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The Thrill of It All	By : signorinaravelli Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pink Floyd Views: 927 -:- 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.

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“The vans shouldn’t be here for another fifteen or twenty minutes so I think we’ve got time to get a drink, toilet, whatever. But everyone needs to be by the doors in twenty minutes, alright?” It was Steve’s field trip chaperone spiel which he executed so very well. Roger had begun to grow used to his inability to speak though he knew he couldn’t keep it up very much longer. They were here to work and being the leader of the band, it usually fell on him to deal with outsiders like Maben. He knew that David wouldn’t do anything to interfere with something like that, at least not too much. It worried him anyway. Since they hadn’t eaten on the plane, they settled down to a sandwich and a drink, both quietly smiling about their earlier airborne activities.

“So,” David took a sip of his scotch and soda. “I take it you aren’t ready to give up yet?” Roger scoffed as though he were insulted and David just shrugged. “I don’t blame you anyway; you’re doing very well so far. But I hope you realize this isn’t all there is to it.”

Roger remained unimpressed by the slightly threatening air of the statement. So? David had made such a big deal about the no-talking rule and that turned out to be easy enough in the end. Surely he underestimated him…God, he felt unsatisfied though. Even if pleasuring his lover was enjoyable, he hadn’t gotten his own in return. And didn’t he deserve it, especially for how well-behaved he’d been? Surely David was aware of his frustration, particularly by the way that he kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat and pouting.

“I’ll tell you what…you can talk when we get to Pompeii, ‘cause that’s band related-right?” Ah, an internal sigh of relief… “And at some point I’ll have to make you talk dirty again.” He nudged Roger’s ankle playfully. “I never thought I’d get you to say something like that out loud, what with you being so uptight and all. Did you like it?” Roger shook his head ‘no’ though both were quite aware that this wasn’t the case at all. “Naturally. I think I’ll have to give you your dues tomorrow for being such a good sport.”

Tomorrow?! Roger couldn’t believe his ears and it certainly showed on his face. He was going to be forced to wait until tomorrow?! He thought of kicking David to show his disdain before he felt his ankle prodded again, almost tenderly.

“Hey, you’ve been doing really well. Aside from sitting down before I’ve given you permission of course…” He wanted to be angry, really he did, but David’s voice was infuriatingly soothing to those violent feelings. Bastard. “You know, one part of this is self-restraint. You have to learn to wait for things and earn them. And believe me, Rog, when you finally get it, it’ll feel worth it. Right?” No response. “Right?”

“…yes, sir.”

“That’s a good pet.” Suddenly realizing that they’d probably gone over their time limit, he checked his watch. “Ah, I think we’re running late. Come on, they’ll probably be here by now.”

As it turned out the vans were not there by now nor were they there in twenty minutes or even an hour later. Steve was hunched in a phone booth trying to get in contact with their driver and proclaiming for all to hear that this was the last time he skimped on professional service. The band and crew opted to sit on the ground outside the airport’s sliding doors, earning looks of contempt from well-to-do clientele passing in and out. Much to their annoyance (and Roger’s relief) Adrian’s taxi pulled up just as he came through the doors, like magic. As he loaded his suitcases into the trunk he reminded the group about their little trip to the ruins later that evening and expressed his hope that they’d be picked up before 1972 rolled around.

Frankly it wasn’t all that bad. After their time in the airplane, the fresh air was certainly a welcome change and with their view of the west they could watch the sun dying over the distant highway: an oddly appealing mixture of nature and technology, that. David sat on his upturned suitcase, arms folded over his lap while Roger lay in the cool grass by the sidewalk and mused at the concrete awning above him.

Despite the fact that it was the group’s fourth trip to the city, he always seemed to expect the Fellini picture he’d initially imagined. Instead Rome was more like Carnaby Street’s mature older sister in that it was commercial, stylish, and well-aware of its status while managing to remain low-key. It was all-around beautiful too: beautiful buildings, beautiful people. And in spite of how modernized the city had become it still held a wonderful old world charm that appealed to Roger’s sensibilities. Aside from his go-getter tendencies, he never fancied himself much of a city-dweller and much preferred quiet country life to hustle and bustle. It was just one of the many unexpected similarities he shared with David.

Ah, David…he lolled his head to look up at him and in spite of his frustration, he felt himself bristle with thankfulness. The wicked blue eyes and the pretty mouth - they were his. So were the stubble and the obscenely tight trousers. Well, not exclusively his…after all, neither had really announced their intention to stop seeing other people…but he liked to think there was a little bit reserved for himself alone. Of course in all actuality, he had seen very few people since he’d taken up with David. The man seemed to fulfill that in his life void quite nicely and he’d often imagined that in a kinder world he’d be proud to show him off as his own, God forbid, boyfriend. David must have noticed him staring and he gave Roger a little wink in return. A sign of things to come, he hoped. If David didn’t satisfy him tonight he was sure he’d go mad.

Eventually the transportation did arrive and with a collective hum of approval, everyone climbed to their feet to stretch and stub out cigarettes. The roadies dutifully begun load the extensive amount of equipment into one vehicle while the band put their luggage in the trunk of another (Roger handling “King David”’s of course.)

All the while Steve hovered about to make sure things progressed quickly and efficiently, walking back and forth and clapping his hands like an enthusiastic coach. With the bit done, everyone piled inside the vans and were off. The seats were a bit cramped though Roger and David could not have cared less, the latter twisted so that his chest pressed against Roger’s side. It was almost completely dark by this point and as they rolled toward the exit they wondered what the amphitheatre would be like at night. Rows of lamp posts lighting the way back to the airport silently passed as did headlights of cars on their way in. A sign reading Autostrada Roma - Fiumicino went by overhead and they soon found themselves on the once-distant highway, surrounded by red taillights.

In the darkness of the van, David shifted a bit to sit properly and yawned, clearly very tired from the trip. Roger was seized by the sudden desire to reach over and touch him but wasn’t sure that was the best idea as he hadn’t been given express permission to do so. Much to his delight, however, David sighed and slumped his head heavily on his band mate’s shoulder. The pressure was fantastic and he felt an involuntary smile spreading over his own face. Within minutes his charge was softly snoring and Nick looked back at them questioningly from the front seat. When he saw the scene he grinned and mockingly made the shape of a heart with his index fingers, Roger responding with his own two-finger salute.

By the time they’d reached the city itself, the occupants of the van were staring out of the windows like enthralled children, drinking in the street life as they passed. The city was lit up like some joyous fire and all manner of characters lined the sidewalks; androgynous men and women, vendors, matrons, prostitutes. Not quite Fellini but certainly enough to delight even the most world-weary traveler. As they’d begun to circle the Colosseum, Roger nudged a confused David awake to draw his attention to the massive structure as they passed by. He sleepily acknowledged it and yawned once more, oblivious to how adorable he looked doing it. Almost harmless…

Though both were very caught up in Rome’s charms their minds were miles away from one another in more specific content: Roger’s on the architecture and David’s on local sex shops. Where did one procure those kinky sorts of devices in the Eternal City he wondered? He’d begun to get a little ahead of himself when thoughts of paddles and harnesses began to drift into his mind, almost gleefully imagining all the delicious possibilities to foist on an unassuming bassist. One thing was for sure: he’d definitely be in need of a shiny red ball gag.
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The Thrill of It All