Just like when he ended up in bed with Sarah, Micky didn't really seem to understand how exactly he ended up in bed with Jack. It seemed like one minute they were standing beside the bed, and the next they were in it, both fully naked, with Jack on top of Micky sucking on his neck.

Micky laid there wondering how on earth he had gotten himself into this situation. Micky didn't know why he didn't just say; "no" when Jack had asked him if he really wanted to do this, seeing as that was in fact the honest answer.

But Micky realised just how much he had missed intimacy. It wasn't just the physical act of sex - although Micky had certainly been missing that lately, too - but it was the feeling of being close to someone. Micky missed that. Micky missed the way it felt when he and Mike made love. Micky wondered if he could somehow recreate that with somebody else, or if not, at least try to imagine that the person he was with was Mike. Micky knew he'd never be able to succeed in doing that with a woman, but how about a man? It'd be easier to pretend another man was Mike than it would be to pretend a woman was Mike.

It was messed up, and Micky knew it. Micky hoped that he wouldn't need to pretend that Jack was Mike at all. If Jack could get Micky off the way Mike used to, then there wouldn't be a problem. Micky hoped that would be the case. At this point in time, Micky was angry with Mike. Micky hated Mike. Micky didn't want Mike to be the only person who could make him feel that way. Micky didn't want Mike to have that kind of power over him.

The more Micky thought about it, the angrier he felt. Micky thought it was so unfair that he couldn't even kiss somebody else without it feeling utterly wrong, when Mike was shacked up with his wife playing happy families.

Micky's mind started asking questions about Mike. Was Mike sharing a bed with his wife? Were they kissing? Were they fucking?

And then Micky remembered what Davy had told him about Linda seeing them together looking happy, and he assumed they had to be sleeping together.

"If he's allowed to have sex with someone else then so am I." Micky thought.

Micky wasn't even sure how long he and Jack had been in bed before Jack disappeared under the covers. Micky gasped when he felt Jack's lips surround his dick, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, desperate not to have a repeat performance of what happened with Sarah a few weeks before.

Micky was feeling more drunk now than when he'd left the club, and he wasn't sure if that was the reason why his dick was actually responding to Jack's mouth. Maybe he wasn't drunk enough when he was with Sarah, Micky thought. Maybe if he'd have been wasted when he was with Sarah then he'd have been able to get his dick up. It was backward and didn't really make much sense, but nothing in Micky's life seemed to make much sense anymore anyway.

Micky instinctively gripped hold of Jack's hair but found himself pulling his hand away just as fast. That hair on that head didn't feel like Mike's hair. Micky squeezed his eyes tighter shut and let his mind drift off to thoughts of his Texan lover once more. Micky started to feel like he was floating away and he actually started to enjoy the blow job he was getting.

Micky used everything he had to imagine that it was Mike's head between his legs sucking him off. Mike's lips, Mike's mouth, Mike's tongue... being drunk helped Micky achieve that. Micky thought about all the times Mike had sucked him off before fucking him senseless. God, right now, right in this moment, Micky really wanted to be fucked. Micky really wanted to be fucked by Mike.

The back and forth emotions between wanting Mike and resenting Mike were starting to drive Micky crazy, but he couldn't help it; Mike always drove him crazy anyway.

Micky found himself moaning and moving his hips as Jack sucked him hard and fast. Micky pawed the covers of the bed as he pictured Mike's head between his legs. Micky had always found it amazing how Mike could still look so strong and masculine even with a dick in his mouth. And the fact that it was Micky's dick in Mike's mouth made Micky feel even more strong and masculine than he'd ever felt before, too.

Before Micky knew it, he blew his load into Jack's mouth. It caught both men by surprise, and Jack coughed as he attempted to swallow Micky's come. Jack was a gentleman and didn't complain though, and instead he continued to stroke Micky until he was totally spent.

When Jack emerged from under the covers, Micky felt a little dazed. His vision was blurry and the room seemed to be spinning. Micky was drunk, and the fact he'd had his first orgasm in two months seemed to make him feel even drunker.

"Sorry." Micky said a little sheepishly. "I did mean to warn you, but..."

