Looking back, the next day was really the turning point in the relationship that developed between them. Although there were several turning points beforehand and several after, and although the events of that day were really not all that impressive in the scheme of things, in Peter and Micky's minds it was the beginning. The beginning of something much more then they'd planned. Much more than they expected. Something that would stick with them, haunt them almost, for the rest of their lives. For better or worse, looking back, that day would set them on a path that would change them forever.

It was Friday morning. Peter had gotten up early fully expecting Mike and Davy to be ready to start practice, but when he walked into the kitchen he only found Davy.

"So?" Davy said.

"So what?"

"So where the hell is Mike? I thought he wanted to start early again."

"He didn't come home?"

"I guess not. Where'd he go?"

"We went to Van Go-Go's last night. He left with Cindy."

"Are you kiddin' me?"

Peter laughed. "I guess things must have gone well."

"Yeah great. You know I came home early last night like he told me to."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, I didn't get laid."

"Cry me a river Davy. I didn't get laid either."

Davy glared at him for a second before saying "Well, fuck it. We're up. You wanna start?"

.

So they practiced for a few hours, paying close to attention to the songs with drum breakdowns. Going over them again and again until finally, around noon, Mike got home.
He was very happy and what could only be described as bouncy.

"Hiya kids!" Mike said jubilantly.

Davy's pissiness returned. "Good night apparently?"

"Very good night." Mike nodded.

"You know who didn't have a good night?" Davy said.

Mike looked at him with an amused expression.

"Me, that's who."

"Oh, yeah? That's a shame."

"Well, I coulda, you know, if I'd know practice was gonna be optional today."

"What are you talking about? Practice isn't optional."

"For you it seems to be."

"Yeah, but not for you."

Davy gave him a nasty stare.

"Whatever." Mike said. "I'm not sorry. Not sorry at all….So what'd I miss?"

"We've just been running through everything." Peter answered. "Davy's sounding a lot better."

"Ah, see there you go." Mike said looking at Davy. "That's why practice isn't optional for you. And look how it pays off. I'm so proud of you boys." He picked up his guitar.

.

They played for a couple more hours. They really got in the groove. They almost sounded as good as they did when Micky was playing with them. Almost.
Then after a botched try at Steppin Stone, Mike swung the guitar strap up over his neck and put his guitar on its stand. "Ok I think that's good for today."

"You do?" Peter asked.

"Sure, why not?"

"Well… uh, Davy still doesn't have the breakdown for Steppin' Stone."

"He'll get it" Mike said "You just have to have a little faith."

Peter furrowed his brows. Faith? Optimism? This was not like Mike.

"...but I mean if you guys want to keep going, be my guest." Mike added.

"What about you?"

"Oh me?" Mike pointed at himself. "I got plans."

"What plans?" Davy asked accusingly.

Mike grinned. "I got a date."

"With Cindy?" Peter asked.

Mike just grinned again.

"Man you know that it's not going to work out, don't you? I mean it never does."

"Yeah I know. It probably won't. Still fun though."

Micky had woken up around one. He had laid in bed listening to the music coming from the living room.

They were really coming together.
It kinda made him sad.
He wished he was out there with them.

So why aren't you?

I'm not really sure anymore.

Why don't you go out there then?

He'd pondered for a few moments.

No, I can't. I still don't really trust myself. And besides, Davy's put so much time and effort into this now, I'd be a real dick to tell him it was all for nothing.

He'd ignored the voice than told him that was a load of bull and instead he got up, smoked a bowl and pulled out the drawings of his dream.
After studying them for several seconds, he'd decided what they really needed was some color.
He'd grabbed his colored pencils and gotten to work.

And that's what he'd been doing for the last couple hours.

.

He was lost in concentration when there was a knock on the door. His head shot up. He realized he didn't hear music coming from the living room anymore.
He quickly stacked his drawings up and hid them in one of the drawers.

"Yeah?"

Mike came in. "So, you have fun last night?" He had a shit eating grin.

"Oh..yeah it was alright."

"Was she good?"

"Good?"

