by Mary Mary
"Did we see what, Micky?" asked Peter, still engrossed in his bass guitar. Mike just grumbled softly.
"That blond chick, in the white dress that was staring at us during the last set. I think she might have dug me!" said Micky, searching the club for any sign of her. Mike rolled his eyes.
"How do you know that she wasn't starin' at me, or Pete, or probably Davy, for that matter?"
"I don't know, but I sure as hell am willing to find out! Hey, there she is by the bar! I better go talk to her before somebody else does!" Micky said, and dashed off in that direction.
Mike raised his eyebrows and watched his friend receding into the crowd. The jealousy he felt was consuming him worse than it ever had before. Lately, Mike had retreated even more into himself than usual, but nobody had really seemed to notice. "That's okay," thought Mike to himself, feeling his pants getting just a little bit tighter, "No one has to know." Ever since Mike had met Micky a few years ago, they had shared a special bond and had become best friends very quickly. But lately, Mike's feelings toward Micky had started to slowly gravitate towards more than just friendship. Oh, sure, Mike couldn't deny that from the start, he had subconscious feelings towards Micky, but it had just taken awhile to admit that to himself. The idea of being attracted to a man had scared him at first, but he had eventually warmed to it. Besides, Micky was everything Mike had ever wanted in any girl, and more. He understood Mike more than anybody else, and helped mellow Mike out when he got too riled up. There was also something strangely alluring in the way that Micky often depended on him for advice, or to get him out of sticky situations he tended to get himself in.
Above all, there was Micky's looks: that wild curly hair, those mysteriously playful eyes, that slender, delicate body, including that perfect little ass; and that package which Mike longed to release from his briefs and tease to the utmost level of ecstasy...
"Wow Mike, looks like Micky was right!" said Peter, interrupting Mike's fantasy. Mike looked at Peter, slightly annoyed, and then at Micky, who was now dancing all too close with the girl in white. When had this happened? Mike watched the two while in a trance, following every gyration of Micky's slim hips. Mike's pants started to feel as if they were choking him. He wanted Micky so bad that if given the opportunity, he would grab him right there and do him right on the dance floor.
"Are you okay, Mike? You look kind of funny!" said Peter. Mike's hands immediately shifted to his pants as he tried to conceal the bulge that lay in front.
"Ah, nothin', Pete. Go see if you can round up Davy, and I'll go get Micky. We should get goin'. It's late."
"I don't think Micky's going anywhere," said Peter.
"Well, I'll try," said Mike. "Or at least let him know we're leaving." Peter scurried off to look for Davy, and Mike approached Micky.
"Hey, Mike, what's up?" asked Micky.
"It's time to leave," Mike said, barely glancing at the girl. He still hadn't completely calmed down, and he hoped it didn't show.
"You guys go on ahead without me, I'm going to hang out with Eileen," said Micky.
"Come on, Mick," said Mike. "We're practicing early tomorrow."
"You know me, Mike, I can go for days with little or no sleep, and I function just fine. So, go on ahead"
Mike wanted to argue, but there was no logical reason in making Micky come with them, at least not one that Mike could divulge right then and there.
"Fine! But you better come pack up your own drums," said Mike, stalking off.
"What's eating him?'" Eileen asked Micky, who just shrugged.
~~~~~
Later that night, Mike tossed and turned. He couldn't get Micky off of his mind; the way that his pelvis gyrated while dancing with that lucky girl. He wondered when his best friend and roommate in question would return home. He couldn't bear the thought of him with her, yet he still fantasized about what Micky might be doing. His groin throbbed and he reached down the waistband of his pajamas. If Micky couldn't be there, he could just pretend. Mike started softly stroking his long, hardening staff, and was just beginning to feel satisfied when Micky quietly opened the door to his room. Mike quickly withdrew his hand and pretended to be asleep, all the while watching Micky's shadowed figure undress. His already aroused state heightened, and he yearned to ram his big cock into Micky right then and there. But, instead, he tried to ignore his hard-on and pretended to wake up. "Mick?" he asked, making it sound as though he had just come out of sleep.
"Oh, hey Mike," Micky said quietly.
"How'd it go?" Mike asked, not wanting to really hear the answer. Micky sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, clad only in his boxers. Mike's hand slowly drifted back to his underpants as he watched Micky's smooth chest rise and fall with every breath, in the moonlight that streamed through the window. He felt like a sicko for stroking it while Micky was right there talking to him, but he couldn't take it anymore.
"I just don't get it, Mike," Micky said. "I meet a girl, she always seems interested, but I always seem to blow it."
