“What’s with the armbands?”
Roger is looking skeptically at himself in the mirror, eyes zeroing in on the black band placed just above his right elbow.
When wardrobe had handed him his stack of clothes, the cuff had been resting on top of the glittery vest with a handwritten note from Freddie. “Please wear this on your right arm. XOXO Fred ♡”
Unsure of the reasoning behind the specific instructions, but ever the people pleaser for Freddie, Roger had done as asked of him.
Brian dips an eyebrow at him as he struggles to push his own cuff up his left arm. “Not sure. Why does he want them on different sides?” He casts his eyes towards his own note, which had said essentially the same thing without the ‘please’ and a less fluffy signoff, as well as telling him to put the cuff on his left arm. The difference between his own note and Roger’s had made him smile. The contrast of his and Freddie’s constant brotherly bickering versus Roger and Freddie’s hyper-affectionate closeness made him feel strangely warm. Knowing that his boyfriend had a best friend who loved and cared for him so much always left Brian suppressing secret smiles so as not to interrupt the sweet moments they share. Years of incredibly close friendship and comradery have led them to know everything about each other, and it makes Brian feel safe. The entire band always has each other’s backs, but Freddie and Roger have something special, like they were soulmates in a way. Like they were meant to be best friends.
For someone as logical, smart, analytical, as Brian is, he supposes that the idea of soulmates should put him off or seem ridiculous. But for some reason, he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that he and Roger were made for each other. As much as he hates the expression “written in the stars”, he does feel something akin to that when he looks into Roger’s blue eyes, strokes his blonde hair, holds him curled up in their bed at night.
And when he catches Roger’s glance in the mirror, butterflies erupt in his stomach just like they always do. Instead of voicing his mushy thoughts to his boyfriend, he proposes an answer to his own question. “Maybe it’s something like… Tall and short. I don’t know.” He knows it’s a weak guess, but he has no better ideas. He knows with Freddie it’s never something so simple or meaningless. It’s probably some sort of metaphor with too many layers that will make no sense to any of them except for Roger. He’s definitely looking forward to getting a real answer.
Roger and Brian do a final quick look-over of each other, adjusting shirts and fixing buttons and straightening armbands and making sure jewelry is fastened correctly and facing the right way. Then they set off together down the hall to the stage.
When they arrive at the stage, Ratty snickers a little as he looks at their armbands. Roger and Brian are both a little confused, but brush it off as soon as they notice Freddie wearing an arm cuff on his left side like Brian. Freddie’s own armband is silver and twisted into delicate swirls in the front. It suits him well and stands out nicely against his black shirt, similar to Brian’s. Freddie is wearing a silver ring connected to a matching bracelet with chainmail cascading down his hand. His outfit is striking. Almost new common theme besides the black clothing and silver jewelry, but he still looks stunning.
“Roger, darling!” Freddie grins, walking toward the blonde with his arms open. When he gets close enough, he places his hands on Roger’s shoulders and looks him up and down. “You look just wonderful! Ah, I love the vest. It suits you so well.”
Freddie turns to Brian and suppresses a smile, trying to keep the fondness out of his voice when he says, “Brian. You also look… nice.”
Brian grins. He knows Freddie is beyond pleased by how his outfit looks and is keeping up the constant affectionate teasing between the two of them. “Thanks, Fred. We were wondering about the arm cuffs while we were getting ready… Why are we wearing them on the left with Roger’s on the right?”
“It’s noth-- Wait, you two got ready together?” Freddie furrows his eyebrows.
Brief panic surges through Brian and Roger. Despite knowing that Freddie is beyond gay and Freddie and John wouldn’t care that Roger and Brian have been dating, they’ve still been working on all the hows and whens of telling their bandmates. Brian and Roger have only been dating for a month a half after several years of mutual pining. Despite how little time they’ve been officially together, they know deep down that they were born to love each other.
(There is also the added factor that it’s far easier to get each other off without John or Freddie breathing down their necks and/or relentlessly teasing them for their “alone time”, which is another thing that’s held them back from confessing to it.)
There’s a pause before Roger stammers, “Oh. Um. It was just-- we saw each other. Um. On the way to set…” Both Roger and Brian are flushed pink, but Freddie seems to not notice.
