John Deacon x Reader x Roger Taylor (BoRhap)
Summary: annie talks to reader about her first time. John walks in and the girls force him to share his first time. John gets his moment with reader. from this concept i posted here.
Note: grammar errors. Entire chapter talks about smut or is smut. EXCEPT FOR THE END. ******please take into consideration that im not experienced at all and everything ive written about smut in this chapter is based off of tv shows/movies, stuff ive heard, and research****** THIS IS A REALLY HEAVY CHAPTER SO TAKE SOME BREAKS
Words: 8.3k+
"These are not mine," you chuckled teasingly, shooting a glance at Annie who had been folding clothes across from you on the other side of John's bed.
The washer at your apartment had broken a few days earlier so John let you clean your clothes at his. He wasn't home yet, but you still had the spare key.
"Mine," Annie snarked, snatching the red laced thong from your hand.
"Hot date?" you asked, poorly folding a shirt of yours.
"He was," she shrugged, pursing her lips to suppress a blushful smile.
The date being Brian.
"You and Brian?" you asked, lifting up an eyebrow with interest. "Are you dating?"
"Oh... no, we aren't. Don't think we will. Said he wanted to but with my traveling schedule and his, it would never work," she gave a sad smile. "He's a good lay though," she winked. "Hope that doesn't stop."
"Yeah, I could hear you two for fifteen minutes," you grouched, throwing a sock at her which she swatted away.
"Hey! Not every guy is nice enough to let you finish even when he's done. I just needed some time is all. Relish in the moment," she spoke, her voice peaking up at the last statement.
You rolled your eyes, slapping a batch of folded clothes into the basket. But her words had you thinking. Wondering. What it was like. And you wanted to know. And Annie being a very open and honest person would be very happy to answer.
"Annie..." you hesitated, your fingertips fumbling with a button on a pair of blue jeans, your eyes not looking up at her.
"Hm?" she piped, patting down some clothes into the basket.
"What was it like... the first time? When you lost yours..." Your eyes slowly rose up to meet hers.
"Oh, darling. I was young and naive. Thought I was in love, but you know how that goes," she shivered in disgust.
"But how was it? I mean... where? When?"
"Interested in my love life?" she teased with a taunting smile. Then her face became stoic. "Does this have something to do with Roger? Or John?"
"John? No, of course not," you spoke, playing it off cooly. But there was some doubt in your mind. As if you weren't opposed to the idea. Maybe it came from that thought of possibility. Of him loving you. Or maybe not. "But how was it?" you pressed.
"I was about 17. 'Late' as most would say." Then she looked at you, realizing the circumstances. "But there's nothing wrong with that. There's no pressure or anything to do it. It's okay to wait-"
"Annie!" you objectified, trying to steer the conversation away from a pity party.
"Right. I was about 17," she repeated. "He was 17. We went to the same school. Happened at his friend's house. There was a party going on. Kind of a drag. We went upstairs to his friend's room and things just happened from there."
"Were you nervous?"
"Yeah. My legs felt weak before anything even happened. He hadn't even touched me yet and I thought I was going to collapse from the nerves. He wasn't. Said he had done it with a girl before me."
"Did it hurt?" you shyly asked. "Because I heard it does."
"For most women it does-"
"But for you?"
"Yeah," Annie shyly responded, this time avoiding your gaze. "Kind of like a weird pressure at first. Felt nice after a bit, though. After a few minutes. I got used to the feeling and I just let myself enjoy it from there. But then he started being rough and sloppy and was saying weird things to me that was supposed to be dirty talk but we were only 17 so he wasn't very good at it. So I started laughing," she confessed, a giggle trickling out from her words.
"You started laughing?" you smiled, trying not to laugh.
"Yeah, I started laughing. He got embarrassed and angry and pulled away from me, neither of us finished. He never talked to me again after that. But I didn't care. I wish I could tell you my first experience was amazing, but it wasn't. It usually isn't," she spoke, her eyes meeting with yours again. And she saw you gnawing on your lips in concern.
"Usually," she repeated. "Could be different for you. Especially if it's with Roger," she winked.
There was a few seconds of pause before you ended the silence.
"What does it feel like? To do it with someone you love... if you have," You were intrigued at her answers, all your focus on her as if she was an idol.
"Detail?" she asked.
"Detail," you confirmed.
