"There's something I ... haven't mentioned to you," Peter ventured, bravely returning Davy's even gaze as he spoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I've been getting kinda... tingly around you for a while. Way before you even confessed your... um... attraction. I wondered what it was... now I think I have an idea."

Davy was hanging onto Peter's every word. "Tingly, in what way?" he asked, almost holding his breath, but not able to because he needed oxygen so badly right now. He sucked air into his lungs, afraid to do or say anything for fear this moment might not be real, might somehow slip through his fingers.

"Well... tingly, you know how that feels when you really like someone... Anyway, the tingles are all over my body... everywhere," finished Peter with an embarrassed sigh.

"Everywhere?"

"Yeah, everywhere."

"Well then... I guess its up to you to decide what it means."

Davy would not, could not take advantage of the situation. He'd already vowed to himself-Peter would have to come to him. He wouldn't make any further advances if or until that happened. Davy had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other to walk back to his bed. And it wasn't because of his sore ankle either.

Over the next few days, the big gig at the "swanky" club, as Mike called it, was approaching fast. Mike kept asking Davy if he thought he was going to be able to perform without bombing on them. Davy assured him he would be fine. Luckily, his ankle had only swelled slightly, and he wasn't limping.

"If you want to talk about your girl trouble..." Mike said quietly.

"Its okay, Mike. I've decided to let her come to me. If its meant to happen, it will. I don't want to... force anything." Davy cringed inside as he realized Mike didn't even know Davy wasn't talking about a girl, but Peter, of all people. If Davy were to tell him, he doubted Mike would even believe him. Mike would think he was joking around. Oh, how Davy wished it were a joke! The way life used to be... so simple- just going out there on the beach and having his choice of chicks. But for some reason, Peter had a hold on him, and Davy couldn't break free. Interestingly enough, he had no desire to break free anyway. Like a wild horse that has been domesticated and no longer yearns for his freedom. His feelings about it were still ambivalent, but Peter holding him captive was strangely somehow fine with him.

What an inconvenience that he had to wank so often, with Peter so close by. And it wasn't easy to get away with it. Although he suspected Peter was doing the same. He'd heard what he was pretty sure were muffled moans coming from Peter's bed some nights. If only he could feel it again for a girl-but there was no desire there. The only yearning Davy felt was for Peter. And the clutches of that yearning remained static. Rock solid. In the beginning, he'd thought it would run its course and then scatter into the wind, to ultimately be but a memory. But to his amazement, Peter only became more appealing to him as time went on.

Meanwhile, Peter couldn't stop thinking of the kisses and sweet moments they had shared in his bed. He longed for more of that. Desperately. But not wanting to get hurt- be abandoned by Davy, he kept his guard up.

It wasn't that easy though, or that simple.

Peter had frequent dreams which he couldn't ignore, and which easily knocked down the barriers he'd erected. Those barriers must have been built half-ass. He must not have constructed them solidly enough. They certainly weren't anything the little Englishman couldn't break through. The dreams involved passionate make-out sessions with Davy. And even in his waking hours, he never got a hankering for anyone but Davy anymore. He had to fight to keep himself from slipping into fantasies. It was starting to make him feel uneasy, on edge. It was starting to take over his life.

A few words kept haunting Davy, lingering in the back of his mind. Too many reasons. Would Peter ever come to him with those reasons? Peter "played for keeps." Davy was astute, and had picked up on how important that was to Peter. That was likely the primary reason Peter was steering clear of him romantically. But could Davy make a promise like that? He had to be sure, before he made any announcement to Peter. He would never hurt Peter, and right now, he couldn't promise Peter that he wouldn't. He wondered if time would give him any answers.

The gig was a big success. The patrons obviously loved the band, and Peter and Davy acted just as they always had. Animated, full of smiles, and jovial. No one messed up. Or at least not badly enough for most club goers to notice. The owner of the club was pleased, and wanted a contract -every Saturday night for a month. The pay was quite a bit more than they usually got, and the deal was sealed. If things continued to go well, the owner stated the contract would possibly be extended.

