I bring a life.
Well, I thought it would be a good idea to post here, even if to project some life.
An ail bodied laugh burst forth from Mick’s mouth.
Keith gazed at his glass of half empty ail colored alcohol. Quickly, he swiped it, guzzling it down without an afterthought; feeling the warm feeling spreading through his stomach that he was so used to. Jack was a gentleman that he could get used to, to seek his wise knowledge of the worlds problems. His auburn colored eyes watched in a disengaged fashion as Mick chatted up a few women right beside him: looking for the best candidate to go home with him.
Keith exhaled out a heavy breath and skimmed his eyes through the dim crowd as though he were sizing up competition. Not many people were in the vicinity since it was after midnight; happy hour had come and gone and most figured that they’d leave since the special deals on drinks had come and gone. After a wondrous party to celebrate their (finally, after it had sat in the studio for months because a certain label didn’t like the cover art) studio release of Beggars Banquet .
One thing that he hadn’t anticipated was the women. Or that those annoying women would waltz over and strike up a conversation with Mick. Nor did he want Mick to grin and flag them down to advance over into their general area. He absolutely hated being ignored by Mick while the older one decided to use this time to flirt with what seemed to be average bar people. He felt left out of the loop that had formed between those women and Mick.
He snorted around his henna colored alcohol as Mick continued to make coquette advances towards the women. He bundled his hands together as he placed them on the waxed surface of the bar. He let out a frustrated breath of air and kept looking back over to Mick and the women. Like a vultures keen eye for spotting food, he watched as the blond woman put her manicured hands on Mick’s. It was obvious that she wanted something other then a friendly chat.
A tight coiling feeling was unwinding in his chest, causing him to breathe in more. Keith’s maple colored eyes watched as she rubbed her hand delicately across Mick’s palm. Eyes were narrowed in a small jealousy as she smiled. In a huff of angry feelings, Keith stood up and petulantly stomped out of the room. He slide his back against the outside of the building, the cool air rushing through his ebony hair. He shook loose a cigarette from his soft package. He felt the rush of the nicotine saturated smoke fill his lungs and drift into his bloodstream.
After having time to cool off, Keith deposited himself back into the same chair he was in. He put his chin in his hand and brooded over the last few moments. Keith heard broken pieces of speech enter his ears to only side out of his ear with no chance of successfully making him interested: something of a boyfriend, broken car, walking home.
“I think we’ve had a lovely chat, but really, I must get back to my buddy over here,” Mick said gleefully and pointed with is thumb towards Keith.
‘Nice of the bugger to finally notice me,’ Keith’s mind said gruffly. He looked over his glass to see the women retreating and wished that those women wouldn’t be coming back. Ever.
“Nice of you to finally say something Mick,” Keith had wrinkled his nose at Mick, an undertone of vexed feelings pervading his already rough voice.
Mick grinned and slapped his back playfully. “Don’t be such a prat about it.” Out of spite, Keith shook off the thin hand.
“C’mon Keith, I was just playing,” Mick said before he took quick drink of his own liquor. “Let’s just have some good times right now.”
“Not if you decide to chat up some ‘lovely’ birds,” Keith muttered in slight disdain before he gulped down another mouthful of liquid.
“Don’t be like that,” Mick said, a large smile still plastered to his mouth.
Keith snorted and still muttered, “Well, you did.”
“It’s not a crime if I socialize with people; I just like to talk to people,” Mick said and signaled another drink. “You just sit there, glaring with the want to kill.”
“You only do that when you want something; using your looks to get somewhere.”
“Oh Keith,” Mick feigned mock hurt, “you wound me.” Playfully, Mick placed his hand above his heart. Keith only rolled his eyes and reached for another shot of bourbon.
The night rolled on without another hitch. Keith glowered at any woman that happened to recognize them and approach them, instilling doubt in their hopeful minds of finding a way to connect with them. The glasses lined up, words became more strung together and slurred, body language became inattentive and bedraggled. Mick swayed and nearly toppled over onto Keith who was in a much more similar predicament. Keith found it a little more of a task to grip the glass and keep it firmly placed in his hands.
Their speeches happened to take many routes and paths: from the war, to blues, to the new instruments that Keith bought, stupid cops, and eventually to what their label was doing.
And, like, those fuckin’ executives is sendin’ over our bread,” Mick garbled out to a much more loosened and very sloshed Keith.
“Yeah,” Keith raised his glass wobbly, nearly spilling the contents on the table, “I mean, it’s our money. Why are they takin’ it?
Both had considerably lost track of how much they had consumed. They were feeling loose and quite mouthy. Glasses outlined the rim of the bar and the bartender was beginning to wonder when they would leave. Eyes were starting to be drawn to the two as they called out unintelligible words that were half cut off.
“’specially them American cats; just comin’ ‘round and takin’ things that aren’t theirs!” Keith glowered in a drunken haze. The room was beginning to tilt and sway. “Why ain’t they telling us ‘till now?”
“Because America is a bloody old con!”
“Not all,” Keith lowered his voice. “Muddy didn’t steel.”