"Yeah, you know, good?"

"Oh...um I didn't sleep with her."

"You didn't?"

Micky shook his head.

"Why not? It looked like you guys were practically doing it on the dance floor."

Micky cheeks grew red. "Yeah...well...look Mike, it's like I told Davy, I'm not ready to date anyone."

"It wasn't a date. It was a fuck."

"Yeah I know but I just wasn't into it."

"Wow that's a first."

"What are you talking about? ...I'm not like a whore or something."

"Sure, ok."

"I'm not! I never fuck around."

"Well maybe that's because you haven't needed to for a while but I remember back in the day… when we used to share a room. You were bringing a new girl home every night... And now you're single again..."

"So?"

"So... "

"Ok then, why did I stop her right as she was about to go down on me?"

"You did? Wow man, you need help."

Micky laughed. "So how'd it go with Cindy?"

"Well, let's just say I didn't stop her from doing anything."

Micky laughed again.

"In fact," Mike continued. "I'm heading over to her place right now where I intend to not stop her again."

"Cool man, well have a blast while it lasts."

Mike nodded a knowing nod and left.

.

Micky pulled his drawings back out.
He laid them out on his desk and looked over them with satisfaction.
It was amazing what color did. They seemed so much more alive now.
He'd have to show them to Peter again.

Ahh…Pete Pete Pete.

He sighed.
He was just about done with this whole taking it slow shit.

Not that he didn't want to take it slow. That was the right thing to do.
...but his definition of slow was basically, not fucking.

…Well, actually that wasn't really true. His definition was the same as Peter's… moving at a snail's pace…
Or it used to be… but right now he wanted to take it slow by pulling Peter into some obscure cubby hole and having his way with him.
…above the belt of course, he added for good measure.

He sat back in his chair.
…So, Mike was leaving which meant they must be done practicing.
He started to feel giddy as he thought about which cubby hole to use.

But then he heard Peter's base start back up followed by Davy on the high hat.
Well shit.

Of course, he had brought this on himself by quitting the band.
They needed all the practice they could get.
Still, he felt impatient.

Well, so what if they were still practicing? It didn't mean he couldn't go mess with Peter a little bit.

Mess with? Was he talking about flirting?

Yep, he was going to go flirt with Pete.

Man, it was so wild. Just a week ago he couldn't stand the idea of Peter even being in the same room. And now he was going to go and flirt it up in an attempt to get Peter alone so they could make out?

Not that he was having second thoughts…no way.
He was enjoying himself.
He was enjoying this new freedom… allowing himself to think things… to feel things.
He was just surprised at how fast his feelings had changed.

Maybe it had to do with the extra semen in his balls.
Maybe that was where these sexual desires were coming from.

Well of course they were.
You didn't have sexual desires without a libido.
It was just funny that his libido had honed in on Peter.

But that was futile.
It wasn't like Peter was going to get him off.
And it wasn't like he was going to let him either
...despite some of the daydreams he was having.

So why get so worked up?
Why put himself through that? It was torture.
"Mmm torture." He licked his lips.

Torture? Jesus, Micky. Torture isn't sexy.
He laughed at himself.

...So flirting then?
How the hell did he go about flirting with a guy?
He opened the bedroom door and peeked behind the corner.
It couldn't be the same as flirting with a girl..could it?
Not that he had any good techniques.
Girls usually flirted with him, not the other way around.

Ok, so then what did those girls do to get his attention?
Well…it wasn't so much what they did that got his attention. It was usually their boobs.
Maybe he could stick out his chest and pretend he had a rack and parade around in front of Peter.
He started laughing. He'd be sure to get attention alright….

But really, other than physical appearance, what did a girl do to let him know she was into him?

Well, there was eyelash batting, and giggling…neither of which he cared much for.
There was hair twirling, which he actually thought, if done right, was kind of cute.
There was obvious stuff like when they ran their hands over his body…or their body.
Or whispering in his ear. Or talking in that deep, sexy, overly turned on voice.
But that was too bold.
He needed something subtle. Davy was out there too.

