Hullo again.
Title: Repulsion
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Keith/Mick; 1971
Word Count: 5,678-- I lol'd.
Disclaimer: If it was true, I'd be hated so intensely by the band.
So, I tried my hand at a PWP (porn without plot)-- though it may have a plot to some, it's not really a plot to me.
Mick’s back was firmly pressed against the headboard, his lanky arms crossed above his midsection. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, one leg propped in the air, the other lying across a messily made bed. Mick, usually one to have a tidy appearance, had not bothered to fix his appearance, his hair messily kept and clothes rumpled. Why should he try to keep up his appearance when it too hot to even think about doing anything other than sitting in your own heat-induced misery?
Mick could feel beads of sweat rolling down his back, often not making it halfway down his back, disappearing into his white jacket he wore. He had discarded his undershirt a long time ago, deeming it too hot to wear-but he had kept on his jacket for some reason. A trail of sweat drug its way down the side of his face to slide underneath the singer’s collar.
It was so terribly hot in this villa, the heat penetrating everything, leaving no crevice to form cooler air. Mick did not understand the reason as to why this house did not have air conditioner. This house was grand, large enough to have many people using it and was quite expensive. Mick didn‘t see why the builders didn‘t put a cooling system in the house. But they didn’t. When he walked on the marble floors, he felt his feet stick uncomfortably to the floor, feeling the grime stick too. It was like a sauna, and with it being in the middle of summer, it was only going to get worse.
It was like hell on earth, compressed into a house to avoid any suspicion. The situation that the singer was currently in was not making anything much better. He hated being here, the insufferable qualities of this house making it unbearable. Not only did Mick have to adapt to the sweltering air, he also had to make use of the new band’s schedule-the schedule was more like whoever showed up during that time for recording. The band had adopted a guerilla outfit, and Mick found this very tiring and inconvenient. The hangers-on that were around certainly were not making anything easier, their constant, and most of the time, drug-addled air did not improve Mick’s mood.
Mick thought Keith was being a brainless idiot. They both knew the bullshit that the hippies preached-and failed at-and both didn’t believe it. If Keith suddenly thought he could emulate them better by inviting random people and letting them stay was certainly a poor excuse to be one. Did Keith not think of the consequences? Mick suspected that Keith was not thinking too deeply about it.
There was also the presence of someone that Mick wished could drop off the face of the earth and never return. He didn’t care about the emotional trouble and grief that person’s wife would face if that happened-she’d get overt it sooner or later, Mick thought snidely. If Mick could, he would have kicked that person out a long time ago. It was not helping that Keith suddenly thought his priorities were with this person now than the band. A small influx of jealousy coiled into Mick’s stomach, almost hotter than the heat surrounding him and before Mick was able to lock it back up.
‘Why the fuck does Keith think that stupid sod is more important that the band?’ Mick thought bitterly.
Normally Mick was more composed, more able to control his thoughts more and filter in what he liked. But the heat had a way of frying anyone’s self-control and tolerance, often making them much more vulnerable to a meltdown-no pun intended, Mick reminded himself-and spurs of anger.
As Mick was trying to calm himself, a voice from the doorframe startled him, almost making him jerk violently. When Mick looked up to see who this person was, he saw the figure of Keith Richards hovering in the doorway, his own arms crossed above his chest, the black tank top he had been wearing still adorning his body. Mick must have been so wrapped in his own thoughts that he had not known that Keith had entered in the room.
“Mick,” Keith had said, “I need y’ to come and help me out with some ideas that I’ve been having.”
Mick, normally, would’ve said okay and gotten up to help out, but this time, his previous thoughts had refused to quell themselves in his mind, trying to push past the thinly setup guards around his mind.
“And what’s made these ideas so important that you’ve actually come out of y’ room this early?” Mick said while trying to keep his voice neutral as the sarcasm tried to edge into it.
If Keith had been affected by Mick’s words, he didn’t show it. Keith snorted, “Yeah, well, I thought it’d be great to work it out now before y’ up an’ fuckin’ leave again.” There was obvious disdain in Keith’s voice, as he made no attempt to try to soften them. Mick narrowed his eyes, knowing what he was referencing to.
Mick’s thoughts began to come back, burrowing through his thinly constructed barriers to take hold. Mick briefly bit his bottom lip, contemplating if he should comply with Keith’s want. Before he could think of anything else, a person flashed in his mind, making his fingers clench on his arms. He carefully looked at Keith who still looking at him. “… is Gram going to be there?” Mick said this as if he were unsure. Keith’s face then had a look of inquiry.
“Yeah,” Keith said, still looking at him a bit strangely, as if he was not sure what Mick was getting at and trying to understand. “I was gonna go get’im up to come and jam also, since he’s got an interest in the music we’re makin’.”
