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rarely sleep (keep people as pets)	By : luna65 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pink Floyd Views: 809 -:- 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-rarely sleep (keep people as pets)
- 1
“James, why’d you come over, help Jim record me, eh?”

James looked up from his notations, taking a sidelong glance at his watch. It was nine o’clock, and he had expected to work till about midnight, then return to the flat and a certain warm body likely waiting for him in his bed.

One could only hope, that is.

But Roger was giving him a sardonic smirk, eyes glittering. Ever since he’d met Jim Ladd, who was a disc jockey for the band’s favorite Los Angeles radio station, it seemed the guy was always hanging ‘round the studio in the evenings, but usually not so late – he went on the air at ten PM.

“Roger, I’ve work to do.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t be such a priss, hmm? S’Jim’s only night off, gonna have some fun.”

Which for you involves fucking with me which means fucking with David. “I need at least ten minutes to finish what I’m doing.”

“Alright, lad. Meet us out front then.”

After Roger left the control room of Studio 2, James made sure he wasn’t lurking in the reception area, nervously placing a call to Phil. He created an elaborate excuse as to why he needed the other to go into his apartment to check for a certain visitor. When the other returned with a negative response, he asked that a note be left on the door to call the studio. He then phoned the house and Ginger informed him David was already on his way to Producers Workshop, his all-purpose excuse for staying out half the night.

Damn, I likely won’t catch him.

James found Rick and assigned him the task of waiting by the phone to deliver an important message. He had the number for Roger’s home studio - a separate line from the house - which he gave to Rick.

“If he asks for it. But tell him I need him to meet us there, as soon as he calls, it’s an emergency.”

“Sure.” It was a criminal waste of a senior engineer’s time to have him act as a messenger, but Rick was the only one James trusted to do it right. And he wasn’t about to be trapped with Roger and his new crony against his will for half the night. He supposed Ladd was interesting enough – he knew plenty of musicians and had some amusing war stories about his profession – but the guy seemed to be altogether too observant, as if he were memorizing everything which happened to him for future reference. Jim thought Roger was a genius, which naturally assured him a place in the dysfunctional family.

Roger had James ride with him while Ladd followed in his own car.

“You can get a cab back later, hmm?”

James tried his best to look unsuspecting and nonchalant. “Right.”

“Jim’s a great guy, s’bout time you got to know him.”

“Of course.”

“He wants to interview me ‘bout the record, so we’re going to do a mock-up for now, to see how it goes. But he’ll get the exclusive.”

“Quite a coup for him, then.”

“Yes indeed. And he’s rather a dishy boy, don’t you think?”

They were sitting at the light just before the onramp to the 101 and James looked over to see Roger smirking at him once again, then he gave him a wink and James frowned. Whatever Roger was up to, it was likely to involve all sorts of pointed innuendo. James fought the urge to sigh and fidget, his mind concurrently picturing David scowling as he found the note on James’ door and attempting not to panic as he thought about how far behind he would fall if he didn’t finish his edits by tomorrow.

Jim had a high-end tape recorder, of course, but James dismissed it in favor of Roger’s deck, which he was able to mic a lot more effectively. The test played back crystal clear.

“Thanks man, we won’t even need to tweak that,” Jim said.

“That’s our Whiz Kid,” Roger said, splashing whisky into a glass. “He makes everything sound perfect.”

James shrugged. “S’my job.”

“And he’s altogether too modest, mousey little boy,” Roger continued, handing out drinks. James held up a hand.

“Not thirsty?”

“Just a Coke for me, please.”

“Teetotaler too, hmm?” Jim teased, taking a large gulp from his glass.

“No not that, it’s just –“

Roger leaned down as he handed him a familiar red can. “I know what you’re waiting for, lad.” He chuckled as he watched a pair of brown eyes go very wide.

Jim took a silver cigarette case out of his pocket and proffered the contents to Roger, who took out a joint.

“S’the California Gold?”

