By April Morthorpe
Micky was first. He tossed his sheets off in a flurry of white and stumbled his awkward legs onto the ground, his eyes under attack by his knuckles. He issued a fierce groan to welcome the day; his usual moan that accompanied ridiculously exaggerated stretching. He went about to dressing now, making his way to the dresser, half still in his sleep stupor. He flung his pajamas off and tossed them in a neat corner. Then he almost ripped open the dresser door and pulled out his prize: a heavily collared shirt that looked like a flower threw up on it, tight gray jeans, and a pair of pointed black boots. He tossed this on, all the while the other Monkees slept like the dead, annoyed at the sound and light, but not about to do anything about it. Micky pressed his lips together and blew air out from them, as a show of disgust. “Come on, you guys!” he urged as he went over to each of them to yell into their face. He shook Peter in his bed and succeeded in tossing him onto the floor. Peter looked around, stunned, and then dropped his head on the floor to sleep again. Micky shook his head and kicked him awake as he made for Davy.
Davy wasn’t as easy. He refused to wake up at all costs, even though he was really awake, just trying to hold on to his blissful sleep world. Micky took to shaking him viciously, but he only got frowns and struggle. Davy thrust his head deep into his pillow as Mickey began to wrestle him, and actually get on top of him, his legs taking hold of the youth. Davy shook himself in turn to try to get Micky off of him, bucking his hips and legs around as his arms held tight to the pillow and his eyes kept firmly closed. Soon Davy gave Micky such a start that the drummer ended up tumbling on the floor next to Peter.
“Good morning, Micky,” Peter mumbled. Micky shook his head. “Yah, good morning to you too.” His glare vanished, though, and gave way to a sneaky grin as he began to stalk the sleeping beauty. He took such forced steps of care and quiet he almost made some noise: a laugh from Peter. He put his hand on the other’s mouth and made for Davy. “How about a little good morning from me,” he whispered.
“Good morning,” Peter smiled.
Micky hissed for him to shut up and continued on. The tiny space seemed endless, and refused to close soon. When he got there, a marvel indeed, he plucked Davy up with the most extreme care and carried him in his arms to the bathroom of this little motel room they had. There were two rooms, though, and each had his own bed, tonight at least. They were to stay here in Monterey for another week, playing a little tour of the town. This was a pleasurable escape from the outside, for the short time they spent in bed.
The night before seemed harmless enough, for them anyway. They had made up their mind on fun, and as much as they could get in the cool night by the raging ocean, the ocean that continued to rage and tumbled well into the night, when everyone else would be asleep. It will rage on well after we have all died. The party started on this beach, in the face of the eternal ocean, and starred the Pre-Fab four and their stately entourage: a group of stray girls and a few boys they picked up in the area. A lot of kids found there way there and joined in without invitation, but they would not have to worry about being kicked out, much less recognized. The beach was empty before they came, so they had it all to themselves, and thus they claimed it, with sharp yells and running around to stake their territory. Soon there were at least fifty teenagers, and more were coming. The kids around the area seemed to know instinctively when a party was uprising. The night as their blanket, they danced on the beach, with their makeshift band, that was not the Monkees. A group of boys pulled out their guitars and started jamming, the sound being hypnotic, deadly. Girls piled around them, gazing at them, some dancing, some lusting. Some kids danced where the music could not touch them.
Mike made himself a little seat from smoothed grass to watch the still sky from. He pulled out a tiny tube of snowy white powder and brought it to his nose, where he took a great big sniff that sent him reeling. He clung to the vial as he leaned on his back on the warm sand, his free hand blanketing his face. The powder ate its way up his nose, sizzling all the way, and Mike could feel every little sparkle. Soon he was better, but he was still lying down when someone joined him. He saw the slim legs glide to his retreat, but not the top half, for he was shielding his eyes from a light that wasn’t there. He groaned, “What do you want?” He fought to sit back up.
The intruder sat down beside the hunched figure. “Aw, come on, chap! Why don’t you join us all?” The light from the nearest first danced on the young man’s face, sending sparks to show it off.
Mike took his hand from his face and looked at the other square in the face, a tiny grin threatening to form. “Aw, Davy, isn’t it all the same as always?” He said to the stars, “Isn’t too late to be lassoed by regularity?”
Davy scoffed, “Well, I’d hardly call this regularity.”
“I don’t know, somehow it’s not all good enough,” Mike murmured, his eyes now on Davy. As Davy nodded in assent, he let his eyes gaze at the slender body. He watched Davy’s slim but finely shaped chest slowly rise and fall, how the simple shirt he wore hugged the rock hard platform of modest muscles, and gave way to its approach. He let his eyes travel down the youth’s body to his belt which shone in the dark with a fierce glare, challenging him, holding up tight, pale jeans. Those jeans hugged his legs, which were long, even with his stature. They shone, too, as it seemed. Mike could not tear his gaze from this sight, especially when it accosted his face. He suddenly hungered for this boy before him, longed for him, and he could feel in his chest a feeling of smothering. He shook his head and poured his eyes to the night, but this only made him pain to look at Davy all the more.
This was not the first time he caught himself feeling this way for anther man. Only a few times, he could count and name them, but they were still there. Back home was the first incident, and he felt it odd that that time did not affect him as he thought it should. He found himself lusting after a rival of his in school. Though he did not value school as much as something more important, like life, he still had a scholarly rival, and hated him for it. There was no rival worse than one for a challenge you care nothing about. Soon his hate turned to quite a different feeling, with the passion still there, just to be called by a different name. No other goal seemed as vital as getting this boy for himself, nothing was important as getting alone with him. But his chance did not come, for he had moved with his parents half across the state for a reason Mike did not care to listen to.
And here he was, a different boy, one much better, closer, hotter. Davy sat with his lips slightly parted and his eyes squinting against the glare of the firelight, one leg bent and his hand resting on his knee. He sat oblivious to his partner on the sand.
Mike put an arm around the other’s shoulders, deft enough to get a hold without him knowing. Davy felt the warmth of the other’s arm resting on his shoulder and gave him a look of discomfort, but geniality. Soon he was pulled closer to the Texan, and found himself pressed up to his chest. He flinched, his hand landing on the chest before him, but it did not fly away. He let his hand slide down the wall of iron flesh back to his own body. He became enveloped by yet another arm that pulled him in closer and gathered his small body into a bunch. Mike brought him closer to him, holding him close to his pounding heart. He heard the smaller’s breath speed up, his tiny voice adding flavor to it, adding intensity. He sat gazing at him, his face deadly serious. Davy clutched tighter on Mike’s arms, compressed by a sudden wave of fright, though it was of Mike’s face. He tried to pull away, but could not move. Mike pinned his arms to his sides and forced them behind his back where he held his hands tight together. With his free hand, Mike shoved the base of Davy’s neck closer to him, and centered him to his face. He let his eyes close; the long lashes resting on his smooth, pale skin and captured Davy’s lips in his. His lips began to take their own course, kissing Davy’s with a fierce energy. Mike found little resistance as he pulled Davy’s head closer to his, his fingers tracing his hair. He let his tongue explore the warm mouth he held hostage. He traced Davy’s lips and stroked the inside of his cheeks with his tongue, met shaking teeth.