“Well, them blues artist didn’t. But-- you know-- they-…” Mick was becoming more incoherent. “Fuck the record company!” Mick finally stuttered. “Y’know what Keith? You know what we should do?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s leave ‘em. Leave those bastards. It’s our money ‘n’ songs-- right? So why are they doing what they want with it?”
“Keith swallowed another mouthful. “Should we? I dunno Mick.”
“C’mon Keith,” Mick said, his words coming out in a jumbled mass of excited streams. “It’s simple.”
Keith put a thin finger on his chin, feeling the slight stubble that was creeping upon his skin. “Alright,” he said after letting it simmer in his mind. He was conflicted, on side yelling at him to not to do this; it could hurt them in the long run, but then, the rebellious side wanted to do anything to rally against the restraints that the company had imposed upon the band; they were being kept leashed to a tight reign.
Keith slapped down his hand, slightly wincing since he hadn’t know he came down with such a large force. It caused Mick to jump and loose balance and plunged towards the floor. For a moment, he thought he heard the world fly past his ears at an incredible velocity of whooshing and fluttering sounds. The floor hit him much faster then he thought and felt the thud of the floor. He heard something else-- Keith was laughing and it sounded so loud in his ears.
Keith offered an unstable hand towards Mick and tried helping him up, nearly toppling over into the position that Mick was in. Mick gazed at the offered hand and giggled, his mind hazy and brewing in alcohol.
“C’mon,” Keith slurred and angled himself to try and have a steady balance on his legs. It felt like they were full of jelly-like substances that threatened to weaken his stance and send him to the floor faster then he could take in a breath. “L-lets go and get out of he-here.” Him mind slurred to him about leaving, half hiccuped thought process too unclear to try and decipher.
At the speed of a snail, Mick pulled himself to his feet, teetering on the edge of falling down again. He gathered enough stamina to carry himself out, albeit wobbly and at tippy pace. Both stumbled out into the fresh, cool air of December. Keith was momentarily taken aback by the dull frost that bit into his body. The grass shined with a light sheen of frost; the moonlight reflected of the coated blades, highlighting them individually. Keith nearly fell into his Bentley, feeling the cold metal brush against his hand and he retracted it as though his hand were on fire.
He felt Mick collide into his back and nearly fall over, but Keith’s body was the only thing that kept him from falling; it was like his anchor that kept him anchored to his feet. Keith then fumbled with his keys, now stiffly cold because of the cool air. Several false starts later-- after Keith had missed the key hole, scrapping his Bentley and cursing it to hell, Keith had finally got it into the ignition and opened the door.
Mick (clumsily) followed and toppled into the seat before Keith could. He happily moved over to the next seat and, like an excited child, fluidly hit the seat with his hand, quickly signaling the other boy to sit down. Keith nearly fell into his chair and took several moments to get himself together.
For a while, Keith stared at the ignition. It stared back, unblinking (not like it could, it was inanimate) and stood stonily. Keith blinked several times, slowly darting his eyes back and forth from his silver coated keys to the ignition.
‘Why won’t it start?’ Keith’s befuddled mind had said groggily. His hands gripped the keys and added up the situation: maybe the keys go in the ignition? Do they turn on the machine? Keith slowly added up two and two and found out that he already tried to start the ignition. He saw several marks accumulating around the slot. That’s when his mind had said to him, ‘You’re sloshed; no way you can drive.”
“Well then,” Keith stated, “I’m too sloshed and buzzed.” His mind worked feverishly to find a way to get home, but since his mind was crisply wrapped in alcohol, he hadn’t much brain cells to go off of.
Keith's eyes quickly found Mick. “Hey,” he called out to his as equally drunk partner, “you got any idea on to get us home?”
Mick put a finger on his chin, but then laughed. “Nope.” His voice was oddly cheerful. Keith’s eyes were briefly fascinated at how the warm breath from Mick’s lungs shone in the frost bitten air. “Well,” he said thoughtfully after a while, “I could call over those girls I had a chat with.”
Keith’s mood had taken a complete 180 degree turn when he heard the term ‘ladies’. His dazed smile had loosened and faded and replaced with an affronted demeanor. His lips twisted and turned into a scowl. “Fine,” he said in a bitter, drunken haze, “call them.”
Mick’s goofy, stupidly happy grin fell from his face as he immediately sensed the others’ discomfort. A worried, yet weary frown cultivated into the features of the older boy. “Keith,” the other said, rolling the word around his tongue in a slow and worried manor.
Keith’s brain worked one problem at a time, unable to go fast because of the influences of a few drinks. His mind had shot back to the previous hours when Mick decided that women were much more important then his best friend. His best made for Christ sakes! Keith mind instantly became awash with jealous and churlish thoughts and feelings. “Call them; I’ll walk.” He was being a childish boy, throwing a tantrum when he should have very much gotten past that aspect of life. He was a full grown man, yet here he was fuming like a spoiled child when a toy was denied to them.
“Keith,” Mick approached his name with a provident tone. Keith refused to look at him and stared out ahead at the moon high in the sky. The moon could have very well explained how he felt: grey, stony and cold colored as to give a suggestion that his mood had turned glacial. Mick gingerly laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder, his mind now calculating (or stumbling) Keith’s mood to see how he should react. It could get dangerous: Keith’s moods were heightened when he was drunk or flying higher then the sky when under the influence. Keith could snap anytime and it would be magnified more then ten fold.