"One of the best feelings ever," she admitted. "Skin against skin, your hand pulling his hair one second then gripping the sheets the next, his grip on you tightening, your heels digging into the bed sheet from your shaky legs that can't keep still, the sound of breathless moans being exchanged from your throat and his, sweat tainting your chests, his thrusts either quickening or slowing - whatever either of you needs to get there. And when you do, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach," she said, gliding her fingers to land inches down her belly button, a light breath of air escaping her lips at the thought. "And your toes sometimes curl at the feeling while your back arches up, your head falling into the pillow. Both eyes closed. Or open. It's better when they are open. You can see them for all that they are. You can see the love. And sometimes he'll say your name. Or you'll say his. But when he says your name, you could crumble in that moment. It's a beautiful sound because you know the only way he's so vulnerable like that is because of you," she spoke. "You have him completely wrapped around your finger, or maybe it's the fact that you have your legs wrapped around his waist..." she chuckled. "And when you call out his name, it's a praise to him. And that gets him going. That's what it was like with Brian... so it's not always someone you love. But someone you care for in a loving way. It feels like that."
Both of you were looking at each other at this point. The clothes you were holding in your hands had fallen onto the bed.
"I get the chills just thinking about it," Annie blushed, tightening her lips to not smile. You tried smiling back, but it was effortless.
Because, for some reason, you thought of John the entire time.
You imagined John on top of you. His lips nuzzled into your neck as he slammed into you, slow then fast. Whatever your hips guided him to do. Your fingers caught up in his hair as you could feel your entire body become weaker and hazier at the feeling, the only source of real feeling coming from between your legs and your scrunched fingers.
You could feel John's chest brushing against the tips of yours, then lowering his slightly layered sweaty body against yours from the feeling of becoming weaker himself - no longer able to keep himself hoisted up. But you didn't mind. You wanted him as close to you as possible in that moment.
And it hadn't hurt. Well, it had. But Annie was right. It felt good after a few moments. And John had been soft with you. Even when you asked him to be rougher.
But he knew what he was doing, because moments later your heels were digging into the white bed sheets, your back arching up with the cry of his name.
It was the praise.
And it did give John a boost of confidence. His thrusts-
"Stop thinking about Roger," your friend ordered, waving her hand in front of your face. But you weren't thinking about him. It was John.
John? John.
Why John?
"In bed," you started, hoping the conversation didn't end there, "what do they like?"
"What does who like?" you heard a masculine voice come from behind you. It was John. "Sorry to intrude, just got home," he smiled, placing his hand on the lower part of your back to make his way over to the bed and throw his coat on top of it.
The touch made you jump.
"You alright, (Y/N)?" he asked.
"'M fine," you faked a smile. But you wanted to say, "Of course I'm fine. Not as if I just thought about you shagging me like there was no tomorrow and my legs are weak at the thought about it. No, you're my best friend."
John just made his iconic scrunched face, flattening his lips into a confused smiled and squinting his eyes.
"What do guys like in bed?" Annie asked, continuing the conversation.
"I'm sorry?" John asked, taking a glance between you and Annie.
"That's what our friend (Y/N) asked before you walked in. Then you asked who is 'they.' And since you are a guy, John, why don't you tell us?"
"You don't have to answer that, Deaky," you confirmed, hoping John wouldn't be scared away.
"How'd you even get to this topic?" John asked dumbfounded, slouching down onto his bed.
"Our friend here started asking me questions about Brian, then it led to my first time, then it led to what it's like when you actually do it with someone you love. Lost her half way through though. She got lost in her thoughts, oozing over Roger and thinking about him shagging her," she teased, throwing the sock back at you this time.
How wrong she had been.
But you avoided looking at John. Because he was the one you thought about.
He didn't need to know that.
"Now she wants to know what guys like in bed, now that she may have a blonde drummer in hers pretty soon," she chided. "Wants to make him feel good," Annie began making unpleasant moaning and kissing sounds.
"Annie!" you scolded.
"What? If you want to do something for Roger, John should know what his friend likes. He can help you. Or at least you'll have a guy's input."
"Can't you just tell me later?" you argued. "You've done it before. You have experience. You must know what they like."
"His hair," John butt in, answering your question. Both you and Annie turned your attention to him. He didn't know why he was helping Roger. Maybe he just didn't want to hear Annie's voice anymore.
"What?" you squeaked.
"His hair," he repeated, lightly tapping on the tip of his head. "Don't really know anything else. Guys don't really talk about this stuff with each other. But he always talks about his hair. Likes the tugging feeling, says it always gets him going," but John realized how odd his words sounded. "Roger was drunk. And he's not a quiet person when he's drinking. He'll tell you anything, even if you don't ask. And he just went on and on about random things. Then the hair thing slipped out."
John left out the bit about Roger taking the liking of using drumsticks.
But Roger was drunk. So maybe he didn't mean that part. John didn't want to know.
"And you?" you boldly asked.
"Hm?" John replied, making his scrunched face.
"The hair thing? You like it too?" You don't know why you asked. Maybe you were still too deep into your fantasizing thoughts about him. But soon realized that... you weren't fantasizing anymore. And it wasn't the best question to ask John.
"I'm sorry," you nervously laughed, fumbling around to find something to fold as you avoided his gaze. "That was a weird question to-"
"I do," he confessed, looking at you the entire time, his words drawing you in.
