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“Are you the police?”
“No, ma’am. We’re musicians.”
John laughs at the straight-faced, monotone response from one of the Blues Brothers.
Brian chuckles too. Despite arguing about what to watch on TV — Brian wanting a Christmas film — John had won out with his reasoning that this was a rare opportunity to watch the American comedy. They could watch any version of “A Christmas Carol” at any other time this month.
“It’s sort of a Christmas movie,” John had said.
“How?”
“There’s an orphanage involved. They’re on a mission from God,” John seriously responded.
So, yeah, John somehow won that dispute. They’re watching the film on John’s cushy, large couch. Not large enough for Brian, apparently, his long form proves to be too much as he lies with his head in John’s lap and his feet dangling off the armrest.
It’s nice being back home.
Queen’s North America tour finally finished mid-December, and the band was cutting it close to Christmastime with their return to London.
“Oh, Aretha Franklin’s in this,” Brian notices. “Freddie should see this too.” There are quite a few surprising appearances from musicians they admire: James Brown, Chaka Khan, Ray Charles.
John scratches Brian behind the ear in acknowledgment and continues his absentminded combing through Brian’s curls.
John and Brian have been inseparable since the night they spent together in Montreal. Of course, a lot of that was just due to the circumstances of touring and constantly performing. Doing this for ten years together has made the working relationship easy. Although, they definitely explored their new physical relationship after gigs and on the odd day off.
Which, to John’s surprise, has been fairly easy for them as well. Sex with Brian has been phenomenal, mind-blowing, glorious …
Umm, John’s lizard brain really needs to stop going in that direction with Brian’s head in his lap. (He also really wants to finish the movie.)
Oops, too late. Brian looks up at him. “What’s on your mind, Deacs?”
John looks straight ahead at the telly. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh,” Brian’s not buying it. He stretches his body out like he’s relieving some tension. John’s eyes automatically shift to watch.
“Are you hard?” John asks in wonder.
Brian shrugs as best he can in his prone state.
“What in this movie got you horny?”
Brian scoffs. “I could ask you the same thing, John. My head is in your lap, after all.”
John takes a handful of curls and slowly pulls as not to surprise him but just enough for Brian to groan at the feeling. “It is in my lap. How convenient.”
Brian takes John’s smugness as a challenge. He turns over and pulls John’s shirt up to kiss and tongue at his navel.
“Oh, fuck, Bri,” John’s completely thrown by the boldness. His breathing speeds up and his head flops back.
Then James Brown starts leading an entire Baptist church in a wild praise session.
“Nope, nope,” John complains, “Brian, I can’t do this with church music in the background.”
Brian laughs into the soft belly before getting up to turn off the TV.
When he turns back around, John is struck by how gorgeous Brian is. His curls are unruly, the long-sleeve shirt is too small for him and rides up to show some of his impossibly flat stomach, his lips are already red from teasing John’s bellybutton.
But the sexiest part of Brian, it turns out, is the fond way he looks at John.
He returns to the couch and straddles John, crushes their lips together, dives into his mouth. John grips his slim waist to hold him flush against him, Brian moans and grinds rhythmically.
“John,” he moans the name, “want my mouth on you.”
John’s confused for a second because Brian’s mouth is pretty thoroughly on his lips and tongue at the moment.
Brian suddenly slides off him and onto the floor, mouth back on John’s stomach and navel — and , oh, that’s what he meant.
“Oh, God, yeah,” is the best John can respond.
Brian teases him for a minute, licking and poking with his tongue while rubbing John’s clothed erection. He removes the hand eventually as his mouth moves lower to take its place. He traces the shape of his cock with his tongue, noses the area, and buries his face.
John might explode from the sight.
They’ve only been doing this for a month, and Brian was mostly new to sex with men, but the lead guitarist and former doctoral candidate is a fucking fast learner.
Brian finally — finally! — unzips his jeans and pulls down the material over his hips. He doesn’t waste much time on the briefs, pulling those down just enough to get his cock out and swallow him down.
“Christ!” John practically screams. He’s a fast learner and an absolute natural.
Brian is all tight lips and suction and depth and eagerness.
“Brian-Bri-Brian,” he pauses his mindless chant, breathes heavy, “perfect, so good for me.”
That encourages Brian further. He adds his hand to the base and bobs faster to completely work John’s cock. Up, down, up, down. Brian moans without restraint, the vibrations driving John mad.
“Bri, you gotta-”
John doesn’t finish his sentence as Brian instinctively lets go of his cock and lets John go as deep as possible, John’s hands clutching his head while he cries out with pleasure so intense it cascades through every part of his body. He feels like he’s flying, soaring freely. It’s unbelievable, and it’s Brian who does that to him.