Keith spared Mick a glare from the corner of his eye. “You know, it wasn’t really anything. Nothing happened between us, just a chat.”
“I saw how you acted,” Keith nearly spat in an acidic tone. His mind tried to reason that he was just jealous and that he shouldn’t be throwing a fit like a little child. His nostrils flared and he breathed to try and calm his nerves down. His fingers clenched s he tried to stop himself.
“No Keith, nothing did happen.” Mick’s hand grew tighter in it’s grip. The alcohol had rubbed off slightly, but not enough to form long sentences that were too complex for their brains at the moment. “I didn’t try to call--”
The gravity of an unfaltering hazel stare fell onto Mick and he felt it crash into him at such an intense velocity. He saw the waves of jealousy role around in his depths and he saw the fury. Mick shied his hand off of Keith’s shoulder as though it were burning (he slightly feared for his own safety; Keith did have such a nasty temper f he was riled up enough).
“Alright,” Mick finally found his voice, “so what if I did? I did ignore you and I’m sorry, but don’t act like such a berk.”
Keith turned fully towards Mick. “Me? I’m the berk here?” Keith said in a tone like gravel grating skin. “It’s better then ignoring your best mate for a stupid woman’s attention.”
There was a drunken rage budding quickly in this terse reality, and it was expanding faster then the two could cap it, like a leaking pipe that steadily corrodes faster then it can be fixed. Keith’s eyes narrowed.
Mick clenched his fists loosely, hoping to forget about the urge to just walk away. Keith was being a stupid bastard again and Mick didn’t want to hear it. He stared head on with Keith: neither were faltering as they willed the other to combust into a shower of sparks and bright lights into a spectacular death scene.
Mick was ready to have enough. He didn’t feel like dealing with a selfish callow Keith seeing that it would take both nowhere but cause them to exchange more heated words. He then turned away and reached for the door and began to open it in a huff. His back was towards Kith and he--
Something snapped and grasped a hold of his tawny writs and yanked it back. He twisted in the grasp and felt the car door hit his back, the handle jabbing harshly into his back. When he looked up, a set of blazing mahogany eyes were burning into hi; only mere inches away, he saw the smoldering anger.
“Keith, what the--”
“Shut up, you fucking plonker,” Keith whispered at such a dangerous hiss. Mick’s mouth felt as though it were too heavy to keep using.
“Did you know how I fucking felt? Sitting over there and flaunting it up in front of those girls.” Keith had brought his voice back to it’s normal level. “Do you know how it feels? To know that your friend-- no, best mate leaves you? What kind of friend is that?”
Mick kept his mouth shut, knowing that Keith could explode any minute and haul off and give him a good punch in his jaw.
“I felt so out of the loop; I felt like you didn’t find me important for a while,” Keith’s voice sounded solemn, on a verge with sadness. “I’d never felt that with anyone else, no one. Not even Anita could do that. But with you--” Keith cut himself off, as though afraid to answer. His voice was shaky at best, wavering in confidence that had shown itself brightly a few moments ago.
Keith’s hands slackened over time, but enough to keep a slightly firm hold on the bony wrists. Keith leaned his head down, feeling the heat spread through his face and thanked the cover of night that Mick couldn’t see it.
“But what?” Mick whispered to Keith, his breath the only thing telling him that he was still alive; his heart thundered so that it threatened to shatter his ribs and burst forth from his chest. Keith raised his head, searching for an encouragement in Mick’s eyes, hoping to find an answer.
“But with you,” Keith still struggled with his words, not used to pouring his heart out like a displayed artwork, “it’s different. You-- it was you that made me feel that way. Anita may have been pretty-- fucking gorgeous at that, but you; we’ve got so much history and I feel that we couldn’t escape each other. No matter what, I’d always come back. Kicking, thrashing, anything-- it’d always end with you.”
Mick blinked and let the words simmer in his brain before coming up with an answer. But what answer? He hardly knew how to formulate a proper thought, his mind too busy caught up in what Keith tried to communicate with him. Since the pressure decreased on his wrists, he thought it was okay to move at least one of them.
“Keith,” Mick held up his hand and lightly pressed his hand to Keith’s cheek. “I could never leave you. Never.” Mick tilted his head. “It’s impossible and I just couldn’t bring myself to do that.” Mick tried to smile a sincere look. “You’re my everything; I couldn’t leave you.”
Keith looked at Mick. His mind only saw Mick: everything had faded out to a mere indescribable feature; the windows had disappeared (they’d already fogged up from the sharp contrast of heat and bitter cold of the inside and outside). He only saw a face tenderly looking at him. Felt the hand of soft heat and smooth touch.
Both had stared each other and time around them had halted only for them. Only did they know what was flying around them. An invisible magnetic pull seemed to attract them to each other. Keith realized that he was leaning in and Mick was following. Keith took his grip off of Mick’s spindle thin wrists and laced them up into Mick’s paler fingers forming a tight-knit bond. Mick’s eyes were half lidded and Keith’s ventured the same path.
