I am desperatly trying to get out of my writer's block
Title: But Why?
Rating: Borderline R
Pairings: Keith/Mick, slight Keith/Anita
Word Count: 2737
Disclaimer: I wouldn't be writing this if I owned the Stones. It was made with real events in mind, but this is just my spin on them.
A small glass of bourbon was swirling around in the transparent, glass cup. Keith stared at the liquid swirling; his mind other places then his glass. Usually the man never turned down the opportunity to drink, but this time Keith could not really think of anything. His heart somehow weighed heavily. It was something that Keith had never experienced before.
He expelled a breath of frustrated feelings and sat the glass down beside him. His head found comfort in resting in his palm and he allowed himself to think. His mind was always drifting around, but not this time. He could not help but think back to something that had plaguing his mind for months. Keith wanted to slam his head into burnished table and repeatedly do it until all he could see was darkness even when his eyes were opened. That certainly would not help in remembering the songs that he and Mick had written-- Keith’s eyes narrowed at the mere thought of that man’s name.
He actually had no reason to act this way. The guitarist should have been familiar with all of this, seeing that he had done this just a little more then a year ago. Same woman, different scenario. So why was he getting pissed at Mick for doing the same thing? Maybe it is because Mick did not like Anita at all so it was a wonder as why Mick would even begin to even think of fornicating with her. Mick had to have been on something. There was just no way would that Mick do it on his own free will why was Keith here thinking about this. Wasn’t he supposed to be throwing a childish-rage right now?
Right now, everything about Mick made him angry. From the way he spoke, walked, gracefully nicking cigarette’s to everything else. Keith sighed and titled his head down, brow knotting in irritation. Nevertheless, as he thought about Mick and Anita’s infidelities, something else leaped into his mind. Confusion? Something in relation to it. Keith had gone through anything that might have left him put-off by any type of thing to come up short-handed. But he more he delved into it, the more he began to realize with a dreaded feeling that it was not just pure jealousy that was hotly whizzing through his veins.
When he thought about it, another factor came into play; Keith was very suspicious of even recognizing this. As he thought about Mick, he found his attention shifting to place it on a pretty, blonde-haired person with green, cat-like eyes. Even though Keith loved Anita dearly, sometimes the woman could be so cynical and delusive to a point where Keith could not even handle it. She seemed to come from another planet. Her moves were so careful and she seemed to have immunity to drugs like those that Keith did himself. But this female had struck something else in him. It felt the same as he did to Mick. A warm batch of backbiting emotions feel through his body and Keith, suddenly alert and on edge, straightened up with the full sense of that emotion.
He was… envious of Anita. With Mick. On that bed. It all fell together into pieces, each falling in a sense of slow motion and never even piecing together correctly, as if to throw him off even more then possible. There was no way he was jealous of Mick. Keith quickly guzzled down most of his fluid lying in the glass and nearly slammed it back down. There was no possible way he was like that. No. Never. His best mate was certainly not waltzing through his mind stirring up those feeling he had felt for Anita alone. Anita was his own and his own to call a lover. The guitarist certainly refused any type of thought that suggested anything more then a song-writing partner, singer, band-mate, best mate.
Lover.
A commodity such as this certainty should never be thought of. Mick was his best mate and there was no way Keith would sully that idea with his own selfish wants and feelings of wanting more then what he had. He remembered when Anita breezed into the doorway as he was beginning to sit down as she uttered those words, “Me ’nd Mick were in bed together today. It was actually pretty good.” Keith had dropped all thoughts regarding anything. He felt like he had been roughly slugged across his face, and on top of that, kicked in the crotch. He couldn’t believe that Mick would go behind his back. That stupid, conniving, cheating son of-- cheating? Since when did Mick ‘cheat’ on him?
Keith sighed, his thoughts not really taking him anywhere except through circles and familiar pathways.