"Great!" Annie piped, distracting whatever moment you and John just shared. "Now you know one thing to do with Roger next time."
But you already did. This wasn't new information. You knew since the night in the van.
"I already have-" you stopped yourself. You couldn't finish. Annie would start asking questions if you did.
She would start asking questions anyway.
"You never told me what happened in the van," she huffed in a way that she was upset you didn't tell her the gossip. "Are you two a thing now? What happened in your room when the boys came over? We all heard a moan then John walked in and closed the door in a hurry."
John was no longer looking at you.
Neither of you needed to relive that moment.
"Nothing, alright?" you spoke with aggravation.
"Then what do you mean you already have?"
You would explain to her. You weren't scared to. But you were literally a foot away from John. And he didn't want to hear this. So you didn't know why he wouldn't leave.
"I'm not saying it in front of John," you mumbled, looking down at the blue shirt you were holding.
"What?" Annie asked at the same time John asked, "Hm?"
"I'm not saying it in front of John," you affirmed.
"Why not?" Annie persisted.
Was she stupid?
"Because that's weird," you reasoned. As close you were with John and as honest, this was a moment where you had to let that go.
"But we're having girl talk," she argued.
"Yes, we're having girl talk," John agreed, crossing his legs and lifting his head higher to look at you.
Now John was turning on you.
But it was because, deep down, he had to know. He had seen the hickey on your inner thigh the night it happened, but he wanted more evidence.
He also wanted to know if you did anything for Roger.
"You hate girl talk," you scoffed, throwing the sock now at John, but he caught it.
"I've been listening to girl talk since we were 6 years old. I think I'm a professional at this point. Because of you, I knew what a period was before more than half the boys in our year," he boasted.
"And because of you, I was the first girl to see a guy have a boner in our year. It was at Peggy's 13th birthday party and you couldn't stop looking at her in her little polka dot suit. You hid in the pool," you snapped back.
He was actually looking at you the entire time. You had been at Peggy's side for majority of the party.
"Right..." was all John said, not interested in correcting you.
"Anyway, I'm not telling you what happened in the van. In fact, I think I can hear the kettle," you lied, cupping your ear towards the kitchen as if the tea was ready.
"Kettle isn't on..." he spoke with confusion, uncrossing his legs.
"Ah, a pity. Maybe you should go do that," you piped, batting your eyes to get him to leave the room.
"Right..." he repeated, rubbing his knees before heading out of the room and closing the door.
"What was that for? John could've helped you with Roger and-" Annie protested.
"He went down on me. In his van," you confessed.
Annie's eyes bugged out, her mouth dropping in shock.
"That was all that happened. Well, there was more. But I didn't do anything for him-"
"Was it good?"
"Yes."
"Good enough to-"
"Yes," you lightly breathed out, feeling it right between your legs as if it happened yesterday. "But that was all. And we're not dating. I don't know what we are. But then a few days ago when he came over... and we went into my bedroom... I tried returning the favor... but John walked in-"
"Did you get to see it?" Annie teased, spiking her eyebrows up and deviously clinking her fingertips against one another.
"I wish," you rolled your eyes in disappointment.
"But John walked in? Did he see anything?"
"I don't know. I don't want to know. I feel a bit awkward around him now because of that. And he never came back that day. Never gave me the honey either," you shrugged, taking a glance at the coat he left on the bed. "But I saw it on the counter in his kitchen when we walked in."
"I think you scarred him. Your mouth on another man's-"
"It was my hand," you corrected.
Annie's once closed smile grew into a huge grin. She was proud of you.
"But that's not the point. I just - I don't know if it's supposed to be Roger, but I want to do it soon. I can't help but think that... maybe... John-"
Knock knock.
"Girl talk over or am I allowed to join in?" Deaky's voice muffled through the door. At least he knocked this time.
"No-"
"Come in!" Annie spoke louder than you. "Girl talk isn't over, but you can join us. A guy's perspective is always great to listen to on these types of things."
"Annie," you quietly scolded, not trying to sound rude to Deaky's presence.
"I'm getting the tea ready," he softly spoke as he pointed behind himself with his thumb.
"As I was saying," Annie cleared her throat. "Roger's your only option if you want to lose your virginity anytime soon. And Roger doesn't seem like the type to oppose this type of stuff. I mean... who else is there? I don't see any other guys around here," Annie spoke, ignoring John's presence. After all, she knew he was just your best friend. Already off limits right there.
But she was completely oblivious.
As were you. Except for the doubts that maybe Roger wasn't the only option.
John believed the same of there being more options. You could see it from the way he looked at you in that moment. But you stripped your eyes away from his at the blush you felt on your cheeks, trying to avoid the situation. The thought.
But replacing John with what happened in the van with Roger was easier than you thought. The feeling somehow made you feel giddier. It felt stronger.
You knew what it felt like for him to kiss you on the lips, or at least the five seconds that you tried kissing him in which he pulled away.