Both met and it felt like everything around them never mattered like the other person would. Keith’s arm secured itself around bony hips and pulled the other closer-- he wanted to feel Mick close; he was desperate to feel that same spark that had always been between them. He felt the grazing of Mick’s hand shifting through his hair with a tender loving ease and support. It told him that Mick was there; that he was ready for whatever Keith decided to do.
With other idea in mind, Keith slowly broke apart and tightened his grip and out of a flash quickly pulled Mick towards him. Mick’s eyes went wide at the sudden pull and felt the door disappear from his back. It was replaced by a plush texture and he slightly bounced. Keith had maneuvered Mick and himself into the back seat of the Bentley and current held Mick under his body.
The moonlight spooled in dully through cloudy windows of their hot breaths. Both felt nearly delirious when they were with each other. Mick shot his arms out, connecting his fingers with Keith’s hair and pulled him down for a rough, animalistic thirst kiss. Mick hooked an arm around Keith’s narrow shoulders and dug his fingernails into Keith’s back. He left red hot scorch marks form digging into them, somehow marking his territory.
They were like in a competition: they kissed hard, as if wanting to devour the other and absorb into one being. Teeth clashed together, tongues twirled in a dance and explored what the other had to offer. Keith shoved his hands under Mick’s bone perturbing hips and gripped in an iron hold, squeezing them. Keith broke away and ruthlessly bit Mick’s neck.
“Mine,” he muttered through a sweat soaked and alcohol influenced haze of lust. Mick was temporarily brought out to be slightly taken back at the aggressiveness of Keith’s voice. How the other delved in marking the other. It was pure, intense, and feverish. Mick felt Keith tear away at his pants (he was slightly upset; it’d cost a pretty penny to buy them) and his long sleeved shirt after he released Mick from the bulky coats wrath. Mick grasped desperately at Keith’s coat and almost violently tore the material while getting it to come off of Keith’s shoulders.
Keith felt the sharp slope in Mick’s boxer shorts and it clashed with his own need. Mick’s head swam with emotions that he felt like his heart would explode from the confusion of what to feel. With clothes discarded, they began to not hold back. Keith spat on his fingers to coat himself as Mick kept his fingers latched to Keith’s back, digging fingernail paths all down his spin. With one final movement, Keith pushed himself into Mick’s entrance and swiftly sheathed himself inside that cavern of heat that he wanted to feel.
Pain and pleasure flared through and up Mick’s spine to pour out into his body. It ignited his senses as if everything became more sensitive to him. He heard Keith’s fast ad ragged breaths in his ears as he began to snap his hips forewords at a hastened energetic tempo. With his back grinding into the seat, Mick decided to hold onto Keith and grip Keith’s bare torso with his sinewy legs. The Bentley became animated from their activities: it lightly rocked with their movements. Keith grunted as he began to feel those pre-orgasm waves frequently crash into him.
“Keith-- I-- you…” Mick’s voice was cutting out from his vocal chords as Keith muttered a stream of words. Keith’s hand found Mick’s need and grasped him at the same time, rubbing it with the same speed as his thrusts. Both then spiraled down into their oblivious territory of bliss and extreme endorphins. Both had each others’ names on their lips as they came crashing back down into the real world.
For lengthy moments of time, nothing was spoken or even thought of. Just basking in the after glow of their delirious and passionate lust. Finally, Mick opened his eyes and pulled his hand up to tenderly touch Keith’s sweat shined hair as if seeing he were still there. Keith pushed off the seat and looked down at the other man. Keith smiled.
“Damn Keith,” Mick said winded, “I didn’t know that you were like that.”
Keith tried to smirk, his muscles trying to after the moments before. “I was in the moment.”
Mick’s eyes scanned the windows and saw the foggy moisture on the windows, blocking out the worlds sight. Keith pulled himself up and out of the other boy and sat up on the chair. Leaning his head back, Keith caught his breath. The other leaned u on both elbows and watched the other. Keith looked back over at Mick.
“Hope nothing’ got on the chair; gonna be a bitch if it stains.”
Mick let out a roll of giggles. “It’s be your fault, not mine.”
“Hey, it’s your mess and--”
“Well you helped cause it.” Mick’s face was split with grins and Keith just playfully, albeit a bit lazily, shook his head. He felt the flushed air wafting away and a cooler air began to settle in. With a much more effort then usual, Keith reached down and brought out a furry ornament. Mick’s face twisted in confusion until reality collapsed onto his head.
“Is that,” Mick swallowed, “a rug? Have you had it in your possession all this time?”
Keith shrugged his shoulders and said “I liked seeing you in it; much better then Marianne did in it.”
Mick rolled his eyes and let out a labored sigh. Keith lent him a hand and helped him up. Mick wrapped his arms around Keith’s thin torso and buried his head into Keith’s neck. It smelled of faded booze and cigarette and sweat. It was oddly earthly and Mick liked it. Keith wrapped their sweaty bodies in the rug and leaned his head on Mick’s. He felt the daze of sleepiness invade his eyes as he drifted in out of consciousness.
He felt the damp ends of Mick’s long hair tickle his slightly stubbled chin. Keith had let himself venture into the world of dreams and out of mind, feeling the warm, delicate feelings of being near the other boy.
