Part V
by mickchick & anonymous smut-lover
He dropped heavily into the old sofa and his lips curled downward in disgust. How could he have been so stupid? Not only had he let himself get emotionally involved with Micky, he'd completely underestimated Davy. Well, at least that would never happen again! He stood up and began pacing. It was impossible to relax when he had unfinished business to take care of.
The library! Mike hadn't thought to look for Micky at the library. He ran up the stairs two steps at a time, intent on seeing whether Micky's books were gone from the bedroom. He was already well into the room when he saw Micky asleep on his bed.
Mike froze in place. "Jeez," he thought in amazement, "the guy can sleep through anything." He stepped closer to the bed and silently watched him.
Micky lay on his side on top of the covers with his face half-buried in the pillow and one hand hidden beneath it. Mike's fingers were only inches from Micky's bare feet, and Mike had to force himself not to touch them. His eyes followed the bent line of Micky's long legs and slender torso, and he longed to climb into bed next to him and hold him in his arms. He remembered how good it had felt to lie close behind him; his body curved around Micky's, his face buried in those long, soft curls, and his arm draped around the small waist.
Mike sighed. It wasn't often that Micky had actually let Mike hold him. After sex, he'd stay for a short time, mostly out of politeness, and then he'd usually get up and go to his own bed to sleep.
As Mike stood at the foot of Micky's bed, he realized how ridiculous his plan was. He'd had every intention of confronting Micky and demanding an explanation of his relationship with Davy. He'd imagined Micky's tearful apologies and promises to renounce Davy and be faithful only to Mike. But the very idea was suddenly and clearly laughable. Threats wouldn't work with Micky; they'd only push him farther away. Besides, Mike knew he could never follow through on them. No matter how hurt or angry he was, he knew he'd never be able to hurt Micky... not really... not intentionally. He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and lifted Micky's hand. Gently uncurling the fingers, he bent his head forward and placed a soft kiss on the palm.
Micky stirred, mumbled something, and opened his eyes. Mike almost expected him to pull away and question what he was doing, but Micky only rolled over onto his back, stretched slowly, and looked up at him. He hadn't been aware of Mike's touch.
"What's up, Mike," he asked drowsily.
"Nothin', Mick. Go back to sleep." Mike started to get up, but he felt Micky grab his arm.
"Don't bullshit me, Mike."
Mike smiled to himself. Micky had picked up that expression from him. Ordinarily, Mike would have made up some plausible lie designed to help him maintain his dignity, but Micky's sweet face completely unnerved him. He told the truth.
"Look, Mick, I know about you and Davy."
Micky lowered his eyes immediately and remained silent for what seemed like a long time. "How," he finally asked quietly.
"I saw you in the bathroom. You left the door open."
Micky refused to raise his eyes while the full meaning of Mike's words sunk in. "I'm sorry, Mike," he said softly.
Guilt! Of course! Why hadn't Mike thought of that before? Micky had an exasperating way of seeing everybody's side and wanting to please everyone, especially Mike. This was perfect.
Mike dipped his head and turned his body slightly away from Micky. "I don't blame you, Mick," he said sadly. "Who wouldn't rather be with someone who looks good?"
Micky sat up with a shocked, pained expression on his face. "No...no, Mike. I love the way you look!"
He had him by the balls. "You don't have to say that, Mick."
"No! I mean it!" Micky was beside himself at the pain he'd caused Mike. He moved in close behind him, wrapped his arms around Mike's chest, and nuzzled his face into the thick, dark hair. "I think you're perfect," he said.
It wasn't true, but it had nothing to do with the way Mike looked. He was just so damn controlling and possessive. With Davy, everything was easy and fun. Davy craved the sex just like Micky did; and when it was over, he was content to go his own way and give Micky all the space he wanted and needed.
Mike sniffed softly, just once, and that was all it took to push Micky over the edge. He couldn't stand to see his best friend hurting so much, and he knew what it would take to make him better. Against his own better judgment, Micky began to kiss Mike's neck softly. He knew that very soon, Mike would take control.
~~~~~~
Mike froze in place his posture remained rigid against Micky's warm kisses at his back. He decided to allow Micky the chance to wash away his guilt. It would be better for both of them that way, Mike thought. He would get all of Micky's passion without pretense, while Micky alleviates his guilt from hurting him. "I'm sorry, Mike." Micky said between his apology kisses, "I never meant to hurt you." Mike wasn't budging. Micky shifted his position to face Mike and gave him a long, slow kiss to show him he was still interested. He was making it hard for Mike not to reciprocate, but Mike held fast thinking the guiltier Micky felt, the better.
