Part II
by HMC
Peter huddled on the couch sipping his cocoa as the police rushed up to him. They demanded to know where Mike was, and Peter lifted a shaky hand to point at his bedroom door. One cop drew a gun and threw open the door, rushing inside.
The three boys were silent as they waited.... waited for any kind of noise or reaction from Mike. But there was none. The cop returned to the living room a minute later, and said gravely, "He's gone."
Peter wailed and dropped his mug.
"What do you mean, 'he's gone'??!!" Davy cried. "Is he dead?!"
"No.... I mean he's escaped."
"What?! I hit him with the bat! He should be out cold!!"
"He escaped out the window. There was no sign of him." He motioned to another cop. "Call it in. We'll need a description of him."
Micky piped up. "I'll do it." He followed the cop out to the police car. The other cop followed.
Peter shook violently. "God.... He's still out there.... He'll come back.... He's different.... He'll kill us or...." Peter glanced up at Davy. "Or he'll come back and do it again.... He's so angry with me, Davy. What if he tries to hurt you and Micky?"
Davy shushed him and rubbed his back soothingly. "It's okay, Pete. We'll be fine. The cops will find him and we'll all be okay."
Neither he, nor Peter looked convinced.
~~~~~
They had gone to the hospital so Peter could get fixed up. They bandaged the cuts on his face, gave him an x-ray just to be safe, and gave him a prescription for the pain. The question arose on where to stay until Mike was caught. They had all suggested Jennifer's. Jennifer was Davy's girlfriend of six months, and one of Peter's dearest friends. She had a small apartment, but it was big enough for all of them to stay.
The first night at Jennifer's was frightening. Peter couldn't find the courage to fall asleep until Jennifer lay down next to him and held him. He relaxed in the arms of his friend until four o'clock in the morning when he finally drifted off. But his sleep was filled with nightmares. He awoke only an hour later; Jennifer had moved to her own bed already, and she and Davy slept soundly next to each other.
As much as he was scared, Peter didn't want to wake them up. He figured just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean they shouldn't either. He spent the rest of that early morning wide-awake.
~~~~~
Micky had gone to the pad the next evening to retrieve some items they needed. He had filled a shopping bag with toothbrushes, some food, Peter's teddy bear, and some clothes. He had just gone upstairs to look for anything else he might want to take when a sudden chill ran down his spine.
Thinking it had been a very bad idea to come alone, Micky turned to run out the bedroom door, but found a very pissed-off Mike had closed it, and was glaring at him.
"Mike!" He squeaked, and dropped the bag. His stomach did somersaults, telling him to run.
Mike took slow steps towards Micky, and the frightened drummer noticed something shiny in his hand.
The baseball bat....
Micky shivered and backed up into the wall; he raised his arms to shield himself, as Mike got closer.
Mike looked horrible. His black hair was mussed, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he had a day's worth of beard-stubble covering his face. His clothes were rumpled and dirty. The expression on his face was one of pure hate.
With one swift movement, Mike raised the bat and brought it down on the side of Micky's head, and Micky lost contact with the world.
Consciousness did not return as a friend. There was an incredible pounding in his head, and he forced his eyes open. He was lying on his stomach on his bed. He began to panic when he realized his arms were tied to the headboard in front of him with guitar strings and his ankles were tide to opposite corners of the end of the bed. He shrieked in abject terror when he realized he was naked.
He felt a hand brush his back and craned his neck to see Mike standing beside him, naked as well. Micky yanked on the guitar strings holding his hands, only to feel sharp pain rush up his arms. Mike settled himself next to Micky's prone form and ran a hand down his smooth back, all the way down so he could pinch him on the ass. Micky jumped and cringed, refusing to cry but instead he put all his energy into pretending he was somewhere else.
Mike settled himself on top of Micky and let his cock dangle between Micky's thighs. He rubbed himself up and down Micky's leg, growing harder by the second and sending Micky reeling into a mixed sense of pain and pleasure. Mike moaned a little and separated the cheeks of Micky's ass just so slightly as to give himself room to enter from behind.
Mike eased his way in gently at first, but when Micky screamed in pain, Mike reared back and slammed himself in as deep as he would go. Mike uttered a pleasured and throaty, "Aw... fuck," as he held himself still, buried deep. Micky arched his back and writhed, crying at the pain-filled sensation. Mike set a slow pounding rhythm, going deep and hard with each stroke. Soon, Mike's pounding matched the pounding in Micky's head.
Mike reached under Micky, to stroke him to a full erection, and Micky surprised himself when he realized Mike had succeeded. But his surprise gave way to sheer pain, as Mike's thrusts got more violent.
Mike placed his hands on Micky's shoulders for more leverage and began to pound harder, grunting and groaning every time. His sounds of pleasure contrasted to Micky's sounds of pain. The subdued drummer buried his face deeper into the pillow as a violent shiver wracked his thin body, and he came.
Mike sensed that Micky had gone over the edge, and he soon followed. He gave a few more thrusts, and collapsed on top of his victim, breathing hard against the sensitive skin of Micky's neck. Micky could feel Mike's beard stubble scratching against his skin.
Micky finally squeezed his eyes shut and let tears make their way down his face and onto the pillow. Bolts of pain ran up his back and down his legs, as Mike withdrew, breathing hard.
"You son of a bitch!" Micky sobbed, tears falling freely now. From his position, he couldn't see what Mike was doing, but from the rustle of fabric, he guessed Mike was getting dressed.
In a low, husky voice, Mike whispered in Micky's ear, "Two down; one to go."
Then something hard came in contact with Micky's head, and he passed out from pain.
On to Part III
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