The Eye.

Of couse… the eye.
The Eye was perfect. It came natural to him.
Most of the time when he did it, he wasn't even aware…although Lin had brought it to his attention as a joke when she caught him giving the eye to the waitress at Jasmine's, or her coworker, Cassandra, or Millie's niece, Janelle, or the hot little Scottish girl that wanted them to play volley ball on the beach, or…
-well, actually the list went on.

The point was he had never had to try…so if he tried, Peter was bound to notice.

….Well of course Peter was going to notice. That was a given…
What Micky wanted to do was catch him off guard, make him sweat a little, make it hard for him to concentrate…so hopefully he could get a little attention.

Selfish, yes. They needed to practice..
But dammit. He needed things too.

Alright then. He let out a long breath and stepped out of the bedroom.
It's show time.

.

He walked out into the living room and into the kitchen, keeping an eye on Peter to see if he'd notice him.
He did.
Peter's eye followed him all the way the icebox.
Micky rummaged around for a long time purposely taking his time. Finally he grabbed a root beer that was right in front of him and turned back around.
Peter was still watching him.

Micky gave him his deviant little smile….although he didn't know that was what Peter called it, and popped the top off of his root beer.
He held Peter's gaze and took a drink. When he brought the bottle back down he licked his lips and smiled again.

His actions definitely seemed to be having the desired effect. Peter's expression had gone from mild interest to an intense stare.

Suddenly Davy stopped drumming. "What the fuck Peter? I actually had it that time."

Peter was shaken from his trance. "Fuck Davy…I'm sorry I just…." He glanced at Micky, shooting him a bewildered look. "Sorry, man I just got…distracted." He finished quietly.

"Whatever, I just want to get through these last two songs so we can be done and I can go back over to Olivia's and hopefully claim what should have been mine last night. So let's just hurry the fuck up."

"Yeah..of course." He glanced sideways at Micky again.

Davy counted off and they started again.

Micky walked out of the kitchen and leaned against the wall in front of Peter.
He looked at Davy for a second to see where his attentions were. He was completely focused on the drums.

Alright, time to lay it on thick. He grinned to himself.

Peter seemed to be making it a point not to look at him. But then he saw his eyes shift ever so slightly towards him.

Micky stretched out against the wall… now if only Peter would make eye contact again.
He did.

Micky gave him his best the eye that he could. A look that tried to convey everything.
He tried to break it down in his head to make sure that he was doing everything right.
It was an intense, soulful gaze, not a look but a gaze. His eyes needed to be a little droopy, a little sleepy but still focused.
As he was making the eye, he realized that it wasn't just about the eyes… there were other things involved…like the cock of his head, his stance, the body language.
Then there was also the way he set his mouth. It needed to hang open a bit... but not like a jaw drop or anything. His lips needed to part slightly…maybe just enough so that he could touch his upper lip with his tongue if he so desired.
Suddenly he so desired.
As he did he realized that the eye might not be as subtle as he thought. Not the way he was doing it anyway.

He watched as Peter stopped playing and dropped his arms to his sides.
He closed his eyes and grinned, suddenly embarrassed by his display.

As his eyes were closed, he heard Davy stop playing as well. "Goddammit Peter, what the fuck are you doin'?"

Micky opened his eyes.

Peter was still looking at him.

Micky sidestepped into the kitchen to, hopefully, divert Peter's attention before Davy found them out.

It seemed to work. Peter blinked and again came out of his trance. "Uh…look Davy, I can't do this right now…I think I'm tired or something…maybe I'm too stoned."

Davy shook his head in irritation.

"Look, can't we just be done for the day?"

"Uh, yeah, course we can."

Peter looked relieved.

"I don't get it though. We only have a little over a week and you and Mike both wanna bail? You guys are usually like the hounds of hell. Especially when you both know I still got a ways to go? It's pretty weird."

"Shit, Davy, I mean if you need to keep going…" Peter looked at Micky.

Micky was no longer attempting to distract him.

"Hell no, I wanna get outta here." Davy said. "I just think it's weird is all."

