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"Nine Times Blue"
Title: Nine Times Blue
Warnings: More sexual behavior of a slashy nature. Language.
Disclaimer: Do not own!
Summary: Mike wonders if there's still a chance for him and Peter.
Author's Note: This one picks up exactly where the last one left off. Have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone! See you next week!
Mike had been driving aimlessly around the streets of Malibu for almost two hours. It was dark, and except for the areas where the discotheques and clubs were located, the area was fairly quiet. He drove slowly past a small restaurant, glancing thoughtfully at the sign that was placed outside the door. It read:
DINNER SPECIAL: TEXAS-STYLE BBQ RIBS, $1.99.
How easy would it be to just drive all the way back to Texas? He thought. I could be there in two days. Three at the most. Back home. Back where things make sense.
In his heart, however, Mike knew he could never do that. For better or for worse, he was part of a band. They may not be as big as the Beatles, but they did all right and were at least local celebrities of a sort. If he left, it would be horribly unfair to the guys. Plus, this had always been a dream of Mike’s, to fall in with a group of guys who seriously wanted to write and perform music. There was no way he could abandon that.
Of course another dream of Mike’s, much more recently discovered, was to become the one and only man in Peter’s life...but that one wasn’t working out so great. But at least he could still be a part of Peter’s life. If he went back to Texas, he would lose Peter forever.
But wasn’t he already losing him, just a little each day, and right in front of his face?
Mike groaned and touched his forehead to the steering wheel for a moment as he sat waiting at a red light. Why did people fall in love? This was torture. At least for him it was. For Peter and Micky, love seemed to be everything that the poets and the playwrights and the hippies all preached about. Why couldn’t it be that way for him?
As the light turned green, Mike drove up a block and turned right at the next corner. He really should go home. Avoiding the guys wasn’t the answer. Being alone with his thoughts wasn’t the answer. Especially when those thoughts seemed to be dwelling so much on how beautiful that afternoon last week had been. Just him and Peter, and Peter taking such great care to make Mike’s first time so special. Peter stroking and caressing him, making love to him, all of his attention lavished completely upon Mike alone, with no interference or distraction from others.
Thinking back on that was never a good idea. It conjured up too much of a muddled soup of feelings. Love, desire, longing...those were all there, of course, but there was also the resentment, the frustration, the bitterness. Then there followed the inevitable questions. How could Peter literally love him and leave him like that? Couldn't he see how much Mike wanted him? How much he needed him?
Suddenly Mike sat bolt upright behind the wheel as another new thought rocketed into his racing mind. Maybe Peter hadn’t thrown him over completely like Mike thought. Maybe Mike was the one who had given up too quickly? After all, he had hardly spent much time around Peter at all lately. Yes, he had heard Peter say that he would never love anyone as much as he loved Micky, but that was after the two of them had just finished having sex. Of course you’re going to say something like that to your partner after that. It was said in the heat of the moment. It didn’t necessarily make it true, did it?
So was there still a chance?
Suddenly Mike pulled into the parking lot of a gas station, hauling the big car around in a circle and then pulling back onto the road going in the opposite direction. It was time to go home.
Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine and munching his way through a bowlful of peanuts when Mike came through the front door.
Immediately, Peter put the magazine aside and stood.
“Michael! Where have you been? We were worried about you!”
Mike stopped short as he took in the sight of Peter. He had taken a shower about half an hour before Mike came home, and still had the towel looped around his bare shoulders. Other than that, he wore only a pair of blue shorts that clung to him in all the right places. As was always the case with Peter, he had chosen his attire with no thought of provocation or seduction. He just happened to have a body that made the most everyday articles of clothing look unbearably sexy.
Feeling his face flush as his internal temperature cranked up about five degrees, Mike cleared his throat and said, “Worried? Why?”
“Davy said you had just gone out for guitar strings,” Peter said. “But you were gone for so long that we started to think something had happened to you.”
Mike slowly sauntered across the living room toward the kitchen. “Nah, I’m fine. I just went for a drive.” He paused, his eyes moving around the room. “So where’s Davy now? And Micky?”
“They went to bed,” Peter said. “They were both really tired.”
“And you’re not?” Mike asked softly, drawing nearer. “Is that why you’re still up, Pete?”
Peter shrugged and looked a bit shy as he said, “Not entirely. I...Well, like I said, we were worried about you. I just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. I felt like I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I knew you were home safe.”
Mike’s heart did a happy little leap inside his chest, but he did not let that show on his face as he moved even closer to Peter.
“Well that’s really nice of you, Peter.” He paused, took a deep breath, and then added softly, “I didn’t think you cared that much.”
A smile touched Peter’s lips as he said, “Of course I do, silly. I wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you. None of us would.”
Mike couldn’t stand it any longer. He closed the tiny bit of distance between the two of them, moving into Peter’s personal space, almost daring him to step back. However, Peter did not step back. He only looked at Mike calmly and silently, waiting.
A strangled sort of sigh was the only sound Mike seemed capable of making as he felt those soft, warm lips against his own for the first time in a week. He snatched the towel from around Peter’s neck and tossed it aside, embracing the other man tightly. Peter slipped his arms around Mike’s torso as well, tipping up his chin slightly to return Mike’s kisses fully and completely.
Yes, that’s it, let yourself go, Mike thought, almost delirious with joy. Don’t think about Micky. Don’t think about anyone else. This is our time now. Think about us. Think about how good this feels. How right. Feel how much I want you, Peter. How good you feel in my arms. God, I love you. I love you. I love you.