--
He sat in his room. Keith gazed out at nothing in particular since his mind was empty of all thoughts. It was peculiar to have this dead-silence in his mind; usually a tune would flicker through his conscience, forcing him to get up to retrieve a notepad to scribble it down quickly. Keith watched things so uninterested. He sighed,
But it seemed that when he enjoyed something, it was completely and swiftly destroyed when his mind suddenly sprang forth, destroying any lingering silence that happened to be there. Brown eyes shifted and they settled on the bed. His thoughts wound up in a haze of confusion and aversion. There just couldn’t be any reason to be like this. He was in no way of in a bitter resentment of Anita. He could understand why he felt that towards Mick but not the other way around. He wasn’t into that. He was not jealous. He wasn’t. It was in no way because Anita had done that with him--
Yes. He did care. But why? This was possibly the most difficult thing Keith had ever dealt with-- other then when he consoled himself to go after Anita when she was an item with Brian. In a fit of frustration with no answer, Keith rose to his feet. The guitarist made his journey through the small, confined room to his door. He hesitated for a moment, but he brushed it off. Keith ventured towards the hallway and out to the stairs. After ascending the platform, Keith turned and came to a familiar room. For a quick time, Keith wished he had a ‘remedy’ to help ease his anxiety; he had essentially became a walking pharmacy these days, but surprisingly, Keith couldn’t produce the chemicals that he had become accustomed to using these days.
He opened the door softly for once, opting to choose a better way instead of bursting through the door to make his presence known. The room was darkened by night, only the light of the moon trickled through the blinds, mincing it into streaks of a pale-blue light. The boy had followed it to its resting place: right on top of Mick Jagger’s sleeping body.
Keith stared at him. His eyes narrowed with thoughts of contemplation lingering in their depths. He observed the bony body with a jeweler’s eye. He saw the bones jutting out, the near transparent skin that lay stretched over bones, the soft strands of long brown hair caressing Mick’s face; Keith watched long and hard. He just did not get it.
Everything was supposed to make sense now. This sense must have skipped out on his mind because now Keith was feeling another thing. He felt… attracted. The guitarist felt a lure when he turned to look away from the sleeping body that lay on the bed. Keith shut the door and quietly walked down his hallway, disappearing into the darkness of his house.
--
Anita must have been plotting something. Keith’s mind was very skeptical for a long time. After the day she had came home and told her and Mick’s ‘activities’ she had told him about another time while she lay curled in his lap, her fingers slipping over his waist, arms, chest and anything else her fingers felt like running over. He happened to be absently picking at her hair. Her giggles kept small smiles lingering on his face and would occasionally scratch lightly at her scalp.
“Hey Keef,” Anita said suddenly, sitting up slightly to reposition her body in his lap. Her voice had lightly picked at Keith’s brain. He hummed in acknowledgment when addressing her inquisition.
“Y’know, according to Donald, Mick ‘n James have a little romance thing going.”
The fingers stopped their mindless tracing. Keith blinked and stared at Anita. She beamed brightly at Keith’s dumb-founded expression. She snuggled up closer to Keith as she sat up to lean her back on Keith’s chest. She slunk her slender fingers up to Keith’s chin to pull it down for a quick, chaste kiss; Keith barely registered this small token of affection as his mind violently tossed these thoughts back and forth.
James and… Mick. That James he had met backstage at one of their concerts last year in Rome. He remembered that man a bit. He had his girlfriend with him, didn’t he? None of that mattered when Keith saw the image of a decidedly procreative reason, flashing through his mind at lightning speed. It’s enough to make Keith recoil and clench his hands.
“Yeah, he and James are always around each other. They act like a couple sometimes,” Anita spoke without any hesitation to what the effect could be on Keith. “Hm. I bet Mick has gotten ‘im in the sack already.”
Keith sucked in a very tight breath. His hands balled into tense rolls.
--
Somehow, in this weird thought, Anita must have been aware of what her remarks were having on Keith. Keith could feel his enviousness sharply build until he could taste it. Keith was very on edge whenever Mick or Anita passed by him. The woman was going to be the death of him; she had a very bad habit of letting things slip when she got into a certain mood. She was able to keep quiet, but some things just sailed out of her mouth with ease.
“Hey Keith, did y’know Mick and Brian slept together? He told me. Several times, as a matter of fact.”
“I’m working with Jane Fonda and I think she’s very cute.”
“Did you know that Marlon Brando visited the set a few weeks ago? He made moves on me.”
Keith was churning in explosive violence that was pent up in his body. He could not handle this sagging feeling anymore; it was going to tear his body up, molecule by molecule. Until every atom in his bottom had been effectively disposed of. Keith was read to tear his own hair out. He loved Anita, but he could only go so far in taking whatever she dished out at him.
