entre mes doigts pendant que le chanteur sortit son briquet pour en allumer le bout. Il bloquait le vent avec sa main pour que la flamme cesse de s'éteindre. Pendant ce court instant où il était pleinement concentré sur ma cigarette, mon regard dévia sur ma droite et je croisais les yeux de Roger, qui était déjà en train de m'observer. Accoudé sur le van, il expirait la fumée de sa bouche tout en maintenant le contact visuel, et ce fut moi qui le brisai lorsque le briquet s'éteignit et qu'en inspirant je ressente le tabac remplir mes poumons. Alors, je reportai mon attention sur le chanteur.

- Merci pour la cigarette, dis-je en expirant la fumée avant de me détourner d'eux, sentant toujours un regard brûler sur moi.

Je marchais avec l'intention de rentrer à l'intérieur, mais je ne pus m'empêcher de sourire lorsque j'entendis une voix derrière moi accompagnée de pas qui me rattrapaient.

- Excuse-moi, dit-il alors que je me retournais vers lui.

J'inspirais un coup sur le tabac et nos yeux se rencontrèrent une seconde fois. Il avait le même regard mystérieux et intrigué qu'il m'avait lancé à peine quelques secondes plus tôt. Je me rendais compte que c'était la première fois que je l'avais vraiment en face de moi. Il n'était pas très grand, on faisait sûrement la même taille mais je portais des talons aujourd'hui, cependant ça n'enlevait absolument rien à son charme. J'étais surprise de voir que sa chemise était boutonnée de façon conventionnelle. Ça me rappelait la veille et la façon dont il était assis sur la chaise à côté de moi, comme si elle lui appartenait, comme si le pub entier lui appartenait. Évidement, je n'avais pas oublié ses cheveux blonds qui lui arrivaient jusqu'aux épaules, la première chose que j'ai recherchée dans la foule aujourd'hui.

- Tu es bien rentrée chez toi hier ? me tira-t-il de mes pensées.

Je fronçais désormais les sourcils tout en esquissant un léger sourire, pas certaine de la raison pour laquelle il me posait cette question.

- Je crois bien, oui.

- Tu crois ? à son tour de hausser un sourcil. J'ai dû te supplier de prendre un taxi car tu ne voulais pas rentrer, ria-t-il sans méchanceté.

D'un coup, la chaleur me monta aux joues, je me sentis gênée et mes souvenirs s'éclaircirent enfin. Le pub fermait, on avait trainé longtemps. Je refusais de partir et c'est lui qui m'avait trouvé le taxi. Je n'aimais pas être aussi ivre, surtout quand je me rendais ridicule devant des inconnus. Je baissais les yeux et riais de gêne, ne sachant pas comment me comporter après avoir appris qu'il m'avait vue dans un état pareil.

- Désolée, j'étais venue avec une amie, mais on s'est perdues de vue, puis on a discuté et je n'ai pas vu le nombre de verres que j'ai-

- Hey, c'est rien, t'as pas à t'inquiéter, dit-il en posant sa main sur mon épaule pour me rassurer. Ça nous arrive à tous.

Je ressentais la chaleur de sa main sur celle-ci de longues secondes après qu'il l'ait retirée.

- Tu as quand même décidé de revenir ce soir, fit-il en souriant, incapable de garder son sérieux.

Il détendit immédiatement l'atmosphère et je me laissais aller à rire tout en relevant mes yeux vers le batteur.

- Merci en tout cas. Mais ne crois pas que je suis revenue pour toi, j'accompagne mon amie.

Il fit mine de regarder autour de moi.

- Tu parles de l'amie imaginaire d'hier soir ?

Il semblait amusé par ma mine à moitié agacée. J'eus un petit sourire en coin, lui aussi. Il rit un instant à peine et amena sa cigarette à ses lèvres.

- Je ne me rappelle pas que tu m'aies dit ton nom.

Pas un mensonge, puisqu'effectivement, je ne me souvenais pas l'avoir entendu me le dire.

- Alors, ça, ça m'étonne pas, ria-t-il, cette fois-ci plus fort.

