By Woolhat's travelling mood
Just then Peter strode in with acoustic slung over his back, and eyed up the pair. "You haven't moved since I left!" He laughed with Micky. Micky smiled and clutched happily at Mike.
"I think I wore him out!" Micky grinned fiendishly at Peter. Peter was great, Micky thought, the most open-minded person he knew. If there were anyone he wanted to know about his relationship with Mike, it would be Peter.
The bassist sat in the chair opposite them and gloated, winding down from a great night of what he liked to call 'wine, women and song'. His eyes came to rest on Micky, who was playfully running his fingers through the Texan's hair. "You really love him don't you?" Peter broke the silence suddenly, making eye contact with Micky.
The subdued drummer smiled wistfully and nodded, "More than life itself." He whispered, "I've never been so happy...he makes me so happy."
"That's good." Peter sighed, for want of a better word.
"I just wish some people could be happy for us too!" Micky muttered glumly. Peter knew exactly whom Micky meant. They both could remember when Mike finally came clean about the whole thing to the two other members of the band. Nothing could have prepared them for Davy's reaction. Micky looked towards the black eye that was still evident on Mike's beautiful face and leaned forward to kiss it gently.
The Englishman had taken them all off guard and immediately attacked the bewildered guitarist. Micky had felt guilty for restraining his lover from fighting back, knowing full well that if Mike did fight back, Davy would probably be dead.
As if by magic there was a click of the lock and the small singer stormed in, slamming the door behind him. Peter winced as he watched Mike's eyes flicker open, anger already beginning to show.
Davy stalled as he saw the cozy scene before him and a look of disgust was immediately displayed on his face. Mike looked down at Micky, still huddled in his arms, and didn't move, no matter how tempted he was to get up and beatDavy to kingdom come.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked meekly, hating the tension that had built up.
Davy shot a glare at him and then without thinking, pointed a finger at Mike. "That bastard!" He screamed. Mike sat silent for a few moments, his sight remaining on Micky's unhappy eyes. Slowly he gathered himself up, laying Micky safely by himself on the couch. Davy shuddered slightly as the Texan stood to his full height, towering over the quivering Englishman.
"Piss off Shotgun - just leave us alone." Mike growled, standing protectively in front of Micky.
"NO!"
"Davy - I don't wanna hit ya...well I do, but I'm not gonna - but don't push me coz I will!"
"Huh - you're just a poof now, Mike. You don't scare me! You never did."
That was it, Davy was on the floor, blood pumping from his nose. Micky leapt up and grabbed Mike's arm, but was soon tossed aside. Davy scrambled up, only to be beaten to the floor once again. He saw spots in his vision and his hearing was blurry. He lay still for a while and awaited a further beating, but it didn't come. Looking round, he found only Peter, who was shaking his head in disbelief.
"He...he had no right." Davy began,
"He had every right!" Peter yelled. Davy stopped, his mouth dropping open. He had never seen Peter angry before, not like he seemed now.
"Davy, you're the bastard! Mike and Micky are happy, and you wanna destroy that?! I thought you were better than that - I was wrong!" And with that Peter left, chasing after Mike who had stormed out onto the veranda, Micky close behind.
Davy sat in a daze, bleeding, deserted and alone. There was a sharp pain running down his neck and at that moment he would have given anything to cry. But he couldn't, he wouldn't. He wouldn't surrender to the stupid, 'soft' emotions that appeared to be floating round the pad at that time. He was clever, he wasn't going to fall for Mike's innocence like Peter had, and he was going to save Micky.
Chapter 2
The rain blissfully streaked down the window as it made it's way to the ground. Mike sat, entranced, allowing the thoughts of the day to swarm over him. Micky stalked in from the bathroom, clad only in his pyjama bottoms and perched behind Mike. Gently he began to blow in his lover's ear. Mike allowed a moan of pleasure to escape his throat, he needed Micky now, more than ever. "Just relax," Micky
smiled as he ran a playful finger along Mike's spine. He ran his other hand through Mike's hair, gently caressing. Mike closed his eyes and tried to forget everything - except Micky. Mike swivelled round, curling his legs up onto the bed and allowing the drummer to continue his magic. They were face to face now, getting closer with every second. Mike raised a tired arm and brought Micky down into a long, passionate kiss. Their tongues danced against each other and Micky collapsed into Mike's arms. "Never let me go." Micky whispered in-between kisses.
Mike rolled over, gliding over on top of Micky, a smile playing with his lips. "If I let you go, I'd die." He
grinned poetically.
His hand wandered down towards Micky's pyjama bottoms and tugged at them. Micky closed his eyes pleasurably as his lover began with his gentle touch, the touch that only Micky knew.
It was gentle stroking at first, so gentle that it seemed like it would be an eternity before the drummer would be fully aroused. Mike kissed him again, dragging him back to reality. The caressing grew heavier and stronger as Micky's moans became more frequent. "Don't...don't stop."
Mike kissed Micky's throat, and then his chest and then his stomach. He hovered teasingly over Micky's groin and smiled. "Wanna stop?" He laughed, already knowing the answer. Micky shook his head wildly, unable to find words. Mike tilted his head forward and licked carefully. A shrill moan escaped his partner, which only made Mike more determined. Mike was a master at his art, the art of giving Micky the greatest and most immense feeling of pleasure the drummer had ever experienced. But he was feeling tired and sympathetic tonight and took Micky in his mouth, releasing him a lot quicker than he normally would. Micky came hard and Mike swallowed every last bit. He lay where he was for a few moments, allowing his lover to catch his breath. Micky sat up and stroked Mike's cheek affectionately.