He emerged, his lips apart and trembling. Davy stared into his eyes, his face pale and shivering. He fought with the words that dripped from his wet mouth, but found them dying as they came. He felt Mike’s hand pulling from his body, tracing a line in his back across his hips, and felt regret. He reached his hand closer to Mike, longing to pull Mike’s hand back to him. Mike fastened his eyes on him and let a small smile escape. He reached his face out to his again, his hand pinning his body down by the shoulder, and licked his cheek. He then got up and walked into the heart of the party.
He did not look back as he walked, instead thinking about what just happened. He traced his tongue to his lip, capturing the lingering taste of Davy’s mouth that still clung there. He built up his cool composure, his eyes half closed and his brow severe. He gave tiny grins and slow nods when he saw kids who smiled at him, never escaping from his cloud he created for himself.
None would know what he was thinking. He refused to show any expression of thought on his face. He maintained his falsely content, but correctly hostile face as he reflected his actions. He had never done this before, never been so close, never so quick. He was surprised he had managed, though, for he was not planning on this. He refused to plan on anything having to do with Davy, though he certainly planned with a girl. He knew what to do with her, and how to get her. He had a few affairs that seemed meaningful, but they all ended the same way, though with different levels of passion from the girl. Each with a stupid excuse, and not all from him. He marveled at how he would try to appease the girl, act as if he wanted her to be his friend after this, that he did not want to hurt her. Both could see it was coming, and both knew from the start that their entire relationship was based on a regular fucking, but neither would admit to that, especially not when it was time to part.
But this was not a matter of a girl. He felt differently about Davy then all the girls he had ever loved, or said he loved. He felt the same lust, the same fierce pining, but this was stronger, somehow a whole different breed. He felt right about this, even though he felt guilty for feeling this way about another man. When he held Davy, he was not holding a mere toy, an idiot whose face and person was only a deterrent to what he really wanted from her, but something meaningful. He couldn’t properly categorize what he felt, but then again he did not want to. He did not want to spoil this feeling by thinking too carefully about it, but he couldn’t help it, he realized with a sly grin.
He thought of Davy in his arms, helpless, silent, and thought of how it felt with his fingers against the smaller’s body, how his silky shirt felt against his body. His soft lips on his, his slender hands reaching for his back. He felt his chest heave a bit as he started breathing more fiercely. With his eyes carefully scanning the crowd, he realized he had quite a hard-on starting. He hoped the light was weak enough to hide it.
A kid below him reached up for him with a joint in his loose fingers. He would have dropped it on the sand if Mike hadn’t have grabbed it when he did. He shoved this in his mouth, glad for this distraction. He felt his cock gently subside, and his breathing get more regular. He decided he would keep Davy out of his mind tonight. The blow was working very well on him, as it did the first time he tried it, which was one of two times, and interfered with his control of his body. He saw himself spout something stupid, of course with Davy as the object of discussion, in front of everyone if he weren’t careful. He could sense a keg out there, though he could not see it. But he could always find one where there were teens. He knew he was going to be completely trashed tonight, and looked forward to it.
~~~~~
The rest of the night proved a disappointment, what with the Pigs joining the party uninvited. Mike reflected on this for a moment as he sat up in bed, trying to ignore Micky’s insatiable need to sing as loud as he could whatever annoying song popped in his head, the more irritating, the better. Right then he was busy with Pop Goes the Weasel. Mike would have socked his face when it came to him occasionally and gave emphasis to the “pop,” but he was too busy fuming over the night before. The party was not one at all, as long as it lasted. No sooner had Mike taken a puff of that joint, and a terribly weak one it was, had a kid ran up to him with pure fear etched in his face. After being asked what the Hell was the problem, the kid jutted his hand behind him to show the arrival of two Pigs, dressed to arrest. Mike had done his best to rouse the other kids to their feet and get them all to get dressed and otherwise ready to get away from there, but none could be saved but his own friends. Peter, Davy, and Micky were sober enough to run like Hell back to the hotel. Soon Mike gave up on the kids, who were all strangers anyway, and joined his friends in their flight. He was careful to throw his joint down as he went.
They had all spent the night in fear, jumping at any sound that in some way resembled a knock on the door. They fell asleep waiting for Pigs that did not think to come after them, and let their dreaming minds decide the fate of the kids they left behind.
Mike promised himself a better night that night. And he was not talking just a party.
He resumed rubbing his eyes as he slouched on the springy bed, his legs still swathed in the harsh, starchy blankets. His back protested to lie back down, but he knew that if he did, he would not be able to get back up again. How much sleep did he get last night? Well, he certainly had more then, as the activities were prematurely killed, than any other night, when plenty of the activities involved playing. The public just doesn’t give a shit! he thought, suddenly bitter. All we are to them are…robots! Only designed for their entertainment, and fuck any needs of our own when their amusement would be slightly threatened! To think, all my strife, for what? To get some kids off while they pretend to appreciate the music. At least the Beatles have fairly intelligent fans amongst the crowd of horny girls, maybe an adult or two, to laud their musical achievement.
He dragged himself off the couch and silenced his nagging brain. Sometimes that could get so old. He took off his forest green hat for the moment it took to tear into his head with his comb and put it back on, back on its home. He labored with his clothes as the others fought with theirs, but not all the others were next to him dressing in front of the spacious mirror. Davy was missing. Mike snapped his head around to find him, but he could not be seen. He was not in bed, under it, nowhere! “Godammit!” he cursed under his breath as he made his way to the bathroom. He had to step over piles of clothes and who knew what else to get there. He attempted the door handle of the bathroom and found resistance. That door would never open to a mere request, you must force the bastard, and Mike was good at that.
There goes the door; Mike shoved it open to see Davy, his tiny body embraced in his flimsy nightshirt, dozing in the bathtub. A hand and a leg was draped over the side of the tub and his head pointed upward as he snored. The leaky showerhead trickled some water that threatened to touch him. Mike found a little laugh invade his mouth as he went over to Davy. He backpedaled to shut the door and went back to him, where he slipped a hand under the boy’s back, lifting him slowly to a sitting position. Davy’s head remained hanging from his neck. Mike was almost in the tub himself, he was so close, and he put his other hand in the underside of Davy’s knees and lifted him up out of the tub. He stood upright with Davy in his arms and remained gazing at his peaceful face. He shifted his hands a little to gather Davy up closer and put his hand under Davy’s head to keep it more level. Not a touch on the floor did any part of the young Brit partake as Mike lowered his face to the latter’s. His lips made contact, but they did not feast upon what they met, as they did the night before, but chose to savor their prize. Mike had his lips barely touching Davy’s, and his eyes were falling closed.
A sharp rap on the door knocked Mike back to reality, or the reality of outside the bathroom like a slap in the face. He was so surprised that he dropped Davy on the mildewed tile floor, a drop which brought the sleeping form back to the world of the awake. “Ow!” he yelped, rubbing his ass. He looked up to see an enraged Mike yelling at the door, “What do you want?!”
“I need to pee! You want me to describe it for you?” the voice of Micky pierced through the door.
“Oh for…” Mike stumbled with his words, and then looked down at the blinking Davy who gave him a look of wonder. He mouthed the beginning of the word “what,” but could not finish his words, for then Mike bent down and swept up the boy with one armful. He fought with the door handle until it allowed the door to sweep open and stalked out of it back into the bedroom. He tossed Davy on the bed and plopped down himself next to him, fuming. He picked up the remote that had found itself on the floor somehow and flipped on the tiny TV. He mumbled something as the black and white pictures burst onto the screen, and the mindless jingles tried to force their way into their audience’s mind when the moronic personalityless personalities told “everyone out there in TV land” what to think. Peter stared at the screen, his hands massaging his bass. It would appear to anyone else that he was immersed in the world of lies from Madison Avenue, but Mike knew that he was immersed in his own thoughts.