When Keith had said that, Mick’s face twisted into a light sneer, his body language showing that he wasn’t pleased about what Keith said. “Then if that country git is gonna be there, then I’ll pass,” Mick retorted, returning with a sarcastic retort.
Keith’s demeanor had obviously changed, his eyes darkening with irritation. His glazed hazel eyes stared at his singer on the bed, his lower jaw working tensely. Mick could sense that Keith was obviously upset about Mick badmouthing Gram.
“What the hell is your problem?” Keith almost snapped at Mick. The older boy stared at the younger one, not bothering to answer. In response, Mick had said, “Nothing,” much to Keith’s irritation.
“What the hell has he done to make you hate him so much?” Keith ground out, his voice becoming gruff. Mick only looked away, shrugging his shoulders again.
The heat was weighing heavily on Keith’s patience, his self-control diminishing quickly. Keith had started growing accustomed to the heat, but there were still instances that the heat got to the guitarist, easily tempting him to pitch a fit of anger because of how hot it was and how uncomfortably it stuck to his body. Sweat was already collecting on his skin, providing little comfort but more discontent. Keith’s temper was unpredictable at times, and any moment he could snap.
Mick did not look over at Keith, knowing he was extracting a reaction from Keith. He was tempted to turn around and look at Keith to see it, but he only sighed, making it appear as though he was not taking any of this seriously. Perhaps Keith could catch the hint and go away. Mick was definitely not in the mood to deal with him, the heat already dissipating his tolerance. Maybe Keith could go off, do something useful with himself, and actually write something-
Mick was wrenched from his thoughts with a strong jerk on his collar, his body snapping in the direction he was being pulled to. His head immediately sought out who was doing this and his eyes met a set of smoldering and glazed set of mahogany eyes. Keith’s fists were balled into the collar of his white jacket. Mick saw the building fury there and was starting to think that he should approach this with caution.
“Fucking look at me when I’m talkin’ to you,” Keith lowly spoke, his voice laced with venom.
Mick knew it to be stupid to challenge Keith. He knew about Keith’s issues with controlling his temper and now was not the time to test it. However, Mick had lost most of his patience, and felt the needing urge to provoke something.
“You never answered my fucking question,” Keith spat. “What’s your bloody deal with Gram? He’s never done anything to you, so why are you treating him like garbage?”
Mick’s eyes had narrowed, briefly gazing down at Keith’s fists that were curled in his collar. The singer knew, just by the emotions that were swirling within Keith’s eyes that he was treading on very thin ice that was cracking.
“Maybe it’s you,” Mick said. He did not look at Keith directly, but his eyes had roamed away from Keith.
The unexpectedness of that answer had caught Keith off guard. The guitarist was fully prepared for Mick to make some excuse up or deny that he had a problem and had already prepared what he was going to say, but when Mick said it was him, it caused his expression to melt into that of confusion and his grip on Mick’s collar to go partially slack. But then his confusion quickly morphed into anger about not knowing what was meant by this.
“Why?” Keith asked, his voice less forced, but still having an edge to it.
Mick debated on whether or not he should tell Keith. His eyes turned back to Keith, his voice calmly-as Mick could make it-speaking, “You really don’t get it do you, you stupid sod?”
Keith held back a swell of anger that shot through him like a freight train. “Get what?”
Mick’s eyes were fire-lit, his fury swirling through the depths clearer than sunlight. “You. You’re the one who’s been neglecting everything just to be with Gram. You’re the one who’s acting like he’s the most important fucking thing in the world, and for what? Just because he shares your love of damn needles and chemicals doesn’t make the bloke a friend, just a burden. If y’re so concerned about him and want to be with him all times of the damn day, then make a bleedin’ band with him already and save us the trouble of leaving.”
Mick could barely hold back what he thought, the heat already getting to him and fizzling out his nerves. The singer expected the other man to snap and haul off and give him a punch but the fist never came. Keith had almost forgotten that his fingers were buried in Mick’s collar. He took in what Mick had told him. Keith did feel a swell of anger viciously rising in his stomach, threatening to tear through his own skin and collect around him. But he stopped when another thought came into his mind.
‘Mick’s… jealous of Gram,’ and Keith finally recognized it all.
“There,” Mick spat, “I answered your damn question. At least fucking answer me back, you stupid cunt.”
That snapped Keith’s attention onto him. His thoughts were flowing everywhere as his anger returned. “What gives the right to badmouth Gram? Jus’ because you’re jealous doesn’t mean to mouth it off on him. Everyone’s so sick of your bullshit about this-”
“And what makes you think no one’s sick of your bullshit, Keith?” Mick quipped sharply. “Why the hell do I need someone who’s constantly in the news for drugs and other stupid shit and can’t even keep it together to tell me that everyone‘s sick of me and my shit? Don’t you even try to tell me when you’re the one who’s giving everyone grief.”
