The day after they confessed their love on the beach Micky was lying in his bed listening to the guys practice.
He couldn't help but think again about how good they were sounding.
Davy had filled his role nicely. He was even able to sing his numbers behind the drum set, which, Micky knew was not an easy feat since it was nearly impossible to hear the melody over the drums

Just as Micky was thinking this, they began Daydream Believer.
It started out well enough but once the drums came in, Davy's vocals went to hell.

They started again.
This time he missed the roll.

They started again.
Once more he missed the roll but they continued anyway. When they got to the roll again he hit it but then his timing and vocals were off.

Micky cringed. Come on Davy, this is an easy one. What are you doing?

As if Mike had heard his thoughts he called time and said. "Davy, what's up man? This is an easy one."

"I don't know man. I'm just not feelin' it or somethin'"

"Well, try feeling it, okay?"

They started again.
But it was no use and before Mike could call time again, Davy stopped. "Man I don't know what my deal is!" He sounded frustrated. "Why the fuck can't I get this?"

Peter said something but Micky couldn't make out what it was."

"I don't know. I'm just not cut out for the drums." Davy said. "When we get back from the road we're gonna have to find a drummer."

There was some quiet conversation between Mike and Peter.

Then Mike said. "Let just try it again."

Micky held his breath and listened.

Davy missed the roll again.

Micky had heard enough. He got up, pulled on some pants and went into the living room.
He walked right up to the riser, ignoring the stares from Peter and Mike.
Davy was too busy focusing to notice him. Micky walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.
Davy jumped.

Micky held out his hands indicating that Davy should hand him the sticks.

It took Davy a moment to recognize the gesture but when he did, he smiled.
He smiled big and slapped the sticks into Micky's hand.

Peter and Mike had stopped playing.
They watched the exchange as their own smiles spread across their faces.

Micky didn't notice.
He was too busy noticing how good, how right, it felt to be sitting back on his drum stool with his very own drums, his musical tools, his livelihood, spread out before him.

Finally he looked up.
Davy had picked up his tambourine and had taken his usual position at the mic beside Peter.
Without any words Micky raised his sticks and clapped them together, counting off.

They played.
And it was awesome.

After that things got back to normal… at least for Mike and Davy.
They seemed to forget about the small stretch of time where the future of the band was uncertain.

For Peter and Micky, though, it was different. It would be different from now on.

After that day on the beach, it started to become clear just how much had changed between them. They had to re-evaluate their relationship. Re-evaluate their friendship.

Being in love changed things. It changed the course of their everyday lives.
They saw each other differently.
They noticed things that they'd never noticed before….

The mole above Peter's lip.
How muscular his legs were.
The calluses on his fingers from picking the bass.
How he would get a faraway look when he was listening to a song for the first time.

Peter noticed the patch of hair below Micky's collar bone.
How his laugh lines spread across his face every time he smiled.
Or how his eyes would light up every time he wanted something.
Every time he wanted Peter.
Almost predatory.

But that's how it was for both of them.
Part predator. Part prey.

.

Despite the fact that they had taken some major steps in the physical direction, sex was still out of the question… for Micky anyways.
The night after the beach, Micky had been lying in bed. "Pete?" He'd said sounding a little hesitant. "You know I didn't really mean it when I said I wanted you to fuck me, don't you?"

Peter had sat up. "Yeah, Micky. I didn't think you did."

Micky had smiled and breathed out in relief. "Good."

But Peter had seen something in Micky's eyes that said he knew that it was only be a matter of time before they went there.

Peter knew it too.
They could make all the 'no fucking' rules that they wanted, but they were just words.
They'd proven that when they honored their agreement to take things slow by coming dangerously close to screwing under the deck.
Just words.
Peter could say that he never intended to breathe again. He could swear it. But it would just be words. Words that never were true. Because, obviously, the progression of life demanded breath.
And so the progression of their relationship would obviously and eventually demand that kind of physical intimacy.

Peter only hoped that when the time came, Micky wouldn't regret it.

.

And so they went about their days, as normally as possible.
Band practice, beach time, going out at night…
They fell right back into their normal routine. The routine they'd had for years.
….with a few exceptions.
Peter didn't see Ty.
Micky didn't see Lin.
They weren't sinking their dicks into a pussy on a semi-nightly basis.

And even though they caught each other eyeing some particularly hot chick every once in a while at Van Go-Go's or Pandora, it was a far cry from ogling every woman that walked by… the way they used to do.
Instead they found themselves ogling each other…
At the clubs
During practice
During dinner
While one of them was brushing their teeth…

The tension between them was constantly about to snap.
And it did snap… many times.

