PRETTY LOVER BOY - ROGER TAYLOR

IV.

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"You're cute, you know that?" I ask the man who's name I can't quite remember. I had found him sitting alone at one of our booths and I'm now doing my part to make some cash.

"You're not too bad yourself," he responds and I flutter my lashes at him, swirling my drink around in its glass container.

"Clementine?" I look away from the man to a coworker of mine who's supposed to be working the VIP rooms tonight.

"Yes?" I ask her.

"You've been requested in VIP room three," she informs me before disappearing towards the bar. I turn to the man in front of me, giving an apologetic look before standing, heading off towards the VIP hall. I have a general idea of who it probably is, he's a regular and he's usually got a different group of friends with him every time he comes to the rooms. He's a big fan of showing me off to them.

I enter the hall and walk down to room three, brushing imaginary dust off of my self before entering. When the door shuts behind me and I look towards the couch, my heart drops to my toes.

"You fucking prick." Roger Taylor sits on the lounge, in a stupid fucking white button up with some of the buttons already undone and a pair of trousers on. When he sees me, he stands from the couch.

"Clems-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"No, shut up! Shut up right now!" I shout, "you arrogant son of a bitch, can you not take a hint?"

"I just," he starts, but he can't seem to finish.

"What? What is it Roger? You just though maybe third times a charm?" I walk over to the couch across from the one he's standing at, picking up a pillow and chucking it at him. He manages to swat it away before it hits him.

"Clems, could you calm down for two seconds?" he asks me and I glare at him.

"No I'm not going to fucking calm down!" I yell back. I mentally curse myself as I feel tears start to form in my eyes and I quickly let myself fall down on to the couch, bringing my knees to my chest and covering my eyes with them.

"You're making this really hard, you know," I say, half muffled by my legs. After a moment, the couch dips down next to me and there's an arm over my shoulders.

"What's hard?" He asks, pulling me so I'm leaning into him.

"I have things I have to do, Rog, and you're making it really difficult to go through with them, alright," I say, still with my head buried in my knees.

"Would you let me help with those things?" He asks me, playing with a ringlet of my hair. It's then that it hits me. It may be a mistake, it may be a bad way to relieve stress, but god will it be fun.

"You know what Roger, fine. You want to shag me? Want to drill into me until I'm screaming your name for the neighbors to hear?" I stand up from the couch, wiping my cheeks while Roger looks at me as if he can't believe what he's hearing.

"Want to pound me into the sheets, rip the mattress, make me sore tomorrow morning? You want me to come back to work with hickeys and bruises so that everyone knows someone got a taste of the forbidden fruit? Then you wait in this damn room for the next two hours, alright? You wait here and when my shift is over I'll come get you, and you'll take me to your house and you'll show me the best orgasm I've had in a while. I want you to taint my experience with any other man I ever get with again, you understand? I want you to pin me to the wall, pull my hair, throw my leg over your shoulder, touch me everywhere you possibly can, and by the end of the night, I want to be twitching and so utterly fucked out that all I can do is desperately cling to you with shaky hands and a raspy voice from crying out your name while you finish into me."

For a moment, I think I may have killed Roger with the spiel, but when I look to his eyes, I find that they're dark.

"So you'll wait here, hmm," I say, dipping a knee down on the couch next to him and then the other on his other side so I'm straddling him, sitting down on his lap.

"I'll wait where ever you'd like me to," he responds, placing his hands on my waist.

"Good," I pull forward so our chests are flush with each other, arms around his neck, resting lightly on his shoulders while he continues to rub circles into my skin.

"I look forward to it," he says, hot breath hitting my ear and making it tingle.

"And Roger?" He hums in response and I push down just a little harder on his hips. "Don't you dare think about doing anything until I get back."

—

Two hours passes like a treat and I don't even bother to change out of my tight black dress. I just grab my things, pull on my jacket, and head to the VIP hall.

When I enter room three, Roger jumps up faster than anyone I've ever seen. He quickly makes his way to the door, stopping in front of me.

"Ready?" He asks and I nod.

"Lead the way lover boy," I say. He then grabs me by the hand, pulling me out of the VIP hall, through the crowd and out the door. When we get to his car, he opens the passenger door for me, I get in, he shuts it, and then he quickly makes his way around the front of the car to the drivers side, sliding in.

The drive is silent all the way there with only the soft sounds of the music coming from the radio. Roger's hand hardly ever leaves my thigh unless it's to shift gears.

We make it to his house and he parks the car. I get out while he comes around the front once again, taking my hand as he shuts the car door, pulling me inside. I let my jacket slide off my shoulders, hanging it on his coat hangar and removing my shoes before looking back at him.

"Could I have a glass of water?" I ask him. He only nods, leading me into the kitchen. I pull myself up on the counter as Roger makes the cup, handing it to me once he's done. He stands between my legs as I take a sip, his hands on my thighs, lightly squeezing.

"How's your stamina?" He asks as I set the glass down next to me. I put my forearms on his shoulders, playing with his hair.

"As good as it needs to be," I respond as his hands slowly moving up my legs, playing with the hem of my dress.

When our lips finally meet relief washes over me and the knot in my stomach loosens. I had been waiting for this release.

"You got work tomorrow?" He asks me as he moves from my lips, flowering kisses along my jawline.

"In the evening," I reply, hands still twisting his hair. Roger hums against my skin, his thumbs now rubbing circles on my inner thighs.

"Good," he kisses at the sweet spot behind my ear, "you might be able to walk by then."

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