2 Mikey Ficlets

[turps]

This is for castalie who gave me a prompt of Mikey Way and quiet. When I was wondering what to write I kept going between two ideas. I mentioned that to crowgirl13 who basically encouraged me to write both. So I did.

Thanks go to her, and to ephemera_pop, sperrywink and bubbleforest for being awesome and checking this over. You're all stars.

For Mouse.



Mikey’s thoughts skitter, twisting around on themselves until he can’t distinguish the end of one from the beginning of another. Sometimes music helps, but today nothing seems right, and he scrolls through his playlists, moving on within the first few bars of each song. He crawls into his bunk, lies curled on his side and stares into nothing, and the thoughts become faster, jagged, slipping away when he tries to harness only one. He pushes his face against his pillow, breathes deep and his skin feels too tight, pulled taut over his bones and he tries to stretch, fingers pressed against the wall, the roof.

He needs air and crawls back out, standing between the bunks, trying to focus on a conversation, an idea, but his mind is nothing but static noise, a jumble of thoughts that bump and clash and if he could he’d get off this bus and never stop running.

“Mikey.”

Mikey looks up, sees Frank gathering popcorn and chips before throwing the bags toward the front of the bus. It’s like watching feeding time at the zoo as Gerard pounces and Ray leaps and Bob just pushes them both aside to claim his pick.

“Fucking savages,” Frank says, affection obvious as he reaches out his hand and hooks his fingers around Mikey’s belt. “Come and watch the movie with us.”

“I’m. No,” Mikey says, all too aware of how his skin itches, how there’s so much inside that’s pressing out. He crosses his arms, puts up his shields and tries to become small, but Frank is tugging now – insistent.

“Come on, Mikeyway.”

Mikey thinks about pulling away, but there’s nowhere to go. He allows Frank to tug him forward.

“Mikey! I’ve got us popcorn,” Gerard says and holds up a bag.

Mikey eyes the space between Gerard and Ray, it’s only a few inches wide and he’s about to fold himself to the floor when Ray sighs and says, “come here, already.”

In a lightening move, he grabs Mikey’s arm and pulls. Somehow Mikey magically fits into that tiny space. His back curled against Gerard’s side, his knees resting on Ray’s thighs. Then Bob reaches over Ray, and all Mikey can do is blink when he feels fingers wrap around his ankles, and Bob’s scowling as he settles Mikey’s feet on his lap, as if daring anyone to say a word.

No one does.

“Ready?” Frank asks, and presses play before anyone says yes. He sits then, back against the couch, settled between Gerard and Ray’s legs. He tips his head back, smiles at Mikey and says, softly, “hey.”

Mikey flashes a small smile in return then slumps back until his head is cradled against Gerard's shoulder. He lies still, the movie nothing but indistinct colour and words. His thoughts still jumbled, still scratching at his nerves like rusty nails, but if Mikey concentrates there are points of focus in all that noise.

Bob’s hands, strong and warm, rubbing along the instep of Mikey’s foot.

Ray’s arm, secure and solid, resting against Mikey’s back.

Gerard’s hair, tickling as he turns and shoves another piece of popcorn in Mikey’s mouth.

Frank’s smile, as bright as the sun as he keeps looking back, casually resting his head against Mikey’s thigh.

To Mikey, all four are quiet.





~*~*~*~

Mikey doesn’t even make it all the way into the room before Frank’s launching himself forward, leaping and clinging. All Mikey can do is stagger and blindly grope for the door. He’d be tempted to leave it, but after the chambermaid incident, and the Ray incident, and especially the Bob incident, Mikey doesn’t take chances anymore, and he kicks back with his foot, listening for the snick of the lock.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Frank says, words feverishly hot against Mikey’s skin, and he’s licking along Mikey’s neck, long stripes of tongue ending with a sharp nip of teeth to Mikey’s ear.

Mikey gasps, and tightens his hold, his hands pressed against Frank’s back as he aims for the bed. When his knees hit the mattress he falls forward, and Frank’s looking at him, laughing as they bounce in place.

“Hey,” Frank says, and his hair is tousled, dark against the covers. “I missed you.”

Mikey would tell him that’s impossible, that they’ve been together all day, but Frank’s reaching up, his hand cupped against the back of Mikey’s head. He urges Mikey down, and Mikey goes eagerly as Frank wraps one of his legs around Mikey’s waist, his bony ankle digging in painfully hard.

The kiss is messy. Teeth and tongues and the taste of cigarettes, Frank’s fingers tangled in Mikey’s hair. He can’t help the whimper that’s pulled out of him when Frank deepens the kiss and then pulls back long enough to bite at Mikey’s bottom lip. Teeth digging in and Mikey’s still focussed on the throb of that sting when Frank suddenly shifts his hold, grabbing on and flipping them both so it’s Mikey with his back against the bed.

Disorientated, Mikey looks up at Frank who’s looking right back, his eyes dark and hair falling forward as he leans in, body pressed against Mikey’s as he whispers in his ear. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard. And you’re going to take it.”