“Don’t you tell me what I am when you can’t even face the real you,” Keith growled.
Mick brought up an arm to swipe Keith’s hands off him, standing up and began to walk out. “I’ll be damned if I sit here and let you tell me what the fuck is wrong with me when you can’t even decide that for yourself.”
Mick didn’t need any of this. It was so frustrating-the whole situation was. The taxes, the lingering presence of police trying to find anything on them, the frustrations of their record company-even after they had left those bastards, Klein was still trying to claim the rights to their material-just everything was so frustrating and Mick wanted to scream. He was receiving very little help to combat this problem and it was becoming to a point where Mick was sure he would have an early heart attack at the stress it was causing him.
Mick didn’t get very far before something roughly closed around his shoulders, wrenching him in the opposite direction and meeting Keith’s burning gaze staring back at him. The next thing Mick knew was that his back was slamming against the wall, a dull thud rumbling through the wall, vibrating outwards.
Keith was dangerously glaring at him, his eyes narrowed into livid slits. Mick glared back, the fury in his eyes trying to match the darker-haired boy’s stare. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me.”
“And so I did, eh? Why should it matter when you’ve already done it to the band?”
“I never fucking did anything to the band and you know it.”
“Tough talk coming from someone who’s in denial,” Mick shot back.
Both were angrily staring at each other, both caught up in their vehement emotions. Keith’s eyes briefly flickered to a bead of sweat that was dripping down the side of Mick’s face, watching as it disappeared under Mick’s jacket collar, now distracted. Mick noticed Keith’s distraction and became more frustrated that Keith wasn’t looking at him anymore, preparing another sharpened statement and-
Mick was not expecting Keith to yank on his jacket collar and then violently collide their lips together, and though it surprised Mick, he took it to stride anyways. Keith’s tongue demanded entry, fighting to push past Mick’s own lips. Mick opened his mouth and Keith wasted no time in tangling his hands in Mick’s hair, harshly tugging on the strands, not being gentle, causing Mick to wince. Keith was still stressing and angry so there was no way in hell that he was going to be gentle.
Keith took Mick’s bottom lips and sucked on it roughly, making Mick almost groan-almost. There is no way Mick was going to give Keith that satisfaction now. Mick brought his arms up, wrapping them around Keith’s back, his fingernails digging into Keith’s back through the material he was wearing, relishing in the slight jerk Keith’s body made in reaction. Bastard deserved it.
Keith’s mouth broke away, heading straight for Mick’s neck, intent on marking it. Keith’s teeth scrapped rashly against the skin, creating red marks and teeth imprints. He did long licks with a small but hard nip of Mick’s neck to make sure Mick was paying attention to him. Mick’s hands traveled up and down Keith’s back, feeling the heat and sweat marks through the thin material of his black tank top. He tipped his head back, letting out a loud groan coupled with, “You stupid fucker.”
“Oh, I’m a stupid fucker, huh?” Keith said with a smirk in his voice. “I can show you what a stupid fucker I can be.”
Before Keith could continue, Mick then flipped them both over, and Keith’s back made contact with the wall, and Mick wasted no time going to his mouth, his tongue fiercely meeting with Keith’s in a battle of dominance. They were becoming sloppy, trails of saliva leaking from their mouths. Both made animalistic sounds as they both fought for dominance. Keith began to roughly tug at Mick’s jacket, grabbing fistfuls and yanking it off his shoulder, exposing skin. Keith broke away, his teeth burying themselves into the soft flesh of Mick’s shoulder. Mick made a grunt of discomfort, jerking slightly. Keith’s mouth then went back to Mick’s neck, intent on marring the singer’s neck again.
Mick ground his hips with Keith’s own, making his building need known, not caring enough to restrain himself. He did, though, look back over at the wide open door and used his foot to kick the door closed, the slamming sound telling both that they were no longer going top be seen. Wouldn‘t want anyone to come in on them to them fucking animalistic ally-that would be quite something to explain. Keith went to Mick’s mouth before trailing rough kisses to his cheek and then sliding his tongue around Mick’s ear, his hands busying themselves with trying to free the singer from his clothes again. Mick’s hands traveled under Keith’s tank top, fingers scratching into the skin, feeling the sweat that was already there, using it to make a smoother trip around Keith’s torso, brushing against the hardening nipples, making Keith shiver and breaking contact to give a light shudder.
Keith briefly gazed over Mick’s shoulder to see the bed, Before Mick’s mouth could make contact with the skin of Keith’s own neck, Keith brought his arms up and grabbed a handful of the jacket that was hanging on Mick still and pushed Mick back, and pushing himself off the wall and towards the bed. Mick fell first with Keith following after him. Keith wasted no time in keeping Mick’s jacket open, his hands traveling up the feverish skin, making Mick shudder. Keith leaned down, claiming Mick’s mouth in a rough kiss. Their tongues clashed again, swabbing over the other, and the guitarist’s calloused fingers were sliding down Mick’s torso, feeling the muscles contract with every touch.