--
Keith sat alone in the company of his demons that scampered around in his mind. His thoughts were marinating in his jealousy. He wished to get rid of them or else the next tie he met Mick he could seriously do some rearranging to Mick’s facial structure; there will be no morphine to help dull the pain. All this time Keith had even refused to believe anything beyond a friendly relationship with Mick beyond that. He couldn’t-- would not do it. But as he firmly repelled any thought, it was the images that slipped past his barrier and infiltrated his mind with these delightful images.
Keith spent his time sitting on his couch. His tongue lapped up any alcohol that could get into his mouth. His drink lay cast off on the table and it wasn’t too appealing right now. He just couldn’t believe it at all. Here Mick was fondling with other people and more importantly: with other guys. Keith didn’t know why he cares. He just didn’t care. Fine. He never cared about what Mick did; if he was into that, then he didn’t care.
He still did. The ‘why’ rang loudly in his mind with no answer in sight. For weeks, he had raved over these thoughts and how this one thing had upset him. He didn’t like Mick. His mind had started to believe this and a part of him had tried to discharge it. He couldn’t like him--
The front door to Keith’s house swung open, slamming against the wall and Keith jumped at the loud, jarring sound. He looked over to see Mick in what appeared to be Marianne’s shirt. He raised an eyebrow before realizing just who was standing in front of him. Keith sharply turned away, opting to drink while ignoring the older man.
“Hey Keith,” he heard Mick chirp to him. “What’re you doing alone? Aren’t you supposed to visiting your parents or so?”
Keith didn’t answer, choosing a childish silence. Mick’s eyebrow raised and he came to sit beside Keith. Mick sat there with Keith, waiting for some sign that Keith would notice his presence. When Keith never spoke a word to him, Mick finally lost patience. The singer cleared his throat and said, “Keith, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Keith muttered.
“There’s something or else you wouldn’t be glaring daggers at me, mate.”
Keith still kept up his callow front and refused to answer. Mick let out a rough sigh. “It’s still about Anita, isn’t it?” Mick replied.
Before Keith could utter a word, Mick had jumped right in again. “For the umpteenth time, I said I was sorry. I know you’ve heard me say it so many times but I truly am sorry.”
“Then why’d you go along with it and fuck her? On camera, no less.”
“It was for the damn movie; nothing was meant by it.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Keith,” Mick began, “what more do I have to say to make you believe that I was sorry?”
“Says all those ’side people’ that you’ve had for a long time,” Keith said lowly to himself, more for his own ears then anyone else’s.
Mick’s eyes hardened when Keith said something that Mick didn’t catch. He sucked in a breath, shot out his arms like bullets to grasp at the collar of Keith’s shirt and yank him forwards to collide with Mick’s mouth.
Shock. A brief moment of delight. Then anger. Then shock again-- fucking hell, when did he become a bird on that time of the month? Those lips that had pasted themselves on to Keith’s own that were there, licking at his bottom lip, his own mouth granting the access, a warm muscle swarming around his own mouth like an eel; Keith is pretty sure now he is completely kissing Mick. What Keith did not expect was that he didn’t recoil in disgust or punch Mick in the face for even commencing such an action. Keith ended up kissing back, his own tongue twisting and dancing with Mick’s. Hands loosened their clenching grip on the material of clothes for the better manor of caressing. Those same hands had started to start a mini-expedition in seeing-- rather feeling what the other had to offer.
It was Mick who broke the kiss to stare back at Keith. Their breaths were the only pieces of sound that allowed their minds to believe that, indeed, they both were still alive or that this wasn’t some fantasy dream-land. Mick tried to compose himself and found it was hard in resisting the urge to dive back down onto Keith and allow himself to divulge in what Keith’s body had to offer. Keith was suffering from the same urges.
“Now do you believe me? It was you who I actually wanted. Never Anita, but you.”
“But then why’d you do all those things?”
“To make you jealous, of course.”
If it were another day and time, Keith would have surely punched Mick in the throat and watch him with satisfaction as Mick would writhe on the floor and gag; but today, everything suddenly made sense. Keith didn’t have that murderous intent anymore and now he was just filled with relief. That reassurance allowed his mind to conclude that he was, in fact, in love with Mick. Keith then let a series of light chuckles roll from his mouth as Mick grinned at him.
“Since you’re on this little confession,” Keith said with a slight leer, “let’s go do something… productive upstairs, don’t you think?” Keith wiggled his eyebrows at Mick.
