Can't Fight This Feeling || Roger Waters Imagines

- think i better wait til tomorrow -

He blinked once before looking me straight in the eyes, a hint of amusement lighting up his face with a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth. I, however, closed my eyes, taking his hand and gently walking backwards. I led him to the center of the living-room: the only room in the house that wasn't pitch black and retired for the night, and the only room in the house that was dimly lit by three small candles on the mantle. Opening my eyes, I let go of his hand in order to push the coffee table towards the couch, back a bit. My attention to the table blinded me for a moment before I realized that he had walked away... but not too far. There he was, tucked away in the corner of the room, putting a record on the player. The candlelight highlighted the most beautiful features of his face, silhouetting his nose and eyes to point out the contour of his cheekbones and the curves of his lips. He didn't know it but I stood there, frozen in time, thanking God for the ability to take in all the sights of his existence in that moment. He was beautiful– he always had been.

An idea came to mind. As he continued to set the record up, I sat down on the coffee table and pulled my shoes off, followed by my socks and stockings. I stood up while letting down my hair and puffing it up to lessen the creases it had formed after a long day of being in a bun. Just as he turned around, I began to remove my skirt every so slightly. His jaw gapped open. It'd been a while since he'd seen me in such a state. My skirt eventually made its way down my thighs, not before caressing my calves– something he'd always been turned on by. Roger, intoxicated by either the candles or my panties, sat down on the arm of the couch. I tried not to look him in the eyes (after all, a man needs some teasing) but I couldn't help but to notice the way they widened every time I made a move. For once in a long while, I felt attractive– no, sexy- to this man I called my husband. A lightness in my heart fluttered within my ribcage. I smiled, although aware of the fact that I'd break character if I showed any sign of emotion in that moment. I regained my concentration and continued to reach down and pull my shirt up over my shoulders... my head... before tossing it onto the couch. Luckily for him, many women didn't wear bras in the seventies– I was one of them.

There I stood, in the middle of the livingroom, with nothing but my panties left. It had taken me an entire song to strip but my ear finally listened in to what record was playing when the next song began: a then-new but goodie album by King Harvest. "Think I Better Wait Til Tomorrow" had become one of my favorites that year, although it wasn't much of a favorite to the general public of music fans who preferred the record's last tune, "Dancing In The Moonlight." To my pleasure, "Think I Better Wait" had been designated as the second song on the album (a good choice on the band's part, I think) which made it the perfect song to grab your partner's hand and dance to. So, as any wise woman should be inclined to do, I stretched out my arm to take my lover by his hand. His once-surprised expression melted away to a simmer, which revealed a meek grin and a twinkle in his eyes. He let me take his hand and draw him into the center of the room. I heard him stifle a giggle. While he tried to catch a rhythm, I placed one of his hands on my waist. His thumb rubbed sensefully against the fabric of my panties. I selfishly relished in the way his abs curved against my stomach perfectly... and in the way his bicep tightened every time his thumb moved against my hip... and in the way his shirt reeked of barely residing cologne from the day before. He leaned against my body before resting his cheek on my head. We swayed back and forth, just two bodies moving, leisurely, outlined by the fading candles. His fingers gripped mine– a strength I hadn't had the enjoyment of experiencing in months. My palm spread out across his back. I noticed the way his muscles, taut, rippled beneath his shirt with every small motion. Meanwhile, he took the time to press his pelvis into mine- a remarkably familiar yet distant sensation- and letting out a slight moan along with it. I chuckled.

The song came to an end. Then came the vaguely memorable vocals from "Smile On Her Face." An unpopular opinion it may be, but Dancing In The Moonlight was one hell of an album to slow-dance to– the best. Roger and I stood still, swaying once again, before he began to take lead. He braced a hand against my back and bent me backwards into a dip. His bangs fell onto my face, our necks curtained with his thick chocolate mane, but I could still make out the curve of his eyes against the dark contrast of the room. He pulled me back up and then continued to press himself against me. Our foreheads touched, the tips of our noses grazing together, and his lips met mine. The kiss lasted a while... it almost never ended. Our tongues took each other as company while our hands explored each other. His, however, found the confidence to pull down my underwear to the floor– something he hadn't done in a long time... too long.

He smiled, I saw, and pulled my hands to his pants, guiding them down, down, down until he stood there in his own underwear, which were soon pulled off as well. His shirt was an easy removal– one swift motion and it was off. Being the charmer that he had always been, he took his hand to my lower back and gently laid me back against the couch. His body aligned with mine. We had always praised our perfectly-fitting bodies for our perfect romantic endeavors.

Taking his fingers, he tangled them up into my hair. He pulled his lips away from mine and stared me in the eyes. The moment of silence felt like an eternity, and I wanted him to kiss me again, but I knew he needed a moment. He always did right before these nights. I never knew why.

I swallowed, a bit nervous for no rational reason. "Roger?"

"Yea?" His whisper, husky in its nature, caused my back to arch slightly.

"Why do you stop like this?"

Pause. A thoughtful glimmer entered his expression. After a moment of still silence, he began to twirl his fingers around a strand of my hair and he let out a short giggle. "I- I need to see you, that's all."

"What?"

He smiled, blinking his eyes. His lips lifted to reveal a sweet set of teeth before he said, "I need to take it in: you, this-" He gestured to our bodies- "what's about to happen." He paused yet again. "You're too beautiful, you know that? You're like... a goddess. And these days, I get too busy... and I forget what you look like when you're just here. Beneath me." He leaned down and kissed me softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too."