When he starts to come back to Earth, his first thought is to make sure he returns the feeling. “Brian, come up here. Come on, B.”
Brian’s slow to move and needs to be dragged back up to rest on top of John.
“Hey, you with me? You okay?” John checks on the man.
Brian coughs some, still catching his breath. “Yeah, yeah, just got lost in it all.” There’s a fire and wonder in his eyes that makes John blush. Being the focus of that sort of gaze from Brian is still so new and amazing.
It feels tinged with something else though, something important. “Are you really okay?”
Brian nods energetically, his face splits into a fantastic smile. “I’m great. I’m, uh, yeah,” he pauses his stuttered words to take a deep breath. “I love you, John.”
||
"Then what?" Freddie and Roger ask in unison.
John clears his throat, purposefully looks everywhere else but at the duo, appropriately hums his riff from "Under Pressure" to buy himself some more time, then breathes out a heavy sigh and accepts his fate. "I thanked him."
He clenches his eyelids shut in anticipation for whatever scorn they are sure to spew at him. He waits for it.
He waits some more.
Jesus, it's probably been at least a minute now.
John cracks open an eyelid enough to see Freddie and Roger gaping at him with twin looks of pure horror.
Oh, shit, he's broken them.
Before John can come up with anything more to say, Roger leaps off the couch. Freddie is quick to grab his arm. "No, Rog! You can't kill him! It took us too long to find a decent bass player!"
Roger ignores Freddie but allows himself to be held back. "Brian Harold May, a grown man who cries over badgers and regularly writes sad, existential songs, gives you the best head of your life and opens up his heart to tell you that he loves you ... and you say, 'Thank you'?! Fuck, the least you could have done was blow him back."
"Of course, I blew him!" John defends himself. "I'm not a total prick."
That stops whatever else Roger was prepared to say. "Oh, uh, well, I guess I won't kill you then." He sits back down.
Freddie punches his arm.
"Ow! What, Fred?! I said I won't kill him."
Freddie rolls his eyes and focuses on John. "Darling, why didn't you say you love him back?"
John frowns. "It's a bit soon, isn't it? A month since Montreal."
"Right," Freddie grants, "but you've known the man for more than ten years."
"That's different," John insists.
"Is it, darling?"
"We haven't even really talked about what we're doing, if it's even a relationship or whatever. Are we exclusive?"
"It seems that way so far," Roger says, shrugging. "You two have been glued to each other this past month and rarely went out after shows. Unless you were bringing someone else back to your rooms, I was assuming it was just you two fucking like rabbits."
John thinks back and realizes Roger's right. "It was just us," he admits.
"Well, what do you want?" Freddie asks. "Do you want sex with other people too? To date other people besides Brian?"
When John hears the guitarist's name, he's immediately sure of one thing. "I want Brian."
"But?" Roger supplies, because nothing is easy with Brian and John. Of course, there's a "but."
John sighs. "But I'm not sure he's all I want."
Freddie and Roger look at one another, silently conferring and formulating a plot. After some mind reading and pointed eyebrow raises, Roger shrugs and murmurs an "okay then," apparently reaching a conclusion.
"That's easy enough to figure out," Roger informs John.
"Yes, darling," Freddie says. "It so happens that I'm throwing a Christmas party, and you and Brian are lucky enough to be invited."
John's confused. "Okay, how-"
"Maybe someone there will capture your interest," Roger further explains.
"Ah," John finally gets it. "I suppose I haven't allowed myself to stray from Brian much. Being around others might clear up my dilemma," he reasons.
"But, Deacy, dear, there's another dilemma that arises with this opportunity."
"What?"
"Someone there might capture Brian's interest as well," Roger answers.
Oh.
"Would you be all right with that?" Freddie asks.
John opens his mouth to confidently answer "sure," but nothing comes out. He should be fine with it, shouldn't he? "I, uh, I honestly don't know," he finally admits.
The answers to John's dilemmas are quite obvious to Freddie and Roger, but if John's going to be willfully dense, he's just going to have to figure everything out the hard way.
"Well, you're gonna find out Friday," Roger says with certainty.
||
Freddie enters his party on the shoulders of Father Christmas.
“He’s doing this again?” Brian laments.
Roger shrugs. “You know Freddie loves to make an entrance. And on theme, as always.”
“Is that the same bloke he hired a couple years ago?” John asks.
Roger nods. “You know his name is actually Nicholas? Freddie’s not being a dick by calling him Nick.” Roger replays his words. “Hey, that rhymed!” he exclaims, pleased.
Brian rolls his eyes. “It’s probably how he got the job.”