“I was just about to say the same.”
Rating: Borderline R
Pairings: Keith/Mick, slight Keith/Anita
Word Count: 2737
Disclaimer: I wouldn't be writing this if I owned the Stones. It was made with real events in mind, but this is just my spin on them.
A small glass of bourbon was swirling around in the transparent, glass cup. Keith stared at the liquid swirling; his mind other places then his glass. Usually the man never turned down the opportunity to drink, but this time Keith could not really think of anything. His heart somehow weighed heavily. It was something that Keith had never experienced before.
He expelled a breath of frustrated feelings and sat the glass down beside him. His head found comfort in resting in his palm and he allowed himself to think. His mind was always drifting around, but not this time. He could not help but think back to something that had plaguing his mind for months. Keith wanted to slam his head into burnished table and repeatedly do it until all he could see was darkness even when his eyes were opened. That certainly would not help in remembering the songs that he and Mick had written-- Keith’s eyes narrowed at the mere thought of that man’s name.
He actually had no reason to act this way. The guitarist should have been familiar with all of this, seeing that he had done this just a little more then a year ago. Same woman, different scenario. So why was he getting pissed at Mick for doing the same thing? Maybe it is because Mick did not like Anita at all so it was a wonder as why Mick would even begin to even think of fornicating with her. Mick had to have been on something. There was just no way would that Mick do it on his own free will why was Keith here thinking about this. Wasn’t he supposed to be throwing a childish-rage right now?
Right now, everything about Mick made him angry. From the way he spoke, walked, gracefully nicking cigarette’s to everything else. Keith sighed and titled his head down, brow knotting in irritation. Nevertheless, as he thought about Mick and Anita’s infidelities, something else leaped into his mind. Confusion? Something in relation to it. Keith had gone through anything that might have left him put-off by any type of thing to come up short-handed. But he more he delved into it, the more he began to realize with a dreaded feeling that it was not just pure jealousy that was hotly whizzing through his veins.
When he thought about it, another factor came into play; Keith was very suspicious of even recognizing this. As he thought about Mick, he found his attention shifting to place it on a pretty, blonde-haired person with green, cat-like eyes. Even though Keith loved Anita dearly, sometimes the woman could be so cynical and delusive to a point where Keith could not even handle it. She seemed to come from another planet. Her moves were so careful and she seemed to have immunity to drugs like those that Keith did himself. But this female had struck something else in him. It felt the same as he did to Mick. A warm batch of backbiting emotions feel through his body and Keith, suddenly alert and on edge, straightened up with the full sense of that emotion.
He was… envious of Anita. With Mick. On that bed. It all fell together into pieces, each falling in a sense of slow motion and never even piecing together correctly, as if to throw him off even more then possible. There was no way he was jealous of Mick. Keith quickly guzzled down most of his fluid lying in the glass and nearly slammed it back down. There was no possible way he was like that. No. Never. His best mate was certainly not waltzing through his mind stirring up those feeling he had felt for Anita alone. Anita was his own and his own to call a lover. The guitarist certainly refused any type of thought that suggested anything more then a song-writing partner, singer, band-mate, best mate.
Lover.
A commodity such as this certainty should never be thought of. Mick was his best mate and there was no way Keith would sully that idea with his own selfish wants and feelings of wanting more then what he had. He remembered when Anita breezed into the doorway as he was beginning to sit down as she uttered those words, “Me ’nd Mick were in bed together today. It was actually pretty good.” Keith had dropped all thoughts regarding anything. He felt like he had been roughly slugged across his face, and on top of that, kicked in the crotch. He couldn’t believe that Mick would go behind his back. That stupid, conniving, cheating son of-- cheating? Since when did Mick ‘cheat’ on him?
Keith sighed, his thoughts not really taking him anywhere except through circles and familiar pathways.