Mike leapt off the bed when Micky came out of the can as if he had been bitten. He slapped Micky’s back a little too hard and said cheerily, “Say, guys how about a little buffet to start the morning right! I say you and Peter should go on down, after all, there is a nice brunch thing going in the lobby, and as guests, we get in for free! How about that!”
Peter smiled, “Man, you’re in a good mood this morning, Mike!”
Mike sneered at him and pushed the two the door, where he fumbled with the handle once more. Peter asked, “Well, what about you, and Davy? Aren’t you guys coming, too?”
Mike fell silent to compose himself, his eyes tight and his lips cracked to let a hiss of air spout out. He wore a smile that terrified the both of them and said, “We will be joining you soon, guys. Just have fun, and don’t come back up here until we get down there.”
Mickey asked, “Well, what will you be doing?”
“If you must know, I have something to talk to Davy about, that’s none of your damn business!” He opened the door and threw the two out, and quite literally.
He waited for a moment to make sure they would not be tearing back in with a flurry of knocks, but he could not guarantee that wouldn’t happen later. Oh well, you can’t kill all annoyances. Time would be expensive, so he went over to Davy, determined to make the most of his precious little time alone with him as he could. The sight of the fair boy sitting on the bed wearing an expression of the slightest fear on his face that was almost effeminate in its beauty pushed him on and guided him to sit, hips touching.
Without a word, Mike draped an arm around Davy’s shoulder and seized his lips with his own before Davy could do a thing. He soon had forced the smaller on his back on the bed, tracing his hand across the back of his head and his other hand gathering Davy’s legs to bring them on the bed. Davy kept still as his body was shifted into a nice lying down position, his legs together and trembling under the long legs on top. His hand flailed a bit as Mike’s kiss became more and more severe, a kiss that ended just as abruptly as it came. Mike realized he was on top of Davy, that his body was resting, and probably crushing, a small one below, but he only got a little red in the face. He allowed himself a little smile as he remained where he was. Davy panted, his brow furrowed. “Mike…” he grunted, but could not find any other words. Mike closed his eyes and was about to kiss him again, when he stopped him with his hand pushing Mike’s shoulders back. “Mike, wait!” he whimpered. He struggled under Mike’s weight, but found he could not go far, so demanded from where he was, “Mike, what are you doing?”
Mike sat up, his legs anchoring the smaller down on the bed. “Davy,” he said softly, his hand traveling down to stroke the smaller’s face. “Davy, I know this is…”
Davy attacked, “Weird? I’ll say it’s weird, Mike?” He finally managed to free himself from Mike’s legs, but only because Mike let him go. “Mike, what’s wrong? Is something going on with you?”
Mike slid off the bed to join Davy, who was pacing around the bed, his arms trying to find refuge in his pockets. Occasionally one hand would comfort his worried face. He started when the Texan sidled up to him and let his arms slide around his waist and meet each other at his hip. He held him like this, and Davy moved not as Mike brought his face closer to his to speak to him, his voice a soft whisper. “Davy, please, there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing wrong with love!”
Davy fought to break away, struggling against Mike’s inexorable grasp. He held his arms out on Mike’s shoulders, and brought his face as far from his as he could as he yelled, “Love? Oh come on, Mike, you don’t love me!”
Davy would have had to spit on Mike’s face to hurt him more. He let go of him then, and went over to the mirror to take great care to fix up his hair. He tried to hide his face, even in the mirror, from Davy. Davy watched in silence as the Texan let a hand fly to his face and cradle it as he made his way for the door. “Mike!” he called, his voice stopping Mike at the threshold. He was holding the door open ready to leave. He stood there, gazing at Davy, wordless, expressionless.
Davy sat on the bed and began to play with his fingers. “Mike,” he said to them, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Mike yelled from the door, his voice breaking so slightly Davy could barely tell it was, “Then what did you mean, Davy?” He let the door slam behind him, but he did not move. “It’s ok, Davy, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” His voice was bitter, and it stung Davy from where he sat. He could not bear to look at his face. Mike turned back to the door and shot it a look of venom, as if it was the cause of it all, and pulled it open with exaggerated care. “I’ll be downstairs,” he muttered into the hall as he escaped into it.
He let the door slam again. The doors loved to slam, it seemed. They did that on purpose. He focused on the carpet, which glared at him, mocking him, so he looked up at the walls. The wallpaper was a hideous collection of beige and creatures he thought could be flowers. They seemed to stand out from their background, but that was just because he was damn tired. He stumbled to the elevator, realizing just how tired he was, and punched the button, and kept punching it when the elevator did not open immediately. The elevator is made just for you, so it must obey you, mustn’t it?
He waited for the elevator, which seemed to enjoy making Mike wait, and let himself think about the course of the morning so far. What had he done? Surely he would have ruined the relationship he already had with Davy. Surely he couldn’t even go back to being friends. Surely Davy would be above that, the Texan thought fiercely. The image of boy invaded his mind, and would not leave, despite any ushers on Mike’s part to get it out. Instead it lingered there, taunting him with its cruel beauty, smiling a painful smile, a smile just for him, only for his pain. Mike felt himself whine desperately, as his body slunk to the floor, and his arm sheltered his lowered head. “Godamn!” he whispered through tight teeth. This word did not manage to end as a regular word, but in a spurt of sudden tears, his throat choking the word out. Before he knew it, he had broken down, his hands doing their best to clean his face from the onrush of water. He no longer bothered to keep his noise in check, but let it cover himself, let the sound of his own crying comfort him, his only comfort now.
~~~~~
“Raounghff!” Micky’s fingers tightening on the rim of the toilet bowl, becoming as white as the bowl. His knees barely touched the cold tile below, as they surged up and down with the rest of his body, which was slumped comically if he were somewhere else. His hair found itself in his face, despite his effort to pull it back. His hair was in the style of the Beatles: long, mushroomed, and living in the face. His necklace was still under his shirt, luckily, so it was spared.
Peter leaned against the wall, trying not to look at the procession, but concern ate at his face. “Micky,” he offered. “Are you, are you ok?” The sound of another rush of puke answered him. Peter tried again, “Micky, you want to go back to the room?” He slipped his hands under the boy’s chest and helped him up. Micky nodded, yak dripping from his lips. “Maybe we shouldn’t have eaten so much,” Peter tried to laugh.
“I don’t get it,” Micky mumbled. “You ate just as much as I did, but you aren’t sick!”
“I guess my stomach is just really immune to sickness!” Peter beamed.
Micky grunted at this, his contorting stomach forcing his words through a tight wire mesh, “Immune! Oh, aw, hurough!!!” His eyes had tears underlying them from effort.
~~~~~
Thus they spent the rest of the hour this way, but this is of no further interest to us, so let us leave them there in the bathroom, puking, and return to that of our true interest.
Mike is still there, at the elevator, so let us join him.
Finally the elevator arrived, and to Mike’s relief, it was empty. The door slammed open and seemed to push out a current of air to announce its own arrival. Mike dragged himself off his ass and made for it, his hands traveling to his eyes. No sooner had his booted feet landed on the smooth, shiny tiles of the elevator than a shrill voice screamed for his name.
“Mike! Wait!!”