"How so?" Mike asked, withdrawing his hand again. If he got too worked up, Micky would notice what he was doing, and that would take a lot of explaining.
"Well, I don't know what it is exactly, but as the evening progresses, I always lose interest. It's like no matter how beautiful the girl is, she's lacking. I just don't know why! Sure, sometimes I go for an easy
fuck...who wouldn't? but....I don't know, Mike."
"Maybe you, ah...need something different," Mike said, trying to work his way around the subject. He didn't want to freak Micky out.
"Like what, Mike?" Micky said.
"Maybe you need someone who stimulates you intellectually, too. Someone who knows you well. Someone who shares your interests and your secrets." Mike sat up and looked Micky in the eye.
"Almost like a best friend, huh?" Micky said, chuckling. "But I can't exactly fuck you, now could I, Mike?" He stopped laughing once he saw the pulsing desire in Mike's eyes. "Could I?" He repeated, feeling his pulse quicken. Mike's intense gaze was doing something very strange to him. "Could I...really?"
Mike said nothing, but silently walked over to Micky's bed and sat down beside him. Micky looked deep into his eyes, his irises two questioning pools, sending pulsations of desire through Mike's body. Although he wanted nothing more than to fuck Micky hard, he needed to take it slowly. He placed his hands on Micky's bare shoulders, and slowly leaned in until their mouths met. Micky's eyes widened in surprise, but a moan of pleasure escaped his lips as he let Mike slowly brush his lips against his. Then, Mike started to probe Micky's mouth with his tongue, slowly pulling it in and out, teasing. Once they were both breathless, Mike pulled away and looked into Micky's eyes for any sign of a reaction. He found one, and it told him that he was doing everything right. Mike realized that Micky was enjoying it, and that he could proceed further.
Mike led a trail of kisses down Micky's stomach, and teased Micky's waist with his tongue. Micky stiffened and moaned in pleasure. Slowly, Mike eased down Micky's boxers until he came face to face with Micky's throbbing cock. It was the sight that Mike had been longing to see, and he had to hold back his own desire. Mike began to lick the head of Micky's cock, starting off slowly and then he began to quicken the pace, lapping the head as fast as his tongue would allow. Micky tried to suppress his squeal of delight, but couldn't, and he hoped Davy or Peter wouldn't wake up. Once Mike had teased Micky to the limit, he took his cock fully in his mouth and sucked hard. Finally, Micky bucked and came, deep in Mike's throat, who swallowed every ounce of him. Micky gasped and tried to catch his breath. "Oh, my god, Mike. Oh. Oh." That was all he could say. He then reached for Mike's pajama bottoms, but Mike stopped him. He wanted to be in control, and Micky let him. Mike let Micky remove his pajama bottoms to reveal nothing but his fully engorged shaft, and Micky's eyes widened at the sight of it. Mike guided Micky down on his back, and then crawled on top of him, like a caged animal. He brushed his cock against Micky's mouth teasingly, and delighted at the sight of Micky squirming to reach it with his tongue. As soon as he made brief contact with the head, Mike crept back over Micky's body, heading south, letting his cock brush every square inch in between. Micky's body shook with longing as he let Mike turnhim over.
"Oh, god, Mike, please! Please!" Micky said, nearly screaming.
"Ssh!" said Mike, leaning over and breathing on Micky's neck. Then, he slowly eased his way towards his final target, and entered Micky slowly. Micky reared at the unfamiliar feeling, but Mike gently started to rock, exalting in the feeling of Micky's tightness. As Micky relaxed more, Mike started to push harder, then withdrew. Micky moaned.
"Mike, don't, please!" That was all Mike needed, that uncontrolled, vulnerable begging from Micky, and he rammed back into him full force. The two rocked harder and harder, faster and faster, until they both reached their climatic peak. They came together, exploding into a feeling of pure ecstasy, a tangle of sweaty, sticky bodies reeling from the experience.
Just as Mike pulled out, The door swung open, and a sleepy-eyed Davy stood in the bright light of the hallway.
"What the 'ell?" He asked, rubbing his eyes, and taking in the sight of a naked and obviously very pleased duo. "Oh, my god! I'm sorry. Oh, my god!" Davy slammed the door behind him and ran down the hall. Mike looked at Micky, who had a terrified expression on his face, and gave him a hard, pressing kiss.
"Well, shotgun, we've been discovered." Micky just lay there in awe, covered in a mixture of Mike's sweat and cum, not knowing what to say or do next.
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