Peter nodded "Yeah..you're right. It is weird…Tomorrow though..tomorrow, we'll get this all worked out."

Davy shrugged and stepped off the riser.
He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the phone.
He looked at Micky and shook his head. "Man, I don't know how you dealt with this shit…no wonder you quit." Then he began dialing.

Micky walked back out into the living room. He looked briefly at Peter and went to the French doors that led out to the patio.
He stopped and turned around; making sure Peter saw where he was going.

He did.

Micky turned the knob and went out, leaving the door open.
He made his way down the stairs.

When he got under the porch he looked around.
As good a cubby hole as any.
He was hidden from any beach goers by the stairs and he was hidden from the neighbors by the long balcony…. and of course he was hidden from anyone on the porch above him…
A good cubby hole indeed. He stepped back against the wall and waited.

He blew out a breath and looked out at the ocean.
He watched the tide.
Funny…the tide here seemed so different than the one by the rock…the one from his dream.
It seemed so harmless. So unaware.
It was just doing it daily duty…. sending waves in and out like it was supposed to.
It wasn't ominous. It wasn't out to destroy him.
But really, it wasn't different at all. It was the same tide.
He was the one that was different. He was changing. Conquering his fears.
He still had a lot of hang ups, sure …but he wasn't too worried about them. He'd deal with them as needed.

In the meantime he was just happy that he was about to feel Peter's lips … and Peter's tongue… and his hands…and-
-and where the hell was Pete?
Hadn't he made it clear where he was going?
Hadn't he been forward enough?

Just as he was wondering this he heard the door close above him.
Then there were light footsteps. Footsteps that began to make their way down the stairs.
He saw Peter's moccasins come into view.
He began feeling embarrassed again. He backed further against the wall.

Finally Peter's face appeared and Micky saw him look around. Out towards the sea, under the deck
and then at him.

Peter stepped the rest of the way down the stairs and stood in front of him.

Micky froze. All this wanting was finally getting and now he was afraid.

Peter was frozen as well…for a second.
Then in two sudden steps Peter had his hands buried in Micky's hair and his tongue in Micky's mouth.

Micky shrunk against the wall and wrapped his arms around Peter neck.

"What are you trying to do to me?" Peter whispered in Micky's ear as he came up for a quick breath.

Micky didn't have time to answer as Peter's lips covered his again.
He gripped Peter's lower back and pulled him closer.

Peter's breath was hot on his. His tongue was dive bombing Micky's mouth.
Micky could actually feel the bombs go off in his brain.
He gripped Peter tighter.

Then Peter's mouth was on his throat.

Micky felt his already rising cock begin to throb.
He moved his hands up to Peter's face as Peter took his lips again.

Then his hands were pinned to the wall above his head…again,
and Peter was pressing that which made him man, against him.

"Oh fuck…" Micky panted as Peter's mouth released his lips for a moment.

They continued in that fashion for a few more minutes, although with the rising tension and desire it felt like much longer.

.

Then the door above them opened and they both froze.
Eyes wide, Lips interlocked…just like a few days ago.

Fuck these fucking interruptions!

As the steps made their way towards the stairs they pulled apart.

Peter quickly stooped and picked up a polo stick. "No Mick, I don't want to play polo." He said loudly as Davy made his way down the stairs.

When Davy got to the bottom, Micky's mind jumped into gear. "Oh, yeah… you know I don't want to play either, actually." He said as he sat down in the sand with his knees to his chin to hide the large bulge in his pants.

"Hey guys" Davy said completely unaware of what he had almost walked into.

"Oh hey Davy." Peter said a little too enthusiastically. He held the polo stick so that it was hiding his equally large bulge.

"So Olivia's car has a flat."

"Oh no!" Peter said -again with too much enthusiasm.

Davy looked at him strangely "Uh, yeah."

Peter paced away from Davy as if in despair.

"It's okay Peter." Davy said consolingly, but still giving him a strange look.

Peter sat down in the sand next to Micky. The polo stick still strategically placed.

"Anyway," Davy continued. "Mike has the car and the bus doesn't go out by her house."