Mike jump-started at the sound of this. He recognized the voice as Davy’s, and his thoughts fought with each other to the death. Could it be? Has Davy reconsidered? Mike leapt for the door to see just what he was wanted for, but it closed in front of him, suddenly becoming his enemy. Whereas before he aimed to escape this hall, he desperately wanted to flee into it. He pounded on the controls, but in his haste commanded the elevator to jump up and down with fierce instance. He stopped at the top floor, where he remained to collect his composure and get back to his own floor, back to Davy. But he could not remember which floor that was. He let his mouth drop near to the floor as he realized this. When they had made for their room, in a stoned stupor, as usual, Mike of course had not been paying any sort of attention, so the location of his own room was a mystery to him. He thought of Davy waiting for him at the elevator near where he mourned for his attention, and began to indulge in a panic. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!!” he hissed at the controls, not knowing just where to attack. He realized he had to ask the two downstairs what the number is, and he shuddered to think of that, but that was not to be, for soon he felt the elevator fly downward on its own accord and witness the doors open with none other than Davy standing there to greet him.
“Duh!” he smiled. “I just pressed the down button here, and back you came!”
Mike stepped off the elevator with his famous look of suspicion, his squinted eyes blazing into Davy as his head pointed away from him. He returned to his previous refuge of the hall and approached Davy as if he were a snake. Davy stood with his head down, and a look of shame etched but trying to hide itself. Mike remained where he was, content at glaring at the young singer, but his contempt could not last, not with Davy’s face beautiful enough to be set in stone asking the floor for forgiveness. Without any word from either, Mike grabbed Davy in his arms right there in the hall and planted his lips on his. Davy held still as Mike sucked at his lips with a fierce urgency, sucking them dry. His eyes closed, so he could not see Mike’s face, but could tell his eyes were closed to. Mike held Davy up with one hand on his lower back; otherwise Davy would have fallen to the floor. “Come with me,” he heard the Texan whispered in his ear, his voice mingling with his breath that gently washed into his ear. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up still at the feeling and the words themselves.
He let Mike lead him back to their room, at least he knew where that was in the hall, his feet unaware of what they were doing. He walked as if in a daze, unable to think about what was about to happen, though he tried.
Mike led him on with a sound determination, and could feel the blood singing in his ears as if to congratulate him for what he was doing, for getting on with it. He did not expect any resistance this time, and he would certainly fight it if he met any.
He pulled the door open like it were curtains and let Davy walk in, but did not let go of his hand. They walked together to one of the beds as the door slammed shut behind them, and Davy plopped on it first, Mike standing with his hand holding Davy’s for a moment, staring at him. Mike gazed at the young man below him with hungry eyes. He had been dreaming about this moment for so long it hurt, and now it was here, now he had him, and now he would be willing, or somewhat. But it really didn’t matter to Mike whether Davy wanted this or not, all he could think about was what he needed. The sight of Davy’s fearful face and shrinking figure fiercely turned him on, but he would not get excited now, not yet. He would savor this as long as he could.
Mike gently pushed Davy onto his back on the bed, and met no resistance. He could feel Davy’s chest muscles flex a bit and shiver as they were pushed, but they did not fight him. He watched as his face quivered in fear but it did not cry out. Davy looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but he did not try to flee. The perfect subbie, Mike smiled. When Davy was lying down, Mike positioned himself over him, as he had done before. He lay down on top of him, almost crushing him, and stroked Davy’s face with his hand. He began at his shirt buttons and pulled off Davy’s shirt, with Davy not moving at all. Mike slid his fingers down Davy’s chest as they made their way to his belt, sending sparks deep into the boy’s body. He unbuckled the belt and pulled it out, letting it sing as it slid, and at this Davy issued a tiny whine. Mike smiled at the sounds Davy would soon make before no time.
Davy kept his hands anchored to the bed, afraid to move anything as Mike unzipped the zipper and worked on pulling the jeans down with as much care and grace as he could foster. He did not look at Mike, instead seeking refuge from the spiky stucco ceiling. He could make out the faintest stains on that ceiling, and laughed inwardly at himself for wondering if he and the others had been the cause of that stain, as he felt iron fingers dig into his legs as they bared them. Soon Davy was clad only in his pointy black boots under the still clothed Mike. He stole some glances at the Texan, but found only courage enough to stare into the ceiling, counting the little bumps in the paint. Mike wasn’t doing anything, he realized, and then he brought his face to look at Mike. Mike was looking at him, full in the face, his eyes hard and savage. He was breathing hard, his chest raved with its heavings. Davy found himself longing for Mike to kiss him, to touch him. He felt he would die right there on the bed if Mike continued to sit that way, staring at him. He felt almost indignant, cheated. His body was there, bared for Mike, but he was not looking at it; not even touching it. The cool air stroked Davy’s cock, he realized with sudden fury, only the air. He felt cold, isolated. He began to pant again, but from the need of Mike’s warmth to swallow him. He felt himself getting hard from the thought. He watched as Mike brought his face to his, finally, the face that Davy realized was intensely beautiful, a face that he could not rip from his mind’s eye, even with his eyes closed and his thoughts directed on other things. He could not get that image from his mind. He kept his eyes closed as Mike kissed him, and dared to touch his back. He let his fingers explore Mike’s body that was still covered in his soft fabric; he let his hands caress Mike’s jeans, searching for a way in. Davy joined in on this kiss as well, and he sucked on the lips that fought for his. He felt Mike’s teeth brush on his lips, and felt himself fighting to keep up with his ferocious kissing. He felt his mouth would be torn by such energy, so fought to save it. He reached his tongue out into Mike’s mouth and found Mike’s tongue met it. Mike overtook him even then.
The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started. Davy watched Mike pull from him with despair. He tried to pull him back down with his hands on Mike’s back, but could not make a dent in Mike’s ascent. His hands fell back to his sides. He watched the Texan as he slid his hands across Davy’s cock, all the while staring deep into his eyes. Davy gasped, his fingers clenching and his chest started to constrict. Mike stroked harder, falling into a regular pattern of strokes. His hands became faster, more severe as they accosted the stalk. Davy felt his eyes snap shut and heard his voice squeak a pitiful whine. Mike held his erection firmly, coaxing it, inviting it, then suddenly let go. Davy moaned. This shot in him a feeling much more savage than what he had just undergone. He felt his cock harden and protest under the cool air, its only company. “Mike!” he hissed, but soon he calmed. He could feel Mike’s long, lean body pressing on his, and he could feel Mike’s own hardness crushing the inside of his thigh. Mike was now on top of Davy, his face to his. “Davy,” he whispered. “You have to let go. Give yourself to me, fully, or we’re just wasting time.” His fingers traced a zigzag around Davy’s stomach, the sweep of which coming ever closer to his balls. He teased a tiny touch, and that was enough to start Davy up again.
Davy grabbed onto Mike’s hands then and tried to guide it where they wanted it to go, but Mike would not have that. He wrenched his hand free and gave Davy a stern, dangerous look, and let his hand fly back to his side. Soon it was back on Davy again, and its partner joined it in holding firmly onto the smaller’s hips, the grip hard and fierce. Davy whined a tiny sound as Mike pulled him closer to him, pulling him up so that his back arched upward. When that arch reached a point where if it went any higher Davy’s back would snap, Mike plunged his head forward and enveloped the boy’s cock in his mouth. Mike marveled at the taste, and for quite some time that was all he could think about. He had certainly imagined what it would taste like, but it was never like this in his mind. It delighted him.