“Oh. Well, yeah. The bands aren’t a big deal, the sides don’t mean anything,” Freddie elaborates, but he has his lips pressed together as if he’s trying to contain a laugh. Roger and Brian look at each other, silently debating whether to press further, but then John comes onto the set in a baffling outfit that somehow works for him. Freddie, Roger, and Brian all clump around him to fawn over him in his outfit, leaving the armband conversation far behind them.
Filming the video for Liar goes off without a hitch. They have fun filming and work together perfectly, just like they always do, and they finish up more quickly than Brian had ever expected was possible for the four of them.
Brian adamantly insists on helping the crew clean up the shoot for at least a little while, and Roger stays behind with him, helping to tidy the set. John and Freddie leave to change, walking down the hall towards the dressing rooms.
Brian and Ratty begin putting away the guitars while Roger starts to disassemble his drum kit and get it into its various carrying cases.
“So, Brian,” Ratty begins, his voice lilting and playful. “Those armbands were something, no?”
Brian’s eyebrows furrow. “I mean, yeah? Certainly not the weirdest thing Freddie’s had us wear. Why?”
Ratty’s eyes widen and he lets out a shocked little laugh. “Wait, you actually don’t know?”
“Know what?” Brian’s eyes are newly narrowed in suspicion, knowing he should have pushed Freddie harder for answers on the stupid jewelry.
“Oh, Brian,” Ratty wheezes. “It’s a gay thing. If you wear the armband on the right, you’re a bottom. If it’s on the left, you’re a top.”
It takes a minute for Brian’s mind to stop buzzing enough for him to open his mouth again. “I… He… God damn it, Freddie. Why didn’t he make John wear one?”
“I dunno, Bri,” Ratty chuckles. “Maybe he couldn’t decide if John was a top or a bottom.”
Brian’s face flushes bright red as he realizes Freddie had gotten him and Roger totally backwards. He tries to act casual as he helps the crew pick up.
As soon as things are cleaned up, Brian approaches Roger and taps him on the shoulder. Roger jumps and turns to face him. When he sees Brian standing there, his face breaks into a grin.
“Hey, stunner,” Roger mumbles, his tone dripping with affection. Brian gives him a quick smile back, but then he bites his lip.
“So… I figured out the arm cuffs,” Brian says quietly.
“Yeah. C’mere,” Brian murmurs, pulling Roger into the hallway with the dressing rooms in it. He presses a quick kiss to Roger’s lips.
“Thanks, that’s cute and everything, but tell me about the armbands,” Roger huffs, half-laughing as he says it.
“Um. Well. It’s a gay thing. Like, if you have it on the left, you’re a top and if it’s on your right you’re a bottom,” Brian explains somewhat awkwardly, still a little shy about such simple things as saying ‘top’ and ‘bottom’.
Roger’s light eyebrows furrow. “But yours was on the left?” His jaw drops before he half-shouts, “And mine was on the right!”
Before Brian can say anything more, Roger is storming off towards the dressing room labeled “FREDDIE MERCURY” and throwing the door open. Brian follows behind him quickly, seeing no other solution than to try to minimize the damage that his insistently not a bottom boyfriend is going to do.
John is sitting at one end of the couch in his regular clothes, reading a music magazine. He looks up with his eyebrows raised as the door flies open and slams against the wall.
Freddie, who is still dressed in his outfit from the video, doesn’t even look up from fidgeting with his jewelry. He’s sitting on the other end of the couch. “Roger, dear! What’s got you worked up this time?”
Brian is slightly taken aback by how insanely good Freddie is at sensing Roger’s energy without even looking at him. On the other hand, Freddie does have peripheral vision and knows that a door slammed open usually doesn’t indicate good things.
“You think I’m a bottom? ” Roger almost shouts.
This does catch Freddie’s attention. He lets go of his ring and looks up. “Ah! Who told you about the armbands?”
Roger, who is not one to be easily swayed into forgetting a source of anger, hisses, “Brian told me. Answer the question.”
Rather than do as Roger has demanded, Freddie has switched his gaze over to Brian. “And who told you?”
Brian flushes pink. “It was Ratty, I didn’t even really ask, Fred.”