An ail bodied laugh burst forth from Mick’s mouth.
Keith gazed at his glass of half empty ail colored alcohol. Quickly, he swiped it, guzzling it down without an afterthought; feeling the warm feeling spreading through his stomach that he was so used to. Jack was a gentleman that he could get used to, to seek his wise knowledge of the worlds problems. His auburn colored eyes watched in a disengaged fashion as Mick chatted up a few women right beside him: looking for the best candidate to go home with him.
Keith exhaled out a heavy breath and skimmed his eyes through the dim crowd as though he were sizing up competition. Not many people were in the vicinity since it was after midnight; happy hour had come and gone and most figured that they’d leave since the special deals on drinks had come and gone. After a wondrous party to celebrate their (finally, after it had sat in the studio for months because a certain label didn’t like the cover art) studio release of Beggars Banquet .
One thing that he hadn’t anticipated was the women. Or that those annoying women would waltz over and strike up a conversation with Mick. Nor did he want Mick to grin and flag them down to advance over into their general area. He absolutely hated being ignored by Mick while the older one decided to use this time to flirt with what seemed to be average bar people. He felt left out of the loop that had formed between those women and Mick.
He snorted around his henna colored alcohol as Mick continued to make coquette advances towards the women. He bundled his hands together as he placed them on the waxed surface of the bar. He let out a frustrated breath of air and kept looking back over to Mick and the women. Like a vultures keen eye for spotting food, he watched as the blond woman put her manicured hands on Mick’s. It was obvious that she wanted something other then a friendly chat.
A tight coiling feeling was unwinding in his chest, causing him to breathe in more. Keith’s maple colored eyes watched as she rubbed her hand delicately across Mick’s palm. Eyes were narrowed in a small jealousy as she smiled. In a huff of angry feelings, Keith stood up and petulantly stomped out of the room. He slide his back against the outside of the building, the cool air rushing through his ebony hair. He shook loose a cigarette from his soft package. He felt the rush of the nicotine saturated smoke fill his lungs and drift into his bloodstream.
After having time to cool off, Keith deposited himself back into the same chair he was in. He put his chin in his hand and brooded over the last few moments. Keith heard broken pieces of speech enter his ears to only side out of his ear with no chance of successfully making him interested: something of a boyfriend, broken car, walking home.
“I think we’ve had a lovely chat, but really, I must get back to my buddy over here,” Mick said gleefully and pointed with is thumb towards Keith.
‘Nice of the bugger to finally notice me,’ Keith’s mind said gruffly. He looked over his glass to see the women retreating and wished that those women wouldn’t be coming back. Ever.
“Nice of you to finally say something Mick,” Keith had wrinkled his nose at Mick, an undertone of vexed feelings pervading his already rough voice.
Mick grinned and slapped his back playfully. “Don’t be such a prat about it.” Out of spite, Keith shook off the thin hand.
“C’mon Keith, I was just playing,” Mick said before he took quick drink of his own liquor. “Let’s just have some good times right now.”
“Not if you decide to chat up some ‘lovely’ birds,” Keith muttered in slight disdain before he gulped down another mouthful of liquid.
“Don’t be like that,” Mick said, a large smile still plastered to his mouth.
Keith snorted and still muttered, “Well, you did.”
“It’s not a crime if I socialize with people; I just like to talk to people,” Mick said and signaled another drink. “You just sit there, glaring with the want to kill.”
“You only do that when you want something; using your looks to get somewhere.”
“Oh Keith,” Mick feigned mock hurt, “you wound me.” Playfully, Mick placed his hand above his heart. Keith only rolled his eyes and reached for another shot of bourbon.
The night rolled on without another hitch. Keith glowered at any woman that happened to recognize them and approach them, instilling doubt in their hopeful minds of finding a way to connect with them. The glasses lined up, words became more strung together and slurred, body language became inattentive and bedraggled. Mick swayed and nearly toppled over onto Keith who was in a much more similar predicament. Keith found it a little more of a task to grip the glass and keep it firmly placed in his hands.
Their speeches happened to take many routes and paths: from the war, to blues, to the new instruments that Keith bought, stupid cops, and eventually to what their label was doing.
And, like, those fuckin’ executives is sendin’ over our bread,” Mick garbled out to a much more loosened and very sloshed Keith.
“Yeah,” Keith raised his glass wobbly, nearly spilling the contents on the table, “I mean, it’s our money. Why are they takin’ it?
Both had considerably lost track of how much they had consumed. They were feeling loose and quite mouthy. Glasses outlined the rim of the bar and the bartender was beginning to wonder when they would leave. Eyes were starting to be drawn to the two as they called out unintelligible words that were half cut off.
“’specially them American cats; just comin’ ‘round and takin’ things that aren’t theirs!” Keith glowered in a drunken haze. The room was beginning to tilt and sway. “Why ain’t they telling us ‘till now?”
“Because America is a bloody old con!”
“Not all,” Keith lowered his voice. “Muddy didn’t steel.”
