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Come if you will, and loose the crowning glory	By : luna65 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pink Floyd Views: 880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Pink Floyd. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Come if you will, and loose the crowning glory
- 1
Come if you will
and loose the crowning glory
the dark river of your hair
the glints of light which dazzle my sight
the curtain of night
falling upon the patient pillow
fortunate which cradles your head
which is soon to be next to mine
as I clutch handfuls of rare silk and smile
to touch this which is ever and only you.
- Susannah Barker, “the crowning glory”

May
Roger reflected, as he looked at the leaden sky on the late Saturday morning of the whimsically-titled Garden Party, that he much preferred playing May gigs inside. The threat of rain had been lurking all day, like a villain in a Hammer Horror film. The air was heavy with that particular English dampness one was resigned to, if not wholly accustomed. Traffic promised to be hellacious so the band arrived early, despite appearing at the top of the bill, which meant a very long wait. Roger had been wandering around as the early punters came in, charging across the grass and settling in for the day, as Quiver took the stage of the nearly empty Crystal Palace Bowl. He remembered that he didn’t particularly like any of the other bands on the bill but wanted to show his support to their friends. On the trip over David seemed in a mischievous mood and Roger wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was wondering if he kept away would his partner come looking for him.

As the band struggled to engage the audience Roger eyed the people around him, getting stoned and snockered and happily ignoring his dark shadow, completely out of place among the flower children. He began to walk closer to the stage, and the crowd became thick. Some made annoyed noises as he towered over them and blocked their view.

Is it my fault you’re too fucking short? he snarled from within the polite remove of his own mind. He caught Peter’s eye, who gave him a nod, as did Tim. No one else recognized him and that was a thing he took great pleasure in. Roger moved to the edge of the crowd and nearly collided with his bandmate, who was taking Seamus for a walk.

“Don’t step on the poor lad, Rog, he’ll likely take offense,” David teased, as the dog in question sniffed at Roger’s velveteen trousers. “Can’t call this off on account of rabies.”

“Seamus is much too taken with himself to bite anyone,” Roger replied, leaning down to scratch the furry head. “So how much longer are you going to be minding him?”

“Marriott says it will be a month or two. I figure next month he can go stay with Jenny.”

“Is Jenny aware of this interloper?”

David smirked. “They’ve been introduced.”

“Is she aware he will serenade her?”

“No, I rather thought I’d leave that a surprise.”

“Wicked thing.”

David tugged on the leash to keep Seamus from sniffing other passers-by. “None other.”

“I knew it; you’re feeling randy today, aren’t you?”

“Well look at you, boy. You’re tall, dark, and fetching, you are.”

“You would have to be a slutty little flirt now, wouldn’t you? Making me squirm.”

“S’gonna be a long day, Rog, might as well have some fun, eh?”

“Hmm.”

David echoed the sound, but with a mocking lilt. Seamus began to whine.

“Alright lad, let’s have walkies,” he said. “Want to come?”

Roger tossed his hair back, noticing David biting his lip as he did so. “No.”

“No?” That luscious pout, good enough to eat.

Roger leaned in, let his breath stir the hair before David’s ear. “You ponder how you will woo me when you return.”

The pout turned into a sexy smirk. “Oh I will.”

Roger gave David a wide-eyed coy look. “Bye,” he said, turning and walking away slowly.

“Bye,” David replied, appreciating how Roger’s trousers accentuated every line and curve, and he bit his lip again, suppressing the urge to whistle.

Gonna eat you alive, you damnable bag of bones.

All the same David was glad Roger was in a playful mood, because David so loved to play with him…and not only music.

