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treading lightly	By : luna65 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pink Floyd Views: 954 -:- 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-treading lightly
- 1
David Gilmour was taking an overdue piss-for-the-road in the lovely downstairs marble bathroom of his villa in Saint-Jeannet when a strident pounding at the front door sounded even above the enormous echo of his evacuation. At least thirty seconds had passed and the knocking continued.

“Claudine,” David muttered, “answer the bloody door.”

bang bang bang

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” he cried, buttoning his jeans and pausing to rinse his hands briefly then exiting the bathroom. “Claudine!” he thundered into the hallway. No response. He crossed the foyer with an annoyed stride and threw open the door. And his exasperation at his housekeeper fled in the face of an even greater annoyance.

The personage of Roger Waters standing upon the steps.

“Good morning,” Roger greeted him.

“May I help you?” David responded coldly.

Roger pursed his mouth in a peculiar type of grin and cleared his throat. His gaze was direct, and for once, not dismissive or angry.

“I rather hoped. . .we could have a day in which we didn’t fight.”

David’s first impulse was to laugh in Roger’s face, but instead he only raised his perfectly-shaped eyebrows. “A holiday?” he inquired, just the faintest hint of mockery in his tone.

“An armistice.”

“That sounds much less festive.”

“All right then, a holiday. We probably shouldn’t work, it does tend to impede good relations, doesn’t it?”

And whose fault is that? David wondered rhetorically. “We are expected, however.”

“Not today. I rang Bob and told him not to worry about being insufferably late yet again. And I phoned James, said not to expect us. Not to expect you.”

If Roger was expecting David to react to that not-so-oblique taunt, then he truly wasn’t aware of how evolved a gamesman his bandmate had become in the past eleven years. David met Roger’s searching gaze with a placid response.

“And the others?”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Frankly I don’t care to inform them of anything at the moment.”

David assumed a skeptical stance, his arms folded across his chest. “So what shall we do then, on our holiday?”

“I thought we might drive down to Nice, go to the shore.”

“To the Promenade?”

Roger grimaced. “No, find us a nice local beach. No tourists.”

“Who’s driving?”

“You are. You can actually read the signs, after all”

David gave Roger a sardonic look. “Your servant as always.” He turned back into the house. “Just let me see if Claudine can provide us with some dejeuner. Provided I can find her first.”

“Is she hiding from you and your unnatural appetites?” Roger cracked, following him inside.

David turned on him suddenly, all icy-eyed glare. “If you expect me to go through with this you must swear you will not be a cunt.”

Roger was startled by David’s vehemence, he composed himself with a sigh. “Fine. Sorry.”

David gestured towards a sitting room directly off the foyer. “Shant be but a moment.”

Roger perched upon what he imagined was an ersatz Louis Quinze settee and asked himself yet again why he desired this so much.

Because you’ve been dreaming about him again, dreaming that instead of meeting in his empty old flat or dreary hotel rooms to slake your guilty fevered lust you were lying in Grantchester Meadows, no one else about though it was broad daylight, the sun hot and shining upon the water, deep in long green grass with his mouth upon yours and the sound of churchbells faintly chiming in the air, but time can pass all it wants because all you want is to lie in his arms, forever. And he is so very beautiful: in his otherworldly angelic perfection, so very willing to be yours if you’ll be his.

“Want you so much,” he whispers then kisses you deeply, fervently, yet again. “It’s like a fire inside me.”

And between the heat of the sun and the hot ache you spill onto one another, everything is set aflame and you melt and fuse as one gloriously grotesque creation.

That’s when it always ends, with you suddenly awake, sweating and gasping in the chilly mountain air.

But the ache, it remained, a dull weight inside his chest and Roger can think only of being completely alone with David, desiring to learn if he’s destroyed whatever still existed of the other’s deeper feelings.

It never occurred to him that David, of all people, would fall out of love with him. What they had was something far more powerful than mere biological and societal impulses towards community and propagation, though it often felt they were trapped in the same pattern: making albums like children and acting responsibility in following their careers as grown-ups are wont to do.

But so much had eroded over the past four years it made his stomach churn to think of it. And now he was faced with an even greater problem: a possible interloper, and a lover who might be looking to make him pay for every slight, real or imagined. Who appeared willing to wreck havoc in the form of jealousy.

Hours earlier Roger lay in the tub and tried to convince himself he was not concerned with anything but the work. But it simply wasn’t true.

David emerged from the back of the villa with a large picnic basket.

“I’m out of beer, but I brought two bottles of wine along.”

Roger nodded. “Shall we be off then?”

David made a noise of assent, picking up his leather jacket from a nearby chair. “Don’t know how stable the weather will be.”

“Don’t care ‘bout that,” Roger murmured, giving him a significant look.