Freddie and Nick make their way to the bandmates. “Hello, dearies. Having fun?”
“Hiya, Fred,” Roger looks up at his friend before acknowledging the man holding him above. “Nick, I’m jealous of your white beard.”
Nick removes it from his face and hands it to Roger. “You can have it.”
Freddie’s outraged. “Oh, my God, put me down if you’re not going to look the part.”
Nick does as commanded and wanders off to get a drink.
Roger’s looking at the beard with a genuine sparkle in his eyes.
“You know, darling, if you put that on, you’re going to have to carry me around the party.”
Roger smirks wickedly and puts on the beard. He squats in front of Freddie. “Come on, Fred. Hop on.”
Freddie’s tickled (and likely halfway pissed already). “Roggie, yesss. Let’s go!”
They lumber off to terrorize partygoers with offers to sit on Santa’s lap.
Brian and John keep watch for a couple minutes to be sure Roger doesn’t drop Freddie on his head.
“Okay, I think they’ll survive tonight,” Brian says.
“Hmm, yeah,” John considers, “we might actually finish out the year without a trip to the hospital.”
They chuckle and lean into each other, the familiar camaraderie loosening them up. The dopey smiles and soft eye contact are clearly more than friendly.
John’s fingers itch to reach out and touch some part of Brian. He wants to feel their newest form of connection, the physical nature of their relationship becoming as familiar and comforting as the banter and musicality.
John caves to the urge, but in a sneaky fashion. “You want another beer?”
“Umm, yeah, all right.”
“I’ll take the bottle for you.” John grasps the bottle, along with the hand holding it, and slowly takes it from him.
Brian gives a small, knowing smile.
John winks and walks off to the refreshments table in the corner. He’s searching for the particular brand Brian was drinking when someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns to find a broad-shouldered man with sandy blond waves that frame his face. His eyes are pale green and his lips are a perfect Cupid’s bow.
He’s lovely, and John’s brain is so preoccupied by the fact that he almost misses the first part of what the guy is saying.
“… don’t mean to be a bother, I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet you.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” John’s brain finally kickstarts, “it’s a party, after all. People are meant to meet and mingle.”
“I’m Benjamin. Friends call me Benny.”
“John,” he shakes the offered hand, “friends sometimes call me Deacy.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” Benny bites his lip as he smiles. “Suits you.”
Alarm bells clang in John’s head. Well, this is why he’s meant to be at this party. Benny is definitely a test of John’s interest in other people.
“I want you to know how brilliant I think ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ is. Absolutely smashing, you must be so proud.”
“It’s nice people seem to like it.”
“You’re too modest, it’s a masterpiece of funk. You know, I’m a bass player too. Not as good as you, but you’ve inspired me to get better.”
John has to admit that the flattery is getting to him. He’s not one to be in the spotlight like the others. It is truly how he likes it, which means when he does receive the odd spot of attention, he’s easily susceptible to it. “You’ll get stronger over time. It’s all about persistence.”
“Or maybe I need the right teacher.”
John’s willing to bet Benny’s a great bass player if he’s as persistent with it as he obviously is with his flirting.
“Have some time tonight for a one-on-one lesson?” Benny asks.
John would be jumping at the opportunity normally. He knows this game. But it doesn’t feel right for some reason. It feels hollow, cold. “I don’t have my bass with me,” he finally responds.
“I think we can make do with oral instruction.”
John silently applauds the retort. Looks like he’s going to miss out on a decent shag with a very pretty man.
Because despite knowing how he’d react to this sort of situation as little as a month ago, John at this moment in time doesn’t want him. He’s found the answer to his dilemma.
John wants Brian — and only Brian.
He looks at the table and spots the brand of beer he was looking for. He grabs two and turns back to Benny, offers an apologetic smile. “I’ve got someone,” he holds the two bottles up in illustration, “but good luck to you.”
John walks back to Brian, who’s looking straight at him. Oh, great, he inwardly groans. “Found your beer,” he leads with the positive.
Brian takes the bottle. Unlike John earlier, however, he carefully avoids any touching. “Who was that?”
“A fan. Just wanted the usual chat.”
“Looks like he wanted more than that.”
“But I didn’t,” John makes sure to look him in the eyes. “I really didn’t want it, B.”
Brian takes a swig from his bottle. “How come? I mean, even from here I could tell he’s a looker.”
“Hmm, yeah, he was nice enough. Could be taller. Could have darker hair with strong curls. Could have a stronger profile. Could be less of an obvious gym rat.” John might not be able to tell Brian he loves him, but he’s gonna get Brian to realize how much he wants him. “He isn’t you.”
Brian looks down to hide his blush.
“What about you?” John asks.