“Well, them blues artist didn’t. But-- you know-- they-…” Mick was becoming more incoherent. “Fuck the record company!” Mick finally stuttered. “Y’know what Keith? You know what we should do?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s leave ‘em. Leave those bastards. It’s our money ‘n’ songs-- right? So why are they doing what they want with it?”
“Keith swallowed another mouthful. “Should we? I dunno Mick.”
“C’mon Keith,” Mick said, his words coming out in a jumbled mass of excited streams. “It’s simple.”
Keith put a thin finger on his chin, feeling the slight stubble that was creeping upon his skin. “Alright,” he said after letting it simmer in his mind. He was conflicted, on side yelling at him to not to do this; it could hurt them in the long run, but then, the rebellious side wanted to do anything to rally against the restraints that the company had imposed upon the band; they were being kept leashed to a tight reign.
Keith slapped down his hand, slightly wincing since he hadn’t know he came down with such a large force. It caused Mick to jump and loose balance and plunged towards the floor. For a moment, he thought he heard the world fly past his ears at an incredible velocity of whooshing and fluttering sounds. The floor hit him much faster then he thought and felt the thud of the floor. He heard something else-- Keith was laughing and it sounded so loud in his ears.
Keith offered an unstable hand towards Mick and tried helping him up, nearly toppling over into the position that Mick was in. Mick gazed at the offered hand and giggled, his mind hazy and brewing in alcohol.
“C’mon,” Keith slurred and angled himself to try and have a steady balance on his legs. It felt like they were full of jelly-like substances that threatened to weaken his stance and send him to the floor faster then he could take in a breath. “L-lets go and get out of he-here.” Him mind slurred to him about leaving, half hiccuped thought process too unclear to try and decipher.
At the speed of a snail, Mick pulled himself to his feet, teetering on the edge of falling down again. He gathered enough stamina to carry himself out, albeit wobbly and at tippy pace. Both stumbled out into the fresh, cool air of December. Keith was momentarily taken aback by the dull frost that bit into his body. The grass shined with a light sheen of frost; the moonlight reflected of the coated blades, highlighting them individually. Keith nearly fell into his Bentley, feeling the cold metal brush against his hand and he retracted it as though his hand were on fire.
He felt Mick collide into his back and nearly fall over, but Keith’s body was the only thing that kept him from falling; it was like his anchor that kept him anchored to his feet. Keith then fumbled with his keys, now stiffly cold because of the cool air. Several false starts later-- after Keith had missed the key hole, scrapping his Bentley and cursing it to hell, Keith had finally got it into the ignition and opened the door.
Mick (clumsily) followed and toppled into the seat before Keith could. He happily moved over to the next seat and, like an excited child, fluidly hit the seat with his hand, quickly signaling the other boy to sit down. Keith nearly fell into his chair and took several moments to get himself together.
For a while, Keith stared at the ignition. It stared back, unblinking (not like it could, it was inanimate) and stood stonily. Keith blinked several times, slowly darting his eyes back and forth from his silver coated keys to the ignition.
‘Why won’t it start?’ Keith’s befuddled mind had said groggily. His hands gripped the keys and added up the situation: maybe the keys go in the ignition? Do they turn on the machine? Keith slowly added up two and two and found out that he already tried to start the ignition. He saw several marks accumulating around the slot. That’s when his mind had said to him, ‘You’re sloshed; no way you can drive.”
“Well then,” Keith stated, “I’m too sloshed and buzzed.” His mind worked feverishly to find a way to get home, but since his mind was crisply wrapped in alcohol, he hadn’t much brain cells to go off of.
Keith's eyes quickly found Mick. “Hey,” he called out to his as equally drunk partner, “you got any idea on to get us home?”
Mick put a finger on his chin, but then laughed. “Nope.” His voice was oddly cheerful. Keith’s eyes were briefly fascinated at how the warm breath from Mick’s lungs shone in the frost bitten air. “Well,” he said thoughtfully after a while, “I could call over those girls I had a chat with.”
Keith’s mood had taken a complete 180 degree turn when he heard the term ‘ladies’. His dazed smile had loosened and faded and replaced with an affronted demeanor. His lips twisted and turned into a scowl. “Fine,” he said in a bitter, drunken haze, “call them.”
Mick’s goofy, stupidly happy grin fell from his face as he immediately sensed the others’ discomfort. A worried, yet weary frown cultivated into the features of the older boy. “Keith,” the other said, rolling the word around his tongue in a slow and worried manor.
Keith’s brain worked one problem at a time, unable to go fast because of the influences of a few drinks. His mind had shot back to the previous hours when Mick decided that women were much more important then his best friend. His best made for Christ sakes! Keith mind instantly became awash with jealous and churlish thoughts and feelings. “Call them; I’ll walk.” He was being a childish boy, throwing a tantrum when he should have very much gotten past that aspect of life. He was a full grown man, yet here he was fuming like a spoiled child when a toy was denied to them.
“Keith,” Mick approached his name with a provident tone. Keith refused to look at him and stared out ahead at the moon high in the sky. The moon could have very well explained how he felt: grey, stony and cold colored as to give a suggestion that his mood had turned glacial. Mick gingerly laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder, his mind now calculating (or stumbling) Keith’s mood to see how he should react. It could get dangerous: Keith’s moods were heightened when he was drunk or flying higher then the sky when under the influence. Keith could snap anytime and it would be magnified more then ten fold.
