Body Language. Queen

Drunk And Depressed.

Freddie's P.O.V.

A stab to the heart and a prickling of nervous sweat, I laughed him off casually but I knew he meant every word.

I couldn't look at him.

"Not tonight, darling." I choked, wanting the ground to swallow me up.

There was an awkward silence, defeat on his side, guilt on mine. It wasn't the first time Brian had slyly suggested that I fuck him. I knew he was ready. I knew he wanted it. I knew he knew there was something the matter with me. I wasn't blind and I wasn't stupid.

But I just couldn't do that to him. I didn't want to.

I was letting him down, preventing our relationship from journeying to the next level...but when I looked at him, he was almost too innocent for such a thing.

I knew the dangers of not getting intimate with Brian...he'd possibly think I didn't find him sexually attractive. Maybe he thought he couldn't turn me on. He could get tired of waiting around for me and go and find a fuck elsewhere.

I was quite aware of all the bad outcomes.

Yet I couldn't think of any good ones.

But then again, thinking of the cons, they messed with my head. Yes, I found him sexually attractive. Of fucking course I did! I have done for years. So many lonely nights were spent fantasising about having the guitarist in my bed...yet here I was, he was laying next to me, in the bed, I had the prime chance and I was wasting every opportunity.

Yes, Brian could turn me on. So much so that I sometimes found it incredibly hard to resist him, I just wanted to throw him down on the bed and fuck his lights out because he seduced me so much...

And the single thought of Brian finding a fuck elsewhere with someone else broke my heart. That was the last thing I ever wanted to happen. I had vowed to be everything to him and give him anything he ever wanted...yet I couldn't give him a fuck.

I wasn't that I didn't want to, because I did. I might have gone for months and months without, my need for such a thing may have fizzled out a little but my desire to have Brian had never changed. I was annoyed with myself.

I turned over so that my back was facing him, I stared longingly into the open, dark room, wishing for him to stop this conversation and go to sleep.

"Why?" He asked, quietly.

My heart plummeted. Whenever this kind of conversation had cropped up before, I'd said no, and Brian left it. But he seemed determined to get some kind of answer out of me tonight.

Still, I never turned back to face him.

"I...I don't feel like it..." I lied, trying hard to will the semi hard on away, see, even the thoughts of having him turned me on, he wasn't the problem. I was.
My body wanted to, but my head didn't.

I felt him shuffling closer to me, "Tell me why. There has to be a reason."

"There's no reason. I'm just...tired. That's all." I lied, once again.

I heard him sigh lightly, "You've changed..."

That felt like a kick to the stomach, I turned onto my back again, "Of course I have...I'm no longer a slut who goes to clubs asking for it every night. I thought you might appreciate that." I said, a little coldly, feeling offended.

"I do, it's just...you've gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. Going out every night and having one night stands...then turning into this 40 year old house husband who would rather watch a programme about antiques than have sex." He joked, but he also meant it.