Mikey catches his own bottom lip between his teeth, adds to the lingering sting as Frank grinds his hips. His movements are controlled and deliberate and Mikey can’t help pushing back. He needs the contact, the friction against his cock as Frank takes hold of the hem of Mikey’s t-shirt, then tugs, pulling it off with one quick jerk. He drops it to the floor, and Frank’s cheeks are flushed, his hands cool as he rests them against Mikey’s ribs. Mikey looks along the length of his body, at Frank’s hands, black nails and tattooed fingers, bursts of colour against Mikey’s pale skin.

“Are you going to beg for me?” Frank asks, his voice low as he moves his hands lower, leaving trails of heat as he skims Mikey’s stomach and keeps going and Mikey’s bucking up, needing as Frank presses the heel of his hand against Mikey’s cock, rubbing firmly through his jeans.

Mikey groans, grinds out, “bastard,” when Frank moves his hand.

Frank leans in again, and Mikey shivers at the feel of fabric scraping against his skin, tightens his fingers in the sheet as his nipple is enveloped with wet heat that blazes white hot when Frank bites; hard, then demands, “What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Mikey says, complying instantly at the feel of Frank’s fingers against his cheek, his thumb digging against Mikey’s jaw. He shivers at the scrape of teeth against his bared neck, a moment of warning before Frank bites and sucks hard. Sensation sparks wildly, and all Mikey can do is gasp, “Please.”

“I don’t know.” Frank’s voice is pitched low, assessing as he sits back and runs his thumb across Mikey’s mouth. “I could make you wait.”

“Please,” Mikey says again.

He runs his tongue over the pad of Frank’s thumb, flicking touches that make Frank shift his hips then pull back, breathing hard, his mouth quirked at one side, his expression softening as he looks down at Mikey and says, “okay.”

It’s a brief moment of quiet, of connection, then Frank’s scrambling to the side, kneeling up as he says, “get naked. Now.”

Mikey does, cursing as he fumbles with the laces of his boots, the buckle of his belt, always aware that Frank’s watching, is reaching out to run his fingers down Mikey’s spine. So intent as Mikey stands and wiggles out of his jeans, making them pool at his feet.

“Aren’t you…?” Mikey asks, but Frank shakes his head and reaches under one of the pillows, producing a small bottle of lube. “I’m going to watch.”

Normally Mikey’s not an exhibitionist at all, but this is Frank, and Mikey lies back easily, knees bent, legs spread and heels pushed into the covers. He holds out his hand, and Frank coats his fingers, his eyes wide, watching every movement. Mikey never looks away from Frank’s gaze as he slides a finger inside of himself, then two, twisting and fucking himself with slow careful strokes.

“Wait,” Frank says suddenly, and he’s pushing down his own jeans and kicking off his shoes. He drops the lube and it bounces to the floor as Frank presses his hand against Mikey’s, their fingers together and Mikey gasps, arcs off the bed as Frank slides his finger in with Mikey’s.

“You’re going to ride me,” Frank says, and his pupils are blown, his lips wet as he licks over the tip of Mikey’s cock, a tantalising tease of a touch before he moves back and lies down on the bed.

Immediately Mikey feels the loss, and he pushes himself up onto his knees, his whole body strung out, wanting as he looks at Frank who’s lying on his back, his t-shirt rucked up and his cock gleaming wetly at the head. Mikey needs to taste, to touch and he straddles Frank’s legs and bends forward, hands braced on the bed.

Mikey loves sucking cock, loves using his tongue, his throat, swallowing as Frank flies apart, but today he only gets a touch, drags his tongue through the beads of pre come when fingers tangle in his hair and Frank pulls, saying, “I said ride me.”

Mikey looks up at Frank, sees how he’s breathing hard, his whole body tense and he knows how much Frank wants this. It’s a heady feeling and Mikey runs his tongue over his bottom lip, savouring the lingering taste, then kneels up and crawls up the bed until he’s positioned over Frank’s cock.

One hand behind him, he guides himself down, lowers himself with one smooth movement as his breath catches and he throws back his head at the sudden sensation of being so full, stretched as Frank moans, hands clutching in thin air.

“Ride me,” Frank growls, and Mikey follows the command, lifts himself up then down, shifting his hips as Frank meets him half way, thrusting up as Mikey comes down and Mikey can’t help whimpering, teeth digging into his lip as Frank holds onto his thighs, nails digging in hard.

“Yes,” Frank says, and his eyes are closed as they fall into a bruising rhythm, always meeting half way and Mikey can feel shock waves of pleasure echo along his spine, to his fingers and toes and all that matters is the slap of skin against skin, the feel of Frank buried so deep inside.

When Frank reaches forward and wraps his fingers around Mikey’s cock, jerking him roughly, it’s enough to push him over the edge, and he clenches hard, feels Frank following close behind.

Spent, Mikey slumps forward and rests his overheated cheeks against Frank’s chest, listening to the thump of his heart.

“Am I dead?” Frank asks eventually. “I feel dead.”

Mikey laughs and brushes a kiss against the underside of Frank’s jaw. “Nope, you made it again.”

“Good,” Frank says softly, and he turns to look at Mikey. “Want to shower?”

Mikey smiles, because seriously, still he peels himself apart from Frank and says, “sure.”