Brian looks back up, confused. “What about me?”
“Anyone catch your eye?” Despite sorting one of his dilemmas, John worries about the other, that Brian could be interested in others.
Brian scans the crowd quickly, not seriously looking. “No,” he says confidently, looking back at John, “there’s only you.”
It’s John’s turn to blush. He clears his throat, “Uh, think we can get away with leaving the party now?”
Brian sees Freddie and Roger challenging a couple of poor, unsuspecting EMI execs to a game of strip Scrabble. “Probably not.”
John glances at their bandmates too. “Damn,” he pouts.
Brian suddenly looks nervous, rips and fiddles with the label of his beer bottle. “We should get a Christmas tree tomorrow,” he suggests out of nowhere.
John blinks. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
Brian’s eyes turn pleading, hopeful. Ugh, John would agree to anything because of that look. “Okay.”
With the jealousy already forgotten, it’s that easy for them to move on and set up a date. John finds the lack of fuss refreshing, their easy companionship surprisingly sweet.
“Woot! Rog got a triple word score!” Freddie cheers. “Lose the shirt, Mr. Lyon.”
Brian and John sigh simultaneously and go check on their friends.
||
Brian loves Christmas.
For as long as John's known the now 30-something-year-old man, Brian becomes an 8-year-old child when the Christmas season hits.
John's reminded of this fact when they drive out to the Christmas tree grove Saturday morning. As they exit the car, Brian pulls out a red Santa hat, complete with furry white trim and ball at the end, and forces it over his curls like it’s an ordinary winter cap.
John's dumbfounded.
Brian starts to walk toward the vendor entrance when he notices John seemingly stuck by car. "What?"
John can only point at Brian's head.
Brian cutely rolls his eyes upward like he can actually see the hat sitting on top his head. That makes John giggle. "What?!" Brian asks again, completely clueless as to how goddamn adorable he is at the moment.
"Nothing," John shakes his head. "Let's go get your tree."
Brian lets whatever had John distracted drop. "Our tree," he corrects.
John gives a small smile. "Fine, our tree. Which, by the way, is still without a definite home. Is it going up at your place or mine?"
"Well, you've got the proper house, so I assumed we'd be taking it to yours."
While there are precut trees available, this area allows people to pay to go cut their own if they have the tools and gumption. Brian seems enamored with a few larger specimens still standing tall, John notices.
"You know, Brian, despite the electric guitar often being called an ax, you can't actually chop a tree with it."
Brian smiles smugly. "The Red Special is capable of anything. How do you know I didn't equip it with lasers or something?"
"Then you should get a contract to produce an arsenal of Red Specials. Britain's army would be unstoppable."
"War is ugly business, Deacy. You're lucky I used the Red Special to become a humble rock star."
John's heart swells, his smile dopey. "I am lucky," he genuinely responds, although the feelings associated are dampened by their chuckles over the ridiculous conversation. "Anyway, why are we only limiting my home to a tree? You could get one for your flat too."
"No, my little flat can make do with some garland and wreaths."
"Why do you still have that place, anyway? I've been curious. You can afford a proper house now."
Brian shrugs. "It's close to everything, has a nice balcony."
"But a house would be a great investment."
"Queen's finances are entrusted to you and not to me for good reasons, but I'm not so oblivious to the advantages of homeownership. Thank you for the fiscal advice, John."
"Then why not?" John presses.
Brian shrugs again. "I just thought that when I finally got my own house, it would be when I found someone to make it a home with."
"I can see that," John nods. "I guess I bought mine just to be ready when I found that someone."
They stop their stroll around the lot to stare at each other for a moment.
"You're really okay being here with me getting a Christmas tree for your house?" Brian asks suddenly. “I mean, we’re getting it really late, Christmas is only a few days away, and you probably haven’t done your shopping or caught up with friends since we got back from tour-”
“Brian!” John interrupts, frowning and confused by the tension. He studies the nervous nail-biting and skittishness. As imposing as Brian’s height and stage persona can make him, John often forgets he’s privately very self-conscious and fragile. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you.”
Brian beams a beautiful but nervous smile.
John looks around to check their surroundings. There luckily aren’t many patrons since most have already gotten a tree this season. He hooks a finger around one of Brian's and tugs him behind an especially large spruce. John kisses Brian there tenderly, affectionately, a thumb on his chin, his other hand lightly grasping Brian's.
John pulls away eventually and rubs their cold noses together.
Brian sighs contently. "I'm happy being with you too. It’s the best gift I could get." He gazes at John with complete adoration. "I love you, Deacy."
||
"What'd you say back?" Freddie asks.
John bangs his head against his table. " 'That's nice.' "
There’s only silence on the telephone line for several long seconds.