But you imagined what it would feel like even lower.
You shifted your legs, standing in a different position.
But none of these thoughts made sense. John was your best friend.
Maybe you had been deprived of boys for too long in NYC and anything that had high levels of testosterone made you attracted to it.
"Uh... yeah," you agreed. "Options are limited..."
"But do you love him?" John asked, ending his silence as he retook his previous spot on the bed.
"Do I love him?" you questioned, not making the connection.
"Said you wanted to do it with someone you loved. Told me in the car. My nineteenth birthday..."
He remembered what you had told him. He listened. And he cared. And it was about something that had a lot of value to you. You wondered if he remembered anything else you had told him that night. Or if he remembered what he had told you. About Emma.
"You remember that?" you laughed.
"Course I remember. You were the only person I knew that had some sense about that type of thing. The only person who didn't wanna rush anything because everyone else was doing it. I was jealous of you even. Knowing that if you were going to do it, it wasn't going to be with some person who just wanted to get it over with, like Emma - wasn't bad... just thought maybe I should've waited longer," Deaky said.
You felt jealous at the mention of Emma's name. Deaky would always remember her in that way. His first time.
"I don't know..." you spoke with honesty, answering his previous question about Roger. "Don't know if I love him. But I also said I didn't know if I could wait any longer. Might have to give the 'love' bit up," you shrugged with a small smile.
But his next words made you freeze. Your heart skip a beat. Your entire body become instantly warm. Butterflies in the stomach.
"Don't," he commanded. "You should do it with someone you love. Like you said you wanted to. Pretty sure none of us in the band did it that way, don't know about Annie-"
"Didn't either," Annie admitted, lifting up the crook of her lip in disgust.
"See," John spoke. "Do it with someone you love. And with someone who loves you back. Said that was even more important."
"Don't know anyone who loves me like that," you shrugged, bringing up your thumb and index finger to fiddle with the butterfly charm.
"What was your first time like, John?" Annie asked, finishing up folding her last few items. You hadn't gotten much done with all the talking —- and mainly thinking. "This Emma girl has me interested," she deviously smiled.
"It's not important," Deaky mumbled, quickly trying to find something to distract him. The zipper on his coat would work.
"Please, John," you begged. You wanted to dig deeper into his love life — the one he kept private from you.
"This would be great for girl talk society. We always hear about girls losing their virginity, but we'd like to hear it from a guy's point of view," Annie pleaded, clasping her hands right below her chin and lightly bouncing up and down.
"No way," John shook his head in disgust.
"Please, D," you begged again, taking a seat next to him and batting your eyes at him sweetly.
"Bo, I'm not telling you how I, John Deacon," his head dipped low but his eyes still looked at yours, his index finger jotting his chest, "lost my virginity to a girl named Emma. I already told you she was wearing a skirt and it just happened. Nothing interesting."
"There," Annie said, taking a seat onto the bed. "You already started the story. Just add a middle and an end with good details."
"C'mon, John. Girl talk is kept private. Whatever is said in this room, stays in this room. You can tell us," you smiled.
"You really want to know?" he asked, his voice slightly squeaking as he looked up from you to Annie. "Both of you?"
"Our ears are open," Annie smirked.
John nervously rubbed his knees. It was a nervous tic of his. He had done it a lot in the past whenever he was with you. But he always said it was because of something he was thinking about that was going on in his life.
No, it was usually just because of you.
"Or you don't have to if you're uncomfortable," you sweetly smiled at him, bringing his focus onto you as he had been nervously licking his lip. Your hand came to encompass his fidgeting hand around his knee cap, something you always did to stop him. He squeezed it lightly.
But he was far from uncomfortable. He was with you. He was at peace. Calm.
Just nervous. Butterflies.
"We were at her house," he began. "Parents weren't home. We were both 18. She had recently just turned 18. Said she wanted to get it over with - seeing that all her friends had. Didn't want to fall behind."
***flashback: Emma's bedroom***
"How is it?" Emma asked, legs crossed on her bed, her body sat straight up as she watched John like a hawk who was sat a few feet down from her, legs dangling off the bed.
"Good," John answered, wiping his mouth of the beer remains from his lips. He didn't look at her, just at the bottle.
Emma didn't care how it tasted. She just wanted to get John to talk to her.
"My parents aren't home," she added, her fingers tapping on the bottle she held in her lap. She was eager. John could tell from her voice.
"Cool..." John nodded, raising the rim of the glass up to his lips.
Cool? Cool?
John made the silence be awkward. Something he was good at.
But no liquid fell into his lips, for Emma pushed the bottle down.
"John, are you a virgin?" she asked.
Yes. But was he supposed to tell her that? He was 18 years old. He was expected to have already done it - at least from his peers.
"I - I mean... I've done stuff-"
"But you haven't had sex," she blushed. "Neither have I."