Davy choked on his breath, suddenly unable to breathe. His hands clenched the sides of the bed, clutching on the sheets as Mike sucked harder, furious, not stopping for breath. Tingles of electricity shot up and down his trunk, and he could feel his upper thighs begin to constrict and tighten. He could feel hard teeth scrape on his skin, and the air in the hotel room gently wash over the bits that were left open to the air. Davy almost screamed out loud, but Mike reached a hand up to his face and threw his fingers on his lips. They fell onto a ridiculous pattern of splayed fingers, but Davy got the idea and bit his lower lip as whines fought to escape.
He had never felt anything like this before. He felt like crying, and he did not know if he was right then or nor. He had fucked his share of girls before, ok so not that many, but he had some experience with these things, but what was this? It was the familiar rise, the familiar tingles, but something different. This was far more extreme, and sensual in a way Davy never imagined.
He had come out to meet Mike what seemed like years ago with only a bit of his brain working. Lately he had noticed a spark, no, fire building between them. He could see in Mike’s eyes a hunger he could not find, a look of not just lust, but fierce emotions. He had seen true love in those eyes, and he was scared of it. Never had he seen that, not in anyone, so it took a long time to realize. It was not that much of a surprise when Mike kissed him that night on the beach, last night, that is, but it still shocked him. He would have a fucking heart attack if he was completely in the dark, he thought. He didn’t know what the Hell to think. He hated it, mostly because he found himself enjoying it and wishing for more. He knew he did. And he knew then, as Mike worked on him, that there was no place he’d rather be.
But right now he could not think of what he was supposed to feel, that he came out after Mike with an open mind, looking for a deviation from the lingering effects of a tiny hangover, and that even with that in mind he would not have expected this. He was waiting for a kiss, and now look at him! He abandoned these snitches of thoughts, but not by choice. He could not think of anything, just how horribly marvelous he felt. His whole hip region was on fire, back to front, and his chest burned though it wasn’t ever touched. Davy could hear himself whimper, the sounds going into rhythm with Mike’s mouth, and this pushed him on harder.
He felt it coming; it was coming, but no! Mike stopped right then, slurping the spit off his lips. Davy groaned and winced with this sudden withdrawal and heard himself hiss, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” He fought his eyes open to look at Mike. Maybe something was wrong. No. Mike sat on top of Davy still – this time a little smile on his wet lips. Was he mocking him? Davy opened his mouth to speak but was flipped over before he could. Mike’s slender but strong hands turned his body over onto his stomach. Davy felt the bare skin tingle with the sudden on-rush of cool air, and warm breath. He panted as he waited for what would happen. Nothing did happen. Davy struggled to move but found his hands pinned out to the sides with deadly gentleness. Mike’s now bare stomach rested onto his back and let his face come to his. “Just relax, Davy!” he cooed.
Mike let go of his hands, but Davy kept them out like that, no wishing to break the air with any movement. The notion of motion terrified him. He felt several long things of harsh softness stroke his ass then, tickling it, enticing it. His hips shuddered with this as the tingles rushed upward to his very face. He let out a noise at this, as if this would rival what was just happening. It would not stop at there, Davy soon found out. Those fingers suddenly jammed into him, exploring him. At first one finger, then two, then three. He felt them rub the insides of his body. Soon those fingers were pulled out to be replaced by Mike’s very essence. He felt the cock slide in, slowly, as if it were hesitant, lubricated by sweat. Davy squeaked as it pulled out again only to come back in, and it did this faster, more fierce each time. He felt hands grip his hips, and started to feel what he felt just before. The cock was damn huge, and it pained him horribly. It felt as if he had broken all of his tailbones in one blow, mixed in with a bit of fire. Yet, it was somehow soothing, pleasurable. And this was before he found out just what his body can do for him. As Mike got more involved, Davy felt another sensation he would have never have predicted. There was something deep within the back of his hips that burst into a flame of feeling when touched. When it was for the first time, he yelled. He did not hold back, and Mike did not bother to quiet him. He yelled for surprise that such a thing could exist, and he yelled for the savage pleasure of it. His fingers bit into his palms through the sheets. Again his thighs constricted, and the feeling of tightness spread throughout his body. His eyes would not open, even if he thought to do so, and salty tears fought to get out. He was sobbing now, his little body heaving forwards and backwards. Davy could hear soft grunts coming from Mike, but he didn’t pay much attention to that as he did his own self.
But here it comes, he was coming now, and the thought instilled fear into Davy’s flaming chest. He’s not going to let me come, is he? he thought. I can’t take this! Not again, he can’t do that again! But his fears would not be realized. Mike pounded into him again, but managed to reach the soft appeal and pushed Davy over the edge. The muscles around his hips spasmed, and he started to curl. A lingering whimper hung about the air. Mike had climaxed at the very same time, and he collapsed on Davy, who had done just the same on the bed beneath him. He felt Mike’s lips, open and wet, brushing on his shoulder blade as the surprisingly light load lifted off of him. Mike rolled off him to lie next to him, staring at the crazy stucco up on that ceiling. He grinned, still panting, as he waited for something from Davy besides his own panting. When Davy did not say anything, the Texan leaned over with his arm and brought his face over for a kiss. The smaller clenched under it and did not return the favor. He lay passive under Mike’s starving lips.
Mike released his grip and looked down at Davy, frowning. He rested on one elbow as he stared down and the Monkee who would not look at him. “Davy, what is it?” He tried to put his hand on the smaller’s cheek, but he flitted it off and threw himself on his side. He fumbled with his clothes, which had fallen to the floor by now, and made for the door when he got them on, his hand reaching for a pair dark green sunglasses on the dresser and throwing them on a face Mike could not see. Mike leapt off the bed.
“Davy! Hey, what are you…”
Davy turned to him, and the look on his face struck Mike like a slap in the face. His eyes were red and puffy, and his face haggard. “Keep the fuck away from me, Mike. Look, I’m sorry I even…” He shielded his eyes with his shaking fingers before going on. “I’ll be downstairs. That buffet sounds good.” He voice was shaky. Mike stared at him as he walked on out, letting the door drift into slam behind him.
Oh, no you don’t! Mike snapped himself out of his trance and pounded out the door after him. This happened just before, and he came back to him, didn’t he? Well this time Mike would go to him. He fastened his jeans properly and rushed out the door, thinking of nothing else but reaching Davy before he got on that elevator. Luckily, the door had not come down yet. Davy was rubbing his forehead with his fingers and staring at the floor as Mike crept up behind him, making comical exaggerations of keeping quiet.
Davy yelped as he felt strong arms grab him around the waist, and a hand smash onto his mouth. He kicked his legs and punched the air as he was carried back to the room. Mike tossed him onto the bed.
“Bloody Hell! Mike!” he screamed when he had the air. Mike held him down with but one hand pinning his chest, and the other flitted about his body to see if it could give its assistance. It did. I flew across Davy’s face, the feeling like teeth biting into his cheek. Davy lay still with his head wrenched back, panting. He curled up a tiny bit and wiped off a bead of bright red blood from the corner of his mouth. Mike gathered the smaller up in his arms and sat on the bed himself, with Davy curled in his lap. He said nothing about what he did, just sat staring at the smaller.
Davy lifted his finger closer to Mike and started at the closeness of his face. “I just bit the inside of my cheek,” he tried to chuckle. Mike allowed a small smile.
Davy wriggled in those iron arms, but not any movement he made gave him any headway. Instead, the more he fought, the harder Mike held on, so soon Davy made himself still and relied on his words. He breathed in deeply to calm himself then tried not to hiss, “Mike, you can let go of me now!”