"That's nice," Freddie finally says, dryly repeating John. "Darling, that might possibly be even worse than you thanking him."
"Christ, John," Roger exclaims, listening on another phone at Freddie's house. "I think you're proof that love makes people stupid."
"It's three words, John," Freddie says, exasperated. "How is this so complicated?"
"I wanted to say it back to him so badly, but it felt cheap to just say it then, like I was only saying it because he said it. I want him to really know I mean it."
"You better tell him soon,” Roger warns, “because your hesitance isn't going unnoticed, and I don't want to be dealing with a sulking, heartbroken Brian at Christmas. Can you imagine? That's gotta be the saddest sight ever."
Freddie gets a bit teary at the thought. "Damn it, John, fix this before I have to go buy Bri a forest and cram it full of creatures to make him happy again."
||
After picking a tree and depositing it at John’s house, Brian needed to go to his flat to get his stash of ornaments and trimmings. He’s due to return to help decorate in the evening.
John’s relieved to have time to recover from his disastrous response to Brian’s second declaration of love. Speaking with Freddie and Roger had helped, and John’s confident that he won’t fuck things up again tonight.
When the doorbell chimes, John opens the door and finds Brian’s arms so filled with boxes and bags that his face is covered.
“Jeez, Brian, how’d you make it up here like that?” He grabs the topmost items from the pile. “No offense, but you have the coordination and strength of a newborn foal.”
“Oi!” John hears before he’s grabbed enough to reveal Brian’s head, wearing the Santa hat once again, and an outraged expression. John grins unapologetically and pecks Brian’s pout.
Brian grumbles and sets down the rest on the floor.
“Multiple trips weren’t an option?”
“Oh, there’s more,” Brian assures.
John gapes. “All decorations?”
“It’s Christmas, John!” Brian joyfully responds. He takes off the Santa hat and places it on John’s head with a wink before dashing back to his car.
After two more trips, Brian finally gets to take off his coat and gloves to join John for dinner.
“I brought my sleepwear too,” Brian announces. “I hope that’s all right.”
John glances at the night bag next to the decorations. “Of course, it’s all right,” he says easily. “Tree trimming is hard work. I would never make you drive back tired.”
Brian gives a lopsided grin. “Imagine I’ll be tired from other activities as well.”
John gasps dramatically. “This is a wholesome, festive gathering, sir. You don’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list, do you?”
“Hmm,” Brian stares pointedly at the Santa hat still on John’s head, “I don’t know. Depends on what he does to the naughty ones.”
John gasps for real this time, his jaw drops at the innuendo.
Brian smirks and starts eating his meal.
John plants his tongue in cheek. “You don’t just love Christmas. The hat, the huge tree, the stockpile of decorations … It’s a kink, isn’t it?”
Brian smiles around a forkful of rice.
“You got mistletoe hiding in your trousers?”
“Oh, God!” Brian snorts and barely manages not to choke.
||
After dinner, they finally start the serious task of trimming the tree. John puts on one of Elvis’s Christmas albums and fills the wine glasses. Brian finds all the items he needs to begin.
He has an ordered list.
“I don’t think decorating a tree requires this level of plan-”
“Step 1,” Brian loudly starts, overruling John’s complaints, “lights.” He shoves a tangled bundle into John’s arms. “Perfect task for you, John. You love anything involving wires and circuitry.”
“Hmph,” John grumbles but can’t deny the assessment.
“While you do that, I’ll unravel the garland.”
They both set to work on their tasks, maneuvering with ease around each other. They have their parts to play just as they do on stage.
Once the tree is properly spiraled with lights and garland, Brian hands John a bag of tinsel, assigning him his next task. Brian gets busy placing the ornaments.
Brian’s so focused on securing the delicate bulbs to the branches that he first doesn’t register something landing on his hair. Then whatever it is hangs in front of his eyes.
It’s tinsel.
Brian turns his head to shoot John an accusatory look.
“Oops, sorry,” he fake apologizes, “thought you were the tree.”
Brian scoffs in outrage. “You bastard!” He tries to get the mess out of his hair.
“Wait, don’t! Let me get the camera!”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not!”
John doesn’t get the camera but does toss some more tinsel at him for fun. Brian laughs and just passes on the tinsel to the tree.
||
“Ready to light ’er up?” John asks.
Brian nods, holding his breath.
John inserts the plug, igniting the tree in twinkling red, green, and gold.
It’s gorgeous, John must admit. His living room hasn’t been this festive since he’s owned it, and for the life of him John doesn’t know why he never attempted even some minimal decorations before.
As he looks at Brian, he has an answer immediately. He didn’t have anyone to share and appreciate the simple joy until now.