"Okay?" Micky thought he knew where Davy was going with this.

"Micky, can I borrow your bike?"

Micky thought it over.
The thing was that everyone had ridden his motorcycle at one time or another…. and nothing bad had happened…yet.
But it was his baby. He didn't like loaning it out, but…..
He looked at Peter.
But if it meant that Davy would suddenly be gone and he and Peter would suddenly be alone….well, that was a little different.
"Um…" He still hesitated though. "She doesn't have a spare?"

"She does. She just doesn't know how to change it out."

Micky nodded. "Um…yeah, ok….Davy. Just, please be careful."

Davy nodded "Oh course…but where are your keys?"

"My keys?" Oh that was right. He hadn't been able to find his keys.

"They're in the top drawer in my dresser" Peter cut in." Then he looked at Micky apologetically. "I didn't want you driving before…you know, 'cause you were drinking and stuff."

Micky nodded slowly, catching the guilt in Peter's eyes.
He had half figured that Peter was the one who had them. It would have pissed the royal shit out of him a week ago to find out his suspicions were correct, but now, well… now he found it really sweet. It just went to show how much Peter cared about him.
He pursed his lips together and smiled.
"Go for it Davy. Have a wonderful evening."

Davy smiled big. "Thanks Mick! I will!"
He ran back up the stairs.

Peter turned to face Micky. "Mick, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken your keys like that but I was afraid you-"

Before he could finish Micky lunged at him and had him sprawled out on his back in the sand.
"You better not be sorry." He said as he crawled on top of him. "You better not be sorry for looking out for me."

"What? No, that's not what I meant. I meant that-"

But then Micky's lips covered his and he forgot what he was saying.

He wrapped his arms around Micky's back as Micky squirmed on top of him, digging his hands into Peter's shoulders.

"Pete…" Micky smiled wickedly as he ran his mouth down to Peter's neck. "You know Pete…" He whispered. "I like the way you taste."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky laugh that could have easily been mistaken for a moan..

"Do you like the hickey I gave you?" Micky asked as he ran his tongue over it.

"Uh huh" Peter breathed with eyes still closed

"I like it too."

And then he bit.

It hurt.
The skin there was still a little tender.

But it also felt good…
…the skin there was still a little tender.

A small gasp escaped Peter's lips and he ran his hands down to the small of Micky's back.

Micky bit harder.
Peter held him tighter.

Then Micky growled and jerked against him.
He sat up, paying no mind to the weight he was placing on Peter's hips and stomach.

Peter finally opened his eyes.

Micky was eyeing him. He had a feral look about him.

Peter pulse quickened.
What was he doing?

And then Micky was on top of him,
unleashing.
He was sucking and biting and groping at Peter's chest.
At his neck and arms.
Any piece of skin he could get his hands or mouth on.
His kisses were wet and frenzied.
They became aggressive to a point that Peter wondered if they would leave bruises.
His hands found their way inside Peter's shirt.
He began to roughly caress Peter's stomach and chest.
It seemed he couldn't touch him fast enough or get enough friction to satisfy.
Frustrated, he whined deep in his throat and began to grind against him.

Shocked by Micky's display, Peter could only lie there and take the abuse as the contact between their groins began to erode at his sense of duty not to let things go too far.
He dropped his head back into the sand and Micky immediately went to work on his throat.
He tried to steady his breathing as Micky's urgency started to become his own.

But it was hard.
It was hard when Micky's hand slid down to his hip and began clawing at the fabric there.
It was hard when Micky's mouth found his again and he began sucking on Peter's tongue.
It was hard when he only withdrew long enough to pull Peter's shirt up over his head.
And it was really hard when Peter realized just how badly Micky needed to be fucked.

Still, there was a small voice in the back of Peter's mind urging him to put stop to this.
But when Peter felt Micky's fingers slip into his waistband the voice abruptly grew silent.

His body froze up on him and his breathing stilled.
Micky pushed his hand inside and rubbed his palm roughly against Peter hip bone.
"I fucking want you Pete."