John just nodded. Was he supposed to say, "Thanks for sharing?" He wasn't sure what she was getting at. This was the fourth time they met up.
"Do you want to?" she persisted.
"Yeah, one day," he awkwardly nodded, puckering his lips out in thought.
"With who?" She didn't care if he said her. Or someone else. She just had an idea in mind.
"I - I don't know." His best friend. You.
"What about that girl you told me about? She seems like a lovely girl. What was her name?"
"(Y/N). But we're just friends-"
"Heard that line before," she chuckled. "C'mon. It's her. Isn't it?" she squinted her eyes, trying to pry the confession from his lips.
As his other answers, he nodded.
There was silence. And she saw a faint blush on John's cheeks. But it was hard to completely see as from the dim lights in her room.
"You can think of her," she whispered.
His heart skipped a beat. His ears perked up.
"I- I just turned 18. All my friends have done it and I - well, I just want to get it over with. And I really like you. We don't have to date. Become serious. But I just - I thought that maybe we could... seeing as we hooked up before," she stuttered, fumbling with the glass.
John just nodded again.
"You can think of her if you want. When you're with me," she lightly breathed out. "You can just close your eyes."
John looked at her. Face stoic. No answer. Emma saw it as negative signals.
"Or not. It's fine. We don't have to. Silly thought-"
"Yeah, ok," he spoke in monotone. His hands began to rub against his kneecaps. How could he pass up that opportunity?
"I'm - I'm on birth control," she smiled, trying to ease some of John's nerves.
A nod from John, again.
"John," she whispered, trying to get him to look at her. To see her.
He set his bottle down onto the floor before slowly turning his head to face Emma who quickly set hers down onto the nightstand.
Then he watched her. Her head falling forward as she watched her fingers dwindle with the buttons of her shirt. She was shaking.
"You don't have to," he felt his heart race, his eyes glued to her bosoms. He wanted to see, but he didn't want to make her feel anymore nervous than they both were.
"Thanks," she whispered with a sweet smile, buttoning back up.
She scooted closer into him, her knees touching his the side of his thigh.
John's breathing became uneasy to the point where Emma could hear.
"Just close your eyes," she whispered, running her hand down his eyes telling him to do so. He did.
"And think of her," she spoke softly, inching in closer to him. She knew if he thought of you, it would feel good for her. So she took his hand, placing it on her knee and suggesting, "Touching her."
John tried to. But he couldn't. He could only think of Emma. It wasn't real. And she wasn't you.
But that changed quickly the moment Emma placed her hand around John's inner thigh.
And he couldn't stop thinking of you at that point.
Emma skimmed her thumb over John's parted lips, looking at them before planting a small kiss. And John kissed back lightly, afraid to hurt her.
As the kiss progressed, John began rubbing her knee, thumbing small circles around it. He wasn't sure what he could do. What he would let her do. He didn't want to... offend her?
Emma guided him.
Her hand hands were caressing his face, dragging him in to kiss her deeper. And she wanted him to touch her.
She brought her hand atop of John's, bringing it up to her breast to squeeze atop of the material. A small breath of air in surprise escaped her lips at the blissful pressure. John happily squeezed, he even spread his fingers out even more to take in as much as he could.
John let out a few moans at the feeling, at the thought of touching you like this. Because it was you. At least in his imagination.
"Touch me..." she muffled through the kiss. "As you would her." Her hand went up to where his hand had been groping, bringing it down to underneath her skirt. "Show me."
John's lips fell to her neck, making small kisses up and down as his thumb rubbed up and down her inner thigh.
He wanted to touch her. You. But he also wanted to kiss her. You.
He trailed kisses down her neck and chest, landing right onto what he had just been groping. Kissing her through the material. He seemed to be attached to it. Maybe it was because he could only imagine the image of you flashing him at 16.
Her body reacted, one hand shooting into his hair to grip. That got him going. The feeling of your hands in his hair, praising him. Telling him to keep going. That he was doing a good job.
He just needed to hear his name come from you.
He knew how he was going to get it.
His long fingers began rubbing against her panties, beginning with a light pressure and only adding more as his fingers went up and down her folds.
Emma let out a small whimper, feeling herself become damp at the touch. Weak.
And John felt himself become hard to the touch, a small groan leaving his lips as he disattached his lips from her breast, his forehead now leaning on it as his other hand gripped her waist.
"Show me," she repeated. "Show her."
John let out a small whimper of frustration at the thought. At how much he yearned to touch you.
"Please, John," she whispered, but he could only hear it in your voice. The first time begging him for something like this.
It was enough praise for him to touch her the way she wanted him to. The way he wanted to touch you.
His index finger crept in first, gliding down her bud before entering. With a small cry from Emma's lips, her fingers gripped onto John's shoulders.
His finger slid up and down each time before entering and coming out, adding in his middle finger unexpectedly, surprising Emma.