Accommodations at the Garden Party were not luxurious, given the location, but as the headliners the Floyd were allowed one of the antebuildings all for themselves, although to Roger’s mind it was akin to a concrete bunker. He much preferred to be outside – the entire park was such a lovely example of English land use – even when filled with the great unwashed masses. He walked around the pond where they planned to put the octopus, and even as early as it was he spied Chris and Alan with their man in charge of the inflatable, Peter, talking with Tony Smith, making sweeping gestures seemingly meant to refer to their grandiose plans for the accompanying spectacle. Roger considered investigating the maze, and was saddened that the dinosaur statues were all the way at the other end of the complex. The band might think the worst if he were gone too long. He returned to the place reserved for them, hastily drawn signs with the brand name, and once inside he found everyone already drinking and Storm was redrawing one of the aforementioned signs with some coloured markers.

“You carry those with you all the time, don’t you?” Roger teased.

“One never knows when inspiration will strike, lad. Don’t have a pink one, though, that’s a shame.”

Juliette had gone to fetch some sandwiches and when she returned everyone began snatching the wax paper bundles as soon as she put them on the table, but Roger declined.

“Can’t eat before a gig, I’m too fluttery.”

“Fluttery, hmm?” David asked. He draped himself on the table, his face leaning against one hand, the other cupping the elbow. He sucked on his pinky finger in a thoroughly obscene fashion, but everyone else was too busy eating and talking to notice. It amazed Roger how much David was able to get away with in terms of flirting. He thought of one particular night at the local when Storm sat between them and went on and on about some artistic theory while David gazed into Roger’s eyes and their heads were almost close enough to touch. It was a staring contest, but Roger felt as though he had never communicated with someone through sheer force of facial expression until that night, as Storm went on and on and neither of them heard any of it. Not that it mattered, as their friend was perfectly happy with the sound of his own voice.

“Yeah, butterflies,” Roger said, quietly, his answer for David alone, coy and teasing.

“I think I brought a net, we should try to catch them.” David replied.

For once Roger did not feel that familiar sense of resentment at David’s attractiveness, because the room was full yet Roger was the only one he saw and his stare was brazenly seductive. Suddenly the environs felt cramped and hot. Roger tilted his head to the left and they got up, ignoring expectant looks from the others in the room.

“Won’t save you a sarnie if you don’t take it now,” Nick said around a mouthful of food.

“Nah,” David said, and they left the room without another word. Roger thought someone might follow, but they found themselves alone in the corridor.

“Which one’s the loo?” David asked, looking at the doors. Roger pulled the nearest one open, but it was a storage closet of some kind. David shook his head.

“What? It’s fine.”

“No, need a mirror.”

“Why?”

“The loo, Rog, which one’s the loo?”

Roger gave an exasperated horny sigh and opened another door. In the half-light they could see a toilet within.

“Go on, I’ll be right back.”

Roger looked confused but did as he was told. David went into the room across from where everyone congregated, heading straight to his road case and taking a hairbrush from one of the drawers. Jenny had brought it home from her last shoot in Italy and he had appropriated it for himself, loving the feel of the wooden bristles against his scalp. But its’ weight and the tapered point of the handle, covered in black rubber, put him in mind of other uses. He had been suddenly struck by the sight of Roger earlier, attired as usual but with his hair longer than he normally kept it, and it made him…beautiful.

David stuck the brush down the back of his pants and returned to his lover.

The bathroom was close quarters, but neither of them truly minded as they leaned into the corner between the sink and toilet, kissing and clutching.

“What’s this?” Roger asked, as his hands found the brush.

David smiled. “Want to groom you.”

“What?”

“Turn ‘round,” he said, loving indulgence in his voice. Roger faced the mirror and David began brushing his hair. His eyes closed in pleasure as David slowly and gently performed the action.

“Mmmm.”

“Isn’t it nice, and you look so sweet.”

A huff of disbelief. “Hardly.”

“Oh yes, all that lovely hair.”

Roger looked at himself, but his eyes shifted almost immediately. “Need a trim.”

“Oh no you mustn’t. I do so like it.” David ran his fingers through the dark mass and softly tugged as Roger turned his head to look at his lover.

“What ‘bout you? You could stand a brushing.”

David handed Roger the hairbrush with a smile and Roger did the same, though he wasn’t as delicate.

“Ow, careful!”