“Absodamnlutely.”

Roger lit up and took a deep drag, coughing slightly as he exhaled. “Oh yeah, this shit is primo, just like you said.” He handed the joint to James, who was more conservative with his inhale. He made the mistake of sharing a smoke with Rick and Brian a few weeks back, the same kind of stuff, and got so thoroughly wrecked his ribs hurt the next day from laughing too hard. But almost immediately upon exhaling James stopped worrying so much about things, passing the joint back to Roger. His boss crossed the room to the other couch, sitting down next to the DJ. Jim took a drag on the joint and fiddled with the microphones on the table.

“So let’s run through some questions, okay?”

“If you must, dear boy.”

James walked over to the console, making sure the tape was in the correct place to start, and waited for Ladd to tell him when to begin. One he started the tape he took the reefer back from Roger and sat down on the other couch, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to take one more toke. He closed his eyes as he held the smoke in his lungs, wondering if he should try ringing the apartment. They had a signal – three rings, hang up, call again – whenever it was James calling. He leaned his head back on the cushion and put his feet on the table, letting the remainder of the smoke out of his mouth. Roger gave him a predatory sort of stare and James reflexively took another drag, feeling nervous.

What does he want?

“So let’s talk about the record, what you’ve played for me so far is just fucking amazing, I really want to know what this character is all about.”

James closed his eyes again as he listened to Roger tell the story, which hadn’t changed all that much since he first heard it; if anything, it seemed to make more sense now that they were actually in Los Angeles, and he could see, firsthand, the types of things which were apt to contribute to Pink’s sense of twisted fantasy. LA was nothing like he’d thought it would be - it was actually much worse – and he couldn’t help but feel disheartened at the fact that he was going to be here for at least another six months, not counting Christmas. Not even the thought of David could make that prospect any more attractive.

But it was nice to relax with some chemical assistance. . .even against his will and his better judgment. James took another inhale and silently prayed that David would show up soon, before he had to find out what Roger really wanted.

If the smell didn’t make it immediately apparent what the three glassy-eyed individuals in Roger’s studio were up to, James’ goofy grin upon seeing David walk through the door was proof enough. James was always so silly when he was stoned, although sometimes he did become rather maudlin. There had been occasional tears, which aroused David more than he cared to admit.

“Oi you tossers, trying to smoke out the whole neighborhood, are you?”

Roger gave him a sardonic grin, which indicated to David he wasn’t as stoned as the other two.

“Well Dave, ‘bout time you got here. I was certain your boy had alerted you immediately.”

James began snickering in response to Roger’s innuendo.

“Carrier pigeon, as it were. Takes time to get the news.”

“Mr. Gilmour, do you have a few words for the listening audience?” Ladd intoned, indicating the recording setup.

David rolled his eyes. “No Jim, I do not.”

It was all very ironic, wasn’t it, that David had been the one to introduce the two, and now Roger was attempting to use this guy as a wedge between them. Entirely pathetic, as David couldn’t be arsed to care, nor could he take Ladd seriously as any kind of rival. It was Roger who was dying inside, because he knew how completely enthralled David was with James, and how devoted James was to David. And Roger wished he could engender that kind of obsession.

But you are obsessed with him, aren’t you? Ever and always.

David gave his bandmate a thin smile. “So is there any left for me?”

Roger removed another joint from the silver case and handed it to David. “Help yourself, lad.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, leaning forward to get a light. He took a small toke to get it started then sat down next to James, who continued to giggle at nothing. After another hit David handed it to him.

“Oh Christ, I’ve had more than enough, thanks.”

“Ah, you’re a pisser, Guthrie!” Roger declared. “Always copping out.”

“Leave him alone, Rog,” David said, his voice dropping to a warning tone.

“Sorry if I’m so boring, boss. But this stuff is too much for me.” This set off another fit of giggles, and David gave James a gentle shove, which caused him to topple onto his side

“Silly thing,” David chided indulgently, and Roger scowled. Oh he’s greener than grass, that one. “So what’s the occasion, Rog?” he asked, taking another drag.