“I’m not letting you go, Davy. I know you’ll just run from me again.” He kissed the smaller. “And I couldn’t have that, not again.”
Davy wanted to cry himself at the sight of Mike’s pained eyes, but he couldn’t remain like this. He wanted out, and now.
Before either could draw another breath the doorknob allowed a series of jabs and movements. Mike jumped off of Davy and went to open the door for Micky and Peter, the latter being half carried by the former. Micky said not a word to anyone, just the TV, as he searched for something decent. Hah! Good luck, Micky! You’re going to need it.
Peter plopped on the bed next to Davy’s and proceeded to curl himself into a ball. He breathed in deeply and insistently, trying to use the cool air to kill his desire to throw up again, but this was not good enough. He got up and went straight to the bathroom, and the noise that followed made each youth stare at his general direction with worry. Davy, still flustered, used this distraction to get his calm and went to the bathroom to inspect on Peter. Peter smiled at him, his intensely warm smile, and Davy realized he had never seen a smile so warm before, and probably never would, that lived on Peter’s lips. “Hey, Davy!” he beamed. “How are you?”
Davy blinked. “Well, I’m fine,” he frowned. “And you?”
Peter took no note of irony when he replied that he was “just fine!” No sooner had he finished his words did he hurl his slender body back to the toilet. He looked at Davy very embarrassed when he was done and flushed the toilet and went to lie back down on his bed.
Davy sat next to him. “Pete,” he tried to suppress a chuckle. “What’s up? What did you eat?”
Peter smiled. “Oh, just the buffet. It’s really good, Davy, you should go down some time in the morning! There’s little muffins and sausages and French fries and…”
Davy interrupted, “Oh, that’s quite alright, Pete, in fact, that’s was made you sick, so I don’t think it’s a jolly good idea for you to be eatin’ there again.” As he spoke, he could feel Mike’s eyes boring into him, lusting. He did his best to ignore this.
Then Micky surprised everyone with a big box of something that he had managed to smuggle into the room and hide without anyone knowing. Inside were two boxes of pizza and plates and such. It was warm, and probably safe to eat, but the boys didn’t care about that. The pizza was beautiful, and very large, so with the two even the Monkees would be satisfied with this. Micky tried to get someone to go down to the lobby and get some food.
“But Mick, we have food, and the buffet ain’t open now!”
“Well, I’m sure you can find something! Just steal something, ask the maid!”
“Ask the maid! Micky, they won’t give you…”
“They have to have something, they eat too, you know!’
“Yes, but…”
“What about the candies at the front desk?”
“Those are pens, Micky.”
“No, no, I know there is candy!” And they continued on like this.
Mike did not join in this barrage of suggestions that soon erupted into petty insults and threats.
“Come on, stupid, get off your lazy ass and get me some damn candy!”
“Why can’t you do it yourself? Or is your brain too small to know what a door is?!”
Instead Mike sat on the bed watching the other sit on the floor and fight. He munched on his pizza without his usual zeal, his attention focused on Davy. There he sat, right under him, his face lighting with his anger. His perfect little body illuminated by the pale lamplights and the bright lights of the outside. He tried to get Davy to look at him, acknowledge his presence, but he would not. Their eyes could and would meet, but as soon as they did Davy ripped his gaze to somewhere else. Mike did not bother to hide his pain from this.
He tossed his plate next to him on the bed and plucked his guitar and began to play it softly. He tickled the strings, coaxing them to sing the opening to his gem, “The Door into Summer,” all the while his eyes burning into Davy, who made it clear he would rather listen to the others bicker than that. Mike chose to let this anger him, so he went to slam the guitar back in her case, and had planned to walk out on them, but found himself stopped when his foot struck Davy’s back. He did not let himself trip, and was grateful that the others did not see him fumble, but the kick was unmistakable. And hard. It almost hurt his foot. He retrieved his booted foot back to his body and sat back on the bed, watching Davy’s reaction, more curious than anything. Maybe this will wake him up, get him to say something, he thought. It did, but not as much as he had expected, or as much as he himself would have reacted if someone had kicked him. He knew that if he was kicked himself, he would gladly turn around and kick the offender in the head. Davy really didn’t do anything. His head sank further down and his back seemed to retreat slowly, but that was it. Mike peered around and snuck a peek at his face. He was smiling.
The sound of Peter’s wail snapped everyone to reality. Peter came running out, towel still in hand, his face almost white. The others stood up reflexively and ran to him, their faces doing all the asking. “A rat!” he breathed. “A big, ugly, hairy rat! In the bathroom!”
Mike’s shoulders relaxed. “A rat, I don’t think so, Peter. This is a hotel, they wouldn’t permit such a…” His voice trailed off and descended into a torrent of trembles, his face joining his voice in horror. “A…a…a rat!!” He leapt up onto the bed, clinging to his face in his patented look of fear on his face, and his actions induced the others to follow suit, leading to a ridiculous show of tall, lean boys with hair covering their wide eyes, clambering over each other and staring at the form taking a nice stroll around the room it now claimed for itself. When it brought its little nose up to sniff at them, they reared back, and not without the usual collective groan of fear.
Mike broke free from the tight grasps of the others and made for the phone, still on the safety of the top of the bed. He yanked it off the box and screamed into it when he had dialed the confusing collection of numbers, “Help! Help! There’s a rat in our room! Yes, yes, a rat! What…what color is it?
Well, it’s gray, and it has a very musky, sooty color to it, if you’d like the full report! Yes, and how big is it? Well, it is about nay wide and nay long, yes, yes!” The others grinned with him. Looked like the person on the other end was preparing an elaborate trap with certain specifications. “What? What’s its name?! Why, it has no name, it’s a rat! Look, is this some sort of joke? I’m joking! Look, you gotta help us, we can’t get rid of this thing by ourselves!” The rat squeaked for its own two cents, and the boys yelled in answer. “Come on! Come on! Look, I’ll get some legal action here if you don’t do something! Why, it’s against health and safety codes to have a rat in the rooms! Really! You should do something about this! Hello? Hello!” He put the phone down and gave the others a grave look.
“Welp, looks like we’re on our own.”
“Well what are we going to do, Mike?”
“The only thing we can do. Go out and get another room.”
“We should go to another place then, you know, not give them the satisfaction.”
“You know what we should do now, we should just leave the whole damn hotel and go on to Los Angeles.”
The other three nodded happily. Now their task was to get out of that room alive. The rat proceeded to lie down on its muddy gray fur and sleep, its nose sniffing its last sniff for the morning. Now was their chance. They stepped down from the bed with such care it was a wonder they moved at all, and they kept their arms interlocked at all times. They threw whatever strewn belongings in their suitcase at the closet, and even stepped over the rat to get some other things. Soon they had all their stuff and the soaps and shampoos from the room in their bags and were ready to leave. They shut the door behind them quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping rodent and made their way downstairs, giggling at the thought of how the maid is going to take this.
The girl at the counter stared at them with glass eyes, her hair and clothes neat as a porcelain doll, and her face just as white. She kept her mouth shut with some effort, the only thing keeping her conscious, but her eyes told it all. She looked more stoned than any girl any of the Monkees have seen so far. Mike approached her, and she did not even look up, just grunt when he prodded her shoulder. “Well, we’d like to check out now. And if I may, I’d also like to complain about something, maybe we’d get some sort of compensation for it.” When the girl did not make any sign that she was alive Mike urged, “there was a rat in our room, and nothing was done about it. That is why we are checking out, and I’d like some compensation for that.”
