Pairing: Roger/John
Rating: R rating for Aussies... which for my American friends is NC-17. For anyone else, I haven't a bloody clue. Possibly graphic sex scene and some violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Queen or any of its members any more than the rest of you (or do you? If you do, I'll pay $50 for one!). This probably never happened. And even if it did, it probably didn't happen the way I'm about to tell it. If what I'm about to write is word for word accurate truth, I'm totally freaked out as to why it's in my brain.
Other bla bla bla: This is gonna be an angsty rape one, just so you're warned. Also be warned I have never written angsty rape in my life and have read very little of it, so this is more than likely going to be utter bullshit and relegated to that level of slash that is only good for laughing at how horrible it is. That's fine.. that's FINE!! If you hate how much it sucks, write a better one..... please write a better one??
Setting: Some anonymous hotel room in some anonymous year in the 70s.


"You're leaving me?" Roger stared up at Brian in total disbelief. "What the..... why, Brian?"
Brian sighed quietly. He'd delayed this for too long, he knew that, but he hated confrontations and he had a gut feeling that this was going to be a big one.
"I've.... oh Christ. I've met someone else."
"You've been screwing around on me?" Roger sounded like a hurt little boy, but Brian wasn't buying that, he'd known Roger long enough to know the way his moods went. The sulking act was just the prelude to the atomic explosion of anger. "How could you do that to me... to us?"
"Rog, look, I never meant for it to happen. I also meant to come to you a lot sooner to tell you...." Brian trailed off. What he said next was crucial, it would either defuse or detonate Roger's anger. His mind when blank and he stared helplessly at the shorter blond man. Think, you idiot!
"Who is he?"
"Ah. Um, well the thing is... it's a she actually." There, that should make it okay, Rog couldn't get mad if it was a woman.
"A she? You've been fucking around on me with a chick?" The sulky boy was gone, the petulant phase had been skipped, tantrum tot had arrived. "All this time you've been waxing lyrical about love and forever and all that bullshit, and you've been with a woman?"
"Roger, come on. It's not like you've been faithful to me-"
"I fucking well have!"
"You've had your groupies, you've had your women! You've never stopped being a sex crazed rock star the entire time we've been together. Don't be a hypocritcal bastard Roger."
"So what if I've screwed around? Have I left you for any of them? Have I ever not been here when you needed me?"
"Roger..." Brian shook his head and sighed. "Look, this was never going to be a permanent thing, you had to know that. You don't love me, you never have - you never bloody will." He held up a hand to silence Roger's next tirade. "I know what I said to you in Germany. I know I told you I loved you... I thought maybe I did. But I also thought it might send you screaming from the room and that'd be the end of it."
"So that's it, is it?" Roger asked quietly. Brian looked at him surprised. He sounded defeated, if not accepting. "That's all there is to it. You've screwed me around, you've fucked me over and you're going to go off for a happily ever after with your little woman."
"I'm sorry," Brian said softly. "I really am, Roger. I'm still your friend, I'm still your bandmate. I know it'll be awkward for awhile, but we can get through this, yeh?"
"Oh fuck off Brian. Bandmates, yes. Friends, no." Roger's face turned red as his anger and hurt rose to the surface. "Now get the fuck out of my hotel room! Go call the little woman, go look at a photo of her and do what you do, just get the fuck outta my sight!" He shoved Brian in the chest and the taller man reeled backwards, striking the door. "Get out!!" He screamed. Brian turned and fled obediently.

Roger screamed in frustration as the door slammed shut and turned to the mini bar. Throwing it open he stared at the mini bottles of alcohol and sighed. "For fuck's sake...." He shut the door and stood passivley, staring at the wall, hearing over in his mind what Brian had said to him. "Hypocritical bastard am I?" He muttered. "Sex crazed rock star is it? Not a permanent thing..." He screamed again and smashed his fist into the wall. Pain exploded in his hand and shot up his arm. "FUCK! Fuck it fuck it FUCK IT!!" A loud knock at the door interrupted his ranting. "WHAT?"
"Are you all right in there, Roger?" John's voice came muffled through the door, heavy with concern.
"I'm fine!" Roger shouted, his voice hysterical. He clutched his injured hand in the other and shrieked as pain shot up his arm again. The door was thrown open and John rushed in, looking slightly terrified, but determined to help his bandmate.
"Roger?" He hurried over to the blond. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened. Fuck off."
John put his arm around Roger and eased his hurt hand away from his strong one. "You punch the wall?"
"Yeh, so?"
"So nothing. Why'd you do it?"
"I don't see how that's any of your bloody business, John. Do you have any vodka in your room?"
"Only stuff from the mini bar," John replied as he checked over Roger's hand.
"I mean real vodka." Roger sighed.
"Your hand looks fine. Why'd you punch the wall?"
"I told you, none of your fucking business."
John gazed calmly at Roger. "I'm just trying to help."
"Well go down to the bar and get me a bottle of vodka that's actually put some effort into being a bottle."
John sighed and nodded. "All right, I'll be right back."