“Social pleasantry. Journalistic endeavor.”

“I see. You are aware James has a great deal of work to do.”

“You are not the only one who can make demands, you know.”

David pulled a surprised face. “Demands? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Georgie.”

At that James began giggling again. David smacked his ass and he yelped, continuing to laugh.

“Christ, is he always such a blithering idiot?”

“Steady on, you cunt. You’re the one passing ‘round the party favors, aren’t you?”

Roger got up and walked over to the bar on the other side of the room by the snooker table, which had been shipped at great expense from Brit Row. “C’mere,” he commanded, motioning to David. David complied, looking curious. Roger took a vial out of his pocket and shook out a handful of thick round white pills, taking one and placing it on the surface of the bar. He got out a knife and cut it in half.

“Here, give it to him.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Who gets the other half? Your new toy?”

“Exactly. This’ll make any potential reluctance melt away, hmm?”

“What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we’ll have some fun. Don’t tell me you don’t want to see it, I know your predilection for perversion. And haven’t you wanted to rub my nose in your shit, you whore.”

David pursed his lips. He’d dosed James before and the boy was ever so willing once he had a ‘lude in him, it was true, didn’t matter where they were or how many other people were present. And yes, he wanted Roger to watch and feel the white-hot prod of jealousy. Roger was only chasing after that smarmy bastard DJ because he was undeniably completely jealous and he couldn’t do a thing to James, for various reasons. But more pity him that David wasn’t suffering at all. He found it amusing, in fact, that Roger had found a poor substitute. Christ, the guy even had the same name, how thoroughly unoriginal.

“Only half?”

“You give someone the whole thing they’ll be unconscious within five minutes. Very high dose.”

“What else have you all been doing?”

“Had a toot, ‘cept the kid wouldn’t.”

“He won’t without me.”

“Yeah you’ve got him well-trained, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Jim’s very impressed with me,” Roger said with an arch look. “Thinks I’m one of the greatest poets of my generation.”

David snorted. “Naturally you’d fall for such hyperbole.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Top that!”

David folded his arms across his chest. “James is in love with me.”

Roger’s saucer eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with contempt. David smirked at him, staring down the steel as he’d become so adept at doing in the last year.

“Then he’s a fool,” Roger hissed.

“But a very valuable fool. And he’s all mine.”

Roger reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He peeled off a twenty and placed on the bar. “This says I can get my boy ready before you can.”

David began to laugh. “Oh Georgie you can’t be serious! I’ve had months of practice with that sweet thing.” They both turned to stare at James who was still lying down and snickering every few minutes. “I know exactly what to do, although it’s not even as complicated as all that, because he’ll do whatever I tell him to do.”

“You mean he’d let you fuck him in front of me?”

“After this –“ David regarded the drug lying on his palm " – he’ll do anything.”

Roger tapped the money with his fingertips.

David looked through his own cash and slapped another down on top of it. “You’re on.”

David sat down beside his lover and held up the half-tablet. “Down the hatch, baby,” he whispered, giving James a sexy grin.

The other opened his mouth - immediate, obedient - and washed it down with soda. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, his words slightly slurred.

David took a long inhale from the roach. “Mmm,” he said, releasing the smoke, “thought you needed rescuing from these wankers.”

James giggled, then looked surprised as David ran a hand along his inner thigh.

“David!”

“There are no secrets, boy. Besides, where’s your gratitude, hmm?” He leaned in and kissed James on the neck.

James turned and brushed David’s lips with his own. David grabbed the back of his head and kissed him more deeply. James tried to pull away even as he moaned in his throat with obvious lustful response.

“We’re here boy,” David told him when he broke the kiss but kept him close. “Might as well enjoy ourselves.” He looked across the room through the pall of smoke and noted that Roger was watching them even as Jim was pawing at him, one hand eagerly stroking his crotch.