Je le jaugeais du regard pendant quelques secondes. Il avait vraiment un beau sourire, mais je n'allais pas me laisser attendrir comme ça. Ne voulant pas réagir à sa moquerie, je tournai les talons pour marcher en direction de la porte. Je l'entendis marmonner, ce qui me fit bien rigoler et avant que je ne l'entende arriver, il me rattrapa et se posta devant moi, me bloquant le chemin et me tendant sa main.

- Roger Taylor.

- Enchantée Roger, lui répondis-je en serrant sa main. Jane Stonem.

Il hocha la tête, satisfait de ma réponse et lâcha ma main. On se regarda un instant, un instant où nos yeux étaient encore une fois braqués dans ceux de l'autre.

Du coin de l'œil, j'aperçus Brian arriver à notre hauteur et tapoter sur l'épaule de Roger pour lui faire signe que ça allait être à eux de jouer. Celui-ci lui répondit qu'il allait arriver.

- J'imagine que tu as mieux à faire que de venir nous écouter, alors.

- Si tu me vois dans le pub, c'est qu'on m'y a forcée.

Un autre rictus apparut sur son visage. Il me sourit une dernière fois avant de se retourner et de s'engouffrer à l'intérieur, en bousculant quelques personnes qui tentaient de rentrer. Je me souris à moi-même en pensant à l'échange étrange qu'on venait d'avoir en tirant une dernière fois sur ma cigarette. J'aperçus, au-dessus de ma tête, le ciel parsemé d'étoiles et j'écrasai le mégot sous mon pied pour rentrer à l'intérieur.

J'avais fini ma bière et je déambulais dans les couloirs avec une question en tête : où était Molly ? Mais je ne vis que quelques personnes accoudées au mur placardé d'affiches. La foule qui y était précédemment avait dû se réfugier à l'intérieur car, alors que je me rapprochais de l'embrasure de la porte, j'entendis des applaudissements, sifflements et encouragements, et l'instant d'après, le bruit de percussions qui résonnaient et une mélodie à la guitare électrique. En rentrant dans la salle tamisée, tous étaient tournés vers la petite scène, le son de la musique devint plus claire à mes oreilles. C'était une musique entraînante, mais pas agressive, qui jouait. Je fis balayer mon regard à travers le pub à la recherche de ma colocataire, mais elle n'était ni au bar, là où je l'avais laissée précédemment, ni dans la foule à priori. 

Appuyée contre l'embrasure de la porte, mon regard continuait à balayer l'endroit jusqu'à ce que je m'attarde sur le groupe sur scène. Je remarquais évidemment le guitariste et le bassiste qui étaient debout, mais mon regard était attiré par le batteur. Bien qu'il était en retrait, c'était sa présence qui était la plus remarquable. C'était lui qui menait la danse en réalité, le chef d'orchestre, celui qui dictait le rythme. Ça lui donnait beaucoup de charisme. En plus de ça, je remarquais la façon dont sa concentration se traduisait dans ses expressions faciales. Il avait l'air parfaitement à l'aise avec son instrument, mais il se mordait parfois la lèvre inférieure. Je le voyais froncer les sourcils tandis que le rythme de la musique s'accélérait, d'une part car il se concentrait, mais aussi par plaisir. Il vivait la musique jusque dans ses expressions. Il était encore plus séduisant lorsqu'il jouait.

Soudain, alors que j'étais en train de le fixer depuis quelques longues secondes, il tourna sa visage et posa son regard sur moi. Le fait que j'étais en train de le regarder le fit sûrement sourire car je remarquais un rictus prendre forme au coin de ses lèvres. Il avait l'air satisfait et reporta son attention sur sa batterie tout en lançant quelques regards aux musiciens et à la foule tandis que la musique se terminait. Le blond tapa une dernière fois sur son instrument et lança sa baguette en l'air avec sa main droite.

Après les applaudissements de la foule, je le vis faire un signe de tête au guitariste comme pour donner un signal et une musique qu'ils avaient interprétée hier se mit à jouer. Le rythme donnait envie de bouger et j'aperçus la foule se détendre et commencer à danser. Je voulais me joindre au public alors j'ai retiré ma veste pour la déposer sur une des chaises à ma droite, là où j'avais déjà laissé mon verre vide.