Brian lights up as much as the tree, he’s so taken with it. The lights highlight the angles of his face and make his curls sparkle. John doesn’t think he’s seen a more beautiful person in his life.
“Brian?”
The man slowly tears his eyes away to turn to John.
John takes a deep breath. “I lo-”
Brian swallows the rest of the words in a kiss.
||
Brian is a man on a mission tonight.
John can feel the purpose in the way Brian’s hands fervently run up and down his body. He clutches him so tightly and kisses so passionately that John can hardly breathe.
He nibbles John’s bottom lip and trails his tongue down to the collarbone and nibbles there as well. “Need you, Deacy,” Brian murmurs, almost a whine, a cry. “Want you more than anything.”
The way it’s all said clears some of the fog of arousal and makes John bring Brian face to face.
“Hey, hey,” he makes sure to get Brian’s attention, “you have me, B. You got me, yeah?”
Brian looks unsure.
“What do you need? What can I do to make this perfect for you?”
Brian opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. He swallows to loosen his tongue some. “I, uh, I wanna take care of you tonight. Hold you as close as possible.”
John nods. “Yeah, I’d like that. Want you in me, surrounding me. You know I love that.”
Brian flinches for some reason, but before John can question it, Brian presses him into the mattress and grinds their cocks together, quiets him with a deep kiss.
They writhe and moan for a few minutes before Brian reaches for the lube. He doesn’t get up or separate their bodies much at all, only spreads John’s legs as wide as possible and snakes his hand between them to find John’s entrance. He teases the area, rubbing the skin around it while blocking John’s view of the proceedings by kissing his chest. John can only lie back, pet Brian’s hair, revel in the attention.
Brian easily slips the first finger in with John so relaxed. Brian’s licking and biting a nipple, apparently ready to work John up. “Mm-more, please, Brian.”
The finger slips out and after a delay for Brian to slick up his fingers, he feels a slow push back inside him. John groans at the pressure, the reminder of how good Brian’s cock will feel. It makes him eager and a bit pushy. “Brian, please, yes, right there. You’re so good, oh-” He breaks off in a long whine, Brian relentlessly pressing his prostate while watching him with heavy lids, biting his lip. He’s keeping himself quiet, John somehow observes through the pleasure.
He should address it. He wants to, but Brian’s not letting up and John is so desperate to get Brian really in him and pinning him and fucking him, that yeah, he lets it go for now.
“Brian, now, yeah?” John says, making sure he gets his meaning.
Brian quickly nods and grabs a condom, not bothering to make a show of putting it on. Instead, he slips it on in a smooth stroke, is generous with the lube, and bends John’s legs as far back as they’ll go until they’re nose to nose.
“Ready?” Brian finally says something, whispers it like he’s really afraid John will say no.
John aches with the knowledge that Brian’s still so unsure of them. John’s been so selfish with his heart while Brian has been open and bleeding with his.
“I’m ready,” John nods. “I’m sure.”
Brian is achingly slow while entering him. He groans and breathes deep to maintain steady control.
John’s eyes roll back, he’s so relieved, it feels so good. There’s never been anyone else who’s made him feel this intensely about getting fucked. He needs this, he needs Brian.
When Brian’s fully sheathed, he almost half-collapses onto John, burying his face in his neck and snuggling while John adjusts. It’s kind of adorable.
“Come on, rock star. Get moving.” John lifts his hips to punctuate his demand.
Brian huffs a laugh and smiles for the first time since they got to bed, John realizes. “All right, Mr. Bass Player. Always got to set the pace of things.” He slowly slides out and slowly slides back in.
Whatever retort John might have come up with is punched out with a gasp.
The slow pace is short-lived as Brian quickens his thrusts as soon as he feels John can handle it. The position makes everything deep and intense, they are so impossibly close. Brian doesn’t allow any distance between them, hooking one arm around a leg while grasping John around a shoulder and kissing him constantly.
The thrusts get short and hit just the right spot in John, making him keen and chant Brian’s name around the man’s tongue. John can’t touch himself, Brian won’t allow it with the way they’re joined, but it’s no matter as his cock is trapped between their stomachs. The pleasure reaches a peak before John can fully register it, and he’s coming in a blinding, searing way. He claws Brian’s back and wraps his legs around his waist with unknown strength.
Brian keeps fucking hard, chasing his orgasm and prolonging John’s, helplessly pushing as deep as possible as the world whites out for him as well. He can’t help it as a thin “love you” slips from his lips and onto John’s.
As expected, Brian doesn’t hear it returned.
||
John stares at himself in the mirror as he washes.
He’s an absolute prick.
