Part IV
By Woolhat’s Traveling Mood
The corridors were cold, metallic, and inhospitable. Peter heaved the heavy door open and then stalled, his feet catching on the floor as he listened intently to a voice he knew so well.
"You know, in a few year's time you'll think about all this and laugh. What's the big deal anyway, it's not as if you're never going to get home, or you're doomed to be tampered with by Frank for the rest of your life."
Peter's eyes widened and he peered around the corner so that he could see the owner of the voice.
Davy was perched on the edge of the washbasin, staring at himself in the mirror, keeping up a
one-sided conversation. His gaze was intense, as of challenging his reflection's opinion and it took him a while to see Peter hiding in the background.
"I bet you think I'm off me head.” Davy glared at Peter's reflection.
"I think you need someone to talk to,"
"I'm fine, don't worry about me. If you want to help anyone, help Mick, he's the one...he's more important."
"Davy, why don't you tell me what's going on? I'm sure I can help."
"Mike said that, and look what happened to him!” Davy's eyes began to well and he didn't know how much longer he could keep up the dams.
"Mike's been fluttering around like a fairy; he's really screwed up at the moment - he just does a damn good job of hiding it."
By now, Peter was right behind Davy, a faithful hand placed on his friend's shoulder. Davy turned until they were face to face and searched Peter's eyes for the help he needed but couldn't bring himself to ask for. "I...I just want to know that I'm needed.” He croaked and with that, he accepted a warmth upon his lips as the blond hair brushed against his face. At that point, with Davy perched on the basin, they were the same height, and there was some distinct form of naivety between them.
Peter pulled away and stroked Davy's woeful face. "I need you Davy.” He murmured.
Davy gazed at him, slightly open-mouthed. This was not the Peter he knew. The old Peter was slow in intelligence and usually kept himself to himself. Peter could see in Davy's face that there were unanswered questions whizzing around the Englishman's head and he just had one phrase to answer
them all. "Never judge a book by its cover.” He finished, and pulled Davy into a deep and yearning kiss.
Davy responded immediately, wrapping his arms around Peter's neck and pulling him closer. It still didn't seem right to him, still felt like he was just getting off with his friend for the sake of it, but at that point, his body needed the comfort and he wasn't going to deny his body the love that it had been so long deprived of. As Peter began to slip his hand beneath Davy's shirt, several things began to rush through Davy's mind. Was this right? What if someone walked in? And would this feel the same if it was Mike instead of Peter?
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Micky stood on the outside deck and watched the sun disappear beneath the horizon. He shivered as the wind whipped his hair in different directions, highlighting his gently tanned face. It was colder than usual, but he didn't notice, he had other things on his mind. He hated it when darkness came, that meant only one thing - time to spend the night with Nick and his followers. Micky still felt guilty about Mike's injuries and had made various attempts to make it up to the Texan. Micky couldn't help feeling so used, not so much by Mike, but by the whole fucking ship. If he caught one more guy staring at his ass, he just might not be responsible for his actions. He had no idea that being on this ship would actually be like this. How could he possibly be so naïve? Just then he heard footsteps behind him and he turned, only to be grasped by meaty hands and herded inside.
Micky gazed up at the ceiling, gritted his teeth, and tried to keep staring at a spot he had found when the pain came. He tried not to make a noise when Nick entered him and merely lay, legs spread and took what was coming. Occasionally he closed his eyes but most of the time he just glared at that spot on the ceiling, trying to ignore what was happening. He didn't want to show fear anymore, or pain, or beg for release, he just wanted to lay there and be used and just detach his mind from his body.
This remained so for the first few moments and then an almighty pain shot through the side of his head. Micky screamed at the intense stinging sensation and caught eyes with Nick, who was still keeping up a rhythm. There was blood on his assailant's lips and it didn't take Micky long to realize that Nick had actually bitten down on the drummer's ear, and it stung like hell.
"That'll teach you to ignore me, I want to see you squirm." Nick gasped in-between thrusts, and pushed harder, forcing a cry from Micky's throat. Why wasn't Mike there? Why was he in this situation in the first place? What had he done to deserve this?
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Mike sat glaring at the green radar screen, his eyes stinging from an intense stare. He was on night duty again and couldn't believe that it was less than a week ago when he had Micky sleeping in that big old armchair, a little slice of perfection. Mike looked at his jottings on the notepad by his elbow 'I've failed, failed, failed, failed.' it read, over and over again. Guilt was tearing him apart and he had no one to blame but himself. His one mission on this boat was to protect Micky, and he couldn't even do that.
Mike heard a soft creak on the floor and expected to find a tearful Micky standing behind him, like he had every night since the fight, but instead he came face to face with Davy.
"Oh...hey Dave, what's up?"
Davy froze. Could he go through with this? What was he actually trying to do? He looked at Mike, those eyes, hair, and kind expression. Since his 'experience' with Peter, all Davy could think about was doing the same with Mike; it was ruling his mind. He knew Mike's kisses would be soft, caring and meaningful, he knew those arms would be strong and protective.
"Just...er...thought you might like some company.” Davy gave a false smile and perched in a chair next to Mike.
"Sure, more the merrier," Mike gave a smile, which was just as false. The two sat in a brief silence; a slow tension building up until finally Davy took a breath to speak. Davy looked at his feet while he spoke, terrified of what Mike would do and say.
"I've been thinking a lot,"
"Not much else to do on this heap of junk.” Mike immediately butted in.
"A lot has changed,"
"Tell me about it,"
"We've all changed,"
"Not necessarily for the better."
Davy had to look up and when he did he met those eyes again. Immediately he wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He drawn to them and when Mike pursed his lips in a thoughtful manner, Davy could resist no longer. He lunged forward, ceasing Mike's chin and claiming his mouth in an earnest kiss. Yes, he was right. They were soft, almost virginal, and so sweet. At first Mike struggled, which was to be expected, but soon the movement stopped and they both slipped into a blissful silence as the kiss progressed. They didn't care what was right and wrong anymore. They didn't care what issues this raised, who would be hurt or what could happen if they were caught. It was that kiss that mattered and it seemed to last for an eternity, which both were thankful for.
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