Keith spared Mick a glare from the corner of his eye. “You know, it wasn’t really anything. Nothing happened between us, just a chat.”
“I saw how you acted,” Keith nearly spat in an acidic tone. His mind tried to reason that he was just jealous and that he shouldn’t be throwing a fit like a little child. His nostrils flared and he breathed to try and calm his nerves down. His fingers clenched s he tried to stop himself.
“No Keith, nothing did happen.” Mick’s hand grew tighter in it’s grip. The alcohol had rubbed off slightly, but not enough to form long sentences that were too complex for their brains at the moment. “I didn’t try to call--”
The gravity of an unfaltering hazel stare fell onto Mick and he felt it crash into him at such an intense velocity. He saw the waves of jealousy role around in his depths and he saw the fury. Mick shied his hand off of Keith’s shoulder as though it were burning (he slightly feared for his own safety; Keith did have such a nasty temper f he was riled up enough).
“Alright,” Mick finally found his voice, “so what if I did? I did ignore you and I’m sorry, but don’t act like such a berk.”
Keith turned fully towards Mick. “Me? I’m the berk here?” Keith said in a tone like gravel grating skin. “It’s better then ignoring your best mate for a stupid woman’s attention.”
There was a drunken rage budding quickly in this terse reality, and it was expanding faster then the two could cap it, like a leaking pipe that steadily corrodes faster then it can be fixed. Keith’s eyes narrowed.
Mick clenched his fists loosely, hoping to forget about the urge to just walk away. Keith was being a stupid bastard again and Mick didn’t want to hear it. He stared head on with Keith: neither were faltering as they willed the other to combust into a shower of sparks and bright lights into a spectacular death scene.
Mick was ready to have enough. He didn’t feel like dealing with a selfish callow Keith seeing that it would take both nowhere but cause them to exchange more heated words. He then turned away and reached for the door and began to open it in a huff. His back was towards Kith and he--
Something snapped and grasped a hold of his tawny writs and yanked it back. He twisted in the grasp and felt the car door hit his back, the handle jabbing harshly into his back. When he looked up, a set of blazing mahogany eyes were burning into hi; only mere inches away, he saw the smoldering anger.
“Keith, what the--”
“Shut up, you fucking plonker,” Keith whispered at such a dangerous hiss. Mick’s mouth felt as though it were too heavy to keep using.
“Did you know how I fucking felt? Sitting over there and flaunting it up in front of those girls.” Keith had brought his voice back to it’s normal level. “Do you know how it feels? To know that your friend-- no, best mate leaves you? What kind of friend is that?”
Mick kept his mouth shut, knowing that Keith could explode any minute and haul off and give him a good punch in his jaw.
“I felt so out of the loop; I felt like you didn’t find me important for a while,” Keith’s voice sounded solemn, on a verge with sadness. “I’d never felt that with anyone else, no one. Not even Anita could do that. But with you--” Keith cut himself off, as though afraid to answer. His voice was shaky at best, wavering in confidence that had shown itself brightly a few moments ago.
Keith’s hands slackened over time, but enough to keep a slightly firm hold on the bony wrists. Keith leaned his head down, feeling the heat spread through his face and thanked the cover of night that Mick couldn’t see it.
“But what?” Mick whispered to Keith, his breath the only thing telling him that he was still alive; his heart thundered so that it threatened to shatter his ribs and burst forth from his chest. Keith raised his head, searching for an encouragement in Mick’s eyes, hoping to find an answer.
“But with you,” Keith still struggled with his words, not used to pouring his heart out like a displayed artwork, “it’s different. You-- it was you that made me feel that way. Anita may have been pretty-- fucking gorgeous at that, but you; we’ve got so much history and I feel that we couldn’t escape each other. No matter what, I’d always come back. Kicking, thrashing, anything-- it’d always end with you.”
Mick blinked and let the words simmer in his brain before coming up with an answer. But what answer? He hardly knew how to formulate a proper thought, his mind too busy caught up in what Keith tried to communicate with him. Since the pressure decreased on his wrists, he thought it was okay to move at least one of them.
“Keith,” Mick held up his hand and lightly pressed his hand to Keith’s cheek. “I could never leave you. Never.” Mick tilted his head. “It’s impossible and I just couldn’t bring myself to do that.” Mick tried to smile a sincere look. “You’re my everything; I couldn’t leave you.”
Keith looked at Mick. His mind only saw Mick: everything had faded out to a mere indescribable feature; the windows had disappeared (they’d already fogged up from the sharp contrast of heat and bitter cold of the inside and outside). He only saw a face tenderly looking at him. Felt the hand of soft heat and smooth touch.
Both had stared each other and time around them had halted only for them. Only did they know what was flying around them. An invisible magnetic pull seemed to attract them to each other. Keith realized that he was leaning in and Mick was following. Keith took his grip off of Mick’s spindle thin wrists and laced them up into Mick’s paler fingers forming a tight-knit bond. Mick’s eyes were half lidded and Keith’s ventured the same path.