"John," she gasped, her hand yanking on his hair as her body shot slightly up from the pressure, but it wasn't anything she wasn't used to. She wasn't inexperienced in this way.
John skimmed circles around her nub, trying to ease the small pressure but also to tease her.
To tease you.
Emma bucked her hips up, trying to get him to dig in deeper.
But then John slunk down onto his knees. Because this was something he had been wanting to do the most.
His eyes were no longer closed. He still saw Emma. But he thought of you. Especially at the angle he was on his knees right before Emma's opened legs.
Emma was breathing harshly, eyes closed and chest shaking up and down.
She looked vulnerable.
John's fingers looped over the sides of the hemline, pulling down her panties as Emma lifted herself up.
He didn't wait. He couldn't wait. His lips immediately stuffing between her legs, attacking what his fingers had just touched.
Her knee arched up, her heel stabbing into the mattress as her fingers danced around his dark hair, pulling the soft feeling of his lips closer into her.
"Lay down for me, please," he muffled between her legs, hoisting both legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs. Emma did so, her hips squirming up and down trying to feel John's lips as much as possible.
Both his hands snaked up her body, going back up to grope her breasts, something he found himself to love.
And he thought about that time you wore that low dress to a night out in the city. The cleavage. The smooth skin. You weren't teasing him, but he felt like you had been.
And just as he felt himself getting lost, just as he was about to use his tongue against Emma, just as he was about to taste her as he wanted to do to you - she stopped him.
"John, don't," she moaned, her head arching back into the sheets, a long vein shooting down her neck.
If John continued, she would've finished right then and there. And that's not what she wanted. Not this time.
But John couldn't stop. Because what he was doing with Emma was something he often thought of doing with you when in the shower.
John's grip around her became tighter, one hand on her boob, the other on her thigh, his nose digging deeper into her skin.
"John!" she huffed with a loud moan, coming from aggravation and also pleasure. She pushed his head away, but John wouldn't budge. She watched his head move between her legs, seeing his persistency. How lost he was. How much he had dreamt of this moment.
One swipe of his tongue, and she was pushing his head away harder. He felt the stiff pressure of her hands, bringing himself away from her. Realizing that it wasn't you. It was Emma.
"I - I'm sorry," he stuttered, embarrassingly pulling away and too afraid to look at her.
She sat straight up saying, "You really like her? Don't you?"
Pause.
"Love her," he corrected, looking down.
Emma nodded her head with a small smirk before telling John to stand up, which he did.
Still with legs open, she scooted closer to him.
"May I?" she asked, looking up at him before looking down at his zipper.
"Mhm," he nodded.
John watched her fingers carefully unbutton his pants before unzipping them, her fingers coming to the sides of his pants and pulling them down to his knees.
Emma leaned back, hoisted up on her arms. She spread her legs further apart for him.
"Well?" she smirked, "You going to show her that love?"
The corner of John's lip peaked up at the thought, lifting up his legs to remove his jeans. He hovered over Emma's body, Emma laying down completely in the process. The bed shifted in from the added body weight, the dip making Emma's and John's hearts race.
They were closer now, looking at each other as Emma's hands held onto John's sides.
He watched her look down at him. Right where he was covered. She couldn't see it that well from the dim light. But she wanted to know.
And he knew what she was going to do next. His eyes falling closed at the thought. At the thought of you being the one to touch him.
Her fingers sent a wanting ache through his stomach, the palming from her hand against his groin causing his throat to let out a deep groan. His arms felt like jello, not able to hoist himself up any longer.
Your touch. That wasn't even your touch. But it already made him weak.
John bit his lip slightly, his lips parting and his eyes clenching at the groping.
He was trying hard not to say your name, but it slipped out. And it was a sweet sound. But you weren't there to hear it.
John's arms gave up on him, his body crashing down onto Emma's and his length puncturing her. But there was still the thin material of his underwear.
And he was eager, one hand gripping her waist as the other gripped her shoulder before pecking small kisses against her neck and shoulders. Trying to ease her nerves, as well as his.
His grinds started off slow, but became deeper as he got more into it, Emma's hips trying to follow in sync. The pressure of his bulge hitting her spot perfectly.
"John," she bit her lip, feeling herself clench from the pressure, as well as become wetter. She slipped her hands through his underwear, her nails digging into his bum as she tried bringing John's length to dig into her deeper.
And as good as that felt, John wanted the real deal. He didn't want to tease anymore.
Emma stopped her grinds, getting Deaky to stop too. They both knew what was coming next.
And Emma knew it might hurt. Or might not.
"I'll be careful," John spoke as if he read Emma's mind. "If... I hurt you... just tell me... alright?" he awkwardly spoke, eyes locked on one another.
"Go slow," she chimed, nodding her head. "Just go slow first."