Je me frayais désormais un chemin entre les gens, voulant me rapprocher de ceux qui dansaient déjà afin de les rejoindre. La musique résonnait plus fort et le public au devant de la scène bougeait sur le rythme de la batterie. L'idée que c'était Roger qui contrôlait la cadence à laquelle nos corps bougeaient me donna envie de lui jeter un coup d'œil. Ma surprise fut plus grande lorsque je me rendais compte qu'il était déjà en train de m'observer, alors que j'étais en contre-bas de la scène, en train de laisser aller mon corps. Je soutins son regard tout en bougeant légèrement la tête. Son expression n'était plus joueuse, ni la mienne d'ailleurs. Il n'y avait pas l'ombre d'un sourire, juste une intensité dans son regard qui me rendait fébrile, bien que je continuais à le regarder comme si j'étais hypnotisée. Je fus la première à briser cet échange de regards en fermant les yeux, me laissant entrainer par la musique. Je sentais la chaleur des corps qui se bousculaient autour de moi et qui me donnaient encore plus envie de bouger. En rouvrant les yeux, son regard brûlait toujours sur moi, mais il le redirigea bien vite sur son instrument, tout en entre-ouvrant légèrement la bouche. La mélodie arriva à sa fin et mon corps, toujours bercé par la musique, ralentissait sa danse.

- Merci à tous d'être là ce soir ! dit le chanteur. Nous avons Brian May à la guitare, Roger Taylor à la batterie, et moi-même, Tim Staffel, à la basse !

Les cris et applaudissements furent francs. Je me souvins à l'instant que je n'avais toujours pas retrouvé Molly et je jetai un coup d'œil derrière moi. Je l'aperçus en train d'applaudir près du bar, un peu en retrait. Contente de la voir, je souris et me mis à marcher en sa direction, mais je jetai tout de même un dernier coup d'œil vers la scène, d'où Roger me regardait.

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

Just sharing a few late night thoughts with you. It feels so good to post something and have people read it, I missed this feeling so much. I should really hype myself up and write all of thoses ideas I've had in my mind.

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

nda: I have no idea what I'm supposed to say, there's no title, no description, no end to this kinky piece, enjoy (maybe).

TW: drug use, very explicit.

He was blessed with the voice of an angel, he sounded like a mythical creature, the favourite of the Gods. I was mezmerised by the rasp of his low voice and the clear sound of his falsettos. He was hitting the notes just right. He was hitting me just about right. Everytime he opened his mouth and came close to the microphone, I felt on the edge of a cliff, and I had only one thought in mind : falling. Please, I was begging, I want to fall. In your voice, in your arms, in your soul. Bring me down with you, I can’t bare the edging. Everytime a sound would leave his throat, I could feel, for just a singular moment, not one more, him inside of me, overwhelming me with his grandiosity. The feeling was burning me, eating me alive. The warmth between my legs would not stop intensifying because I refused to look anywhere else than his wet mouth. When he stuck his tongue out, I grasped for air. I could only imagine what he was capable of doing with his lizzard-like tongue. And his hands. Oh my god. I did not notice his hands. Nor the way he was holding the long sticks so firmly. I felt the muscular tension in his entire body, hitting his drums, moving his head on rythm with the song, performing with his whole body and all of it, this building tension, came out as the most perfect high pitch sound. I felt like I could die, right now, looking at him, feeling him all over me, his sweat, his soul-cracking voice, both of his veiny hands holding me in the air as I’m waiting for the sky to fall upon me.

I was wondering how this man could have ended on Earth. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to feel what I was feeling, but I just couldn’t stop myself, nor did I want to restrain myself. His wild blonde wavy hair covering his face as he played brought some of the tension up to my chest, a strange tinggling feeling covering my breast. I was not wearing a bra, and I could feel my nipples harden through my tee-shirt. I just knew by looking at him that it would turn him on. He would not be able to look away from my white slightly see-through crop top. Maybe it would turn him on so much that he would want me to keep it, but he seemed like the kind of guy to like looking at boobs while he fucked you. I was drooling. Fuck. Fuck me right now. Please. Use that pretty voice of yours to tell me obsenities. But I just can’t look away now. The only sound resonating was the beat of the drums, he was hitting them so smoothly and yet with so much strenght. And when the music stops, he talks, and I feel like he’s looking at me with his big blue doll eyes saying “The next one is really loud”, like he knows how horny I am right now, telling me “Hold on tight, love. Soon I’ll make you go loud.”