Surprisingly, for all his prior trepidation, Micky was the aggressor.
It seemed that once the flood gate had opened on his feelings and desires he couldn't contain them.
He would corner Peter somewhere and say in a breathless voice "I need you."
And then he'd pounce.

He'd work them both into a frenzy and leave it to Peter to cool them down.
Cooling them down usually involved Peter jerking Micky off and then going to the bathroom to take care of himself since Micky wasn't inclined to return the favor.

After almost a week and well over a dozen of these encounters, Peter began to wonder why it was so one sided.
But he wasn't going to complain. He was happy. He was in love and he felt a sense of pride at snagging such a catch. And yeah, he knew it was strange to think of Micky as a catch.
After all the years he'd known him, 'catch' was hardly the word he would have used to describe his best bud.
Nevertheless, 'catch' was the right word.
Hook, line and sinker… He was into Micky and Micky was into him.
So who cared if Micky wasn't ready to reciprocate the pleasure that Peter was giving him at least once or twice a day.
He would be eventually… hopefully.

It started the way it always did.
With the eye.

Practices had been getting much longer. They were hitting the road in three days and Mike was getting antsy. They'd been going at it since 9am. It was now 7:30. They'd already gone through their set list 6 times…breaking only for lunch.

They were good to go.

They were ready.

Yet, every time they finished For Pete's Sake, which was going to be the last song in their set, Mike would say. "That was pretty good. Let's try it again."

After the 3rd run through they started to get a little impatient.
After the 4th, they got irritable.
After the 5th, they were barely on speaking terms.
But after the 6th, the negativity was replaced by exhaustion and they started to get loopy.

They started making mistakes. Nobody was in sync, Davy was out of tune. Even Mike kept missing his intros.

They were trying to get through You Told Me. It wasn't happening.
The timing was way off.
Peter turned around to face Micky.

It was clear that he knew he was screwing up. He looked frazzled.
When he saw Peter watching him, he began laughing.
The timing went even more to hell.

Peter laughed too.
So did Davy…and Mike.

It was pointless to keep playing. They stopped the song.

"Alright guys," Mike sounded exasperated. "That was terrible."

"Mike, can we please be done? Please?" Davy whined.

"Well….. no. No, we can't end like that. Let's just try to finish the set."

"Yeah, but we sound like shit."

"Well, let's just try anyway. There are only two more songs left."

"Then we're done?"

"Yeah."

"Fine." Davy huffed.

They began again.

This time Peter stayed facing Micky so that he could help him with the time.
It seemed to work. Micky seemed to focus…at first.

But then Peter caught Micky looking at him instead of the bass.
Giving him the eye.

Peter tried to ignore him so that he could attempt to stay focused. Attempt to keep Micky focused.
But it was like trying to ignore the elephant in the room, only this time the elephant was wearing a red tutu, red leotard and red ballet shoes, and yelling "Look at me, look at me." into a bullhorn.

Well ….maybe it wasn't quite like that.
But Peter was having a hell of a time keeping his head in the game.

Micky noticed. He gave Peter his devious little half smile. The one he now knew hung Peter up.

And suddenly Peter was the one whose timing was off.
Micky on the other hand was playing perfectly.
That little bitch.

Peter struggled to get it together but before he could, Mike stopped the song.

"Alright, Peter, come on man. I thought you of all people had this shit." Mike said.

Peter gave Micky a teasing glare.

Micky played innocent but Peter saw the trace of a smirk cross his face.

"Alright, fuck this song. Let's just play Pete's Sake and call it quits." Mike said. "We'll work on the rest again tomorrow."

.

And so they played For Pete's Sake for the seventh time that day.
They made it all the way through with minimal fuckups.
Micky had still given Peter the eye but this was Peter's song. He could play this in his sleep.

.

Afterwards, Davy all but threw his tambourine down and collapsed on the couch. "I'm beat. Man, I don't think I could move even if the pad caught on fire."

Mike was winding up the cable and putting his guitar away. "So, I guess you don't want to go to The Whisky then?"

"What? -Yeah I wanna go."

"Well, Chip is going to be here in half an hour. Will you be able to move by then?"

Davy jumped up. "Half an hour? Shit!" He said as he ran up to the bedroom to change.

Mike laughed. "How about you guys?" He asked looking at Micky and Peter.

"Oh….uh." Peter glanced at Micky.

"We're tired." Micky blurted out. He grimaced. "I mean, I'm tired…yeah you know, it's been a long day. I think I'm just going to hit the hay something."

