Part VI:
"Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me"
By Woolhat's Traveling Mood
Now he just had to get back at Davy, and everything would be sweet. Micky hummed a little tune as he continued scrubbing, momentarily blissful. A thousand thoughts flooded his brain. How would he get revenge?
~~~
Davy sipped the cold coffee as he sat, alone in the freezing cafeteria. He hadn't seen Mike since Micky's temper tantrum, and Peter was giving him the cold shoulder. He felt so lonely and really didn't care about Frank and his cronies anymore. He wanted his friends back...he wanted Mike back. Things weren't the same without the lanky guitarist sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted, looking out for everyone and Davy felt a gut wrenching pain in the pit of his stomach when he remembered that he
probably wouldn't be that close to his friend again.
~~~
Micky ran his long fingers through Mike's hair as the stoic Texan looked down at him with chocolate eyes. Mike had been quiet for a while now, which wasn't unlike him, but it made Micky feel lonely. Sometimes he felt like he was talking to a brick wall with the amount of response he’d get.
Mike's arm balanced lazily on Micky's hip as he breathed deeply and just enjoyed Micky's gentle touch, giving himself time to fully realize what he had gotten himself into. He loved Micky, of course he did, but he felt that somehow, he had got in way over his head. Micky needed security and commitment and Mike was unsure if he could give that. He wanted to, but surely things would change once they got
home? Wouldn't they? Mike's eyes focused on Micky's and found something different that was hidden. Mike couldn't put his finger on what it was, but there was something different about his lover, and he didn't like it.
Mike had deliberately made himself more passive, gradually getting Micky settled back into their relationship before Mike took control again and Micky had made the most of this new submissive state. The drummer took advantage of it now, leaning forward and clasping Mike's mouth in an earnest kiss while gently running a finger up and down his taunt chest. Micky nibbled slightly on Mike's lower lip and then gazed at him with seductive eyes.
Mike took the hand that had been stroking his chest and gently kissed the palm, sending shivers up Micky's spine. Micky gasped when he felt another hand stroke him gently through his pants and he longed for more. The two of them sat down on the floor and Mike began nibbling and kissing Micky's throat, occasionally darting out his tongue and enjoying the delicate little moans he received in reply.
Micky wrapped his arms around Mike's neck, pulling him closer and blowing his own hot breath over Mike's lily shoulders.
Micky glanced down and found that Mike had already, craftily, undone the buttons of his shirt and was massaging his ribs as his kissing got more engrossed. Micky closed his eyes and succumbed to another moan, he loved Mike being here like this, all his, no one else's.
Micky's fingers fumbled to undo Mike's shirt and when he had finally loosened them, he slid the garment off ofMike's silky shoulders and marveled at his lover's individual perfection, like he did every time they were together.
Mike did the same to Micky and followed a trail down his lover's chest with his tongue stopping at his
navel to give it a quick kiss. His nimble fingers had Micky's pants down in a flash, along with his underwear and Micky lay on his back and allowed the loving he longed for every minute of the day.
Mike kissed up the inside of Micky's thigh and listened as the moans vibrated through his lover's entire body. "Shhh, or we'll get caught!” Mike snickered quietly as he continued. He loosened his own pants
and lay on top of Micky, locking his fingers in those luscious curls and kissing ever obedient lips.
Micky raised his hips ever so slightly, pleading, begging and slowly Mike entered him. He could be so gentle sometimes and Micky let his head roll back as his fingers slowly dug into Mike's shoulders, creating a perfect row of red marks. "Please Mike.” Micky gasped and Mike began to slowly start a rhythm. Normally he would spend ages just working Micky up to this moment, but they never had much time together before the danger of being caught was too great.
Mike closed his eyes and then it hit him, a tidal wave of passion, lust, worry, pain, confusion all at once,
and his natural instincts tried to block it out. He held his breath and part of him wondered why. He thrust harder and felt Micky shudder beneath him and then he was pushed too, and he collapsed on top of Micky, his brain clogged with every emotion he had ever felt in his short, almost meaningless life. But it wasn't meaningless, because just as he tried to understand why the hell he was living in the first place, a soft, warm kiss stroked his face like the hand of Venus herself and Mike looked down and found the best smile in the world. That's why.
-----------------
Micky had never considered himself a nark, but revenge couldn't wait for him to form a proper plan, so this would have to do. As long as Davy suffered, he didn't really care how.
Micky had spotted Davy drinking on duty, a mild offence, but worthy of punishment, and then went to find the worst officer of the lot: Hang 'em Hendry.
Hendry was a nasty piece of work, viscous to the core, and dragged Davy off by the collar to the boiler room. There, Davy had the menial and diabolically boring job of keeping check of fuel supplies and other necessary items - the worst job on the ship. Micky grinned to himself as he imagined Davy down in that tin can, sweltering heat and boiling grime, while being groped by stokers who hadn't seen the light of day for years, never mind a piece of ass.
Micky's grin broadened as he wandered off to claim Davy's bed. The Englishman wouldn't be coming back for a good long time.
When Micky entered the dormitories, he found Mike asleep in his bunk, his breathing shallow and peaceful. The drummer reached over and gently stroked along one of Mike's shortened sideburns, before running one fingertip along those soft, seemingly innocent lips. Micky knew better.
Suddenly Mike's mouth opened and lightly took his lover's finger in his mouth, giving it a gentle suck before opening his eyes.
"It's a good thing it was me here and not some mad man." Micky warned him.
"No one feels as good as you, Mick," Mike smiled, kissing the very tip of his finger, "No one."
Micky's face broke into a childlike, almost bashful smile and he went to sit on the bench in front of Mike's bed.
"Are you ready for the party tomorrow?” Mike asked, knuckling sleep from his eyes.