"And I was aiming to please you tonight!" he scolded the Texan. Mike smiled and took Micky in his arms.
"You do that just by being in the room." the guitarist promised, before kissing Micky till there was no breath left between them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Davy hated breakfast. He would have to sit opposite the two 'lovebirds,' and instead of having Peter to talk to, hemerely received an evil stare. But he was glad this morning, Mike didn't seem to be up and it was just Micky at the table, shortly joined by Peter. Davy wasted no time in pointing out Mike's absence.
"Lover's tiff?" He cackled cruelly, knowing that you could say anything to Micky in the mornings, and he couldn't fight back.
"He's very tired. I think he's sick, too." Micky whispered, before sipping his coffee, allowing Davy's remark to sail casually over his head.
"Ahh.poor thing.hope it isn't sexually transmitted." Davy didn't give up. Micky tried desperately to ignore him and pretended to be interested in Peter's newspaper. The taunts continued and Micky knew he would soon be doomed, Peter was just leaving for work.
"Go on Mick.get him back!" Peter whispered in Micky's ear as he left.
"I suppose its very tiring shagging you and that girl he met down the club." Davy continued. Micky felt his patience snap and he glared at the small young man before him.
"Davy you're an assehole!" He screamed, lurching towards the singer.
"And you're just a whore! He uses you Micky - he doesn't love you!" Davy pleaded, trying to talk sense into his friend.
"Leave me alone you bastard!" Micky covered his ears and tried to blot out Davy's whine.
"He isn't here now, you don't have to keep pretending!" Davy yelled.
Micky shook his head and tried to drown out that voice. Davy simmered down a bit and cautiously sat at the table. His brown eyes flickered as he awaited Micky to fall into his trap. Micky would come to him, Micky's weakness would always be curiosity. Micky crept closer, a stray tear running down his face. "Why?" he whispered, "Why are you doing this?"
"Because he's killing you!" Davy insisted. Micky stalled, intrigued by the logic, and sat, his body no longer obeying his mind.
"Wh...what?" He stammered, glaring at Davy.
"You're gonna die if you stay with him." Davy confirmed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mike was restless. He was hot, and worry danced around his brain making it throb with pain. He reached out for Micky, but his arms only found thin air. He opened his eyes and gazed around miserably. The clock on the wall beamed 10.30 and Mike groaned at his own laziness. Slowly he mustered the energy to sit up and eventually, dress himself. Peering through the door, Mike saw that the pad was empty. He sighed at the loneliness his situation presented and stepped out carelessly onto the landing. Then there was a sharp pain and everything went black.
Chapter 3
The pain wasn't continuous, it came in bouts, each one seeming stronger than the previous. Mike tried to open his eyes and all he saw was a deep shade of blue. Then a familiar figure came into view and Micky stood before him. "Mi...Micky? What?...It hurts." Was all Mike could muster, his eyes pleading for relief from the pain and love from his companion. Micky didn't move, he just stared.
"He doesn't want to know you anymore Mike." The Texan glanced towards the screech, which had come from behind him and was confronted with Davy, baseball bat in hand.
"Dav..." Mike flinched under another twinge, "Why?"
"You used him Nesmith, but not anymore!" Davy scowled, no longer seeming like Davy at all.
"Me? Micky?" The words were whizzing round Mike's head and he couldn't think before he vomited, the pain driving him to the edge of insanity. It was at that point he realised that he was tied to the chair that he sat in, and he couldn't escape. Micky appeared to step back and cringe."Let me go." Mike squirmed, tugging at the rope behind his back.
"You'll kill him!" Davy cried, waving the bat menacingly.
"But I love him!" Mike screamed under the pain. "I...I love you Micky." Mike looked deep into Micky's eyes, trying desperately to revive his lover.
"Lies!" Davy declared, thriving in his new power.
"Micky please!" Mike pleaded. Micky flinched slightly as he watched yet another blow to Mike's aching head. He was motionless, his mind scrambled with lies and deceit, but from whom? Mike looked up for a split second and Micky saw those eyes. He saw beyond everything he had ever seen. He saw the real Mike Nesmith and grasped the bat for one final swing.
The young man was thrown to the floor, not dead but no longer dangerous. Micky shook his head, trying to regain reality and slumped to his knees beside the unconscious Davy. He glanced up at Mike, still bound in the chair and only felt guilt. "I love you too." He whispered, stooping forward to untie his lover. Mike collapsed in his arms, free from the pain in his arms and heart, but not his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were so many questions to answer, and two nights later they were finally laid to rest. "I'm sorry." was all Davy said for a long while. Mike nodded, content that at least his relationship with Micky was back on course. When Davy finally came round to speaking, the others were all ears.
"My.my brother was homosexual," the Englishman began, "We were very close, but we lost touch because he was sent away by my dad - a disgrace they called him. When I finally got to see him again, he was on his deathbed. He died 'coz he was gay.." Davy bowed his head as a silent tear made its way down his face.
"How?" Mike asked cautiously, Davy raised his head wistfully and whispered,
"He was beaten to death, seems my parents weren't the only ones who didn't approve."
Micky placed a reassuring hand on the singer's shoulder and sighed. "Love is power babe," he whispered, quoting Mike, "That's not gonna happen to us, and if it did, I'd die happy," He smiled, nuzzling Mike's neck affectionately.
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