"Ok…" Mike looked skeptical. "How about you, Peter?"

"Yeah, I think I'll just hang out here too. I'm pretty tired myself." He looked at Micky who was covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh.

"Ok, have it your way."

Micky gave Peter the eye one more time before heading to the bedroom to 'hit the hay.'

Peter sat down on the couch. "So" he said. "Chip's cool?"

"Oh." Mike put on his jacket and fidgeted with the zipper. "You were right." He looked up. "Chip doesn't remember the bit with me and Gina."

"Does Gina remember?" Peter asked.

"I don't know. I hope not. Cindy's going to be there too."

Peter was about to comment when Davy hollered down.

"Hey Mike… Have you seen my yellow suede bell bottoms?"

"No." Mike hollered up.

"I can't find them. You sure you haven't seen them? You haven't, like, borrowed them or anything?"

"Borr…borrowed them?! Are you kidding me Davy? Those things would barely reach my knees."

"Well, shit." Davy said. "I don't know what to wear."

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters."

"Why?"

"Cause Rachel might be there. I wanna make an impression."

"What kind of impression can you make with yellow suede bell bottoms?"

"You'd be surprised Mike."

Mike glanced at Peter. "You ever get lucky in suede?"

Peter laughed.

"Well," Davy called down again. "Can I borrow your red ones then?"

Mike and Peter shared an amused look before Mike headed up the stairs. "Seriously Davy?"

.

Peter remained on the couch and flipped on the TV.
He pretended to watch Get Smart as he listened to the banter from the upstairs bedroom.

Finally, there was a horn honking outside, indicating that Chip was there to pick them up.

Mike and Davy slowly came down the stairs.

Mike was laughing and Davy looked miserable.
He was indeed wearing Mike's red suede bell bottoms.

Peter laughed too when he got the full view.

Davy had a belt cinched around his waist to hold them up and was wearing his 3 inch platforms in attempt to make up for the height difference.
It did no good and he had them rolled up at the bottom.

"Apparently, Rachel is in to suede" Mike said as he walked past Peter.

Davy just rolled his eyes in frustration.

And then they left.

.

Suddenly Peter's heart began to pound as he remembered that Micky was waiting for him in the bedroom.
He got up and walked to the front door. He opened the peephole and looked out to make sure Mike and Davy were really gone.
Then he headed for the bedroom.

Micky was stretched out on his bed. He sat up as Peter opened the door.

Peter grinned as he thought about Micky's misbehavior during practice.
"Micky…Micky." He tsked. "You were very bad."

Micky grinned back. "What do you mean?"

Peter closed the door. "What do I mean? What was that shit during practice?"

Micky played innocent. "I don't know. I don't know what you're talking about."

Peter walked over and sat on the bed. "So you're acting coy, then. Is that it?"

"Maybe." Micky put on his coy persona. "Maybe not." He batted his eyes.

Peter smirked. "Sweetheart, it's me. There's no need to be shy."

Micky batted his eyes again. Then he broke character. "Fuck, Pete, why am I always the chick?"

"Because, you're just so damn beautiful." Peter teased.

Micky blushed. "I'm serious though."

"So am I…sort of." Peter said as he crawled between Micky's legs.

Micky got back into character. "Look at you on your knees like that. You want something… but Pete, you know, I'm just not that kind of girl."

Peter's began laughing. "Fuck Micky." He laughed some more.
Then he got into character himself. "Darlin' but that's why I love you." He said as he pushed Micky on his back. "You're not a tramp." He kissed him. "Not like those other girls." He ran his lips over Micky's neck and down to his collar bone. He pulled the neck of Micky's shirt down until it almost ripped and licked a line up his chest. He looked up. "You're respectable." He said as he pulled Micky's shirt up from the bottom exposing his stomach. He ran his lips down until he was just above the belt. "Such a respectable young lady."

Micky laughed through a moan.

Peter moved up, pulling Micky's shirt with him. He pulled it partially over his head but stopped before the neck of the shirt reached his eyes, leaving Micky blindfolded. Only the tip of his nose and his lips were visible. Peter kissed those lips gently.

Micky tried to wrap his arms around him but they were caught in the arms of his sleeves above his head. Peter held them in place.

Pinned again.

Peter smiled at his handy work.
It was so easy.
So easy to get Micky right where he wanted him.

He dropped his head and touched his lips ever so slightly to Micky's throat. Then he bit.

Micky shuddered.

Peter bit harder.

Micky struggled against his shirt.

Peter released him and kissed the place he had bitten.