John nodded, his hands fumbling for the hemline of his underwear. But Emma stopped him, both her hands caressing his cheeks.
Oh no. She's regretting it.
John immediately stopped fidgeting with the hemline, his heart sinking.
"Just think of her, okay?" she whispered, looking from his lips to his eyes. She knew she had repeated it multiple times. But she wanted to make this experience as pleasurable as possible for both herself and John. It had been this entire time. Because he did think of you.
"But don't be too rough," she whispered with a small smile.
John's lips parted at the image, and Emma could see him thinking. This was the time to do it.
Her breathing became heavier, her ears had a small ring to them. She couldn't think - it was glossed with a haze.
John's heart raced, skipping beats here and there. His body became a warmer temperature.
Both Emma's and John's hands pushed off his underwear, his length poking out at the freedom. But Emma didn't look, she just looked at the man from above her, his eyes closed because he was thinking of you.
John's head lowered into the bed sheets, his lips making wet kisses against the crease of Emma's neck. John positioned himself, his hand pushing Emma's thigh further down.
He could feel her shaking from underneath him, her hands fidgeting against his back and her teeth slightly chattering. So John reached for it, his hand that had been on her thigh now taking control of her hand and pushing it into the sheets, holding it softly. It was more of something for her to squeeze when it happened.
But she squeezed it tightly before then.
Emma felt the slight pressure, the slight poke of John at her center, trying to align perfectly.
Emma closed her eyes, waiting in nervous anticipation.
But she wasn't relaxed. Too strained. This would only hurt her more.
"Just relax," he cooed into her ear, placing a sweet kiss against her temple.
Emma nodded, allowing herself to become less tense but instead putting all of her nerves into her hand wrapped around John's.
And that's when it happened.
His hips falling into hers, his length filling her in.
John let out a loud moan, followed by a swear, his head digging into the sheets at the feeling of the wet heat wrapped around his length, his hand gripping onto the sheets.
Emma let out a loud cry of pain, her hand flying up to John's chest.
John wasn't huge, he was an average size - from what Emma could feel. But it hurt nonetheless. It was like a weird pressure pushing into her, different from his fingers. And it didn't help that her body returned to being tense, her walls tightening around John. It hurt.
John was about to pull away at the pain of Emma. But she then brought him back down, gripping his arm and saying, "Don't."
"I didn't mean to hurt - it's just how it-"
"I know," she tried smiling. "You can keep going," she nodded, trying to convince him.
Deaky lowered himself down once more, his hand holding onto Emma's. It was tighter this time, as she knew what was coming.
His pace was slow, slow thrusts back and forth as he wondered why he waited till 18. As he thought about you instead of Emma. As he thought about how good this feeling felt. Much better than his hand. Maybe better than the glides of a tongue. Still debatable.
Emma bit her lip from underneath him, trying to get past the pain. But all of it felt amazing to John.
"You have to let me move better... move with me," John awkwardly suggested. He wasn't sure if that would work. It was his first time, but at least it was something that may have relieved the pain for Emma. For you.
John felt some guilt for hurting you, but it didn't beat how good the feeling felt for him. He didn't want to stop.
Her hips began moving in sync with John's soft thrusts, moving up then down, rising up and down.
Emma began to enjoy it, her painful whimpers turning into soft whimpers and soft moans. Her grip around his hand lessened.
John felt her ease up around him, the strain being released. And it was easy for him to get lost in the feeling. Lost in the feeling of having himself buried between your legs, and too many thoughts developed inside of his head. Now that he knew what it felt like.
And he thought of you riding him. Eyes closed, head fallen back, mouth wide open, every other moan filled with John's name.
For a split second, he thought of doing that with Emma, but it was her first time and missionary was all she could handle at that moment.
And then Emma called out John's name, her fingers tangled in his hair.
John felt himself twitch from inside of her. It was your voice he heard, once again. It was your fingers playing with your hair. And it was you that he was shagging.
He didn't want to go slow anymore.
His thrusts went deeper at a faster pace. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, deep groans from John, and high whimpers from Emma.
His grip became tighter, his slams harder, his kisses sloppier, and the thoughts of you heightening.
He wasn't exactly making love. But living out every dream he had of you that he wasn't actually allowed to pursue with you.
He was letting out his frustrations.
"Go... slower... John," she huffed through the thrusts, trying to keep up with the roughness. "Please, D," she gasped at the thickness puncturing her repeatedly.
D. It's what you called him in moments of pure need. In your vulnerable moments. In moments of plee.
So he slowed down and loosened his grip, if it was what you needed. His thrusts becoming achingly slow and softer, Emma could enjoy it again - her bobs matching his.
And John found himself enjoying the pace too, could actually enjoy the tight heat engulfing him.
It hadn't been long. And John became embarrassed. Because he could feel that his time would almost be over. As for Emma? He wasn't sure. But he hoped it was before him. But he knew that was unlikely.