“You mean you can’t take a little pain, lad? Disgraceful.”

“Oh, you want pain, is that it?”

David snatched the brush out of Roger’s hand and using the element of surprise got behind him. He pushed Roger into the corner and smacked him on the arse with the flat back of the brush. It made a crack which echoed around the small space and Roger let out a breathy gasp. David put the brush on the sink and leaned against Roger, pinning him to the wall.

“There’s some pain, boy, how was that?”

“Didn’t feel like pain,” Roger whispered, his voice strangely hoarse.

“What did it feel like, then?”

The doorknob rattled and they simultaneously turned their gaze towards the door, breathing heavily.

“Is there someone in there?” Rick asked on the other side.

“Yes,” David answered, loud and annoyed.

“Oh, sorry Dave.”

“Gonna be a while,” he called out.

“Alright.”

They waited till the footsteps had receded. David reached for Roger’s waistband, undoing the button and zipper and putting his hand in. As he took hold of Roger’s cock he asked the question again, felt Roger shiver against him.

“Felt like that ache you get when you’re ready to spurt, y’know? When you want it so bad and yet you don’t want it to happen just yet.”

“Hmm. I’ll wager you want me to suck you, don’t you?”

“It’s strange. I do, but then again I don’t. Want to be tortured some more. It feels nice.”

David smiled and picked up the hairbrush. “With this?”

“Just brush me, now that you’ve mussed me. Then let’s go for a walk.”

“Alright.”

Once outside again they walked around the immediate grounds, as Roger had done earlier, encountering a few people they knew. Throughout the conversations they kept staring at one another, tense and titillated by their secret, keeping what might seem to be an unusual proximity but for the fact that they had engaged in such a practice for over a year; their unconscious desires making themselves known even without their express acknowledgment. Everyone in their circle was used to the way they practically sat on top of one another, for example, even if they didn’t necessarily consider what it meant.

They stopped for a time at a particularly good vantage point and watched Mountain’s set, as the sun went in and out through the clouds overhead. Roger kept shifting his balance, bumping against an immoveable David.

“You can’t knock me over, boyo.”

“And here I thought I made you weak in the knees.”

David chuckled. “Oh you make me something all right.”

They did not take their gaze from the stage even as they taunted one another.

“I make you swoon, I do, because I’m so pretty.”

“Now don’t get too smug, Georgie, or they’ll be no more grooming for you.”

“Gonna cut it, then, chop it all off.”

“Ah you ruddy prat, don’t even jest!”

“Say it.”

“You’re beautiful, lover, when you’re pouting.”

“Aren’t I just.”

Just then Storm and Po came up, Storm making adjustments on his camera.

“We wondered where you’d wandered off to; how’s things?”

“Fine,” Roger said non-committally, crossing his arms over his chest. Po handed David a joint and David stepped behind his bandmate to have a drag, then passed it to Roger. As Roger took a hit he was painfully aware that David was standing directly behind him, and he could feel David’s breath upon his neck as he spoke to the others. He turned his head, looking at David out of the corner of his eye, his hair falling across his face. Storm had a turn at puff-puff-pass as he and Po made fun of the punters. David looked at Roger, the difference in their height not so much that he couldn’t whisper in his lover’s ear.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured.

“Do what?”

“Look so bloody delicious. Now I am hungry.”

“Hungry to split my arse, no doubt.”

“Absolutely none.”

David turned to their conceptual duo and used the voice Roger recognized as the one which never failed to make people flustered, especially when coupled with that beautiful smile.

“Lads, y’wanna fetch us a drink, please? Terribly thirsty.”

“Certainly me boy,” Storm said, always eager to do things for David. Roger usually found it amusing although at the moment his fawning was annoying. “C’mon Po, let’s go cadge some quaff.”

They departed into the crowd and David chuckled. “How much longer are we going to engage in this torture, eh? Only one band left before we go on.”

“Don’t want it like that. Not quick.”

“After, then?”