What is wrong with him? He has what he’s always wanted. He’s found someone to love, someone who loves him back so sweetly. Why is he having so much trouble telling him?
Is it because it’s Brian?
That probably has a lot to do with it. He knows that’s why he hesitated starting anything with the man to begin with. How can Brian — someone he’s known for years, someone he’s respected and admired, bickered with relentlessly, trusted with his career — now be the one he wants to build a home and future with?
So much time wasted.
And he’s still wasting it by standing in his bathroom while Brian is out there thinking he doesn’t love him.
John has to do this now because they’re parting for Christmas to see their families. He’s afraid of what will happen if he puts it off any longer.
There is no “perfect” moment to say, “I love you,” he realizes. The moment will be perfect because he sincerely means what he’s saying, just as every moment Brian has said those words was perfect for John.
John goes back into the bedroom. Brian’s lying faced away. “Brian, I have to tell you something.” The words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken. “I-”
A snore interrupts him. He sputters from surprise.
Really, now? John laments in his head.
He climbs onto the bed and confirms that the man is indeed asleep when he doesn’t jostle or acknowledge John.
John sighs and turns off the light, spoons behind Brian, kisses his back, and whispers “I love you” in his ear anyway.
||
John returns to London from his mother's about midday after Christmas and wastes no time ringing Brian's flat, reasoning that he's likely back as well. They can make plans for dinner, and John will finally fucking tell the man that he loves him.
Solid plan, Deacon.
The line rings with no answer. Maybe, he just hasn't returned yet.
John tries again a couple hours later with still no answer. He looks through his book of contacts and finds the number for Brian's parents. He's only used it maybe once as long as he's known the man, but it's been useful for all of the bandmates to have various phone numbers in case there was an urgent need to reach any of them.
John suspects there's an urgent need to reach Brian now.
"May residence," Brian answers.
"It's me, Brian."
John hears a sudden intake of breath.
"You're not back home?" John asks the obvious.
"I'm staying with my parents for the next few days. Want to help them with some things as long as I'm here, and a few of my cousins are staying on holiday here while they have the chance."
"Oh," John nods to himself. "Were you going to tell me?"
"I thought you might still be out of town. I was going to ring you tonight, truly."
John's not so sure about that, but he presses on. "Will you be back for Rog's New Year's Eve party?"
Brian doesn't answer right away. John holds his breath. "Yes," Brian says the word slowly, "I believe so."
John looks at the beautiful Christmas tree, imagines Brian in his living room once more, wearing his Santa hat, perfecting the placement of every ornament, singing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” to himself. He closes his eyes to the fantasy, silently accepting that his declaration of love will have to wait a week. He can't possibly just blurt it over the phone while Brian's at his parent's. He settles for what he hopes will keep the guitarist from losing all faith in John's feelings for him. "I can't wait to see you again, B."
John thinks he hears a sigh. "Goodbye, Deacy."
||
"Deacy, dear, you look like someone told you disco's dead."
John blinks out of his gloom in the emptiest corner he could find in Roger's house. "Don't be ridiculous, Fred. Disco will live forever."
"God, I hope not," Roger appears behind Freddie, apparently looking for John as well.
John rolls his eyes but lets the comment slide. "Has Brian shown yet?" He takes a nervous glance at the clock. Only an hour until midnight.
Freddie and Roger look at each other shiftily. "Um," Roger hesitates, "he rang not too long ago."
John waits for Roger to say what he already suspected would happen when he first arrived at the party with no sign of their lead guitarist.
"He says he's tired from his time with his parents." Roger places a comforting hand on John's shoulder. "He won't make it."
"Right," John looks up at the ceiling trying to hide the hurt. "Rog, would you mind getting me another drink?"
Freddie huddles near John too. "Oh, no, you don't. You're not getting shitfaced."
"What else is there to do, Freddie?"
"You grow a pair and bloody go after him!"
John’s stunned by the thought.
"Honestly, mate, all he wants is to hear you say, 'I love you,' " Roger reasons. "That's all. It's not like he's asking you to bring world peace or resurrect an extinct species."
"He loves you so much, John," Freddie says. "He deserves to hear that you love him too."
They're right, of course. John can't wait any longer or he risks losing the most sensitive, caring man he's ever known.
John has an idea. "Roger, can I borrow a guitar?"
||
With the various celebrations on the other sides of his walls and outside the building, Brian can't nod off to avoid starting the new year on his own. The closer it gets to midnight, the harder it is to resist picking up the phone to get a hold of John.
No, he chose to stay home — to stay away — and he'll have to live with it. He picks up his worn copy of Cosmos instead and tries to distract himself to sleep.