“But Roger is watching us!”

“Of course he is, darling. That’s the whole point. You don’t think he really wanted your technical expertise, do you?”

James looked devastated. “Not really.”

“Not in this case, any road. He wants some sport, so let’s play. Be a good boy and do what I say, alright? Doesn’t this feel good?”

He reached down and cupped James’ crotch in his hand, the burgeoning erection seeming to solidify with his touch. James moaned again and put his face against David’s neck.

“Take me, then,” he whispered, his breath warm against David’s ear. “You know I’m yours.”

David smiled. The ‘lude was working its’ magic, turning his boy into an absolute slut. He had reached a point where fucking James blind behind closed doors just wasn’t enough, he desired risk and unquestioning servility in accordance with his demands, and the only way to get it was to push his lover further and further down the path of squirming resistance. At first it had been ever so much fun to tease and taunt - once he had a fair amount of booze or blow in him he usually surrendered - but when they came to Los Angeles James had turned serious and intent upon his responsibilities, no longer interested in fun save whatever David did to him within the walls of that pathetic shabby flat. And so David had demanded his right of sovereignty when Ezrin had gifted him with a stash of Quaaludes.

“I figure with Roger turning into a monster, we could both use a little chemical armor.”

David hadn’t had one in ages, but he knew what they could do and couldn’t wait to see what effect they had on his Whiz Kid.

He pushed James down on the couch and unbuttoned his shirt. “Feeling better, now that your knight is here?”

James smiled, that smile which never failed to make David melt. “Much better, my liege, how shall I ever thank you for rescuing me?” He put his arms above his head in a coquette’s pose, fluttering his eyelids.

“Oh I’ll think of something, sweet thing.” David undid James’ belt and the buttons of his jeans as the other lay there, licking his lips and running his hands through David’s hair. “Does my boy want to get fucked?”

“Absolutely.”

“Right now?”

“If not sooner.”

“Tell me, then,” David said, removing his own clothing.

“Fuck me, David. Fuck me now.”

“Who’s my slut, eh?”

Wide eyes, mouth open in anticipation of pleasure, that lovely dark hair framing his face: his boy was so pretty. “I am. I am your slut.”

“Aren’t you just, lover.”

The clothes came off, that pale smooth skin glowing in the dimly-lit room. James was definitely feeling the buzz, David could tell, because he sprawled in an almost pornographic manner, reaching to pull his beloved on top of him. And he was thoroughly erect, moaning as David slid his fingers against his cock. David looked over at Roger, who was undressing and telling Jim to do the same. Jim was fairly loaded himself, fumbling at the buttons on his shirt. Roger had stripped down and David couldn’t help a certain longing to see that body again, those wiry limbs and that ruddy enormous knob of his. He missed feeling it rub against the skin of his belly and –

Stop it, you wanker. It’s over, isn’t it?

But was it? Truly?

James was kissing his neck, murmuring things like I thought you’d never get here and I want you so bad my cock just aches and generally sounding as sweet as David craved. But he was distracted, half-aroused, and then angry as he watched Ladd get between Roger’s legs and lick his member with amateurish enthusiasm as Roger smiled at David.

Fucking arrogant arsehole bastard cunt I HATE YOU.

He stood up and finished undressing, pulling James to a sitting position.

“Lick me, boy,” he hissed from lust and rage. “Like I showed you.”

David sat back and spread his legs while James got onto the floor and put his face even with David’s crotch. David slouched down and James held apart the cheeks of his ass, burying his face in the crack, tongue flickering eagerly. David groaned and threaded his fingers through the dark hair, pushing down. As usual, the boy was a little too fast, David preferred to be licked slowly, loving that delicious moment when a tongue penetrated his rectum, wet and rough, but eventually he might learn a little finesse. David looked across the room and Roger was getting his cock sucked, but looked as though he was enjoying it not one wit.

You miss me, don’t you? Miss my mouth and what it could do to you.