“Yeah. We’re all s’pose to meet up at Rick’s, right? We can duck out for a while.”

“Just say we need to ride together, alone. Things to discuss.” David reached up and tugged at a lock of Roger’s hair.

“Christ, don’t do that or I’m liable to self-destruct.”

“Can’t have that, lover, we’ve a gig.”

“And afterwards I think your arse could do with a smack.”

David looked off and smiled as he saw their friends returning. “S’my brush, boy, you just try to get it from me.”

“Goddamn you,” Roger muttered, a breathy curse. “If we weren’t standing in the middle of a bloody crowd I’d tackle you right now and teach you a lesson.”

“Here we are,” Storm announced, handing the others plastic cups of spiked lemonade. “Got a bit of a kick to it so be careful.”

The two moved apart from one another, facing their benefactors. Roger sniffed at his cup as David held out his.

“To being careful,” he toasted, “and knowing when it’s better not to be.” He winked at Roger who stuck out his tongue in response.

“Cheers,” Po said, raising his cup in blissful oblivion. Storm did the same and Roger and David watched each other drink as the other two talked, the world yet again reduced to only two sets of blue eyes, two attractive faces, two heads of beautiful hair.

August
On the flight from Hong Kong to Japan they had sat together, although Roger was miffed that David spent most of his time fiddling with his guitar, making some sort of modification to it.

“You know what you’re doing, then?”

“Just new pickups, it’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“Yes, but I thought that one was your baby, that you wouldn’t want to fiddle with it so much.”

“On the contrary, because it is my favorite it’s the one I like to fiddle with.”

“Hmm, one might say that was an appropriate analogy.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Roger looked over at his bandmate who was doing very determined things with various tools, but the smirk on his face was unmistakable.

“Prat.” Roger flicked David’s arm.

“Twit, you’re lucky I’m otherwise engaged.”

“Oh don’t you touch me. The Strat might get jealous and go out of tune.”

David giggled. “You’ve such a keen wit, my Georgie.”

Roger flushed, and lowered his voice lest others hear the desire which coloured it.

“Hush, dear David.”

Between the crowds which seemed to appear wherever they went and the actual number of their own entourage, within mere days of their arrival Roger was sick of everyone. Except his bete noir, of course. Throughout every press conference he found himself squirming and stretching, thinking back to the first night when they’d discovered sushi and saki, and David had followed him into the lavatory and refused to take no for an answer, even as they both puzzled over how one was supposed to piss into the squat.

“Y’just aim, you silly twit.”

“I think I’ve lost the ability now, that wine is lethal.”

David smiled, equally tipsy, and tugged at his lover’s hair. “God, you’re beautiful. Want to ravish you right now.”

“There’s no stalls, Dave, we can’t.”

They sighed, and unabashedly admired each other as they urinated into the drain in the floor. As there was nothing to be done for it, they both got roaring drunk instead. David was especially hungover during the next day’s press conference and couldn’t decide which was more painful: his throbbing head or his throbbing prick. Afterwards everyone decided to go shopping, but the two begged off and caught a taxi to the hotel accompanied by one of the record company men who spoke extremely mangled English. They practically ran for the lift once they’d managed to dismiss him and decided to kick Peter out of his room, knowing no explanation was required. Even as the idea came to them they were both somewhat stunned by their own daring.

“Brush,” Roger commanded, as he made his way down the hall. David hurried back to his room and tore apart his luggage looking for it. He knew Jenny would immediately curse him but left the mess anyway.

Peter was standing in the hallway, half-dressed and rubbing his eyes.

“What gives?” he grumbled.

“Here,” David said, handing the other his room key, “go crash in mine.”

“But why –“

“Never you mind. Go on then.”

Peter muttered various obscenities as he walked back towards David’s room.

David pounded on the door and Roger answered with a smile.

“Get in here,” he said, low and longing.

Once the door was locked they were equally locked in kissing and Roger pinned David with a thud, making him drop the brush. Roger quickly broke the kiss and picked it up.