Both men grunted simultaneously as Mike suddenly pushed Peter back against the cabinets, still kissing him fiercely. He felt as though he would burst into a million pieces, so great was his happiness and his excitement. His heart was pounding; His head was dizzy; His cock was a throbbing bar of iron inside his pants. This was it. He knew it. This was the turning point where Peter would become his. He could feel it. There was something magical in this moment.
He slid one hand down to cup Peter between the legs through his shorts. Peter groaned softly, his tongue tangling busily with Mike’s, his hands fisting in the back of Mike’s shirt. He pressed his hips hard into Mike’s palm, silently begging, and Mike obliged him by slipping his hand inside the elastic waistband and grasping the blazingly hot, hard treasure inside.
Panting with desire and lack of air, Peter broke off from kissing and nuzzled into Mike’s neck. The feel of Peter’s hot breath against his sensitive skin was thrilling enough, but Peter’s needy whisper of “Yes, Michael...Oh yes...” was almost unbearable.
And when Peter released his hold on Mike long enough to shove his own shorts down off his hips to give Mike fuller access to him, Mike seriously thought he would shoot off in his pants.
Immediately, Peter wrapped his arms around Mike again, moaning urgently in his ear, “God, please make me come, Mike...Please...”
Mike could not imagine this moment being any hotter that this. There was something so incredibly arousing about him still being fully clothed with Peter completely naked and begging for his attentions. Again and as always, Peter was displaying that perfect balance of sinful and vulnerable that drove both him and Micky into such a frenzy.
Giving occasional soft bites to Peter’s shoulder, Mike stroked his heavy cock with a firm, steady rhythm, pausing every now and again to circle the head with his thumb, spreading the slightly sticky fluid that gathered there. He could feel the tension building in Peter’s body; could hear the familiar change in the quality of his groans that told Mike he was getting close.
Right at the last moment, Mike put his lips by Peter’s ear and purred in his most sultry, sex-drenched voice, “Come for me, Peter.”
Peter could only half-stifle the shout that erupted from him as he reached his peak. His hips jerked spasmodically as burst after burst shot from him, raining onto Mike’s shirt and pants.
Mike was just getting ready to embrace Peter again for another kiss when he felt hands reaching around his waist from behind to start pulling his belt open.
“Looks like Pete made quite a mess of your clothes there, Mike ol’ buddy. Let me help you out of them,” Micky said jovially.
Mike almost groaned out loud. Not from desire this time, however, but from sheer disappointment. No...You can’t be here now. This was supposed to be our time. Our turning point. This can’t be happening...
But it was, and even though for those brief moments his arousal plunged down to his shoes, he knew it wouldn’t stay there long. Because no sooner had Micky released him from his pants than Peter was kneeling in front of him and taking Mike’s erection into his mouth.
Mike uttered a sound somewhere between a purr and a sigh, tipping his head back as Micky made short work of unbuttoning Mike’s shirt from behind and helping him out of that as well. Then Micky watched over Mike’s shoulder as Peter skillfully worked Mike over; licking the shaft, tonguing the head, and then swallowing him whole.
“Shit, Peter...Oh my god, that is incredible,” Mike murmured, biting his full lower lip in pleasurable agony. He reached down to bury his hands in that soft golden hair, combing his fingers through it restlessly, feeling the tension in his loins building and building.
As always, the end came much too soon, and Mike was shortly pouring his essence down Peter’s eagerly working throat, dimly hoping that his loud moans of completion wouldn’t wake up Davy.
As Peter rose to his feet, smiling, Micky moved around Mike and looped an arm around each man’s neck.
“Well, gentlemen. I think that now that Mike has been properly greeted back to the Pad, that it is time for us to retire to bed. After all, it’s been a long day and...” He paused, kissing the side of Peter’s neck as he said quietly, “I think I’d like what Mike just got...but in a more horizontal setting.” He lifted his eyebrows expectantly, which garnered a grin from Peter.
Then Micky turned back to Mike and leaned in to press a quick kiss to the Texan’s mouth. “Goodnight, Mike. Glad you’re back, man.”
“Same here,” Peter said, his eyes shining softly as he too kissed Mike once more, briefly. “Goodnight.”
Feeling dull with disappointment again now that the sexual festivities were completed...for him at least...Mike could only reply quietly, “Thanks guys. ‘Night.”
He watched as Peter gathered up his discarded shorts and the towel from his shower, and then trailed Micky toward their bedroom. Mike didn’t seem to want to move until both of them had entered the room and shut the door behind them.
Mike sighed and stooped down to pick up his own clothing. Disappointment was now giving way to those same feelings of resentment and bitterness that he was becoming so accustomed to lately. The rug had been pulled out from under his feet once again, it seemed. Once more Peter had brought him to dizzying heights of bliss and desire, but once Peter's needs had been sated, he left Mike in the dust and went straight back to Micky’s arms.
What really bothered Mike to his very core was that he was now fairly positive that Peter knew how Mike truly felt about him. Yet it seemed he was deliberately playing with those emotions to suit his own purposes, and had been doing so all along.
Well, no more, Mike decided. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. He did not intend to put himself in a position to be fooled again. To be used again.
As Mike climbed the tornado staircase toward his room, he swiped angrily at his face with the back of his hand, brushing away the tears that had spilled down his cheeks.