Ah now, that was better. James was pushing his tongue as far as he could and still manage to breathe. Every thrust was slippery bliss.

“Such a good boy,” he whispered, pulling hair and moaning. “My James.”

Those eyes, he could feel them burning into his skin, feel the enraged avarice.

You wanted to know, you wanted to see, so eat your heart out.

And wouldn’t that be a sight. But this torture was sweet enough.

This was surreal, he had to admit. Far more than when they’d gotten wrecked on Mandies and wine in Rome in ‘69 and had it off with the prettiest hookers they could find, staring at one another as they were both serviced in the same room and David knew there was something underneath that sneering yet guarded gaze, something which desired him. And he was conversely aware he wanted that lanky bag of bones, that infuriating bastard of a man, wanted him so badly. But this: ten years later, lying on opposing couches, banging their young conquests who were starstruck by enigmatic charisma while Roger’s picture-perfect family slumbered in the luxurious abode just across the lawn, this was the kind of absurd hedonism David would have never imagined he’d find himself experiencing.

James was thoroughly gone, over the moon, his face flushed and utterly dreamy with euphoria. He moaned without concern for discretion, mumbled things he would never say when fully sober.

“Oh God baby, I love you so much.”

David chuckled. He had to admit, this was perhaps his favorite part of getting James totally fucked up: the boy couldn’t stop declaring his love, and would be utterly mortified if he knew what he was saying.

He knew Roger could hear James, even over the music he had playing, something by Lennon. Ladd was enduring the brunt of Roger’s spiteful lust, David imagined it felt like someone was trying to tear him apart from the inside out, because that’s how it had felt for him the few times he had agreed to let Roger bugger him. No envy there. But Roger was surely piqued to hear those words from the mouth of the one who truly loved David.

Nobody loves you, Georgie. Not the way you want them to. But my boy? He’d die for me.

David pushed, enthusiastically rough, knew he was probably hurting James at least a little but he took it so well – begged for it, in fact – that it was hard to control the overwhelming animalistic desire which consumed him in such moments. There was nothing quite like being buried fathoms-deep in that sweet arse and bringing the boy to tears (or near enough) from an overload of emotional response.

“Are you almost there, darling?”

“OH GOD YES.”

Roger certainly had to be pissed at those sounds, those beautiful passionate sounds which his boy was making, his name uttered over and over again like a prayer. When James was approaching orgasm David’s name replaced any other deity as invocation. Hot thick liquid on his skin as James screamed, startling everyone. Roger looked spooked even as he couldn’t budge, and David wanted to laugh. He pulled out roughly which elicited another loud cry.

“Hush boy, sound travels, as you well know.”

James was gasping too much to speak, sprawled with semen splattering his chest and stomach, his hair in dark brown tangles, his skin glittering with a patina of sweat. David walked over to the other couch and knelt down in front of Jim.

“How does it feel, Jim? Feel like you’re dying? You can tell me, I know what it’s like.”

Ladd raised his head, he was also drenched in sweat, but faintly grimacing, the drug subduing his normal response. “It doesn’t…really hurt…I guess.”

David stood up, his hands on his hips, and stared at Roger brazenly. “Oh yes, this is quite the intrigue you’re having, Georgie. Have to drug this sorry bastard to get your kicks.”

Roger’s suspicious expression turned into a glare and he pulled out of the other with a sudden wrench which brought forth a scream.

“Christ, someone’s gonna call the cops!” David exclaimed.

“Everyone’s too blotto on booze and pills ‘round here,” Roger quipped. “They’ll think it’s just the coyotes.”

“Well, I think the kid and I will be going now.”

Roger grabbed David’s arm and pulled him towards the bar. “Oh no, not just yet Dave.”

“Let go of me!”

Roger pulled him ever closer. “Fuck me.”

“You sodding cunt. What, you want it right now, with James’ shit on my dick? Want what he had, do you?”