Both met and it felt like everything around them never mattered like the other person would. Keith’s arm secured itself around bony hips and pulled the other closer-- he wanted to feel Mick close; he was desperate to feel that same spark that had always been between them. He felt the grazing of Mick’s hand shifting through his hair with a tender loving ease and support. It told him that Mick was there; that he was ready for whatever Keith decided to do.
With other idea in mind, Keith slowly broke apart and tightened his grip and out of a flash quickly pulled Mick towards him. Mick’s eyes went wide at the sudden pull and felt the door disappear from his back. It was replaced by a plush texture and he slightly bounced. Keith had maneuvered Mick and himself into the back seat of the Bentley and current held Mick under his body.
The moonlight spooled in dully through cloudy windows of their hot breaths. Both felt nearly delirious when they were with each other. Mick shot his arms out, connecting his fingers with Keith’s hair and pulled him down for a rough, animalistic thirst kiss. Mick hooked an arm around Keith’s narrow shoulders and dug his fingernails into Keith’s back. He left red hot scorch marks form digging into them, somehow marking his territory.
They were like in a competition: they kissed hard, as if wanting to devour the other and absorb into one being. Teeth clashed together, tongues twirled in a dance and explored what the other had to offer. Keith shoved his hands under Mick’s bone perturbing hips and gripped in an iron hold, squeezing them. Keith broke away and ruthlessly bit Mick’s neck.
“Mine,” he muttered through a sweat soaked and alcohol influenced haze of lust. Mick was temporarily brought out to be slightly taken back at the aggressiveness of Keith’s voice. How the other delved in marking the other. It was pure, intense, and feverish. Mick felt Keith tear away at his pants (he was slightly upset; it’d cost a pretty penny to buy them) and his long sleeved shirt after he released Mick from the bulky coats wrath. Mick grasped desperately at Keith’s coat and almost violently tore the material while getting it to come off of Keith’s shoulders.
Keith felt the sharp slope in Mick’s boxer shorts and it clashed with his own need. Mick’s head swam with emotions that he felt like his heart would explode from the confusion of what to feel. With clothes discarded, they began to not hold back. Keith spat on his fingers to coat himself as Mick kept his fingers latched to Keith’s back, digging fingernail paths all down his spin. With one final movement, Keith pushed himself into Mick’s entrance and swiftly sheathed himself inside that cavern of heat that he wanted to feel.
Pain and pleasure flared through and up Mick’s spine to pour out into his body. It ignited his senses as if everything became more sensitive to him. He heard Keith’s fast ad ragged breaths in his ears as he began to snap his hips forewords at a hastened energetic tempo. With his back grinding into the seat, Mick decided to hold onto Keith and grip Keith’s bare torso with his sinewy legs. The Bentley became animated from their activities: it lightly rocked with their movements. Keith grunted as he began to feel those pre-orgasm waves frequently crash into him.
“Keith-- I-- you…” Mick’s voice was cutting out from his vocal chords as Keith muttered a stream of words. Keith’s hand found Mick’s need and grasped him at the same time, rubbing it with the same speed as his thrusts. Both then spiraled down into their oblivious territory of bliss and extreme endorphins. Both had each others’ names on their lips as they came crashing back down into the real world.
For lengthy moments of time, nothing was spoken or even thought of. Just basking in the after glow of their delirious and passionate lust. Finally, Mick opened his eyes and pulled his hand up to tenderly touch Keith’s sweat shined hair as if seeing he were still there. Keith pushed off the seat and looked down at the other man. Keith smiled.
“Damn Keith,” Mick said winded, “I didn’t know that you were like that.”
Keith tried to smirk, his muscles trying to after the moments before. “I was in the moment.”
Mick’s eyes scanned the windows and saw the foggy moisture on the windows, blocking out the worlds sight. Keith pulled himself up and out of the other boy and sat up on the chair. Leaning his head back, Keith caught his breath. The other leaned u on both elbows and watched the other. Keith looked back over at Mick.
“Hope nothing’ got on the chair; gonna be a bitch if it stains.”
Mick let out a roll of giggles. “It’s be your fault, not mine.”
“Hey, it’s your mess and--”
“Well you helped cause it.” Mick’s face was split with grins and Keith just playfully, albeit a bit lazily, shook his head. He felt the flushed air wafting away and a cooler air began to settle in. With a much more effort then usual, Keith reached down and brought out a furry ornament. Mick’s face twisted in confusion until reality collapsed onto his head.
“Is that,” Mick swallowed, “a rug? Have you had it in your possession all this time?”
Keith shrugged his shoulders and said “I liked seeing you in it; much better then Marianne did in it.”
Mick rolled his eyes and let out a labored sigh. Keith lent him a hand and helped him up. Mick wrapped his arms around Keith’s thin torso and buried his head into Keith’s neck. It smelled of faded booze and cigarette and sweat. It was oddly earthly and Mick liked it. Keith wrapped their sweaty bodies in the rug and leaned his head on Mick’s. He felt the daze of sleepiness invade his eyes as he drifted in out of consciousness.
He felt the damp ends of Mick’s long hair tickle his slightly stubbled chin. Keith had let himself venture into the world of dreams and out of mind, feeling the warm, delicate feelings of being near the other boy.