Roger is seething, his face flush with halfhearted anger. It’s essentially impossible for Roger to get genuinely angry with Freddie. “Freddie! The fucking question. You think I’m a bottom?”
Freddie’s face breaks into a small grin that shows his uneven teeth. “I’m sorry, are you not?”
“No!” Roger’s tone is amusingly high-pitched, which makes Freddie cover his mouth with his hand in order to not show his growing smile, but his crinkling eyes are indication enough that he’s finding the whole thing rather entertaining.
John snickers from his end of the couch. “Ah, how could Fred have thought that?” he teases, not lifting his eyes from his magazine.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Roger whines.
“Dear, I’m so sorry I thought you were a bottom. I should’ve expected that the little blond-haired, blue-eyed twink in a sparkly vest in front of us is a top,” Freddie muses, his tone still light and teasing.
Roger’s face is flushed red when he scoffs, “And you think Brian is a top?”
Brian’s mouth drops open. “Why the hell are you dragging me into this? I could top you if I wanted to!”
Finally, John looks up from his magazine for the first time since he had resumed reading it after Roger burst in. His eyebrows are raised, mouth hanging open a little in surprise, eyes wide.
Freddie, on the other hand, has a knowing smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. “Ah, there it is.”
There’s a long, long pause. Brian’s face is flushed bright red. Roger takes a moment to process what Freddie means. John’s face grows into a wide smile as soon as he realizes what Freddie means.
Roger, of course, is the first one to break the silence. “So you got it wrong on purpose just to get us to admit that we’re fucking?”
Freddie laughs. “No, no. I genuinely thought I had it the right way ‘round. I didn’t even really try to get you two to come out with it. I just thought it would be funny.”
Brian continues to blush and not say anything. Roger bites his lip, slightly embarrassed to have gotten Freddie’s plan/not-plan wrong. Then, suddenly, John bursts out laughing.
“Brian fucking May is a bottom? Are you kidding me, Roger? You’re a top? Really?” John gasps between laughs.
“Fuck off, John,” Roger spits out as venomously as he can manage despite finally beginning to see the amusement in the situation. He supposes it is sort of funny, the fact that he’s significantly shorter than Brian with feminine features and long blonde hair and a bit of a curvy figure and yet, despite all of this, he’s still always the top between him and Brian. Brian, who is tall and skinny and always seems in control, with sharp features and a presence that demands attention even though Brian doesn’t really want it. Brian, who looks like he’s about to die of embarrassment in the corner of the dressing room.
Freddie begins to giggle too, and Roger is no match for his best friend’s infectious laughter, so he can’t help but join in. Even Brian, despite still blushing furiously and being relatively quiet compared to how vocal he usually is, manages to find some humor in the situation, hiding his face in his hands and shaking his head in exasperation even though he’s smiling behind his palms.
“Can’t believe the certified control freak bottoms,” John quips.
Brian lifts his head from his hands, his face still pink. “Deaky,” he whines, his voice laced with a combination of fondness and frustration.
“You have no idea,” Roger mutters, only loud enough for Brian to hear it. Brian’s stomach twists, embarrassment and arousal combining together to create something that makes him want Roger to mock him, tease him, make fun of him right here in front of John and Freddie. He swallows hard and tries to take deep breaths to calm himself down.
John, Freddie, and Roger have a rather in-depth conversation about the history of Brian and Roger’s relationship, just to get it out of the way. Brian tries to pipe in here and there, but he’s become preoccupied with his embarrassing fantasies of being put in his place by Roger in front of their two closest friends. Admittedly, Brian’s brain tends to fog up dangerously when his mind takes him to such places, so he quickly becomes useless to the conversation, electing to let Roger take the lead.
It seems like the chatting lasts forever, and Brian almost feels like a child at a grocery store whose mum has run into an old friend and is taking her sweet time catching up. He’s barely holding back from tugging at Roger’s arm and begging to go home, but luckily Freddie and John have had their appetites for answers sated for the time being before the urge to begin acting desperate wins over.
“Right, so that’s that about that,” Roger finishes before pushing himself out from the wall he’s been leaning against while he talks. Brian, perking up at the conclusive nature of his boyfriend’s sentence, does the same, intertwining his large hand with Roger’s smaller one.