"Yeah...no work for anyone, and it will be nice to be anchored somewhere for a change."
Mike sat up straight and dangled his legs over his bunk. "The whole ship has a party for the captain's birthday, now that's what I call a good idea.” He added.
The two grew silent for a while, just sheepishly grinning at each other until Mike jumped down and attacked Micky's stomach, tickling him wildly.
Micky giggled and lashed out helplessly until they both ended up in a pile on the floor. Life was certainly looking up.
~~~
Davy wiped his brow. It was so hot, his vision was beginning to get blurred. He felt another heavy hand squeeze his ass in passing and he groaned with pain and humility. Why did this have to happen? Why did he have to be caught drinking in from of Hang 'em Hendry of all people? It was almost as if someone had planned it that way.
It was so dark down in the boiler rooms, and Hendry was intent on keeping him down there as long as possible, even if that meant doing the same job over and over again - he would have preferred the punishment cells.
He looked down at his oil soaked body and saw it shake of its own accord. He was a wreck, disheveled and pitiful, how on earth did he get himself into so much trouble. Frank would probably have his guts for garters when he finally got out of this hellhole, whenever that would be. Just then, the neighboring workers received a long awaited message from the bridge and immediately began shutting down
the engines.
Davy stepped forward to ask what was going on, when he suddenly saw Hendry enter.
"Alright men," He growled in his best admiral's voice, "We will remain anchored here for the next
forty-eight hours for the captain's birthday and the duration of the party. Seeing as there is little we can do on naval business, we have been granted special permission for this occasion, so you must all be on your best behavior. Now, for the time we are anchored, you are all free to spend your new spare
time on the top two decks, where the party is being held. Your work down here will resume in
forty-eight hours.” And with that, everyone surged for the door. Davy was practically pushed along until an eerily icy hand stopped him in his tracks.
Hendry pulled him over to the side and snarled. "You don't think you're getting off that easily are you Jones? I don't like you, and I don't like your attitude. You think that just because you're British, you can ignore all OUR naval rules?"
"No s..."
"Did I say you could speak? You’ll remain down here for the duration of our anchorage, maybe by the end of it you may have learned your lesson."
He was gone just as quickly as he arrived and left Davy in the deafening silence of an empty metal coffin. Davy looked about him, heard the main door slam, and then realized that he could sink no lower. Quietly, he wandered over to a nearby bench and sat, dropping his head into his hands and
wept.
~~~
As the ship's jazz band played, Micky let his head clear of all the worries that had been bothering him and became intent on enjoying himself. He'd heard through the grapevine of Davy's imprisonment in the boiler room and gloated - justice had been served. He glanced to Mike and found a stern face.
"Why so moody?” He cooed lightly, just enough for the Texan to hear.
"Protecting your ass...at least for tonight," Mike's eyes met his and Micky gave an embarrassed nod.
"Thanks," He whispered, touching Mike’s arm ever so lightly.
Soon the party was in full swing and Mike was impressed as he watched Peter with the jazz band, that boy could play anything. But Mike remained unemotional in features, he wouldn't let Peter know that he was impressed by his playing, he was too proud.
Throughout the night, he had managed to keep Nick at bay and he was thankful, it seemed luck was with him tonight, especially the way Micky kept looking at him, those almond eyes full of lust.
Mike was so caught up with Micky's almost unnoticeable flirtations that he didn't see Smokey, his fellow radio room controller, running out from below deck and grabbing the nearest officer he could. His face was drawn into a series of worried lines and he was sweating with anxiety. The officer began to look just as worried and they both headed downstairs, only noticed by a few wary sailors.
What happened next will be continually played over and over again in Micky's mind, along with growing guilt. He and Mike were still continuing their silent conversation when it happened. From the distance, they heard the far off drone of a plane. Micky didn't know they were so close to enemy waters how could he? And his ignorance scared the hell out of him. The plane was small, and Smokey's warnings
came too late to be of any good. The drone grew nearer and nearer until finally Micky saw a large object come hurtling down from beneath it and the ship suddenly shook violently, as shouts of panic rose till they were almost too much to bear. The ship lurched nose down, and that's when Micky
slipped and his head made contact with the hard metal floor, saving him from the horror that followed.
When Micky awoke, to the sound of waves, he found himself beside Mike in a lifeboat, somewhere in a vast blueness. Peter was with them, so were many others and he felt sick with confusion.
"Mike?"
"Yeah Mick?"
"What happened?"
Micky looked at Mike's tearful eyes and knew the answer was not going to be a good one.
"We were hit Mick. That fucking plane sent a bomb right into our boiler rooms, the ship sank within the hour."
Micky's eyes grew wide and he sat up and gazed around. There was a fleet of lifeboats; practically every man on the ship was there in a formation of tiny vessels.
"How many are...dead?"
"Only a couple, we were all on the top decks coz of the party, that saved us. But...I'm sorry Mick, Davy didn't make it."
A tear overflowed from Mike's eye and he angrily scrubbed it away. Peter was motionless and empty; feeling like his guts had just been torn out.
Micky's bones chilled and no sound could come from his gaping mouth. The hard truth hit him - he was a murderer. His petty little revenge had cost Davy his life, how could he possibly go on knowing he had killed someone? Micky gazed at Mike and found the Texan pensively silent, just staring into space. All this had probably hit him hard, Micky thought, but he couldn't possibly guess how much.
Mike hung his head as he realized how much he really cared for Davy and how much he should have been there for him. Huh, he couldn't do it now, Davy had died miserable and alone and somewhere inside of Mike a voice screamed 'It was your fault you bastard!'
Silence reigned on the little fleet as they sailed to God knows where, and quite frankly, not really caring anymore. Guilt shrouded them in his heavy cloak, and would stay with them till their dying day.
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