"It's okay." Jack laughed.

Micky closed his eyes, sighing contently. "Mmm..." He purred.

Jack started sucking on Micky's neck again, and Micky wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him down on top of him. Jack kissed Micky's chest and stomach as Micky laid there in an almost absent-minded daze.

After a few minutes, Jack lifted his head to look at Micky's almost dream-like face.

"Do you wanna fuck...?" Jack asked.

Micky's stomach flipped and for the first time in a while now, his nerves returned to him. Micky seemed to come back down to earth a little, but he was drunk enough to believe that saying "Yes" again was the right thing to do.

Micky nodded his head, hoping that screwing could be as successful as the blow job he'd just received.

"Do you want to fuck me, or I can do you if you want..?" Jack asked, biting his lip.

Micky gazed up at Jack and suddenly he didn't feel so drunk anymore. Suddenly Micky realised it wasn't Mike that had just sucked his dick, and it wasn't Mike asking to have sex with him. It was somebody entirely different, and somebody who Micky didn't really know at all.

Micky was once again conflicted, a state of mind he seemed to be in most of the time these days. All logical thinking and understanding of what exactly he wanted and needed seemed to be totally lost from Micky's mind.

But with that lack of rational thinking, Micky announced his answer, the words falling out of Micky's mouth before he had a chance to contemplate his response further.

"Fuck me." Micky said.

Jack looked a little surprised. "You don't want me to kiss you, but you want me to fuck you?" He asked.

"Is that a problem?" Micky questioned confidently.

"As long as it isn't a problem for you." Jack replied a little breathlessly.

"It isn't. I've been fucked loads of times." Micky slurred.

Jack laughed. "Okay, as long as you're sure." He said.

"I am." Micky assured him.

Jack looked over Micky for a moment as if he was trying to read him. Jack looked eager to take things further but didn't seem entirely convinced that Micky felt the same. Micky decided to take matters into his own hands and he pulled Jack down on top of him, lifting his head to kiss Jack's neck.

The two men kissed for a while - although not on the lips - until Jack eventually started to play with Micky's opening, unaware of the significance this all held for the curly-haired man. Nobody had ever touched Micky there before, apart from Mike, but Micky tried not to think too much about it. Micky told himself that it was just sex and there was no reason why he shouldn't try to enjoy himself.

Micky floated out of his head again as Jack fingered him gently. It didn't hurt, although it did feel uncomfortable, and Micky couldn't help but wonder if this would actually end up feeling good. It had always been good with Mike - even the first time they had made love had been incredible, even though it had initially been painful and felt utterly surreal. In the end it had turned out to be a life-changing experience for Micky, not just in the sense that he'd had sex with a man for the first time, but because Micky then knew what it was like to truly Make Love.

With the 'love' taken away, could having sex with Jack be good, too? Micky wasn't sure, but he was eager to find out.

Jack eventually removed his fingers and reached for some oil. Micky's heart started to pound as he realised they were about to get down to serious business, and he suddenly felt himself sober up rapidly. Those earlier nerves returned to him but only a hundred times stronger than before, and Micky was both scared and intrigued by what was to come. Micky felt like this was some kind of test; a test of his sexuality, a test of his feelings for Mike, and a test of himself as a man. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but Micky needed to see if he could go through with it - even though he wasn't particularly sure that he wanted to.

Micky rolled onto his side as Jack lubed up his erection. Micky then felt Jack squirt a little lube at his entrance before pushing his fingers inside again. Micky was grateful that Jack was at least being well-prepared, but that only managed to give Micky a little bit of emotional-comfort.

"Ready?" Jack breathed from behind Micky.

Micky closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Ready." He said quietly.

Jack pressed himself against Micky's opening before slowly easing his way inside. Micky knew it would hurt - it had been over two months since he'd last had sex - but Micky didn't expect it to hurt this much. Micky's entire body tensed up so tight it felt like Jack was about to split him in half. Jack was being gentle - incredibly gentle, in fact - but Micky's body seemed to be rejecting him.

Micky's eyes squeezed tightly shut and he let out a little gasp. Micky grit his teeth - he didn't want to put Jack off by whimpering pathetically. Jack was barely inside when he paused, sensing something was wrong.