Micky couldn't believe he was getting no response: "Mike...please forgive me." he said. "I'll do anything, Mike...just forgive me...please."
Ohhh...perfect, Mike thought, that was just what he wanted to hear. He looked carefully into Micky's eyes and repeated the word: "Anything?"
Micky understood what he meant, and he was more than willing if that's what it took to make it up to Mike. He leaned in close to Mike's face and whispered "Anything." And Mike held back no more. He reached to those beckoning lips that just told him he could have what he wanted, and kissed them with all the passion he had been reserving. With his enthusiasm out of control, Mike ripped the oversized pajamas from Micky's body with such force that three buttons went flying across the room.
Mike tried to ease him down onto the bed, but Micky stopped him and leaned over to retrieve something from the nightstand drawer; then gave it to Mike and laid himself down on the bed where Mike wanted him. Mike was a little angry when he looked at the tanning oil Micky just handed him: "Did you let Davy fuck you?" he asked.
"No. You'll be my first." Micky answered, which made Mike feel a little better, though he wondered if Micky was telling the truth, or simply saying what he knew he wanted to hear - no matter, he would find out soon enough. Micky didn't really want to do this at all; he had managed to avoid it through both relationships, but if he were going to do it now, then he may as well do it right - something he'd learned from Davy.
Mike impatiently unbuckled his belt, removed his pants, and hovered over Micky with his dark, hungry eyes. He had waited so long for this and now his wish was finally going to be granted. He could sense the apprehension in Micky though; his body was tense and there was a trace of fear in his face that Mike tried to soften with a reassuring kiss. He wanted to put his anger and hurt aside so that it wouldn't hinder his enjoyment, or Micky's. So, he continued his kisses and let his hands wander for some time; stroking and probing until he could feel the body under him relax into pleasure, and the whole time secretly planning the invasion of his friend.
He never let his hard cock stray far from it's target, thinking that it would be easier for Micky if he didn't know when he was making his entrance, and as soon as Micky was relaxed and hard, Mike made his move. He slipped himself inside partially in one quick movement, and then stopped when Micky gasped and grabbed at his arms. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked. Micky looked like he was considering the possibility, but instead he let Mike continue.
"No...don't stop." He managed to get out. He tried to change the expression on his face from pain to pleasure, so Mike wouldn't worry about him. After all, he was doing this for Mike, not himself.
Whenever Micky did this with Davy, Davy always seemed to enjoy himself, so it must get better...he hoped. Of coarse, Micky wasn't as well endowed as Mike, so he would have to endure the wider load. He felt himself being stretched a bit more. Micky managed only a small flinch this time - Mike could barely hold back, "You okay, Mick?" Mike asked.
"Yeah" he whispered with a faint smile. Mike took that as his green light to finish the job. Another quick plunge, and Micky couldn't help from crying out, but he was drowned out by Mikes deeper groan. The heat was too intense, and the tightness even more so - Micky must have been telling the truth.
Mike was too caught up in the moment to inquire about Micky's condition this time, and Micky was in too much pain to think about anything else; he just held on to the pillow under his head and shut his eyes tight while waiting for Mike to finish. Davy never reacted like this what was he doing wrong? Mike wasn't being gentle anymore either, and that didn't help. He was thrusting into him so hard that the bed was hitting the wall with each push. If anyone were home they could easily guess what was goin on in the bedroom. And to make it worse, Mike was holding Micky's legs so tight that they were starting to go numb.
Finally, one last loud groan came from Mike, and Micky knew he was done. He released his grip on Micky, and fell on top of him panting with exhaustion. Micky didn't move. He didn't think it was going to feel like this, and from the way he was feeling now; he was going to be sore for a week. Mike picked up his head to look at his lover; his eyes were still tightly shut. "You okay, Mick?" he finally asked him. Micky just opened his eyes and looked at him without expressing an answer. "What's wrong, Mick?" Mike asked with growing concern.
"Nothing." Whispered Micky. He saw the disappointment in Micky's face - apparently It hadn't been as good for him.
"It'll probably be better the next time, Mick." He said in an effort to make him feel better.
"The next time?" Micky thought, "Not if I can help it", but at least he did make Mike happy, and that was all he really wanted. Still, he couldn't help wondering what he was missing. Davy was never in any pain, and he usually came before Micky did. Maybe Mike did something wrong.
Mike sat up to inspect the area for damage - not too bad, he said to himself, just a minor tear - he'll be fine. He felt a little bad for Micky, but also proud of himself for not being able to fit. The sex was as good as Mike had imagined, and he didn't want it to be the last. He sat on the bed looking at Micky; the guilt trip had worked like a charm, now he wondered how he would convince him the next time, and how could he keep him away from Davy?
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