“Can we go get changed?” Brian asks, but it comes out dangerously close to a whine. Roger grins up at him.
“Yeah, I wanna get this bullshit armband off,” the blonde scoffs. “Not like they’re even right anyways.”
Freddie rolls his eyes. “Try to be a little quiet this time. I’ve been hearing the two of you fuck forever . I guess it’s actually been Brian who sounds like a girl the whole time.”
Brian barely manages to suppress a desperate whimper at that, but of course Roger notices, fixing a knowing gaze on the side of Brian’s face as the taller man stares forward, refusing to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. Roger turns his attention back to Freddie, throwing a curt “fuck off” in his direction before turning and walking out the door with Brian’s hand still clasped in his.
Brian continues to avoid looking at Roger’s face as they walk down the hall to Roger’s dressing room. As soon as they’re inside, however, Roger pushes Brian against the door. Brian looks down at him, lips parting immediately, his pupils blown wide.
In moments like these, the height difference between the two doesn’t matter at all. Brian almost immediately submits to his boyfriend despite the fact that he basically towers over Roger.
Roger smirks up at him. “You thought I wouldn’t notice you getting all worked up in front of Fred and Deaky?”
Brian decides to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, but his voice is breathy enough to give him away.
“Yeah? You weren’t thinking about me showing them how easy it is to get you on your knees?” Brian’s breath catches, but Roger continues without a pause. “And it didn’t do anything for you when Fred said you sound like a girl?”
Brian can’t hold back the whimper that leaves his lips at hearing those words again. Roger can’t help but grin at that, loves when he gets to hear the moment Brian submits to him fully.
Roger begins pressing gentle kisses along Brian’s neck. Brian lets out weak little whines, already squirming against the wall where Roger has him pinned. When Roger begins to suck a love bite into a sensitive spot just below Brian’s jawline, the taller man gasps and lets out a high-pitched moan. Roger smirks against his skin, nipping at the newly bruised skin. He pulls back for a moment, looking up at Brian. His eyes are closed, lips parted, hands shoved behind his own back in an attempt to keep from touching Roger or, God forbid, himself. He looks so pretty, so desperate already. Roger wants to fucking wreck him, prove Freddie and John wrong even though they won’t know. He wants to humiliate him, make him blush and cum so hard it leaves him fucked out for hours.
“Oh, Bri, you look so pretty like this…” Roger breathes. “C’mere. Get undressed, bend over the back of the couch.”
He steps back to allow Brian to strip. The first thing Brian reaches for is his necklace, but Roger cuts him off. “Leave it on. Looks pretty on you.”
Brian giggles a little, instead moving his hand down to remove the arm cuff that had begun the entire ordeal. He drops it on a leather chair beside him, then takes off his black flowy shirt. He folds it carefully and places it in the chair on top of the armband. Roger stares at the pale expanse of his chest and stomach, drinking in every inch of him. Brian seems oblivious and bends over to take his pants off. Too desperate to bother properly taking them off, he squirms and pushes them down his thighs, taking his underwear with them. He toes at his boots and kicks them to the side.
The feeling of Roger’s eyes burning on his body has left him too impatient to fold his trousers. He’s been half-hard since he let his mind run wild while Roger had filled in the blanks on their relationship to John and Freddie. Now his body is hot all over as he bends himself over the edge of the couch like he’s been asked. His breath speeds up as he feels Roger’s presence behind him. He can hear Roger shedding his clothes and taking off his shoes.
In a moment of clarity, Brian swears under his breath. “Lube?” he whines, still unable to formulate a full sentence.
“Don’t worry, angel. I brought it in the bag,” Roger assures him, fondness filling his tone. Brian visibly relaxes a little, giggling softly. Roger walks over to his bag and grabs said lube, popping open the cap. Brian shivers a little at the familiar noise.
Behind him, Roger squirts a little lube out onto his pointer and middle finger. Without warning, he runs a wet finger over Brian’s hole. His boyfriend jumps a little before sighing. Roger circles his hole with his first finger for a moment before gently pushing it in.
Brian hardly flinches, opening right up to his boyfriend’s finger inside him. The only noise he makes is a large breath of air leaving his lungs.
“Good boy, Bri,” Roger murmurs. “You take it so well, don’t you?”