"Am I hurting you?" Jack asked breathlessly.

"N-No." Micky choked, fisting the bed covers. "It's just...been a while."

Jack was silent for a moment and remained still. He was breathing heavily and Micky could feel Jack's breath hit the back of his neck.

"Keep going." Micky told him. "Just keep going."

Jack didn't need to be told twice, and he moved deeper inside of Micky. It hurt. It hurt bad. Micky squeezed the pillow in his fists and continued to grit his teeth as he willed the pain away. Micky knew that if he relaxed he would feel much better, but everything about this seemed to be totally strange.

Jack powered through, although he didn't go hard on Micky. Jack remained slow and gentle, stroking Micky's side with caring fingers. Micky tried hard to imagine it was Mike making love to him, but everything about it seemed totally different. Jack's penis was nowhere near as big as Mike's, but from the way it felt inside it may as well have been double the size.

After a little while, the pain eased slightly. Micky slipped out of his mind again which allowed his body to relax enough to let Jack in. Eventually, Jack hit that spot inside of Micky which caused his eyes to snap open and his dick to twitch in response. Micky was stunned - for some reason he thought only Mike could touch that spot inside of him. It was as if that spot was behind a locked door and Micky had assumed that only Mike had the key.

Micky found himself let out a moan of pleasure, and that in itself was almost as shocking as Jack reaching his pleasure-centre. Jack's confidence built and he started to press against that spot inside of Micky on almost every thrust.

But Micky was still stunned. Everything about this felt wrong apart from the pressure on that little ball of nerves inside of him. It felt good, and Micky couldn't deny it. With the pleasure Micky was now feeling, he also started to feel guilt. Micky felt guilty that it wasn't Mike making him feel good. Someone was touching that special spot deep inside of him and it wasn't the man he loved.

Micky's mind raced and spun and a million different thoughts seemed to be battling with each other. Micky was conflicted between allowing himself to enjoy this and rejecting the pleasure he was physically feeling. Micky felt like a mess, like a puddle of emotions laying in a strangers bed. Micky realised that although his body was feeling quite good, his mind wasn't, and that was the difference between sex with Mike and sex with Jack or anyone else.

Micky woke up the next morning with Jack lying beside him, the virtual-stranger's arm slung across Micky's chest. Jack was sleeping peacefully with a half-smile on his face, and Micky watched him for a moment. Micky wondered what Jack was dreaming about, or whether Jack had ever been in love the way Micky was in love with Mike.

Micky felt cold and physically uncomfortable. After a moment, Micky carefully lifted Jack's arm and slid out from underneath him. When Micky sat up, he felt dizzy and tired. The curly haired man reached for his pants and pulled them on as quickly and quietly as he could before gathering the rest of his clothes from the bedroom floor. It was strange, Micky thought, because he couldn't even remember taking his clothes off in the first place.

Micky looked at Jack a little guiltily before tip-toeing to the bedroom door, his clothes gathered up in his arms. The door creaked when Micky opened it, and he froze in response, hoping that it didn't wake up Jack.

"Sneaking out, are we?" A sleepy voice came from across the room.

Micky closed his eyes and cringed guiltily. He turned around to face Jack, who was still lying in bed looking up at him.

"I'm sorry. I- I didn't want to wake you." Micky said nervously.

"It's okay." Jack replied, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "You won't be the first guy to sneak out of here without saying goodbye. I doubt you'll be the last, either."

Micky's hand went to his head - he felt awful. "I'm sorry." He said in small voice.

"Seriously, it's okay." Jack smiled almost bashfully.

"I'm not- I'm not trying to be a jerk." Micky said almost desperately. "I don't usually do this. I mean- I don't do this at all. Not with men. I-I-I I've never done this with a man before. I-I've never been with a man like this before."

Jack frowned, sitting forward. "You told me last night you'd been in a relationship."

"I have. I uh, what I mean is I've never- I've never had a, you know, a one night stand with a guy before." Micky's words were travelling quite fast and his face had flushed a deep shade of red.