As his eyelids finally droop, the sounds of a Spanish guitar reach his ears unexpectedly, loud enough that he can tell it's coming from somewhere near his balcony.
The song's familiar but not something he's ever heard played on the instrument. Brian can't quite name the song yet. Just a few more notes-
And you may not think that I care for you
When you know down inside that I really do
And it's me you need to show
How deep is your love?
Jesus Christ, Brian knows the voice singing the atrocious disco ballad.
He leaps out of bed and tears open the door to his balcony. "Deacy, what the fuck are you doing?!"
John's fingers play the wrong strings and make a terrible twanging screech at the interruption. "I'm serenading you, obviously," he replies, annoyed despite accomplishing luring Brian out. This is all starting out a lot less romantically than he planned.
"By playing the Bee Gees?"
"It's a beautiful song, Brian."
"You play in a successful rock band, John. You could have played any one of our songs, and you chose that?"
"Could you please focus on the sentiment?" John begs.
"It's noise pollution."
John strums some more of "How Deep Is Your Love," valiantly ignoring Brian's saltiness.
"Oh, my God," Brian embarrassingly moans, looking around at their surroundings. "You shouldn't be disturbing the neighbors like this."
"Brian, it's New Year's Eve. No one's asleep, everyone's out and about." He keeps strumming but pointedly looks at Brian. "Everyone but you, that is."
Brian looks away guiltily.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I was catching up with my parents and cousins," Brian repeats his excuses.
"Hmm, yeah, family's important," John humors him. "It was good to spend time with my mum and sister as well."
"How are they?" Brian falls back on basic polite chatter to avoid the real matter.
"Good, good. Mum says hello."
Brian huffs. "What? Just to me? Not Freddie and Roger as well?"
"Especially you," John stops strumming. "Because I told her about you."
Brian's eyes grow wide. He wraps his robe tight around himself. "What about me did you tell her?" he asks, cautiously.
John smiles shyly. "I told her I love you."
“Oh.” Snowflakes waft around Brian. Logically, that means it's cold, but he feels numb for entirely different reasons. Brian releases a shaky breath. "Y-you're joking."
"No, absolutely not," John says, earnestly. "She saw how happy I was and asked if I was seeing someone. And I admit I'm not keen about talking to my mother about my love life, but I couldn't lie about you, I wouldn't. So, I just said it."
"Easy as that, huh?" Brian huffs. "You're so daft, you tell your mother before you even tell me." Rightfully pissed off, he turns around to go back inside.
"I love you, Brian!" John shouts.
Brian stops but doesn't turn around.
"I'm a coward for not saying it sooner." John slings the guitar around his back. "And I, uh, was confused."
That gets Brian to turn back around. "What was confusing?"
"You know how I am, Brian. I've wanted love for a while now. Someone to share the most mundane things with like watching a movie or picking out a Christmas tree."
Brian bites his bottom lip.
"But do the bigger stuff with too. To share passions with each other, exchanging ideas about music and technology and science. Someone to make a home with."
John walks closer to the building while Brian leans over the ledge.
"You don't sound all that confused about what you want," Brian observes.
"About all that? No, that was always clear to me — the kind of love I wanted. I was just confused that I had it the entire time and took so long to figure it out."
Brian can't hold back his smile anymore.
"I love you, Brian."
Brian blinks away the tears and nods in acknowledgment. "Oh, that's nice."
John chuckles and grins wide, gapped teeth on display.
Brian laughs too but tries to quickly school his face. "No, really, thank you," he says coolly, like John had just picked up his post for him.
Before John can come back with a smart retort, they hear a surge in noise and then ...
Ten!
The countdown to midnight's begun.
"Shit!" John exclaims.
Nine!
They look at each other with alarm, the two stories separating them an unbearable distance at that moment.
Brian acts fast. "Meet me at the building entrance!"
Eight!
Brian sprints from his balcony and straight out the front door, not even bothering to put on his clogs.
Seven!
Six!
He flies down the stairs, his long legs a blessing for him at that moment.
Five!
Four!
Three!
He dashes through the foyer, eyes trained on the entrance.
Two!
One!
He tears open the door.
Happy New Year!
Brian and John's lips lock with precision, the most natural of acts for them, evidence of the perfect match they make. Brian's arms wrap around John's neck with John's hands tightly hugging him in return.
There's no finesse in the kiss. It's not about impressing or exciting each other. There's surety to it, depth and strength and unrestrained passion.
With this kiss, they truly express their love to each other in a way that words alone fail to convey.
"I love you," John says again, whispering against Brian's lips.
Then again, snogging's great, but it's nice John finally got his head out of his arse to say those three special words.
"I know," Brian smiles wide. "Happy New Year, my love."
-end-