And that’s what he did. He did not seem surprised at all when I found my way to his dressing room. I saw Roger’s name and knocked. He had been waiting for me all this time. He was still in his attire, a red open shirt sitting nicely on his shoulders, revealing his flesh. On the opposite side of the room, I was standing still, closed door behind me, with my hard nipples pointing right at him through my shirt. I was right, he couldn’t look away. He kept staring at me, stripping me with his gaze. Without a single word, he invites me to sit on his on one of his laps, his legs were so open, directing his crotch at me. So I sit down, quitley, I nod, he reaches for a glass plate covered in fairy dust. I could still see my reflection through the white lines he drew just a second ago, like a true artist. He sniffs one line, hands the mirror plate to me. I sniff too. One big line. I feel some pressure in my cavities but it doesn’t take me a long time to fucking feel everything. I am so horny right now just by the way he's staring at my lips, I feel how he wants to shove it deep inside my throat, feel the wetness and warmth of it. He brings his hand to my pretty face and uses his thumb to clean my poudered nose. He then puts it in my mouth. He puts it deep, deep, deeper, and I suck it because oh my god I am loving this I don’t ever want it to stop. “Hearing my voice made you this horny, love?”

I let out a sigh while he’s still in my mouth. He must have noticed because he raises an eyebrow and smiles very slightly while taking it out. He puts his two veiny hands, oh my god his hands, on my broad hips and grabs me so I can climb on top of him. I feel my pulse pounding in my pussy as soon as I sense how hard his crotch is. Yet all I can seem to think about are his beautiful soft lips. They look so silky and pink, and they must taste so good. “Roger, I would give anything for just one kiss.” I whine and he looks satisfied knowing how much power he has on me. He humidifies them. It’s like he’s doing it to my lips, my lower lips, but no, he’s only licking his own and stares, once again, at my chest. Just like I imagined, he is tourmented : hard nipples pointing through a see-through tee-shirt, or bouncy naked breast while fucking. I can feel how worked up he is by now. His pants are looking dangerously tigh, like he’s about to explode right now. And as I was staring at his crotch, he holds my breast with both of his hands and brings his wet mouth to me. I feel his tongue on my hard nipples, I fucking feel him making me wet. He lets his saliva all over my shirt and gives me a taste of what torture means to him. I look down on him and meet his vicious eyes, I am whining, I want him to suck on my tits. He must feel this unbearable tension because he lifts my white shirt up and I let out the most beautiful moan when his tongue encounters my pinkish nipple. I moan, and I touch his hair, his beautiful blonde hair, I can't believe I'm touching his gorgeous hair, and it's so soft, like foam. My boobs feel so big right now in his mouth. He is licking all over them with his very long tongue. I moan again and let out a whine when I feel him bite my nipple. It's so much, too much, and yet it doesn't feel like I’ve had enough. I haven't fallen yet. I want more from him, I want his filthy hands all over me.

“You look so good” he says with his raspy voice. I didn't know my cheeks could feel any hotter but my face was burning. I glance at him while I can't help to let out louder moans but I want more. I need more. I need to feel him. He seems surprised when I hold his face while I get up to face him. My boobs feel so tight and my nipples so hard and wet, but looking at him makes me forget about everything. I get down on my knees and observe him while I open his pants, his very tight pants. But I can't look away. He is staring at me with his pretty eyes and he looks so fuckable with his blonde messy hair. Before I even realize it, he gets up and rips off his pants to show me his cock. It really feels like he wanted to show me how big it was and how good looking and how gorgeous and so him. His cock looked so slutty and needy. I found that little drop of precum so so hot. It's like it was whining for me. He takes his penis in his hand and points it at my mouth, already open and wet and warm for him. He stared deep into my eyes before asking “Do you want me to fuck your pretty mouth pretty hard?” and it made me drool. “Yes Roger” was all I could say and it was enough for him to shove it in my throat.

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

Hello again, it has been a while, a while since I've written anything but I NEED to write

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

I want to post this little thing I wrote so bad. I don't need to tell you who this is about.