The girl typed something on her typewriter and wrote some things down in her pad, her eyes still staring straight ahead. They all winced as she did this, for surely she would make some grievous error from not paying any sort of attention to her work, as it seemed, but they were very surprised and quite amused to see no errors, no flashing lights, and the manager coming out to greet them.
The man was one to be seen indeed, if only for his ugliness. Old age had well ravaged his flabby face and delivered to it a wide assortment of pockmarks, almost doing it some justice, for the wrinkles and liver spots well concealed the otherwise plain features. His neck was curiously small for his fat face, and was hidden away in his formal suit, which looked far too formal for such a place. A huge gut stuck out of the suit and hung over his shiny shoes. He walked to the other side of the counter to greet the boys, smiling all they way in his foolish, toothy grin, and thrust out a hand to Mike. Mike flinched at the man, but took the hand, however reluctantly. He forced a smile as the man pumped his arm, almost taking it off. “Well, well, howdy there, young Sir! I see you are checking out of my fine hotel. I hope you enjoyed your stay?”
Mike stopped himself from saying, “Oh, fine, fine,” and shot a cruel, “We did not enjoy at all, Sir, not one bit!”
The others, who had been nodding their heads in submissive assent to the man’s hopes, nodded furiously and put on serious faces at Mike’s assessment.
The man flustered. Clearly he had never received such an answer to such a question that is never made for any answer but a dumb affirmative. He threw on a smile to cover his guilty face and asked, “Well, why would you say such a thing?” He asked that in such a way as to warn Mike not to cause any trouble.
But he did. “Well, there was a rat in our room, and I will not trouble you with this any longer. I expect to see a reduction in our bill or there will be legal action involved.” He turned to the others. “Come on, guys, let’s go.”
The man stared in dumb silence as they left for a while before yelling to Mike, “Oh, yes Sir! When you get your bill in the mail it will be dramatically reduced, yes!” But the Monkees were gone.
~~~~~
The wind fought against the windows, trying to get in the cool air inside, but it could not, no matter how hard it beat against the side of the Monkeemobile. The fan was on, so the passengers escaped the heat outside, and hot it was, even though it was dark outside. They were on their way to LA, traveling by the means they used more than any: the car. Micky drove the car and kept himself awake on those lonely, dark roads by singing along to the radio. Right now, to the delight of the driver, “I Am the Walrus” was leaking from the radio. Peter slept in the seat beside him, his head rolled onto the armrest. Davy and Mike sat quietly in the back. Davy played with the pop out ashtray thing next to Mike, who eyed him. He moved his body as far away from Mike as he could, and bent himself on playing with the ashtray. Better than delving on the thoughts that drifted into his head only for his torment.
He thought of what had just happened that day. He allowed his brain to replay the events of the morning blow by blow, and allowed himself to experience what he had experienced in his mind. It was a marvelous feeling, he admitted to himself. Never have I felt that way. I felt I was in Heaven. He began to smile at the thought, but caught himself and made himself stop. His pride would not allow him to condone such behavior, but his heart couldn’t help but relish it. Thus he was torn. Could he accept what happened and even pursue it? Was that so horrible; was that such a terrible deviant from what is considered normal? And what of normal? Who gets to decide that, and who says we must abide by the rules of the norm? At last he concluded that he had enjoyed himself, he had enjoyed the pleasure Mike had given him. But he still didn’t like the circumstances. Somehow it wasn’t enough, he found himself complaining. He decided he would not let that happen again, or at least not like it did happen.
But what did he feel about Mike, the person? Did he love him? Did he lust for him? The answer was vague. He dared not search for it, for he was afraid of what he would uncover. Even yet, with Mike sitting next to him, he felt his heart flutter. The presence of such a boy, nay, a man, so close to him excited him. He let his mind wander and explore how it would be for Mike to grab a hold of him right then, of him bringing his face to him and kissing him. The thought made him uncomfortable, mostly because he couldn’t stop thinking it. He felt his cock start to stiffen and willed himself to relax, angry at his blind libido. He dropped his head in his hand, very tired of the images his brain flashed in his head. He did not want to think about what happened anymore. He was too weary for that now.
He jumped and almost hit his head on the ceiling of the car when he felt a hand reach for his hip. He turned to see Mike, his face hidden in the shadows, with his arms out to him. “You just never let up, do you?” Davy said, retreating into a wall.
Mike followed him and let his arms swallow the smaller. “No, I don’t, Davy.” He shoved his lips into the other’s and kissed him before he could do anything. Davy squirmed in the Texan’s arms, but he listened to his pleas. “Damn it, Davy, I love you, I love you so much! You can’t just turn me away like this!”
“Mike, sorry to bring you back to reality, but don’t think it too odd that another boy would refuse your love!”
Mike let go, and Davy almost reached his arms to seize Mike back to his body, but stopped himself. Mike said to the floor. “Oh, of course. Yes, you’re right, Davy, you’re absolutely fucking right, aren’t you!”
“Mike…”
“No, don’t worry, forget it! Just because I’m a freak doesn’t mean you have to be sucked in too. Thank you for showing me the light, Davy. Here I was thinking that love sees no gender or color, but you have shown me the way. Silly me. Silly, fucking me.” He turned from him.
Davy couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but he didn’t need to see it. He put his hand on Mike’s shoulder and tried his best to undo what harm he caused. “Mike, you are not a freak!”
Mike turned back to him. “Oh really? Well, let’s think about this on Nature terms, shall we? How do animals reproduce? You put one thing into another and presto! Another creature is born. It doesn’t work any other way. Obviously this is not meant to be at all. It’s no wonder Society is hateful towards it.”
“Well, I’m not all that learned on biology, Mike, but I can’t help but feel that what happened this morning is proof for otherwise. I got so aroused from that…unnatural action. Seems as if that is deliberate.”
“Well, that doesn’t appease the public, does it?”
“Mike, who cares about what other people think? Fuck them – the masses are asses, as is the common phrase. Just because everyone can’t see you for you, doesn’t mean you sit back and feel sorry for yourself. That is not everything about you, not at all. Other people don’t have to know about that, either.”
Mike yelled, his voice dipped in pain, “Damn it, just forget about that, forget I ever said anything! I want you, I don’t care about anything except that I love you!”
Davy sat with his hands clasped, not daring to say anything more. He had no time to move for then Mike took him in his arms once more, his arms strong and tight.
Suddenly Mike seemed to transform from the quiet, polite boy he was a minute ago into a fierce animal. He shoved Davy onto the wall hard; Davy winced at the sharp impact. Mike ripped Davy’s belt and jeans off and tossed them to the floor of the car, his hands lightning quick, and as they passed across Davy’s bare skin they felt both soft and rock hard. Davy gasped as his legs and hips became bared, vulnerable. With his lips still attached to Davy’s, sucking the very life out of them, Mike jammed his fingers inside Davy, shoving, squeezing. Davy yelped, but Mike slammed a hand over his mouth as he continued circling around with his fingers.