Jack run his fingers through his hair. "You don't need to explain yourself, George." He said. "Last night was fun and you seem like a really good guy, but you don't have to worry. I'm not expecting anything more than this."

Micky felt embarrassed and he took a deep, shaky breath in. "I'm sorry." He repeated. "I-I um... I don't know what to say."

Jack let out a small laugh. "You don't have to say anything." He assured him. "I told you, it's fine. If you want to leave, then leave. It's seriously cool. Or if you want to stay for a coffee or for breakfast, that's cool too. No strings attached."

Micky scratched his head. A part of him wanted to stay out of politeness, but another part of Micky wanted to escape - not from Jack, but from himself.

Micky looked at his watch. "I need to be at work soon." He lied.

Jack nodded his head. "That's cool. Don't worry about it."

"Maybe I'll see you around?" Micky wondered.

Jack smiled. "I hope so." He said.

"Okay..." Micky shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Well, uh... thanks for last night."

"It was my pleasure." Jack replied.

Micky gave Jack a small, shy smile before turning to leave. He dressed himself in the lounge before making a swift exit.

Micky didn't tell Davy about his night with Jack. Micky felt confused enough about it himself without trying to explain his feelings to anyone else. The night left Micky feeling even more conflicted and alone than he had before, and in the week that followed Micky found himself in turmoil once more.

Davy knew Micky was far from okay, and the Englishman invited him out to see a local band play a small show in town with himself and his fiancee Linda. Micky didn't even know - or care - who the band were, but he agreed to go along all the same. Micky made sure he was pretty drunk before he even left his house, and he'd smoked a couple of joints too to give him the mental energy he needed in order to leave the house.

Davy had been chit-chatting away as the two men and Linda entered the venue, but Micky was in his own little world. Once they were inside, Micky's eyes moved through the crowd of people and fixed on a couple standing at the bar. Micky stared at the back of a man who, from behind, looked identical to Mike. He was tall with dark hair and he was even wearing a jacket just like one Mike owned. The man was standing next to a much shorter woman with long blonde hair. Micky's eyes moved down a little to see that the man had his hand rested at the base of the woman's back, stroking her lovingly.

The woman eventually turned to face the man beside her, bringing her face into Micky's view. Micky's heart leapt up into his throat when he saw that the woman was Mike's wife, Phyllis. Before Micky had time to comprehend exactly who he was looking at, the man turned around too - and Micky's worst fears were confirmed.

Mike was right there in the same room as Micky - only he was completely unaware of it. Micky's eyes remained fixed on the pair; Mike said something which made Phyllis laugh, and Micky was struck by how normal they looked. Mike picked up two drinks from the bar and handed one to his wife. Micky continued to watch them as hurt and anger bubbled inside of him. Micky hadn't laid eyes on Mike since they had broken up, and seeing him again made Micky's heart feel like it was shattering inside his chest all over again.

Linda had wandered over to a few of her friends in the club, but Davy still stood beside Micky. Davy finally followed Micky's gaze and saw exactly what had caused his friend to freeze. "Oh fuck." He muttered.

"Did you know they were going to be here?" Micky asked Davy without looking at him.

"Of course I didn't." Davy replied in a hushed tone. "I had no idea they were gonna be here."

Micky felt like if he watched Mike and Phyllis any longer he would vomit right there in front of everyone. Micky turned around quickly and headed straight for the exit.

"Micky, wait!" Davy said as he rushed after him.

Micky paused and turned to face the shorter-man. "Y-You can stay here. I'm leaving." He said.

"Come on man, you don't have to go." Davy sighed, still trying to keep quiet in case anyone overheard them. "Don't leave because of him."

"I can't stay when they're here." Micky said, his voice trembling as he shot Mike and Phyllis another glance. "I'm going."

Micky rushed towards the exit and left the club, heading out into the night air. The club was only small and down a side road from the main street so there weren't many people buzzing around outside. Micky leaned up against the wall on the other side of the road and run his fingers through his hair as he looked up into the night sky.

"Come on, man."

Micky looked down to see Davy walking towards him.

"You have just as much right to be in there as they do." Davy said as he reached Micky.

"You think I'll be able to enjoy myself while they're in there all over each other?" Micky asked, aghast.

