by The Disappearing Woolhat
They didn't always sleep together. Mostly from fear of being caught in the same bed. But every once in a while, after a good shag, they would put those fears aside and hold each other until sleep washed over them. It hadn't even started out like that. He let his mind wander back to when it had all started. He remembered the time he had awoken from a terrible dream, very similar to the way he had woken up just then. The only difference was that on that night, a while back, Mike had been there when he sat up in bed. He had comforted him, giving him a warm hug and telling Micky to go back to bed. But he couldn't.
"Mike," he finally said in a small voice.
"What," the other answered. Micky looked into his eyes to make sure that the other was in an okay mood, and then proceeded.
"I know this may sound ridiculous, and I'm a grown man, and all..."
"But?"
"But can I sleep with you in your bed tonight?" Micky looked at him hopefully. Mike looked away for a
moment, then got up.
"Alright. Come on."
And that was the beginning. In the week that followed, if Micky couldn't sleep, he'd always find an inviting place for him in Mike's bed. He didn't know the torture he was putting the Texan through by
snuggling against him. He didn't know how it made Mike feel to have Micky's skin against his. But Mike
just let it pass, and tried to push the feelings out of his mind.
And push, and push, and push. It didn't work though. The more he tried, the more aware he was of his
attraction to the curly-top. A hot, sweaty night came, about a fortnight later, and he found Micky once
again cuddling up to his broad chest. When the other man was asleep, a sense of child-like innocence seemed to radiate from his being. Mike couldn't help but feel lucky to be chosen as the person who made Micky feel safe, but he felt cursed as well. He let his gaze trail down over the peaceful face and stopped at his beautiful, pouting lips. They looked in dire need of a kiss.
'One little kiss,' he thought, cocking his head to the side. 'What harm could it do? Really? I mean, even if he wakes up...wait. What the hell are you thinking Mike? What excuse would you give? What would he do?'
"He'd say, 'go for it.'"
Mike snapped back to reality, startled to find that Micky looked wide awake. The innocent spell was
broken, and replaced by a mishceivous feel of adolescence.
"Oh, don't tell me I said that out loud." Micky nodded. "And it would be stupid to ask if you were
listening?" Micky nodded again.
"So?"
Mike scooted back a bit, but felt to close to the edge of the bed, and was in danger of falling off.
"S-so...what?"
"Are you going to go for it," Micky asked. Mike stared at him wide eyed. What was happening? Could
it be possible that this was real? Was Micky perhaps simply talking in his sleep with his eyes open? Would Boyce and Hart ever find true love?
"Mick...are you sure you want me to?" Mike scooted back in, and propped himself up on one elbow.
Micky stared back. "If I didn't want you to, I would have let you think I was asleep and that you were
talking in your head. That or gotten back into my bed really really quickly and then avoided you like the
plague."
Mike had no answer for that, so instead of giving one, he breached the distance between there lips and softly pressed his against Micky's. Chaste and sweet. He didn't want to rush a single thing. This was
completely new territory. He pulled back and looked for Micky's reaction.
"Wow," breathed the drummer. "No one's kissed me like that since I was twelve. It makes you think how
beautiful something so simple can be."
Mike smiled, pleased with the comment. It was strange though, to see Micky being so serious. He wondered how long it would last.
"Can I kiss you again," he asked.
Micky squinted his eyes. "No. I think that about settles my bi-curiosity for about a lifetime."
Mike gave him an alarmed look, but it quickly melted away when he saw that jokester grin that usually
occupied the other's face. He leaned forward and kissed him softly once more, feeling Micky put his
arms around his neck and pulling him closer. For the first time since Micky had told him to go for it,
their bodies touched, and Mike loved every minute of it. He was surprised to find Micky's tongue against his lips, and he opened them, welcoming the intrusion. After a bit of exploring, Micky took Mike's hands and placed them against his chest. He broke the kiss and breathed in deeply.
"You feel that?" Mike looked at him quizzically. "My heart," Micky said. "It's beating that fast because
of you."
Micky broke into another smile and Mike kissed him once more with more emphasis on the tenderness and not so much on the passion. He didn't want anything to spoil the moment. When Micky was ready for more, that's what he'd give him.
