behold a dream .｡.:*☆ pink floyd imagines

roger #5

{ mail for xxSingingSondraYT who is just feeding my roger attraction. the longest one i've written too! }

it's not the first time you've snuck on to roger's property. but it's the first time you're completely naked, playing out a fantasy as you bathe, midnight moonlit, in his pool. the night sky is dark, consuming violet and it shrouds one side of your figure. you feel criminal and the thought makes you bite your lip and stretch your arms above your head.

a car rolls into the driveway and you lower yourself under the water to coat your skin with a sheen. you know who it is, even though you can't see past the gate and the night is silent save his footsteps. they stop suddenly, after a splash of water from your swimming body echoes out into the air.

his voice is there, thick, calling your name. who else would it be come to bother him in the middle of the night but you?

"yes?" you call back and his sigh is loud.

"what are you doing in my backyard?"

"taking a dip," you laugh.

you hear the gate clink as roger unlocks it and slips into the yard. in the light from the moon, his face is hard set, shrouded with shadows, and he wears a t-shirt and a pair of pants. you stop bathing, staring as he looks at you. you could crumble under that gaze and the shape of his body.

"okay," he finally says, turning away and waving a hand towards the house. "come on out."

"no," you respond and watch him breathe deeply, turn his back to you fully.

"i won't look, just get out."

"but you already looked."

roger throws his hands up. "i didn't know you'd be bloody nude out here, christ. this is what it's like all the time with you. you don't listen. i could've just brushed you off before the tour. but instead..." he shakes his head with an exasperation you've come to know over these years.

you wait and the water drips and slicks down your skin.

"but instead i brought you along." he turns around again and regards you. your eyes track his hands as they reach up to take the t-shirt from his body. "but instead, here you are in my pool, naked, waiting for me."

you stop altogether. stop breathing, moving, thinking at the sound of his deepened voice and the placement of his hand on his pants' buttons. his chest is everything you've cherished when you've thought of him before. he's tanned from sun-shows and wiry, the muscles of his arms so present despite the distance between the two of you. his pants fall to his thighs and he pushes out of them, discarding the clothing on the ground. then shoes, socks, and lastly his underwear. you look away and your heart beats rapid.

your peripheral vision sees him approach and the water ripples as he slips in. he dips his head and he rises with slicked hair, dripping as if with sweat. shadows catch beneath his cheekbones, curl under lips, and the sight makes you breathe out:

"you're so pretty, roger."

"i know," he laughs and you match the sound. "i mean you've told me before."

the lightness brings your courage back and you float towards him, finding the slope of his shoulders with your palms. this is better than touching him in secrecy in his hotel room bed. those are whisper-times, pleasure trapped and kept between the two of you. often, he'll whisper his fears into your skin before you fall asleep beside and you'll take them, bury them down in your stomach to dwell.

his hands curl under your bare bottom and you gasp at the sensation. you watch his face gauge your pleasure, but you're too focused to really perceive him pulling you up tight against his body. your legs wrap around his waist and his stiff member sits hot beneath you.

you hum his name while your fingers sweep across his cheeks and frame his face. this is what you wanted waiting for him in the pool. he brings his lips to yours in a brief brush, wet meeting wet. you feel young. then he returns to kiss more fervently and allows you to palm the back of his head, twining your fingers in loose strands and bringing his tongue to slip and fight your own.

"roger," you say again. "you're back with me." rarely before have you acted on impulses outside of the tour. you had always been just something to keep around, something good, whole, warm. the more time you spend with roger, though, the more you crave him. the more desire you have to shape and twist his sadness.

"i'm back with you," he reaffirms and suddenly his hips buck against you as if on their own. "we're together." and he holds you so tight, arms around his neck as he carries you towards the edge, laying you down on the grass. your back makes soft contact with the ground and roger holds himself up above you, looking down with those soft, explorative eyes. "you're mine, you know? my everything. friend. lover. beauty. fool."

you giggle. each word is accentuated with a kiss, four down until he reaches your chest. your arms wrap and conceal him again. your legs desire to do the same.

"you're so good to me and i hate it." he brings his hand up from your hip and pinches your skin, leaving a mark of his presence. "you're so good to me and i don't deserve it." he palms your breast. he savors as if he's never touched you before.

"you do deserve it. i wouldn't have stayed if you didn't," you whisper to his skin, body tilting to relay your want.

roger falls silent and his fingers follow your stomach, brushing over your navel before they meet your mound. your eyes shift from his wrist to his gaze and he's staring, different from the way he was when he first saw you. this time, the green is intense, exact, unyielding. he sweeps your thigh and enters. an inward breath matches the inward graze of your hips. it all vanishes, besides him, and he wavers in your gaze under a cloud of need. he curls his fingers and you're gone, a castaway in the middle of a grassy island, and you're wet and begging for him.

the night seems to spin like it does when you smoke a little too much or when you used to roll down meadowy hills with your eyes open. there's a slight throbbing when he enters you and curses, but your hands already go to his back and grab at it and the sensation slithers into ecstasy. he buries his face in your neck and smiles against you. this is your favorite way to be with him, you think: joyful. and a grin dons your own face, gasping and drunk.

his hand, still soaked, finds the spot at the apex of your thighs and slips circles, sending your thighs twitching and your back curving until you call his name to the empty backyard and come around him.

you've lost your breath, but not enough to moan in his final thrusts. a deep breath while he spurts into you and his muscles carry the weight and the tension. half-lidded eyes catch his shining, ethereal face in otherworldly feeling.

he pulls out and his heavy body drops. you find a star in the sky to focus on as you regain your own presence.

it's not long until he speaks again. "i — we needed that."

"yeah." your hand clenches around a fistful of dirt and your bring it up and against his flesh. it smears when you touch him.

he laughs something tired and his arm stretches to dip his fingers in the mud and swipe them across your face. the loamy smell is thick and somehow makes you think of him.

you want to cover him fully, paint with something so base and elemental, but your hands are tired. roger, though, takes you as his canvas, and swirls lines of earth up your arms.

roger's soft and playful with pleasure. it's enough to make you chuckle.