"Jesus Pete, what are you doing?" Micky breathed.

Peter lowered his weight on top of Micky and kissed him hard.

Things quickly heated.

.

Micky eventually struggled out of his shirt, despite Peter's attempts to keep him bound.
It wasn't because Micky didn't like being bound… he did.
But he needed his hands.
He needed them so that he could run them over Peter's muscular back, down to his hips .across his tail bone.
He needed to slide his fingers under the fabric of Peter's jeans until he could feel the swell of his backside.
Then he brought his hands back out and stroked upward along Peter's spine until he reached the nape of his neck and tangled them in Peter's hair.

Peter was at his throat again.
The throat had become a staple during their little make-out sessions.
Ah... the throat. Micky loved it.
He loved licking and biting and sucking it, and he loved his being licked and bitten and sucked on.
Across the flesh, across the collar bone, up under the jaw, behind the ear. It didn't matter.
The throat turned him on.
He tangled his fingers further into Peter's hair as Peter kissed and sucked at his adam's apple.

Peter's hand moved down to Micky's hip and he began moving his hardness against him.
Micky arched up into it. He liked the way it felt. He liked how it was just there. So easy to access. So ready to be touched. Ready to be pressed against.

It had been a long time since he had dry humped a girl… maybe 7 or 8 years? When he was just a junior. But it had been different then. He'd had to work for it. Work for the friction. The friction that was tucked away inside their little skirts.
But this was so much easier.
And there was something about the way that it felt. It's weight against his. Peter's weight on top of him. Big and demanding.
The pressure.
It felt good.

Well it was getting close to that time. Micky could tell. He could tell Peter was very worked up and of course he certainly was too.
It was about time for Peter's hand to slowly make its way towards Micky's zipper where he'd pull it down timidly…Oh so timidly-even though they had done this over a dozen times now.
Micky smiled to himself in anticipation.

But Peter's hand wasn't moving. Neither of his hands were.
His right hand was curled in Micky's hair behind his ear and his left was tucked between Micky's upper ribs and the mattress.
Only his lips and hips seemed mobile.
But, boy, were they mobile.

So what the fuck?
I guess you're going to have to take things into your own hands aren't you Micky?
Micky breathed out a long sigh, partially from the stimulation and partially from the idea of finally touching Peter's cock.
He knew it was overdue.
He knew Peter wanted it.
That he needed it.
But something had been stopping Micky.
Something…
And he knew exactly what that something was.
Ever since he'd felt Peter's cock when they had made out the first time on the floor, he'd been afraid of it...
He loved it. He loved the way it felt. He loved the way it made him feel.
But he was still afraid of it…
He was afraid because he knew it would end up inside of him.
That big fucking monster of a cock.
After all, he was the chick in the relationship, wasn't he?
And chicks were the ones that got fucked.
They were the ones that took a cock.
So why would he want to touch it?
Why would he want to hurry towards the inevitable?
Then again… if it was going to happen anyway, he should probably get familiar with it…right?

.

Peter knew he'd let things go a little longer than usual. But he was having a hell of a time pulling away. He needed the friction
His own hand just wasn't cutting anymore.
…but fuck. This wasn't really cutting it either.
He needed to be touched.

He groaned in frustration and started to pull away.
But then Micky's hand tightened in his hair and pulled him back down as his other hand began trailing down between their bodies.
It slid easily into the front of Peter's pants.
Peter let out a groan in Micky's mouth as he felt long fingers wrap around him.
God… yes, this was what he needed.

Peter dropped his head into the crook of Micky's neck and breathed against it.
Micky pumped a couple times.
Then he released and before Peter even knew what was happening, Micky rolled them both over so that he was on top.

Peter look up into Micky's eyes.
There was a fire behind them.
A fire that Peter could actually feel burning into him.

Micky repositioned himself so that he was straddling Peter.
His hand went back to Peter's zipper and he wasted no time pulling him out.

Peter watched Micky bite his lip in determination
Then Micky gripped him again with authority. With fervency.
And stroked him. Hard. Fast.

"Ohhhfuck…" Peter involuntarily cried out..
He closed his eyes only to see that the fire he was feeling was now visible on the inside of his eyelids.

And then he lost himself.
He let the pressure of Micky's strokes monopolize his brain.

The buildup was quickly coming to a head.

Then Micky slowed.
Peter forced his eyes opened and looked up. He saw a look in Micky's eye that he'd never been on the receiving end of.

In fact he doubted that many had been on the receiving end of it.

It was dominance. Sexual dominance.
Micky was toying with him.