Peter's mind went black with desire.
He made a savage sound and firmly gripped Micky's thighs.
He pulled him down onto him and began thrusting against Micky's hardness.

Micky's hand pulled out of Peter's pants and he clutched at the flesh on Peter's side.

Peter thrust harder.

Micky ducked his head and closed his eyes tight, whimpering with every buck.

Peter reached up the back of Micky's shirt, letting his fingers dig into Micky's shoulder blades.

Micky's head fell forward on Peter's chest and he cried out against it.
"Oh fuck… Oh fuck, Pete…
…fuck me…"

Peter eyes snapped opened.
What? What did he say?

Peter craned his neck up to look into Micky's eyes.
They looked desperate.

No! The voice of reason was back. No, don't even think about it. You better stop this shit right now!

But...

No! No buts. If you fuck him now, you'll both regret it.

Peter shook his head, trying to reason with the logic he knew was true.

But then Micky choked out. "Please Pete, …I want you so bad…"

Peter thrust against him one more time and then roughly pushed Micky off of him.

Micky let out a startled yelp as he rolled onto his back.

Peter paid no attention. He reached into his pants and rubbed himself furiously until he came.
The release was just that... a release. It felt good the way an orgasm should but nothing more.
He lay there with his eyes closed, breathing hard.
After several moments he realized where he was and what had just happened.
He finally opened his eyes and looked at Micky.

Micky was sitting up. His eyes were fixated on the wet spot beside Peter's zipper.
When he realized Peter was looking at him, he swallowed.

Peter propped his elbows under him and looked at Micky.

Micky eyes were darting every which way. Finally they settled on Peter's.

"Jesus, Mick." Peter whispered.

Micky's eyes got wide and he collapsed onto his back, covering his eyes with the inside of his arm.

Peter watched as Micky's chest heaved up and down. "Mick?" Peter said softly.

"Yeah?" Micky sounded afraid.

"You okay?" Peter leaned towards him.

"I don't know." Micky said with his arm still covering his eyes.

Peter gently touched his chest.

Micky's arm flew to his side. "Please don't touch me right now!"

Peter jerked his hand back as if stung. "What?"

Micky sat up again, bringing his knees to his chest. "Just don't. Please. I can't…"

Peter looked up at him "What?" He asked again, confused.

"Look , I haven't been fucked in almost a month. Do you know what that just did to me?"
He dropped his head against his knees.

Peter continued looking up at Micky. "You need release man."

"No kidding" Micky said into his knees.

Peter sat up, uncertain of what he was about to do.
He grabbed the sides of Micky's head and drew his face up to him. He kissed him hard and quickly pushed him back down onto his back.

"No Pete..I'm serious." Micky squeaked. "I can't…." He trailed off.

Peter had touched his bulge and was caressing it though his pants.

"No….." Micky breathed. "You can't do that….."

Peter continued
He traced the contour with his thumb and palm and began stroking.

Micky drew in a sharp breath and shook his head. "No…"
But then he dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

Peter added pressure.

Micky moaned and arched his hips.

Peter paused for a moment, fighting back a voice that said this was a bad idea.
He already knew it was a bad idea.
But he also knew it was a bad idea to leave Micky in the state he was in.
If things continued as they were and Micky didn't find release soon, there was no telling what would happen the next time they found themselves on the bedroom floor or under the deck…
or in the car
or hall
or the bathroom at Van Go-go's
..maybe behind Micky's drum set… Peter's mind kept creating scenarios.

The point was, Peter didn't think he could handle Micky asking to be fucked again.
He stroked a couple more times and then withdrew his hand.

Micky lifted his head up to look at him.

Peter could see the anxiousness in his eyes.

Peter leaned forward, placing one hand beneath Micky's head. He kissed him gently as his other hand found Micky's zipper.
He heard that deep whine again.
He slowly pulled the zipper down.
The whine grew louder.
He pulled away from Micky's lips and watched him.

A barrage of emotion criss-crossed Micky's face, interchangeably.
Fear
Want…
Lust…
Fear
Trust…
Need…
He popped the top button on Micky's jeans.