“Oh wicked temptress, you’re in trouble now,” David quipped.

“Who’s in trouble?” Roger gibed, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got the instrument of punishment.”

“We’ve been equally bad, y'know.”

Roger knelt down, pulling at David’s trousers. “Sugar before the lash. I’m going to suck you, and then you’ll be a good boy and take your whacks.”

David smiled. This was going exactly as he had hoped.

“Yes sir, but wait a tic.”

“What?” A wide-eyed impatient glance.

“Turn ‘round, please.”

Roger frowned, but was obedient. David took a handful of sable and let it fall across his cock, sighing. He wondered how long Roger was going to put up with the length, as it was now past his shoulders, but it curved around his face so perfectly. Roger’s attractiveness, once a matter of certain moments, was now very much a case of consistent appeal and David felt as though he might lose his mind, he wanted his partner so badly every minute they were together, in any circumstance.

Roger handed him the brush, the game forgotten.

“Brush me.”

David did so, his attentiveness to detail completely sexual. Every few strokes he’d repeat the action of rubbing Roger’s hair across his penis, trying to resist the urge to jerk off in it. Finally he couldn’t stand it and pulled Roger to his feet.

“I’ll fuck you now, you can beat me later.”

“But we’ve nothing to use.”

“Just wait,” David said, tugging at clothes and pushing Roger down on Peter’s unmade bed. “Get bare, c’mon, “ he insisted, pulling off his own clothes.

“Alright strumpet,” Roger teased. Once he was naked he leaned back on the mattress, in an insolent pose of erotic assurance. David’s desire was entirely self-evident in his own full erection. David lay beside him and they kissed as David played with his hair, winding it around his fingers and brushing it across his lips.

“So what –“ Roger finally said, in an urgent whisper, his hand in a steady stroke on David’s cock.

“Turn over.”

Roger turned onto his stomach though they continued to kiss. David sucked on his fingers and stroked Roger’s anus.

“Are you sure –“

David moved down, straddling Roger’s legs.

“Lie flat.”

He then delved between the other’s buttocks and fluttered his tongue against the orifice. Roger grabbed a pillow and crammed it into his mouth, muffled screams escaping nonetheless.

“Oh shush, do you want the police to come?”

“Or worse yet, somebody we know.”

“Gonna make you slick, but not if you raise a ruckus.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“Can’t recall,” David said between licks, “picked it up somewhere.”

“Ah, oh Christ, Dave, every time I think I can finally take you without losing my fucking mind –“

“Do shut up, Georgie, you’re ruining my concentration.”

Roger sighed and buried his face in the pillow. With each thrust of David’s tongue he felt that ache again, the one which he wanted to go on forever and wanted to be alleviated that very instant. Once they were both wet with saliva David finally slid inside carefully, with a faint grimace but with equal lust. Roger turned his head and moaned with satisfaction.

“Better, m’dear?”

“Eminently so.”

“And am I resourceful?”

“You’re whatever you say you are as long as you don’t stop.”

David managed to reach the hairbrush which had ended up on the edge of the bed and gave Roger a smack.

“Ow, you bastard!”

“Such a mouth on you, I think you’ll be getting your whacks first, lover.”

Roger smirked and raised himself as much as he could.

“Alright, I can take it.”

“Hmm, I wonder.” David flipped the brush and took another crack with the bristle side.

“Ah!”

“Can you take that?”

“Do it again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But slower.”

David stroked Roger’s skin as if he were brushing his lover’s hair and Roger let out a groan.

“Oh my, who would have thought you’d like this.”

“I’m not letting you out of your beating, y’know.”

“We’ll see how well you raise a hand after I’ve worn you out.”

“Give it your best, me boy, your very best.”

David needed no further encouragement, and as he pushed, eager with hot desire, he took a handful of that gorgeous hair and tugged.

“And you’ll take it, won’t you?”

Roger’s breathless litany of yes yes yes made David laugh with joyous affirmation.
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Come if you will, and loose the crowning glory