"Good night, Mick."
As if awaking from a dream, Micky yawned and turned over in bed, reveling in the memory. Mike had taken things slowly. So slowly it sometimes seemed agonizing. The worst part was masking their emotions in front of Davy and Pete. But they did it without complaint. He glanced at the clock. Only 11 o'clock. Would the night never end? Somehow, he found himself drifting back into sleep.
---
"Micky?" Mike leaned over his sleeping friend and nudged him gently. It was 4 am, and he had just
gotten home. Micky stirred slightly, and woke up fully to a long, searching kiss. When it was broken,
he sat up.
"Hey, Mike," he said, smiling sweetly. "When did you get home?"
"About five minutes ago," he answered. "I couldn't help but watch you sleep for a while."
"Pervert," Micky teased. He leaned forward a placed a kiss on Mike's nose. "How's your friend?"
"Much better and sleeping like a baby. But he couldn't never look as delicious as you." He waited a
few beats. "I'm not sleepy," Mike said casually. "Up for a little early morning exercise?"
"Hell yeah," the other answered. He pushed his covers aside and started to unbutton Mike's shirt. His
fingers fumbled over the buttons, so he gave up and ripped it off instead.
Mike smiled. Sometimes Mick was so eager to get him out of his clothes. He helped by undoing his belt, but Micky pushed his hands away to take over from there. He quickly unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans that kept him from his goal. Mike stood so they could be taken off.
"You aren't wearing any underwear," Micky said as he tugged down. He then pulled Mike onto the bed.
"Naughty boy. You'll pay for that."
"I certainly hope so," Mike replied, tugging at the waistband of the pajama bottoms. "And I certainly
hope you'll get out of those as soon as possible."
"Only if you help," he said in a playful tone. Soon they were skin to skin, passion ragging within them,
only quenchable by the other man. It was rough, it was wild, it was very badly detailed by the author.
But that was the way they liked it.
"No we don't."
Oh...sorry. The night ended with a burst of pleasure and Mike collapsed against Micky's sweaty body. He pulled the other's face toward him and planted a sweet, chaste kiss on the pouting lips. It was a
tender moment that showed Micky they would always be more than just lovers.
"Stay here, tonight, Mike. It's okay. Just stay here."
Mike mumbled his agreements, wrapped a protective arm around Micky, and both drifted off to sleep once more.
---
"Petah, this tastes absolutely awful," Davy moaned. Peter looked at him with a sad face.
"I'm sorry, Davy. I thought bananas and chocolate would taste good in the omelette."
"There's a lesson for you then. Don't think."
Peter mused over what this meant.
"Look," Davy added, pushing the plate away disdainfully. "I'm going to go see if Mike and Micky want any of this mess. *Don't* cook anything else while I'm gone."
He bounced up the stairs in his happy little Davy way and opened the door to the bedroom. As he walked in, his jaw hit the floor. Two very naked men were curled up together in Micky's bed. And those two very naked men seemed to be lovingly entwined. And those two very naked men were Mike and Micky. He quietly backed out of the room, afraid to let them find out that he had found out. The door was slowly closed and he dashed down the stairs.
"What's the matter, Davy?" Peter looked up from hisomelette cheerfully. "Did Mike growl at you?"
"Petah," Davy said very softly. "I think Mike fancies boys."
"What?"
"I think Mike *likes* boys."
"Likes them or like likes them?"
Davy sighed. "I think he really really likes boys."
"Oh, in that case...How shocking!" Peter had a shocked look on his face. "What makes you think that?
What does Micky say about the matter?"
"I think Micky fancies boys, too."
"What?"
"I think Micky *likes* boys."
"Likes them or like likes them?"
"I think he really...wait. Are you completely daft? Go 'ave a look for yourself. Go on."
Peter made his way to Mike and Micky's room and peeked inside.
Downstairs Davy gingerly poked at the omelette. He turned around when he heard footsteps on the spiral stairs and saw Peter with a completely blank expression on his face.
"Well?"
"He fancies boys."
The End of Part I
Back
to Index