--
He sat in his room. Keith gazed out at nothing in particular since his mind was empty of all thoughts. It was peculiar to have this dead-silence in his mind; usually a tune would flicker through his conscience, forcing him to get up to retrieve a notepad to scribble it down quickly. Keith watched things so uninterested. He sighed,
But it seemed that when he enjoyed something, it was completely and swiftly destroyed when his mind suddenly sprang forth, destroying any lingering silence that happened to be there. Brown eyes shifted and they settled on the bed. His thoughts wound up in a haze of confusion and aversion. There just couldn’t be any reason to be like this. He was in no way of in a bitter resentment of Anita. He could understand why he felt that towards Mick but not the other way around. He wasn’t into that. He was not jealous. He wasn’t. It was in no way because Anita had done that with him--
Yes. He did care. But why? This was possibly the most difficult thing Keith had ever dealt with-- other then when he consoled himself to go after Anita when she was an item with Brian. In a fit of frustration with no answer, Keith rose to his feet. The guitarist made his journey through the small, confined room to his door. He hesitated for a moment, but he brushed it off. Keith ventured towards the hallway and out to the stairs. After ascending the platform, Keith turned and came to a familiar room. For a quick time, Keith wished he had a ‘remedy’ to help ease his anxiety; he had essentially became a walking pharmacy these days, but surprisingly, Keith couldn’t produce the chemicals that he had become accustomed to using these days.
He opened the door softly for once, opting to choose a better way instead of bursting through the door to make his presence known. The room was darkened by night, only the light of the moon trickled through the blinds, mincing it into streaks of a pale-blue light. The boy had followed it to its resting place: right on top of Mick Jagger’s sleeping body.
Keith stared at him. His eyes narrowed with thoughts of contemplation lingering in their depths. He observed the bony body with a jeweler’s eye. He saw the bones jutting out, the near transparent skin that lay stretched over bones, the soft strands of long brown hair caressing Mick’s face; Keith watched long and hard. He just did not get it.
Everything was supposed to make sense now. This sense must have skipped out on his mind because now Keith was feeling another thing. He felt… attracted. The guitarist felt a lure when he turned to look away from the sleeping body that lay on the bed. Keith shut the door and quietly walked down his hallway, disappearing into the darkness of his house.
--
Anita must have been plotting something. Keith’s mind was very skeptical for a long time. After the day she had came home and told her and Mick’s ‘activities’ she had told him about another time while she lay curled in his lap, her fingers slipping over his waist, arms, chest and anything else her fingers felt like running over. He happened to be absently picking at her hair. Her giggles kept small smiles lingering on his face and would occasionally scratch lightly at her scalp.
“Hey Keef,” Anita said suddenly, sitting up slightly to reposition her body in his lap. Her voice had lightly picked at Keith’s brain. He hummed in acknowledgment when addressing her inquisition.
“Y’know, according to Donald, Mick ‘n James have a little romance thing going.”
The fingers stopped their mindless tracing. Keith blinked and stared at Anita. She beamed brightly at Keith’s dumb-founded expression. She snuggled up closer to Keith as she sat up to lean her back on Keith’s chest. She slunk her slender fingers up to Keith’s chin to pull it down for a quick, chaste kiss; Keith barely registered this small token of affection as his mind violently tossed these thoughts back and forth.
James and… Mick. That James he had met backstage at one of their concerts last year in Rome. He remembered that man a bit. He had his girlfriend with him, didn’t he? None of that mattered when Keith saw the image of a decidedly procreative reason, flashing through his mind at lightning speed. It’s enough to make Keith recoil and clench his hands.
“Yeah, he and James are always around each other. They act like a couple sometimes,” Anita spoke without any hesitation to what the effect could be on Keith. “Hm. I bet Mick has gotten ‘im in the sack already.”
Keith sucked in a very tight breath. His hands balled into tense rolls.
--
Somehow, in this weird thought, Anita must have been aware of what her remarks were having on Keith. Keith could feel his enviousness sharply build until he could taste it. Keith was very on edge whenever Mick or Anita passed by him. The woman was going to be the death of him; she had a very bad habit of letting things slip when she got into a certain mood. She was able to keep quiet, but some things just sailed out of her mouth with ease.
“Hey Keith, did y’know Mick and Brian slept together? He told me. Several times, as a matter of fact.”
“I’m working with Jane Fonda and I think she’s very cute.”
“Did you know that Marlon Brando visited the set a few weeks ago? He made moves on me.”
Keith was churning in explosive violence that was pent up in his body. He could not handle this sagging feeling anymore; it was going to tear his body up, molecule by molecule. Until every atom in his bottom had been effectively disposed of. Keith was read to tear his own hair out. He loved Anita, but he could only go so far in taking whatever she dished out at him.
