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"Saved by the Bell - Part 5"
Title: Saved by the Bell P5
Author: Woolhat's Traveling Mood
Micky dried his hair avidly, continually checking the time. He couldn't be late, and he had to look just right. He'd already told Davy that his mother believed that he was sleeping at the Englishman's house. Davy quickly swallowed the story that Micky had at last found a girl and needed some welcome privacy with her and agreed to back up his lies. Micky continued drying his hair with a smile plastered across his face, excitement bubbling at the surface. He had butterflies too, but he tried to ignore them. He was nervous of making a mess of things, but he kept telling himself that everything would be fine. Of course it would, Mike would be there.
Micky knocked softly at the old wooden door, his heart pounding in his ears. At first there was no sound and Micky's excitement sank to his shoes, fear of rejection rising, but that changed when the door finally opened and Mike gave him a warm smile.
"You made it in one piece then?” He murmured, ushering Micky inside.
Micky felt Christ's eyes on him again and quickly followed Mike into the kitchen. There was a strong aroma, and the young man breathed deep, trying to work out what it was.
"I thought you wouldn't have eaten.” Mike spoke softly, turning to the small oven in the corner.
"I haven't.” Micky admitted; he had been too edgy and excited to eat anything.
"Good.” Mike turned back to him giving a long gaze. Slowly he opened the oven door and brought out a little dish with a small, round pie on it. "Meat pie.” He beamed, proud of his small achievement at heating a pre-cooked meal.
"What kind of meat?” Micky asked quietly, sitting nervously at the table, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
"Don't know, the packet just says 'meat pie'.” And with that Mike gave a little laugh as he cut the pie in half and slipped the segments onto two separate plates.
Conversation over dinner was slow, both of them nervous and slightly bewildered. Mike washed up and then turned slowly, leaning the small of his back against the kitchen sink and crossing his long legs. "Wanna watch some TV?” He asked.
Micky thought for a second. He knew what Mike was up to. He was taking it slow, real slow, as not to seem too forward and intimidating and why not? They had all night.Micky gave a little nod and watched a smile crack across Mike's face. The Texan moved over and took Micky's hand, unashamed, leading him to the small couch in the center of the living room.
The couch was worn and when Micky sat in it he felt like he was practically sitting on the floor. Immediately he felt an arm around his shoulder and they settled to watch the Friday night movie. It was strange, Micky felt as if he had just fallen into a girl's body, but that didn't mean the feelings were bad. He liked feeling Mike so close, protective arms surrounding him, and he snuggled against Mike's chest. It must have been about ten minutes when the arm around the shoulder changed into a caressing hand on Micky's upper arm, then warm breaths danced against his hair and gradually, when Micky raised his head slightly, little nips began to walk up his throat, followed by sweet tiny kisses. Micky shifted position more onto his side to accept the kisses on his lips. Mike willingly accepted, tracing his tongue along Micky's lips before seeking entrance. Mike's hand still caressed Micky's upper arm, but the curly young man wanted more. Slowly he placed his hand on Mike's thigh, stroking it softly, before slowly moving upwards to its goal. The two were still engrossed in their kissing when Micky began to stroke Mike through his pants. He felt the Texan grow hard beneath his hand and couldn't believe he had actually had that inside him. Good memories.
Slowly the kissing stopped and Mike stared right into the depths of Micky's heart. "You're a dark horse.” He purred with a sly smile and took Micky's hand, helping him up and leading him to a room just off of the living room. "I don't want an audience," Mike explained his actions, looking back at the portrait of Jesus.
Micky followed willingly and wandered into what he assumed to be Mike's room. The first thing that struck Micky was that there wasn't a bed. There was a mattress on the floor and Micky guessed that that was Mike's substitute.
"Please excuse my poverty," Mike murmured, glaring down at the mattress as if it was the first time he had seen it, "We couldn't bring much in the car from Texas." He looked back at Micky and saw a large smile cross his lover's face.
"At least it will make less noise!” Micky beamed and leant forward to kiss Mike's luscious lips. When they parted, Mike gave a satisfied sigh.
"You're something else!” He stroked Micky's ear with his lips as he spoke.
As Mike continued kissing Micky's ears and neck, Micky began unbuttoning Mike's shirt, slowly working the garment off to reveal lily skin. It slid graciously off Mike's shoulders and fluttered to the floor. Micky's almond eyes followed it, feeling the slow motion atmosphere, breathing deep the emotions that were electric at that moment. By the time his brain clicked back into reality, Mike had removed Micky's shirt and was working on his pants. In one fluid motion, Micky was naked and the curly youth was impressed at Mike's eagerness. He helped Mike out of the remainder of his clothes and for a moment they just held each other in the center of the room, feeling the sensations of being skin to skin.
Micky settled himself on the mattress and Mike lay down beside him, pulling an old woolly blanket up over their shoulders. He ran his long fingers over the gentle contours of Micky's face, brushing the occasional curl out of the way so he could examine more closely this masterpiece of nature. "You're beautiful.” He murmured, rolling his tongue over the words as if he was disclosing the meaning of life itself.
Micky glowed a peachy, bashful color and gave a small smile. In gratitude for the compliment, he edged forward slightly and kissed Mike's nose gently, while gradually trailing his hand up Mike's side, making his companion tremble.
