That drip of hurt, that pint of shame...
Roger manages to find his way to Mimi's room when he finally summons the energy to get off the couch, carefully making his way down the stairs, trailing his fingers along the wall and counting doorways until he reaches the right one - and then he knocks, hesitantly. He looks like shit, to be honest, and it's obvious to anyone that he's been crying
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The knock on her door surprises her, but she assumes it's one of her friends coming to check up on her, so she rolls her eyes, standing up, and goes to open the door.
When she sees Roger, she goes still from shock.
My god, he looks awful.
"....Roger? Baby, what's wrong?"
The endearment slips out totally unconsciously. Very probably she's not even aware of it.
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Something silken and nightgown-y.
And small.
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His hand slides up her thigh slowly, gently pushing up the nightgown as he does, and all the while he's still kissing her very thoroughly.
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Mental note to self - break up with Paolo. Like, tomorrow.
"....god, Roger...I....you...oh...don't stop. Don't ever stop. Whatever you want, anything, just...don't stop."
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"I want you... I want you, Mimi..."
He likes the sound of her name, in a breathy whisper... it has the right sort of ring to it, in a way he can't quite explain and doesn't bother trying. He presses his lips to her neck, moving down along her collarbone.
"Mimi..."
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"....want you too. Oh god. Roger. Want you so bad....please, oh, please..."
Her hands roam over his body, under his shirt, and she pulls it off, her hands running over his chest before coming to rest on his shoulders.
Her hair is still basically everywhere.
"Baby, please" comes out in a needy, breathless whimper, and this time she's aware of saying it, but she's too far gone to care.
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His mouth drifts down to the hollow of her throat as his free hand pulls down the top of her nightgown just a bit. He ducks his head to her breast, tongue lightly circling her nipple, and the "baby" goes by unnoticed for the most part - he's not really listening to the words, just her voice, and that soft needy quality that made him catch his breath...
He thrusts his fingers into her again, not quite roughly but not exactly gentle either.
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His name comes out on a yelp, high-pitched and trembling, and then she leans over and sinks her teeth into his shoulder to keep herself from screaming the wrong thing.
Oh god, I could love him. Please don't let me love him.
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Even more than the sound of her name, he decides, he likes hearing her say his name like that, and resolves to see what he can do about making certain he hears it quite a bit more.
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Convulsions are involved.
When it's over, she collapses against him, panting, and licks the skin she just bit.
Then there's sucking.
Roger's...in danger of getting a hicky there.
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Roger has his arm around her waist, still holding her tight to her, and after a moment he lifts his hand to cup her face, turning her toward him so he can kiss her.
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"....Roger..."
It's low, teasing, and -very- husky.
"How do you want me?"
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Roger shifts around to push Mimi back against the bed and leans down to kiss her again, and then to bite her earlobe, murmuring in that low, smooth, rock star voice he'll use on stage, the one that gets an audience completely wrapped around his finger, "In every way possible."
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A condom is found, and applied.
"...then you'd better get started, hadn't you?"
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His hands are on her hips as he eases himself into her, pulls back a little and then presses forward again, painfully slowly, and gradually his hands slide up, fingertips gliding over her skin, over her stomach, up to her breasts, one callused thumb circling her nipple, everything focused on the feeling of her under his hands, of him inside her, on the sound of her breathing...
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It feels good.
It feels right.
And that's...more than a little scary.
But she doesn't want it to stop.
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