Micky's breath grew labored as he closed his eyes and Peter saw the muscles in his jaw clench.
He could feel Micky's lower stomach tremble against his arm.
He parted the slit in Micky's boxers and slid his fingers in.

And there it was.
That heat.

That heat that was driving Micky's desires.

It was strange. All it really was, was a cylinder of flesh and nerves that fit inside Peter's opened fist.

But the power it had.
The power it had over Micky.
The power, he realized, it had over himself.

As he wrapped his hand around it he felt it spasm.

And then Micky grabbed his wrist and jerked it away.
As he clenched Peter's wrist in his hand, Peter saw his torn look.

"You don't want this?" Peter whispered.

Micky stared at him. He looked wary. "I do." Yet he didn't release Peter's wrist.

Peter watched him for a few moments. Then he twisted his wrist out of Micky's grip and keeping his eyes on Micky's, slid his hand back inside.

He pulled him out.
Micky whined again.

Peter realized his hand was shaking. He swallowed. "Micky, I'm not sure how to do this… but…" He trailed off.
He wrapped his fingers around the base and began slow.

Micky made a strangled sound and immediately grabbed his wrist again. Peter paused. But Micky didn't jerk it away.
Instead, he clutched his hand around Peter's and showed him the rhythm he liked.

Peter was a quick study.
After a few seconds he had it.
He knew he was doing it right.
And he was pretty sure he wasn't half bad…
if the volume and intensity of Micky's breathing was any indicator.

Peter watched Micky's eyes. They seemed to lose focus with every pump until finally they closed and he dropped his head back in the sand.

Micky's grip on Peter's hand tightened for a moment before he released it and his hand fell to his side.

Micky seemed absolutely helpless.
Absolutely trusting.
Absolutely vulnerable.

This was what Peter realized he'd been wanting. This was what he'd been wanting since that night in Austin.

For Micky to crumble under his touch.

He wanted to please him.
He wanted to work him into a dependent frenzy the way countless girls before him had done.

He wanted to hear that unsteady breathing get a little vocal… like it was now.
He wanted to watch as that delicate face, who's features seemed to show every emotion and feeling, screwed up into an expression of ecstasy… as it did now.

He'd wanted to watch him lick at his lips
Bite at them

He wanted to watch him throw his head back
And dig his fingers into the sand
To squirm beneath him
To buck against him
To cry out his name…

He wanted to feel the tension build.
He wanted to feel it build under his touch
Feel it build in the muscles of Micky's stomach and thighs… as it was doing now.

But most of all what he wanted...
Was to see Micky's eyes.
See them turn to liquid.

It would happen soon.
Micky was much too worked up to last long.

He could feel it.
He could feel the throbbing against his hand
Yeah…Micky was already close.

And as if on cue, Micky raised his head off the ground. "Oh fuck…" He said in that whiny voice.

Peter felt him tighten.
He saw him tighten.
Micky's entire body seemed to shrink into itself.

And then those eyes.
Those eyes that were looking directly at him.
Micky's eyes.

They glazed over as Micky whispered his name. "Peter"
And then he violently threw his head back and cried out.

Peter felt the spasm in his hand as the warm liquid spilled out.

He'd just made Micky come.
He knew it.
He understood the significance
He knew it would forever change things.

But all he could think about,
all he could see…
Were those eyes.
Just like that first night.
Replaying over and over in his mind.

But this time they were accompanied by his whispered name.

It was too much
It was too right.
But it was too dangerous.

It made him feel things that were too dangerous.
Feel things he didn't think he'd ever feel for a man.
Feel things he wasn't ready to face yet...

Alright guys... so I have one more chapter left in this part. I hope to post in by next weekend... but I may not be able to.
I'm heading out to California to meet one of the men of my dreams (Please don't tell my husband) ;)
Micky Dolenz is going to be signing autographs and I'm just enough of a freak to plan my vacation around that...
So, anyways, if I don't get to it this weekend I promise to post the last chapter to this part in 2 weeks.