--
Keith sat alone in the company of his demons that scampered around in his mind. His thoughts were marinating in his jealousy. He wished to get rid of them or else the next tie he met Mick he could seriously do some rearranging to Mick’s facial structure; there will be no morphine to help dull the pain. All this time Keith had even refused to believe anything beyond a friendly relationship with Mick beyond that. He couldn’t-- would not do it. But as he firmly repelled any thought, it was the images that slipped past his barrier and infiltrated his mind with these delightful images.
Keith spent his time sitting on his couch. His tongue lapped up any alcohol that could get into his mouth. His drink lay cast off on the table and it wasn’t too appealing right now. He just couldn’t believe it at all. Here Mick was fondling with other people and more importantly: with other guys. Keith didn’t know why he cares. He just didn’t care. Fine. He never cared about what Mick did; if he was into that, then he didn’t care.
He still did. The ‘why’ rang loudly in his mind with no answer in sight. For weeks, he had raved over these thoughts and how this one thing had upset him. He didn’t like Mick. His mind had started to believe this and a part of him had tried to discharge it. He couldn’t like him--
The front door to Keith’s house swung open, slamming against the wall and Keith jumped at the loud, jarring sound. He looked over to see Mick in what appeared to be Marianne’s shirt. He raised an eyebrow before realizing just who was standing in front of him. Keith sharply turned away, opting to drink while ignoring the older man.
“Hey Keith,” he heard Mick chirp to him. “What’re you doing alone? Aren’t you supposed to visiting your parents or so?”
Keith didn’t answer, choosing a childish silence. Mick’s eyebrow raised and he came to sit beside Keith. Mick sat there with Keith, waiting for some sign that Keith would notice his presence. When Keith never spoke a word to him, Mick finally lost patience. The singer cleared his throat and said, “Keith, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Keith muttered.
“There’s something or else you wouldn’t be glaring daggers at me, mate.”
Keith still kept up his callow front and refused to answer. Mick let out a rough sigh. “It’s still about Anita, isn’t it?” Mick replied.
Before Keith could utter a word, Mick had jumped right in again. “For the umpteenth time, I said I was sorry. I know you’ve heard me say it so many times but I truly am sorry.”
“Then why’d you go along with it and fuck her? On camera, no less.”
“It was for the damn movie; nothing was meant by it.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Keith,” Mick began, “what more do I have to say to make you believe that I was sorry?”
“Says all those ’side people’ that you’ve had for a long time,” Keith said lowly to himself, more for his own ears then anyone else’s.
Mick’s eyes hardened when Keith said something that Mick didn’t catch. He sucked in a breath, shot out his arms like bullets to grasp at the collar of Keith’s shirt and yank him forwards to collide with Mick’s mouth.
Shock. A brief moment of delight. Then anger. Then shock again-- fucking hell, when did he become a bird on that time of the month? Those lips that had pasted themselves on to Keith’s own that were there, licking at his bottom lip, his own mouth granting the access, a warm muscle swarming around his own mouth like an eel; Keith is pretty sure now he is completely kissing Mick. What Keith did not expect was that he didn’t recoil in disgust or punch Mick in the face for even commencing such an action. Keith ended up kissing back, his own tongue twisting and dancing with Mick’s. Hands loosened their clenching grip on the material of clothes for the better manor of caressing. Those same hands had started to start a mini-expedition in seeing-- rather feeling what the other had to offer.
It was Mick who broke the kiss to stare back at Keith. Their breaths were the only pieces of sound that allowed their minds to believe that, indeed, they both were still alive or that this wasn’t some fantasy dream-land. Mick tried to compose himself and found it was hard in resisting the urge to dive back down onto Keith and allow himself to divulge in what Keith’s body had to offer. Keith was suffering from the same urges.
“Now do you believe me? It was you who I actually wanted. Never Anita, but you.”
“But then why’d you do all those things?”
“To make you jealous, of course.”
If it were another day and time, Keith would have surely punched Mick in the throat and watch him with satisfaction as Mick would writhe on the floor and gag; but today, everything suddenly made sense. Keith didn’t have that murderous intent anymore and now he was just filled with relief. That reassurance allowed his mind to conclude that he was, in fact, in love with Mick. Keith then let a series of light chuckles roll from his mouth as Mick grinned at him.
“Since you’re on this little confession,” Keith said with a slight leer, “let’s go do something… productive upstairs, don’t you think?” Keith wiggled his eyebrows at Mick.
“I was just about to say the same.”