The club closed at 2am, so, after signing the contract, they didn't get home until nearly 3. They agreed they would sleep in for as long as they wanted. They figured they deserved it. There were lots of pats on the backs going around.

"Man, I'm pooped!" exclaimed Peter as he and Davy got ready for bed.

"Me too. I can't believe we got a contract out of it!"

"Did you see how many people were dancing? The dance floor was never empty all night!" Peter was so pleased, his cheeks were pink and he was nowhere near sleepy yet.

"I'm keyed up," he said.

"Yeah, so am I. Its hard to just go to sleep after a nice jolt like that. It was far out."

"Wanna talk?"

"Sure."

Peter flicked off the light as he walked past it, fearing Davy would see the high color that he was sure was showing on his face, or the nervousness in his mannerisms, the way his hands shook. He'd been thinking about this all night-coming home and into the bedroom with Davy. All alone. Although not completely dark, perhaps Davy wouldn't notice how much anxiety Peter was feeling. But no guarantee on that-knowing Davy's intuition and highly tuned senses... They stood by the window together, both jubilant about the contract, but both also edgy. Davy wondering why Peter had turned the light off, and Peter wondering how he was going to express his feelings without sounding like a blubbering idiot.

"Might as well just tell you... I've been having lots of dreams lately," Peter blurted out, then stopped and waited for Davy's response.

There was an instant gleam of cautious interest in Davy's dark eyes.

"Oh? And what are they about?"

"To answer you the way you answered me the other night, simply... you."

Davy's stomach and heart did a flip-flop at the same time. It wasn't altogether pleasant.

Shock.

Peter was clearly tense, but Davy got the feeling the dreams hadn't caused it. Something was lurking in the atmosphere around them. Instinctively, Davy knew the dreams were good. Very good. And that both scared him and thrilled him. The two emotions blended together felt horrid and fantastic. But which emotion was stronger, Davy couldn't have said.

"More information needed, babe. Were they pleasant?"

Peter immediately started to clear his throat, fidget and look down at the floor. That's when Davy knew, for certain, the nature of the dreams.

What am I waiting for? Peter wanted to tell Davy about his dreams, but he was mortified at even the thought of doing so. But this evening at the club, feeling so close to Davy, so warm inside, so familiar with his bandmate, the success of the evening- and now that they'd gotten home, standing here under the full moonlight from half-open drapes, Peter suddenly realized that maybe he wanted to take that risk that Davy had talked about. Sometimes we have to take risks in life. Or something along those lines. Wouldn't you know it would be a full moon? Peter wondered if he would have had these same thoughts if there hadn't been a full moon. But he already knew the answer. Yes.

To his horror, he found himself laying his hand on Davy's shoulder. No particular reason except that he wanted, needed to touch him. Had to touch him. Or he felt he'd go out of his mind.

Davy didn't say a word. He just accepted Peter's hand, and might have edged just a fraction of an inch closer to Peter, although through all his anxiety, Peter couldn't be sure.

To hell with being afraid of Davy hurting him, leaving him, rejecting him for a girl! He deliberately took a step closer to Davy's side, now just inches away. It cost him dearly, for his heart was thumping atrociously and his throat felt constricted.

Davy wasn't blind-he knew Peter was showing him affection, yet was dubious about doing anything more than touching his shoulder. But... Davy told himself-he'd vowed that Peter would come to him, not the other way around. So Peter would have to do better than that...that is, if he really wanted Davy.

Nevertheless, the hand on Davy's shoulder was as welcome as the warm summer days that stretched out ahead of them. As warm as the sunshine Peter naturally seemed to emit. He felt Peter's slightest move, his every breath. All his senses were on high alert-even the hairs on his arms stood up in anticipation. Goose bumps.