Peter watched frozen as Micky lazily stroked up and then back down, all the while never dropping his gaze from Peter.
"Maybe I'm that kind of girl after all, Pete." Micky said in an almost icy tone.

Peter couldn't respond.

Then Micky stopped all together and looked down at the cock in his hand.

Peter held his breath.
He watched as Micky seemed to be working something out in his head.

After a few moments, Micky slowly looked back up.
He looked possessed.

He inched toward the foot of the bed, never taking his eyes off Peter.
He stopped when he reached Peter's calves.

He leaned forward and took Peter in his hand again. His possessed look flickered with uncertainty. He glanced back at Peter's cock.

Peter saw him wet his lips. Peter went numb.
Surely not. Surly he wasn't going to….

But then Micky gave him one last quick look up before taking him in his mouth and swallowing him whole.

.

Peter cried out initially in shock but then as the scene before him burned into his mind, he melted into mindless world of pleasure and let forth moans and cries he had no power over.

And it wasn't because it was the best blow job he'd ever gotten, although it certainly wasn't the worst. And while maybe Micky's technique was a little sloppy and maybe Peter felt a tooth here and there, he also felt a tongue licking and flicking all the places that made his mind go blank.

And even though he heard the unattractive gagging sounds when Micky went too deep, to Peter, it didn't matter.
Because it was Micky.

And that was what had him spun and trembling.
It was Micky.

It was the simple fact that Micky… a flushed, half naked Micky, who was now jerking himself off, was knelt over him with his lips wrapped around him, moving up and down his length.

It was the simple fact that Peter could feel the warmth of Micky's mouth. The wetness. The constrictions of his throat.

The simple fact that he could see the hollows of his cheeks and the flush of his face. He could see his eyes water every time he went down.

That was what got to Peter.
The fact that it was Micky who was sucking his cock.
It was as simple as that.

It was what made Peter reach volumes he rarely reached.
It was what made every sensation multiply.
It was what caused a chain reaction in the nerves throughout Peter's body.

It was so twisted.
It was so fucked up.
It was so gay!
But it was also so hot!

As the pressure continued to build, Peter's hand crept down and buried itself in Micky's hair. It seemed to egg Micky on. He began to go faster. He began to lick and flick harder, driving Peter to the point of insanity.

Then the pace started to become erratic and Micky began making muffled moans.

Peter looked down.

Micky seemed to be fighting to keep it together, to keep his rhythm going.

But then Peter saw the corners of his mouth tighten and his eyes squeeze shut as he cried out around Peter's cock.

Seconds later Micky's hand emerge covered in semen.
Micky's semen.

The sight of it made Peter's heart race faster and then with just one slight, unintentional lick of Micky's tongue, Peter realized he was coming as well.

He had less than a second to warn Micky.
He still tried. Speech was beyond him but he pushed his hand against Micky's head as his fluids erupted.

Micky eyed widened and Peter briefly caught the stunned look on his face before he closed his eyes and let the wave wash over him.

He got lost again in the feeling.

But somewhere in the distance he heard Micky coughing and choking.

Slowly he regained his mental state.
He opened his eyes.

Micky was still knelt between his legs. He looked weary. He had a few drops of Peter on his lip and chin. His eyes were watering again.
He coughed.

Peter sat up.

Micky looked dazed.

Peter reached out and wiped the wetness from his lips.
He rubbed it on the sheets.

Micky licked his lips and slowly focused his eyes.

Peter stared at him, not sure what to say.
Not sure how to convey his gratitude. Not sure how to convey his shock.
Not sure how to handle the awkwardness he was sure they were both feeling now.

Finally Micky spoke instead. "I think I'm tired, man." He said in monotone. "I'm going to get around for bed."

Peter just nodded.

Micky inched off the bed. He zipped himself up and grabbed a clean pair of boxers before leaving.

Peter stared at the door Micky had left through.
A slow smile spread across his face.

Had that just happened? He'd been wanting some contact but he hadn't expected that.

Peter glanced down at the sheets. There was a small pool there.
It was from Micky.
He touched his finger in it.

Micky had just sucked his cock.
What was it like to suck a cock?

He looked at the sperm on his finger.
He realized he was probably going to find out pretty soon.

Before he could stop himself, Peter closed his eyes and stuck his fingers in his mouth.
He sucked the liquid off as he withdrew his hand.
He swallowed and sighed.
Not as bad as he thought.

He laid back.
He thought about tomorrow. He thought about the future. He wondered how tonight had changed things.
He hoped it was for the better.

Eventually he drifted off to his thoughts and the sound of Micky in the shower down the hall.