Mike captured Micky's mouth in a deep, passionate kiss as he slowly moved to lie on top of Micky's welcoming body. Micky felt a hardness digging in his thigh and he wrapped his arms around Mike's shoulders, pulling him down and eliminating any space between them. This is what he had been waiting for.
Mike's hair brushed against his skin, soft as swan feathers, and his warm breath made the little hairs on Micky's neck stand on end. Mike rubbed their hardness together for a few moments, extracting a throaty moan from his lover before entering Micky slowly and gently.
Micky's grip tightened and at first he clung to Mike's shoulders, preventing movement until he adjusted to the sensation once again. Slowly, his grip loosened and Mike began a rhythm. Soon Micky could feel a ball of nerves within him seemed to erupt again and again in little explosions until the sensations began to gradually build up into something a lot bigger. Micky raised his hips and his head rolled back as a shattering moan escaped his throat. The climax was coming and he couldn't hold on much longer. He held his breath and came.
It took Micky a few moments to have the energy to even open his eyes and he heard heavy breaths in his ear. The breaths slowed gradually and Mike raised his head gently, a couple of strands of raven hair clinging to his forehead. A smile slowly crossed his face and he kissed Micky's lips, softness on softness. Reaching back, the Texan found the blanket that had slipped further down the homemade bed and brought it back up. He moved to lie beside Micky again and wrapped the blanket until it encircled an already existing lover's embrace.
Micky buried his face in the curve of Mike's neck and his eyes closed. Soon he was lost to the world in dreams that couldn't compare to the happiness of reality.
Micky woke to find his head resting on Mike's chest, whose slow breathing made a relaxing, peaceful rhythm. Micky looked up and found Mike gazing wistfully at him, his eyes sparkling.
"Good sleep?” He smiled, cocking his head slightly.
"Beautiful," Micky gave a little grin as he remembered the previous night and the thing they said as well as the things they did.
Mike's fingers were mindlessly playing with some of Micky curls as he gave a contented sigh. "Tell me about yourself Mick," He whispered, "I wanna know how God lost one of his angels."
Micky gave a devilish grin; he was getting used to this flattery and scooted up so that his head could rest on Mike's shoulder. "There isn't much to tell," He wrinkled his nose slightly, "I was born and bred in L.A., I have three sisters, My dad's an actor...not famous though."
He looked to Mike for approval so far and found ebony eyes turned thoughtfully to the window, deep, thinking.
"How did you get the Dolenz? Unusual.” Mike spoke quietly.
"I'm not sure, I know I'm descended from the Red Indians though.” Micky was proud of that for some reason he still hadn't fathomed out.
"I'm descended from a long line of bastards," Mike turned to look at him and Micky saw the pain in those eyes again.
"You're not one though.” Micky told him truthfully.
"Give me time." Mike sighed; resigning to what he assumed was his fate.
There was a silence for a moment and then the Texan took a deep breath. "I suppose you should know the truth, if that's what you want?"
"Yeah, you can trust me."
"We left Houston coz my dad came back from where he was stationed with the army and the first thing he did was drink himself stupid and beat Ma. He did that a couple of times before he began hitting me. One day, while he was out, me and Ma left and went to live with my grandmother in Dallas. We stayed there for ten years."
Mike looked to Micky and received a nod to continue. Micky's head was already reeling. Mike seemed to retell everything as if it didn't matter, as if he was just reading out a grocery list, but Micky could see the pain rising.
Mike sighed, "I remember it was a week before my fifteenth birthday, and Ma asked me what I wanted, I was allowed to have it a week early. I showed her a guitar I had seen, a beautiful acoustic it was, just beautiful. Ma spent most of her money on it, just for me. I played it all the time, constantly, until my fingers bled. Then, two days after my birthday, the bastard arrives at the doorstep, swearing that she was a 'stupid bitch' and that she was his wife and that she had 'stole' his son."
Mike swallowed hard and Micky could see that that his lover's eyes were slowly welling up with emotion that had been locked away for so long. "Anyway, he hit her, hard. I remember she fell and he made her stand, just so he could hit her to the floor again. I went to her and that's when he turned on me. He took me by the throat and shook me. I called him a son of a bitch and he hit me on the jaw, hard. Then he found my guitar, my baby that was propped up in the corner. He took her by her neck and smashed her against the floor, then smashed her against furniture until the only bit left was the fret-board. He hit me with it, cut me. He said I was a loser, that I shouldn't have fought against him coz I'd always lose."
A tear overflowed from Mike's right eye and he turned slightly in the hope that Micky wouldn't see it, but it was too obvious. Mike's matter-of-fact approach at telling the story had only made it seem more painful. It was a lot to retell, and it had plagued Mike for too long.
"I'm sorry." Micky nuzzled Mike's neck and that's when Mike turned to him and buried his face in Micky's curls. His tears soon ceased and he composed himself again, rebuilding the barriers to stop himself getting hurt again. Micky wrapped his arms around Mike's chest and squeezed. He would make it his duty to stay and support Mike, and he was glad that he was trusted with such information. Their eyes met and Mike leant forward and kissed Micky passionately, blending their souls and sharing their truths. No more looking for help and love, they had each other.
"Micky," Mike murmured, gaining a sincere gaze, "Micky, I think I love you."