Mike was preparing Davy for penetration properly, as he did not do that morning. He had forgotten all about that, and meant to put that age-old preparation into practice right now. He wondered a bit why he was not getting any trouble from Davy as he worked, his lips leaving the smaller’s. He heard him utter a weak and fragile whine from beneath his hand, a whine that was forced by the utterer to be as quiet as possible. When he felt Davy was ready, and this was hard for Mike to determine, since he had never done this himself, he had just had this done to him once, he dove to Davy’s hips and delivered a fierce package of pleasure that could hardly be distinguished from pain to the trembling Englishman. He let go of his mouth, and let him groan as he worked his mouth around the smaller’s cock, but he only did this for a short time. Suddenly he stopped and turned Davy over, landing him on his stomach and almost fully spread out on the bench seat. It was a wonder the other two did not see this, something happening right behind their sleeping or dancing backs, but Mike was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. When his fingers danced over Davy’s skin, the latter writhed in his grip, trying to get away, but when he firmed his grip and held on to the tight skin, his trembling started to cease. Mike found this very interesting, and set to experimenting on Davy. It seemed that the harder he held him, and rougher he was, the less resistance he got from the small singer, but if he showed a bit of mercy, Davy would reward this with fighting and protest. Mike decided to see just how far this would go. He pulled Davy’s hips closer to him, his fingers digging into the flesh, almost ripping it, merciless. Davy yielded to this and even helped Mike get his body closer. He stroked the skin, and though he could feel Davy tremble with excited pleasure, he found no satisfaction in this, and threatened to break away. Mike continued to stroke, however, slower and slower, with such defined grace he felt a bit jealous, then stopped to slap him. Davy jumped at this, his form lying on his stomach on Mike’s lap, the back of his hips cold and vulnerable. He thrust Davy down on the seat and climbed on top of him, careful to grip his flesh as tightly and roughly as he could. Soon he did not have to fake any rough play; he became so aroused it was all he could do to contain himself enough to keep quiet and not alert the two in the front as to what was happening.
Davy flung his arms about at this point, clinging at the seat and reaching to claw at Mike’s bent legs sitting on top of his, trying to peel those fingers off him. Mike slammed his head into the seat. Davy threw his arms to rescue himself, then returned them to do what they had been doing and postponed what Mike was trying to manage. At this point he didn’t even have his belt off. Mike seized the hands and pinned them at Davy’s shoulder blades and held on to them tight with one hand and got his clothes out of the way with the other. With his hand still holding on to Davy’s fighting hands, he brought his other hand now to hold his head down, not completely on the seat, he didn’t want to suffocate him, but enough to keep him somewhat quiet, and fucked him.
Davy gasped at the harsh, quick entrance that was so unexpected, even though it was clear what Mike was about to do. He was completely helpless, his arms pinned to his back, and his head not even allowed to be up. He couldn’t move his legs, or any of his body with Mike pressing down on him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to express this feeling with a loud yell, but feared what Mike would do if he did. He satisfied himself with gasping and biting his lip. He shoved his face into the seat himself as Mike pounded him from above, driving him into the seat as if he were meaning to hold him there. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t make any noise, he couldn’t see anything, and he could not escape Mike’s strong, Texan spirit. He loved it.
Mike struggled above Davy, coming, and getting tired from the physical exertion. He could feel his body growing weary all day just from being awake, as with any person, so this was just an added weariness. He could feel his body now building up and up and pumping the blood fiercely, getting all that stuff in him ready to leave his body, and his muscles spasm. Once again he marveled at the feeling, the whole thing. It was amazing, just marvelous. He was right then at the point that was the most dramatic. He was not at the climax just yet, but he was at the threshold of it, it was coming, and coming fast. The very feeling took over him, enveloped him, and became something much beyond mere pleasure. It was terror and exhilaration, and a bit of pain, all rolled into one. No physical feeling ever comes even close. When he first started, as with every time his cock is involved in anything, it was just an indulgence into a nice, relaxing feeling. His skin is limp and bored. His body is focused on things other than sex, and is just starting to realize what is going on. It then becomes pleasure; a feeling that sends sparks through his body and begins to move a certain body part in a way he could not do himself. This lasts a while, then goes into the realm of feeling he was feeling right at this moment very suddenly. Before he knew it, there he was. His breathing became short and quick and fierce, his face contorted, looking like he is undergoing surgery without anything for the pain, and his body takes control. He is not himself at that time. He held on to this feeling as long as he could, slowing down and trying not to come to soon, for once you come, you’re done. But soon he did, for it is also very hard to stop or slow an orgasm. You just have to ride it out, let it take you for a ride. He let out a final burst of moist air and let his muscles relax, sending him almost lying flat on top of Davy. He was not quite sure if Davy had come or not, but he had a feeling he had. He certainly looked like he had, all flat and tired looking. He looked like he was dead without the slow breathing overtaking his small back.
Davy let the languor capture him, and such a lovely feeling that was, so surrender to sleep. He could vaguely feel Mike slip his clothes back on and shift his body so he was sitting up, but leaning on the Texan. Soon they were both fast asleep.
~~~~~
The dawn came on heavy, stomping, booted feet and scratched the windowpanes with long, crooked fingernails. The sound of her scratching the glass ripped Mike from his sleep. They had said fuck it to all hotels, and had all slept in the car, parked on the side of the road, and it amazed Mike that they weren’t falling off the side of the cliff from an impact from another car by now. Whatever. Damn his intellect, his brains. It always got him depressed and worried.
He rubbed the sleep from his eye and lo and behold when he got to shaving his shaving razor was cold and it stung. He looked down to see Davy’s head resting on his lap and smiled, bringing his hand down to stroke his hair from his cherubic face. He watched as Davy brought himself into the land of the awake and propped himself up on one elbow, his head still perched over Mike’s lap. He seemed to shrink from Mike’s strokings, so he grabbed his head and shoved it back on his lap, his other hand pinning him down as much as he could. Davy relaxed and said good morning to him, his voice still sleepy, but now happy.
Davy let his mind play back the images of the night before, and found it so hard to hold back a smile, he just went ahead and allowed himself to be happy about it. He was. He felt warm and safe in Mike’s lap right then, and he longed for him to be holding him forever. He pushed through the grip enough to reach his face up to Mike’s and offer his lips. Mike took them. Davy was surprised and rather excited about what happened then. Soon they were deep into their kiss, their arms clinging to each other and even their legs getting involved, trying to hold the other’s body in their midst. Davy found himself slipping away into Mike’s love, and drowning in it, and he did not want to be saved. Mike’s rough hands and fierce, dangerous anger and lust terrified him and drew him closer. He loved how he was being treated like a toy, that’s all he wanted to be. But Mike was able to do this, and yet treat him like a person he loved and respected. Davy found a way to release his fierce joy, by kissing Mike like he had never kissed before.
Mike held onto his prize with fierce tightness, shielding him from the sun. He buried his head in the smaller’s chest, unable to believe that here he was, pressed up against his tired body, his lips coated with Davy’s kiss. Mike squeezed his fingers into Davy’s side suddenly, pressing tight until the smaller squeaked, his face contorted. He slammed him on the seat and tossed Davy’s legs along side of his hips as he still held on, still pinched that soft flesh. Davy whined under this pain, and threw his arms around Mike’s neck, pulling it down to him. Mike let go to stroke the boy he loved and drowned himself in yet another kiss. When he let go to breathe, he heard Davy’s trembling whisper, “Mike, I love you!”
Mike smiled, “I love you too.” He lifted him up to sit and they embraced properly, no pain games, no diffidence. They had broken the wall, and now they were celebrating getting through. Mike leaned against the inside wall of the car, his arm cradling Davy, who in turn leaned on him. It was too early in the morning, damn it! There they slept.
Well it certainly took long enough!
The end
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