The cautious distance he observed in those azure eyes frightened him to his very core.

After a circuitous drive - listening to a classical broadcast on the radio rather than talk - leaving behind the picturesque desolation of the rural areas of Alpes-Maritimes for the more clustered urbanization of Nice proper, David took a detour just short of the city onto a back road the signpost for which he appeared to decipher without issue. They spotted an area advertised as la plage where actual human visitation seemed to be non-existent. David parked the car in an area apparently designated for visitors to an indicated hiking trail, and they carried the basket between them as they walked down to the access road, waiting till they could stroll across to the path which led down to the beach. It was deserted, which for Roger seemed typical for such a dreary day. They made their labored way along the sand till they found a patch of grass between two outcroppings of rock. David unfurled the blanket he was carrying under his arm and they sat down gratefully upon it with their burden. David shed his jacket and his shoes and socks, rolling up the hem of his jeans.

“The water’ll be cold, don’t you think?” Roger asked.

“Maybe. But what’s the sense in journee a la plage if you don’t get your feet wet?”

And suddenly, like a klaxon drowning out the worried mutterings in his mind, Roger knew exactly what he would have to resort to if David stubbornly refused his affections. He watched the other walk to the water’s edge, allowing the tide to brush his bare feet.

“Oh Christ!” he exclaimed, looking back at Roger, “You were right.”

“I always am,” Roger muttered to himself. To David he smiled and nodded.

They didn’t speak for a time, content to watch the ebb and flow of the water, and the various birds whirling around in the air and hopping upon the sand. Finally David looked inside the basket, withdrawing and unwrapping a wax paper bundle.

"Jambon avec frommage," David announced, looking inside the sandwich. He handed it to Roger.

"Merci,” Roger replied, with a slight smile.

“De rien.”

David uncorked one of the bottles of wine and half-filled two glasses. Because they were gentlemen they toasted one another, though it was only a desultory “cheers.” They ate and watched as the seagulls caught wind of the food and began to creep closer to their picnic. Roger picked up a rock and chucked at the flock, they scattered with angry squawks.

“Sea’s not so blue today,” he remarked after swallowing a mouthful of sandwich. He ended his observation with a sip of wine.

David grunted in response, making short work of two sandwiches and an apple. It appeared he was not going to help the cause of conversation. More wind and waves filled the moments as they finished the meal and returned the trappings to the basket. Finally Roger felt if he didn’t say something then the entire enterprise was for naught.

“I’m sorry Dave, sorry I’ve been such a shit.”

David made a breathy sound of derision, followed by a swig of wine.

“It’s not as if this is a sudden turn of events, you understand that?” he retorted.

“Yes. I know. But what I’m trying to make you understand –“

“Oh but I do, far better than you realize. You won’t let go of anything, that is your problem. And I always turn the other fucking cheek every time you make me feel worthless just because you can; you’re killing my feelings. Think about how gutted you were when Jude left you.”

Roger put his face in his hands.

“That’s right, think about that. And realize you took all that pain out on us. On me. And now that you think I won’t be there for you anymore, that you finally managed to push me to the limit, it scares you shitless doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Roger murmured from within the mask of his hands.

“Well bloody good on me, I finally got old Georgie to flinch.” David stood up, his body rigid with anger. “We’re leaving.”

“David please!” Roger exclaimed, nearly loud enough to be a scream, startling a nearby group of seagulls fighting over morsels in the sand. “I’m sorry! I don’t want it to be this way.”

“It’s too fucking late for that now.”

“I’m begging you!” But those eyes were glacial rather than remorseful. Roger did the only thing he could think to do: he lay prostrate upon the sand and began kissing David’s feet, lavishing kisses the entire length and one for each toe. He put his cheek against them and his hands around David’s ankles.

“You’ve gone barmy then, eh?” was the recipient’s sarcastic reply.

“I’m trying to show you I mean what I say.”

“This is so bloody like you: you’ll kiss my feet, in view of the whole world, but you won’t let me help you make the music that we’re supposed to be making together.”

“Please,” Roger pleaded, from his subservient position, “can we just have another chance, you and I, to be close again?”

“If you’re asking will I fuck you again, then of course, I’m always happy to hear you beg for my cock. But if you’re asking me to forgive you, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“But –“

“Roger I wouldn’t treat a dog the way you’ve treated me. You want to kiss my feet, fawn over me and beg my forgiveness? Let’s play that game then and I’ll fuck you blind. But don’t try my exhausted patience any further than that.”

Roger stood up, not bothering to brush the sand from his clothes. “Take me back to your villa and I’ll do anything you want. I’ll blow your fucking mind.”

David smirked. “You’ve got sand on your mouth.”

Roger wiped it away but did not allow embarrassment to distract him. “Please David,” he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice to a seductive hush. “I want you. I’m aching for you.”