When he returned to Roger's room, he found Roger sitting on the bed, empty mini bottles around him.
"Oh thank God!" The drummer shouted. "Main course!" He grabbed the bottle out of John's hands, quickly unscrewed the lid and gulped it down straight. He glanced over at John who was standing uncertainly next to the bed. "For Christ's sake, Deaky. Either join in or fuck off." John hesitated then reached out his hand for the vodka. Roger handed it over and he took a few small mouthfuls, grimacing at the taste.
"I don't know how you can drink that stuff straight, Rog. It's awful."
"Pain makes people do stupid things..." Rog muttered.
"What pain?" John asked, sure Roger meant something more than his hand. But Roger waved his right arm infront of John's eyes.
"Remember? Fist, wall, screaming ouchies?" He sighed and stared miserably at the floor before swigging more from the bottle.
"Brian broke up with you, didn't he?" John asked after a long pause.
"What? How the fuck do you know about me and Brian?"
John shrugged. "I'm not blind Roger. I'm not deaf or stupid either."
"The bastard told you, didn't he?"
"No one told me anything. But I do know he's met a new woman and he really really likes her."
"Jesus Christ, does everyone know more than me?" Roger sighed angrily and did his best to finish off the vodka in one go. Throwing the empty bottle across the room, he stood up and glared at John. "You've known this all along and you didn't do anything? Not to stop him, not to warn me?"
John stepped back. "Roger look, I didn't know anything for certain... and it wasn't my place to interfere anyway."
"Oh bullshit! You interfere fast enough when it's anyone else! 'She'll rob you blind Rog' 'she's just using you for exposure, Rog' 'sex isn't enough, Rog'.... but no, not when it's precious Brian May." His blue eyes narrowed. "You haven't been having a go of him on the side have you?"
"What? No! Of course I haven't. Look, you're upset, I'll leave you alone..." John turned to walk to the door, knowing that Roger was in no shape to think rationally, and not desiring to be on the receiving end of his anger.
"Oh you little bitch, you have!" Roger leapt forward, grabbed John and spun him around. "You knew he was taken and you couldn't keep your bloody hands off him. You aren't his little woman are you? Is that what this is?"
"Roger, what-"
"Shut up!" Roger slurred. "You just shut the hell up. Oh Christ.... right, you take from me, I take from Brian."

Before John could get a protest out or break from the drummer's grasp, Roger pulled him forward and kissed him hard, forcing his tongue into John's mouth. John tried to push him away, but Roger grabbed his wrists and pinned them behind his back, his rage dulling the pain in his own hand. John jerked his head back and squirmed out of Roger's hold.
"Roger, you're not yourself... I'm.. I'm going...." He turned to leave again, but Roger grabbed him by the belt loop of his jeans and dragged him back.
"You're not going anywhere..." He muttered as he reached around the front and quickly undid John's buttons. As the bassist tried to lunge for the door, Roger again grabbed the belt loop and the jeans slid down the younger man's thighs. John stumbled and Roger took hold of his upper arms and threw him onto the bed. He undid the zipper of his own jeans as he approached the bed. He hurridly pulled them off, his briefs joining them as he knelt on the bed over John. He leant over and kissed John agressively, one hand pinning him down, the other working at pushing John's jeans further down. He broke away to pull them off and John sat, trying vainly to bolt for the door. Roger slapped him lazily across the face.
"I said no, John." Roger pushed him back onto the bed and slid his hands along John's trembling white skin. John tried to slap Roger's hands away, but the blond reached down and squeezed John's balls lightly. "Do you know what 'no' means or not, Deacon?"
"Do you?" John gasped. Roger stared down at him then sat back. John sighed, sure that Roger's alcohol fueled rage was disipating.
"Fuck it," Roger muttered and grabbed John's shoulders. Forcibly, he rolled him over so he was lying face down on the bed then spread his legs. John heard Roger muttering to himself and the sound of searching through the top drawer of the nightstand. He tried to raise himself onto his elbows but Roger's knee pinned him down.
"Rog, please.."
"Shut up would you!" The fumbling sound stopped and John tried to relax his taut body. With any luck the vodka would catch up with Roger and he'd pass out. He prayed that it would. Then he could just get dressed, go back to his room and forget this whole thing had happened. Just pretend it had been a very weird dream. A very intense dream, but a dream all the same. He'd almost convinced himelf that was what was happening when he felt a slick finger push into his anus. He cried out and tried to buck Roger off, but succeeded only in getting Roger into a better postion for what he wanted to do. John pressed his face into the rumpled bedclothes as Roger lifted his hips and eased his finger out. Hot tears sprang to his eyes as Roger thrust deep into him, tears of shame and humiliation, rather than tears of pain. He forced his mind to go blank or to think of anything other than the rocking motion of the other man's hips, the moans issuing from his mouth and the firm yet strangely gentle feel of Roger's hands on his back. He concentrated on his breathing, concentrated on the texture of the blanket under his body, concentrated on his bass lines until with one strong thrust, Roger struck his G-spot. John moaned loudly, bucking slightly underneath Roger, the added momentum and friction leading Roger to orgasm. He lay heavily on John, slick and panting. John lay still as Roger slid out of him and collapsed next to him. As crazy as it seemed, he was trying to figure the best way to leave without offending Roger. He turned his face to the side to look at the other man, his eyes red rimmed, his face burning and streaked with tears. Roger looked back at him and John could see confusion, pain and hurt cloud his wide blue eyes, all his rage departed.
"Oh John..." Roger said shakily. "Oh fuck, I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me...." Tears filled Roger's eyes and he rolled onto his side, facing away from John, his slender body shaking slightly as he cried quietly. John sat up and stared down at him, not knowing whether or not to say anything. Eventually he cleared his throat.
"Roger," he began softly.
"Just go away," Roger moaned. "Just get out of here and leave me alone, John. Just..." He was wracked with more sobs. John gathered his clothes and dressed quickly, watching the drummer the whole time.
"I won't say anything about this..."
Roger grunted a response and John left the room, shutting the door gently before heading down the hotel corridor, back to Brian's room.
FIN