Davy sighed. "You could at least give it a try."

"No!" Micky shouted, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. "No I fucking can't!"

"Alright, calm down." Davy stressed, looking around to make sure nobody had noticed Micky's little tantrum. "Take it easy."

"I don't want to!" Micky shouted. He started to walk quickly towards the main street. "Fuck him!"

Davy was hot on his heels. "Where are you going?" He called after him.

"Anywhere but here." Micky replied.

Davy grabbed hold of Micky's arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Micky, wait." He said. "It doesn't have to be like this, man. I know it's hard for you right now but-"

"You have no idea." Micky told him, pulling his arm out of Davy's grasp. "Just go back to your gig, Davy."

Davy sighed. "Well what about you? We were supposed to have fun tonight."

"I will have fun, but I'm not having fun there." Micky shot a disgusted look at the venue. "Fuck that place, man. And fuck him. I fucking hate him."

"That's why you shouldn't let him win." Davy assured him in a quiet tone. "You shouldn't let him get you worked up like this."

"I can't be around him. I can't be anywhere near him. I feel like I wanna puke." Micky leaned against the wall again and rubbed his face with his hands.

"It'll get better... once you face him it'll get easier, I'm sure it will." Davy tried to sound convincing.

Micky emerged from his hands. "Just go find Linda and watch the band, Davy. I'll be fine on my own."

Davy didn't look certain. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yeah." Micky replied. "I need to be on my own."

Davy nodded before reluctantly heading back towards the club.

Micky ended up in the same gay bar where he met Jack the week before. He walked in more confidently this time, too angry and upset (not to mention drunk) to give a shit if anyone recognised him or not.

Micky immediately strode up to the bar and ordered a double-shot of vodka. He wasted no time in knocking the drink back before surveying the room where he noticed the same man he saw last time he was there; the tall, dark haired man hiding in the corner. The man was once again staring at Micky, only this time Micky stared right back. Micky wasn't really sure why he was looking at this man with such an intense gaze, but Micky found himself totally fascinated by the stranger who almost seemed to be lurking in the shadows.

Micky and the strange man were having a virtual stare-off from across the room, but Micky was the first to break eye contact by turning around to order another drink.

"Same again." Micky told the bartender.

Micky kept his back turned to the man as he waited patiently for his drink. Micky paid the bartender and knocked his drink back just as fast as the first one, wincing as the straight-vodka hit the back of his throat. Micky turned around expecting to resume his stare-off with the stranger in the corner but was surprised to find the man was now standing right behind him.

The man was now right in front of Micky and he continued to stare at Micky through dark eyes. The man was certainly older than Micky, in his late 30s perhaps. He was wearing a suit which Micky expected to be expensive, and the way the man held himself gave him an aura of power.

Micky stared straight back at the man who only broke eye-contact to look Micky up and down.

"You keep staring at me." Micky slurred, breaking the silence between the pair.

"That's right." The man replied confidently, his eyes narrowed in an intense gaze as if he was a bird eyeing it's prey.

"Why?" Micky questioned almost accusingly; in his mixed up state he felt both flattered and paranoid by the attention he was receiving from this man.

"You know why." The man replied.

Micky frowned. "What do you want?"

The man took a step closer. "I think you know exactly what I want." He said in a low voice.

Micky felt a little hot under the collar and was totally unsure how to respond to that comment.

"How about we get out of here?" The man asked on the quiet.

Micky looked - and felt - totally insulted. "What the fuck? What do you take me for?" He slurred.

The man looked totally unfazed by that remark and simply smirked at the curly-haired man. "You tell me."

"Why would- why would I come with you?" Micky asked. "Do you seriously think I'll just go home with you?"

The man leaned in so his face was just inches away from Micky's. "Yes." He replied confidently.

Micky gulped. The man stared at Micky for a moment before turning around and slowly walking away. Micky stood there completely dumbstruck, but before he could click his brain into gear he found himself following the man towards the exit of the club.

The two men were outside the club before the mysterious stranger looked behind him to see Micky now hot on his heels - and he didn't even look remotely surprised to see that Micky had decided to follow him.