It was as if someone had flipped the pause switch on the world. It was that deathly quiet in the room. All that could be heard was their breathing. Everything had come to a dead stop, and they stood there, side by side, Peter's hand on Davy's shoulder, not saying a word, both paralyzed by the intensity of the grip this thing had on them. This unknown thing that was putting Davy and Peter into a tail spin.

The hand silently moved from Davy's shoulder to the back of his neck, brushing against his hair, on past to the other shoulder where it cupped his upper arm, applying pressure-gently coaxing Davy to close the final few inches between them.

This was a bold, daring move on Peter's part; Davy appreciated that. And as small a thing as it seemed, he knew it had taken some major guts for the very shy Peter to accomplish it.

Davy turned his head, and his eyes sparkled in the moonlight. He almost knocked Peter to his knees with his beauty. Peter turned; Davy followed suit so that they stood face to face. Peter struggled to gather the courage to tell Davy he was willing to take a chance of getting hurt, but he couldn't seem to form words.

Instead, he put both hands on Davy's shoulders and massaged lightly, smiling down at Davy, waiting for a cue, a certain look, some kind of indication that he should proceed. Although how he'd proceed, he didn't know. He suddenly felt very alone, forlorn. What was he supposed to do? He'd had limited experience with women, and absolutely none with men. He felt as if he were floundering about, wanting, needing, inhibited to the point to where he just couldn't advance.

Davy, like the knight in shining armor that he was, smoothly took over. He slipped his arms around Peter's waist, resting his head on Peter's chest. Peter's arms immediately wrapped around Davy's shoulders, and he dipped his head and rested it against the side of Davy's face.

Peter had taken a giant step tonight, and Davy was seized with hope. Of course he couldn't be absolutely certain, but he believed Peter was making a silent statement.

It seemed to Peter that needing Davy was more important than breathing right now. What he wanted more than anything was just to hold Davy close, breathe in his baby powder scent, run his fingers over those perfect, full lips. Stare into his eyes. Eventually undress him so he could slowly expose his skin-see that perfect body... all of it. Touch him tenderly, kiss him with nothing held back. Explore him-find out what he liked, and then give him an abundance of it.

But for now, just standing here like this was enduring and timeless. A swatch of Heaven.

"Pete, come 'ere." Davy's voice was silky and soothing, with an undertone of undeniable passion that escaped without suppression. Peter heard the promise in it.

He wanted that passion.

Peter leaned his torso back just a hair to look down at Davy, questing...

"I'm here, babe."

Davy looked up, and the next thing Peter knew, Davy's lips were on his. The thrumming in Peter's veins resounded like the thunder after lightning strikes. Davy was the lightning bolt. A brilliant flash amongst storm clouds. Breaking through, shining through. He always did.

The kiss started out very slowly, but quickly became ravenous, scorching Peter until he thought he'd erupt from the sheer intensity of it. Davy was clearly starving for him, and Peter admired him for exercising so much control for so long. Peter was enthralled, unable to contain himself, and he slid his hand up to the front of Davy's neck, cupping his hand around it tenderly. A very vulnerable area. Davy didn't even flinch. Peter sensed nothing but ease and passion in Davy. Davy's trust in Peter was complete.

Peter caressed his neck as they kissed, and Davy was so carried away with passion that, when they finally broke the kiss, he panted, "I'm losing myself, Pete."

"It's alright-I'm here to catch you."

"That's not what I mean. I'm losing myself in you." Davy's words came out breathy. "I know you play for keeps, and I don't want anyone else but you."

Peter's face lit up. His heart caught in a spasm of elation. It was happening. This was indeed what he had agonized over, and hoped for. He could hardly believe he was finally hearing those words he'd longed to hear from his best friend. And he was going to do his damndest to give Davy complete happiness and fulfillment, no matter what it took. For the moment, though, he gave himself up to Davy's staggering kisses...