Blue eyes met blue eyes and neither really knew what the other was truly thinking. But finally David murmured and sighed. “Come along, then.”

A sumptuous bedroom awaited upstairs, with furnishings befitting a more decadent decorating scheme.

He always did enjoy a lair like a sultan, Roger thought. David made certain all locks were secure and curtains closed, as it was still midday. His errant servant was again absent.

“P’raps it’s her afternoon off and I’ve forgot,” he said, though Roger couldn’t tell if the comment were meant for him. Roger undressed his reluctant lover and himself in turn, then pushed the other onto the bed. He kneeled at the end and pulled David closer to him by his ankles, then took one foot and pressed it against his chest.

“Perfect,” he said, lifting it to place a soft kiss in the center of the sole. “As is the rest of you.”

“Bollocks,” David countered, softly. He put his hands under his head. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you refer to me as ‘that fat bastard Gilmour.’”

“What am I going to say to them then, that I fancy your arse the more it spreads? Especially when you wear the jeans which look as if they’re painted on and every curve is poetry? Am I to announce that to the world as well?”

“Oh so I’m suddenly the Venus of Willendorf then?”

“I want you, so very badly. We cannot deny we want each other, have wanted each other from the very beginning, and our desire will not die.”

David gave him a curiously detached look. “Then stop trying to kill it, Rog.”

Roger caught himself before a barbed retort could leave his lips, instead he leaned down and kissed David passionately, hoping the action would silence that pesky voice of recrimination. And to kiss those sweet lips again, his heart raced with the fevered ache he had been dreaming about every night.

“Let me pleasure you, David,” he said, drawing out the syllables of the other’s name in a way he used to do when they stood in the darkness certain nights, waiting to go onstage, feeling the hum of the crowd vibrate within them.

“Oh David, if you do your best tonight I’ll service you better than any groupie ever could.”

Punctuated by a firm squeeze on that irresistible ass.

“Promises, promises,” the teasing reply.

“Who’s stopping ya, lad?” David taunted. He lay back, spreading his arms out as if he were floating.

Roger got off the bed, standing so his legs were braced against the mattress. He pulled David ever closer, so he could hold the other’s feet up. As he worked his cock with one hand, turning a slight stiffening into a full-blown erection, he held onto a foot with the other and licked the sole, sucked the toes slowly with moaning relish, watched as David tilted his head back and gasped. Watched as the other’s cock also grew hard. Once he was fully erect Roger rubbed his cock against the length of David’s foot in a steady rhythm, easy enough given his generous length, and in that moment it felt finer than the softest pair of silk panties. He drank in the scene of David lying on the bed, his face transfixed and flushed with glowing pleasure. David made loud sounds of obvious enjoyment, and Roger smiled.

“Just what you’ve been wanting isn’t it?”

“Yes, oh God, Rog, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine. Not when I’ve a chance to come all over your lovely feet.”

David groaned and put his other foot against Roger’s thigh.

“Oh yes, that’s it, put them all over me.” Roger enthused.

He watched as David came completely undone, grasping the sides of the mattress, his fingers rigid as his body convulsed in sensory overload, carried away by his fetish and his fantasy. His feet were pushing so hard against Roger he had to widen his stance to avoid being knocked over. Roger slid between David’s toes with his shaft, and rubbed it across the backs. David was practically screaming at this point, and Roger mused that he had never gotten such a reaction in all the years they’d been involved, not even the few times he had actually buggered his lover, testing his resolve with painful penetration.

“Look at me, David. Look at me and tell me you don’t want me.”

“Want you, Rog,” came the breathless reply as enormous unfocused shining eyes looked in his direction.

“And you’ll fuck me? Fuck me blind, lover?”

“Yes!” The voice desperate, on the raw edge of utter meltdown, which came moments later as Roger jettisoned all over the appendage, then rubbed it in, hot and sticky. David had also ejaculated upon his own belly and Roger leaned down to lick the glistening trails from his damp skin. David pulled Roger onto the bed, wrapping himself around his lover, kissing him roughly, nipping at his jaw and neck.

“Oh you dirty slut,” he said, in a rough and throaty whisper. “Gonna bang ya good for that one.”

“Promises, promises,” Roger chided, wondering if David would remember. A pinch on the ass answered his inquiry.

David ran a finger along his stomach then across Roger’s lips. “Miss this, did you?”

“Would I have begged you for anything less?”

“It becomes you so, I must say.”

“As ecstasy becomes you.”

Growing delirious with further kissing, Roger felt the distance between them dissolve, although his own hunger grew still larger, and he wondered if he was now equally trapped once more in the sticky web of their strange relationship, ensnaring them just as thoroughly as their bodies were entwined upon David’s bed, ever-questing for passion and power over one another.
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treading lightly