Brian lets out a weak whimper and tries in vain to push back on the finger that Roger is holding still inside of him. All he wants is for Roger to move, but he just won’t.
“Ah, ah, be patient, sweetheart,” Roger chuckles, but begins to move his finger in and out. He knows it’ll just make it worse for Brian; it only starts to actually feel good when he starts to feel stretched, which takes at least two fingers.
As Brian lets out soft noises of frustration and desperation, Roger continues to tease, knowing how much it gets Brian worked up to be humiliated. “Imagine if Deaky and Fred saw you like this, bent over the couch begging for another finger in you. They’re right, it is funny that you’re so submissive… Always so nervous and desperate to be in control, so fuckin’ tall, too, and yet you’re entirely at my mercy like this.”
Brian’s whimpers and moans have gotten louder and needier in the time Roger’s been talking, the feeling of being embarrassed just making him harder and more desperate. “Another finger, Rog, please,” he gasps out.
“Needy boy, can’t take what you’re given, you always wanna be stretched, huh?” Roger chides, pushing another finger inside Brian alongside the first one. He curls them and immediately, Brian shouts out a loud, high-pitched “oh!”
Roger smirks and begins to scissor his fingers to get Brian properly ready for his cock, occasionally pressing his fingers down on Brian’s prostate, making him tense up and let out strangled moans.
When he feels like Brian is ready, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Can I fuck you now?” he asks, his voice soft and gentle.
Brian nods eagerly. Roger removes his fingers and spreads lube on his cock, biting back a moan at the feeling of his own hand.
Repositioning himself behind his boyfriend, Roger gently asks, “Ready?” Once again, Brian nods enthusiastically.
Roger pushes into Brian gently, taking his sweet time easing in, enjoying the tight, hot feeling of Brian’s hole surrounding him. Brian is trying his very best to be patient, gasping out desperate little breaths to try to keep from begging like he wants to.
“You’re like a fucking vice, Bri, so tight and hot around me. It’s like you were made to be fucked,” Roger breathes, beginning to thrust in and out of Brian.
Brian moans, letting out soft little noises every time Roger fucks into him. Roger angles his hips just a little, and immediately, Brian shouts something incoherent. It sounds like a mixture of curse words and something about how good Roger feels in him, but it doesn’t matter what he said. It’s like music to Roger’s ears; the sounds his boyfriend is making and the knowledge that he’s making Brian feel as good as Brian makes Roger himself feel makes his head swim.
“Rog, please, faster, please, I’m gonna-- Oh, fuck…” Brian tries in vain to form a comprehensive request, but “faster” is all Roger really needed to hear, fucking his hips faster into Brian.
Heat pools in Brian’s stomach as he feels himself nearing his orgasm. His cock is leaking against his stomach, flushed redder than his face had been earlier, begging to be touched. He wraps one of his large hands around his own dick, something Roger usually wouldn’t let him do, but he lets it slide this time. Brian’s head swims as he jerks himself off, dangerously close to cumming.
“Rog I, fuck, I’m gonna cum. I need to cum, please, can I?” Brian begs, a little bit surprised he can manage to conjure up any words at the moment.
“Yes, god, cum for me, Bri. Make a mess of yourself for me. Cum on my cock.”
As soon as he’s given permission, Brian cums into his fist, letting out loud, broken moans. The feeling of Brian clenching around him sets Roger off, spilling inside of him and groaning lowly in his throat.
Brian tenses a little as Roger pulls out of him, but he quickly relaxes as Roger helps him stand up straight, his soft, warm hands making him feel cozy and safe despite his nudity and the feeling of Roger’s cum inside him, though neither being nude nor having Roger’s cum filling him up are unwelcome or unfamiliar feelings.
Roger helps Brian lay down on the couch, and Brian accepts far more assistance than he probably actually needs. When Roger lays him down on the couch, they take a minute looking into each other’s eyes, unable to help themselves. Brian’s face breaks into a grin, and Roger can’t help but smile back, full of love and warmth and fondness. Roger leans down and presses a quick kiss to Brian’s lips before pulling back, laughing a little.
“Wow, we really didn’t plan this clean-up part well, did we?” Roger laughs.
Brian’s smile widens. “No, we did not.”