Emma's hands gripped onto his arse as they moved with the bobs, her legs pushing farther apart to give John more room as her head fell back into the bed with an open mouth.
It seemed as if Emma was needy now. As if you were for John.
And he always dreamed of you coming undone first for him.
But this wasn't a dream. And he went first.
And it had only been 1:52 minutes.
***end flashback***
Annie and you had been looking at John with awe the entire time he told his story. Annie was drooling - almost. And you were completely mesmerized by each word.
He didn't go into much detail. Nor did he mention the fact that he thought of you the entire time.
Or how long he lasted.
Just the details that might've made you love him. Want him in that way.
He was really doing this for his benefit.
But it also made John realize that that night in the car he hadn't apologized to you because he felt as if he cheated on you. But because, in a way, he replaced you with another woman.
"And that's my story of how I, John Deacon, lost my virginity," he shrugged.
Annie clapped. You wanted to, but John's story only made your decision tougher. That Roger wasn't your only option.
To you, John sounded sweet and loving and innocent. But not as innocent as you thought. You found yourself attached to that.
"I'm beginning to think I hooked up with the wrong member of Queen," Annie teased, but you knew she meant some of it.
"No," John blushed. "Wasn't amazing, but it was nice. Think I learned a few things since then..." he quietly spoke the last part.
But to you, it did sound amazing. At least for a first experience... comparing it to Annie's.
And it was when he mentioned of getting down on his knees did you feel a throb between your legs. You wish he had gone into detail - as weird as it would have been. But he didn't.
"I think the tea is ready," you smiled, standing up and offering a hand to John. He just looked at it. "Can hear the kettle. Come on. I saw the jar of honey when I walked in earlier... think it's for me."
"Right..." John nodded his head, taking your hand and allowing you to drag him to the kitchen. You closed the door to the bedroom - you didn't want Annie hearing.
"Thanks for sharing the story about you and Emma," you spoke as you avoided looking at John, pouring the tea into three teacups.
"Thought you said whatever I said in the room stays in the room during girl talk," he smiled.
"Got me there..." you tried joking.
"No, it's alright," John saw the change of seriousness. "Can ask me anything about it. I know you're nervous."
"John, why did you get me the honey?" you asked, turning around to face John who was leaning against the refrigerator.
"What?" he questioned, scrunching his face.
"The honey. Why did you get me it?"
You wanted him to say it. To confess it. If he even did.
Love you.
Maybe the story of Emma had you going. Or your hormones. Or your confusion. Or Roger. Or all of it. You didn't know. But you needed answers if you were going to do it soon.
And if John gave you an answer, you would've given yourself to him.
"And why didn't you come back? I know you saw me and Roger in the room. And what we were doing-"
"Got stuck in traffic," he shrugged. Partially true. But he also didn't know how he could see you again the same day after seeing you with your hand down Roger's pants.
"And the honey?"
"Because I destroyed your jar-"
"Roger told me something..." you confessed, fiddling with your fingers. The thought made you smile. The conversation you two shared about love. It was a beautiful conversation. But it only made you more confused.
"What? Why are you smiling?" John asked.
Smiling at the thought about small gifts. What they mean. And John getting you the honey. A small gift.
"Nothing... it's a silly thought," you shook it off.
"Can't smile like a fool and then not tell me after going on a rampage about honey," he shot back as a tease, a smile following after.
"What's this honey for?" you asked, picking it up to show him.
"To use in your tea...?"
"No," you chuckled, shaking your head. "I mean, why did you buy it for me. Yes, I know you destroyed my jar-"
"It's just a small gift as a way of apologizing."
Bingo.
"And see, Roger and I were talking in my room... about love. And he said that the small things matter. Like small gifts." You held up the honey.
"I'm not following..."
"John, this necklace is a small gift," you grasped the butterfly charm. "Said it yourself when you bought it for me."
"And?"
John was actually screaming internally. He caught on the moment you mentioned love. He decided to play dumb. He didn't know if it was the moment to confess.
It was.
"He said when you love someone, you buy them small gifts. Like the ones you've given me."
"You think I love you?" John asked, raising his eyebrow. But it made you feel stupid. Like you were dumb to think so.
"I-" the insecurity flooding over you. "Silly thought," you fake smiled, looking down at the honey in your hands.
"I'm just messing with you," he quietly spoke. Both hands came into view as they laid atop of yours on the jar.
Your heart fluttered at his light gentle touch. The ones that had touched Emma just years ago. The ones that he'd lick the fingertips of before strumming the bass. Because you did watch him each time he had done so.
A small gasp left your lips, looking at the skin to skin contact before looking up at John who was already looking at you.
"I know... I know what you're saying," he confessed with the lick of his lips before whispering, "and it's not a silly thought."
And it happened.
The look before the kiss
And this time.
You didn't lean in.
John did.
***