Roger slapped him and David did the same in return. They stood with eyes locked, panting, feeling the sting of blood beneath the skin.

“You are wound up, aren’t you? But I’m not playing.”

“You rutting snob, you’ve been playing all along, haven’t you? Well I’m calling your bluff. If the kid loves you then he’ll bloody well watch this too and not utter a fucking word.”

But when they looked over at their pawns they had both passed out.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Roger muttered. “Pansies.”

“Ah fuck, how in the world am I going to get him back? Dead weight when they’re like that.”

“Call Phil.”

David sighed. “S’pose I’ll have to, then.”

Roger ran a long-fingered hand down David’s back. “C’mon lover, do me. Just a quick one, hmm? And it will remain a secret to your sweetheart.” This last said with sneering derision.

David looked down. Damned if he wasn’t hard again.

“Bend over, you slut,” he ordered, shoving Roger in the direction of the couch. As he rammed that bony ass and muttered every expletive he could think of between clenched teeth, Roger groaning and making sounds like a cat in heat, David kept glancing up at James’ face in sweet repose.

Worse thing to happen to him, you know that.
I don’t care. He’s mine and I’m not giving him up.
You’re a selfish bastard, Gilmour. No wonder you’re so fucking miserable.

“Shut up!” he cried as he came, jerking and digging his nails into Roger’s hips. Roger also cried - in pain - but there was something strangely triumphant about it all the same. David pulled out and grabbed the money off the bar.

“I should shove this up your arse, but I won. You shouldn’t try to challenge me when it comes to seduction, Georgie, because I am the master. But how soon they forget, hmm?”

Roger grabbed his clothes off the floor and put them on, literally shaking with rage. David snickered as he slammed the door on his way out.

David had managed to get James half-dressed by the time Phil showed up, who merely coughed as he entered the room, waving a hand in the blue haze.

“Uh –“ David said, as he struggled to get James to sit up so he could put his shirt back on.

“I don’t want to know,” Phil said, bending down to get the kid shod again.

“You see –“

“David, when I say ‘I don’t want to know,’ that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Right.” They didn’t exchange another word as they finished dressing James’ unconscious form and carried him out between them, loading him in the back of Phil’s LTD.

“He is still breathing, though, right?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know,” David quipped.

“That particular detail would be rather helpful, boss.”

“Yes, he’s alive. Just done in by a ‘lude.”

Phil shook his head. “So where’s the Porsche? I didn’t see it in our car park.”

“Must be at the studio.”

“What’re we doing with the radio fellow?”

“He’s Roger’s responsibility. Let’s go then, I’m fucking knackered.”

“I can well imagine,” Phil said, sotto voce, as he opened the driver’s side door.

On the drive back from Beverly Hills to Hollywood James began to stir and mumble loudly, turning over with a thump.

“Guthrie!” Phil shouted. “If you start puking I’ll kill ya myself!”

He seemed to quiet down, as Phil prayed the inevitable wasn’t happening, and not only because he didn’t want to have to hose it out of his upholstery.

“If I tell you once, James, I’ll tell you a thousand times: you can’t run with the dogs. They’ll leave you for dead on the side of the road and that’s a fact. I thought you were smarter than that, lad.”

James let out a faint moan.

“You still with me, Guthrie? Don’t you fucking die on me or I’ll never hear the end of it, you get me?!”

Another moan.

“Goddamn it, Gilmour,” Phil ranted at the car ahead of him, “Why d’ya have to ruin every night I have to myself, hmm? And for what, I ask you?”

Another moan, somewhat louder.

“Crikey, guess I’ll have to crash on your sofa, hmm? Make sure you don’t fucking peg out. Goddamn it.”

No, he absolutely positively did not want to know why he found two naked men in Roger’s studio with David frantically trying to dress one of them and Roger nowhere to be found.

Did. Not. Want. To know.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Phil swore again, and stepped on the gas pedal just a little harder.
- 1
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rarely sleep (keep people as pets)