Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 52

꧁ Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's Nᴏᴛᴇ: ꧂
𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑙 :) 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐼'm a bit of a wuss about it 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 - 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠! <3

All of a sudden, Roger threaded his fingers into Bernie's hair and kissed her heavily, the pair of them moving around the room as they did so and knocking into things. At one point they knocked into the piano, trilling a few of the keys. Eventually, he navigated a bare patch of wall and pushed Bernie into it forcefully but carefully, biting her bottom lip again with more confidence. Equally, she let out a louder moan and finally engaged, momentarily letting go of the past and scrunching his shirt in her fists as his hands began to explore. "Is this okay Birdie?" He asked breathlessly and hoarsely, breaking the kiss off  barely enough to speak so that he spoke into her mouth instead, his hot breath tickling her tingling lips.

"Hands off my boobs," she instructed and although Roger was curious as to why, he did as he was told (for once) and put his hands on her waist securely instead.

"Tell me what you want," he broke the kiss properly to gaze into her hopeful, glistening eyes, holding onto her closely.

"...Just...carry on," she sighed and put one hand round the back of his neck, the other holding onto his torso as he had her held securely against the wall, resuming kissing. Usually, she would've wanted to run away screaming, but there was something inside of her that told her to go for it, something almost relieving. His breathtaking kisses and smooth rhythm started to ignite a forgotten flare in her heart, the moon peacefully casting a spotlight-like glow on the pair of them.

Roger bit Bernie's bottom lip for the third time that night, earning a synchronised groan from both of them. "Happy birthday Birdie," he whispered between kisses and Bernie smiled into his mouth. Just then, the door opened wide and the spell was broken. They sprung apart from each other like opposing magnets, but not quickly enough that the intruder didn't see what was happening.

"Cooee, just letting you know that Freddie's just thrown up all over your lovely new scarf, Bernadette. It's nothing important, I'll let you two get back down to business. Toodles!" And with that, the door snapped shut and the pair of them were left alone.

"FUCK YOU, PAUL!" Roger raced up to the door, tore it open and screamed down the hallway before slamming it shut; a cold silence descending upon the room, hanging in the air uncomfortably.

Awkwardly, Bernie shakily leant on the piano, not sure of what to do with herself. She held absolutely no trust whatsoever in Paul, so had no doubt that her and Roger's secret...whatever it was that was going on between them...wouldn't stay private. "Well, it was fun while it lasted. Bit gutted about my scarf..."

"Birdie, don't worry, I'm sure that, even drunk, Freddie wouldn't dare sick up on such a fashionable winter accessory. Prenter probably just noticed we were both gone so came to investigate our whereabouts. Surprised he could peel his nosy eyes away from Fred's cock-" Roger just sighed, sounding fed up, and came to lean next to her, crossing his arms.

"Hey, that's your best mate." Bernie interjected, sounding disgusted at the unwanted imagery.

"Yeah and if he were here, he'd be saying 'damn right, darling,'" Roger said matter-of-factly, waving his hand about exactly as Freddie did. Except he definitely pulled off the dramatics a million times better than Roger did.

"You know, you look like a right prick when you do that," Bernie nudged his arm playfully with her elbow and sniggered. He nudged her back a little more forcefully so that she had to put her hands out to steady herself, one reflexively landing on Roger's thigh. Both paused comically and stared, Bernie's hand completely frozen and forgetting how to take itself off of somebody's leg. Or maybe it was her subconscious telling her not to. She decided to listen to that part of her mind and slowly slid her hand further up his thigh until she could feel the change in his jeans pocket.

Peering down transfixed, he seemed utterly incapable of any other movement or sound. He just watched her hand placement, lips slightly parted and hair creeping into his eyes as it slid into his long eyelashes. Leaning forward, Bernie placed a soft, loving, meaningful kiss on his lips, planting a couple of extras on his jaw as she pulled away for good measure. God, he just found her so irresistible, it was hard to remember that it was her birthday. Hers.

"I better go see if the infamous liar is, in fact, lying,"
Bernie grumbled, removing herself from him entirely before turning to leave.

"Not so fast-" Roger rasped and caught her fingertips just in time, grasping onto the rest of her hand and twirling her elegantly back around to him. He guided her hand round his neck and wrapped his arms around her back, engulfing her in the softest, most intense kiss she'd ever experienced. There was a tiny hint of urgency mixed with lust as they huffed into each other's mouths hoarsely in the slight interval to take a short intake of breath before resuming. Despite the warm temperature inside the house, goosebumps raised on Bernie's skin as Roger slid his hands under her now untucked shirt and held onto her bare waist, drawing her closer as her body curved under his touch.

"Roger...I need - to go," she gasped, not sure how to absorb everything. Two weeks ago, Roger was a friend helping out another friend by pretending to date her with the occasional hug or peck on the cheek involved. But now he was Roger and Bernie was driven by desire for him, which had progressed so much quicker than her emotions could comprehend. Than her past could comprehend...

"Are you sure?" Roger asked disappointedly, moving his lips to her cheeks, jaw and chin.

"I'm afraid so," she painfully extricated herself from his embrace and tidied her hair in the circular mirror hung to the wall before heading to the door. "This isn't over," winking, she was gone, leaving Roger alone with the shadow of her presence and a whole load of instruments. All he had to do now was hang around in there for a while, as it would look awfully suspicious if both him and Bernie emerged from the same place at the same time, undoubtedly looking as guilty as hell. Everybody must have been sober enough by then to use their common sense. And Brian was the last person Roger wanted to piss off, especially as he was already apprehensive. Plus, Roger needed some time to...compose himself.

"What did I miss?" Bernie called into the dining room cheerily, definitely not expecting the bombshell she'd just walked into. Luckily, the new grey knitted scarf was perfectly intact, as well as the food left on the table, the furniture and the rest of her gifts that Queen had hastily purchased for her. What was very much in dire need of mopping, though, was the floor. It looked as if the entirety of the band (bar Roger) had had a chucking-your-guts-up competition, which Freddie had won by the looks of it.

Splattered on the floor and seeping into the gaps of the aged wooden floorboards was the eight bottles of alcohol Freddie, John, Brian, Paul, Peter and Kingsley had shared between them. Bernie couldn't even sympathise with the pain their burning throats must be in and instead just left. She couldn't be bothered to look after six adult-sized children who didn't know when to tow the line, so instead left them all passed out on the sofas and floor, clothes stained with their own vomit.

As she trudged up the creaky stairs, Bernie shook her head to herself and considered this birthday another cock up as her friends had neglected her for half the day, given her some obligatory presents and cake, then got absolutely sloshed and proceeded to pass out. Of course she was extremely grateful for their efforts and she had received some lovely things, but there was just something about the day that didn't sit right. Just as the icing on the cake, she tucked herself up in bed with a dreadful stomach ache and pain in her joints. By the time she fell asleep, Roger still hadn't returned.

• — • — •

"Goodnight, Birdie. Happy birthday," Roger whispered into the darkness and ran his hand over her cheek, giving her a kiss atop her head before clambering into bed beside her sleeping body.

5/3/23 - I couldn't wait until Wednesday, sorry not sorry