Mick hooked one arm around Keith’s shoulder, the other trying to grab a fistful of his tank top, trying to almost rip it away. Keith grunted, not pleased that Mick was going to destroy his fashionable top. His mouth was at Mick’s already marked neck. It was almost as if he were claiming his territory-marking what was his own property. Mick began to move his hips, clashing his groin with the guitarist’s, feeling the grimy jeans Keith had on scrapping against his own white pants. Keith began to move down Mick’s exposed chest, biting, scratching and nipping, making sure to leave a mark each time. Mick’s back arched, loving how Keith’s teeth felt on his skin, though there were jolts of pain from them-but Mick loved them.
Keith placed his hands on Mick’s hips, grasping them and trying to grab at his pants to release the singer from them. Mick groaned, arching his back lightly, feeling Keith’s fingers drag back over his skin again. Making himself more comfortable, the singer raised his legs, creating an arch with them, with Keith dividing them in the middle. Keith then smirked and left Mick’s pants, not going any further as the pants were hanging loosely on his bony hips. Mick made a frustrated noise but was quickly covered up by Keith’s mouth n his own. Keith, taking a quick move, inched his hand into Mick’s pants, stopping before he got to Mick’s pronounced need, fingers scratching just above where Mick needed Keith to go. Mick made a frustrated noise.
Keith chuckled. “Wha’s the matter, Jagger? Impatient?”
Mick glared at him through the haze of lust in his eyes. “Fuck you, Richards.”
“I’ll gladly do that for you.”
Keith went back down Mick’s body, raking his tongue across the smooth planes of Mick’s chest. Mick made an appreciative sound at this. Keith was facing the pants that he tried to get rid of earlier, seeing as they were hanging from his hips. Keith took his hands and undid the button, his fingers working slower than before. Mick was becoming impatient, telling Keith, “Fucking hurry up, Keith.”
“Calm down, Michael. You’ll get it,” Keith said, deliberately saying it slower, hearing the growl that Mick made after.
Before Mick could make another sound, Keith swiftly pulled apart the white pants he was wearing. Before Keith did anything more, Mick grasped Keith’s head wit his hands and flew up from the bed, dragging himself to Keith to connect their lips again, their tongues meeting again. Keith had almost forgotten what he was doing, and Mick absently felt Keith’s fingers play at the edges of his boxer shorts. Mick’s fingers plowed through Keith’s hair, feeling the greasy locks filter past his fingers and anchoring his fingers into the strands to tug at them.
Mick made a moan when Keith’s fingers slunk past his boxer shorts, absently playing around his groin, Mick breaking contact with Keith’s mouth and leaning his forehead on Keith’s own. Keith crawled up but did not force Mick back onto the bed, His knees divided, and one knee resting on either side of the older boy’s own legs. His fingers then curled around the base of Mick’s arousal and Mick made another sound of approval. Keith went to Mick’s neck again, placing small but needy kisses on the marked skin. Mick’s hands went to Keith’s shoulders, grasping them as Keith’s hand moved up his arousal, but at a slow pace. Mick groaned and wanted Keith to go faster.
The older boy had not noticed the other moving down his torso, his eyes pressed shit and mouth slightly agape. It was not until Mick gasped audibly, feeling Keith’s mouth descend upon him, engulfing him in heat. Mick resisted the urge to buck, his hands going to Keith’s hair and tangling in the unwashed hair. Mick made another howl as Keith swallowed more of him, halfway down the length. The guitarist’s hands were now at the singer’s hips, grasping them as though he needed leverage. Keith relaxed his jaw before he finally swallowed Mick to the base, and began to move.
Mick made audible gasps, his breathing shortening as the guitarist worked him with his mouth. Keith had used his tongue to massage the underside of Mick’s shaft, and he knew that Mick appreciated it. Keith could feel himself tighten in his own trousers, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before his attention was drawn to that place. Keith bobbed his head, feeling ticklish hair brush against his chin, and he knew Mick was getting close just based on the sounds he was making.
Suddenly Keith’s mouth was gone and it took the heat and wetness from around Mick’s arousal and Mick opened his eyes to see what had happened. Keith was already quickly moving up his body and meeting his mouth. Mick felt Keith’s fingers travel lower, and under the curve of his backside, feeling them collect at his entrance and felt them push in. Mick’s body jerked, feeling the intrusion. Mick fought the instinct to tense up, knowing that it would be faster to fight it and let it go on. The singer did not see the guitarist’s mouth curl into a smirk. Keith roughly pushed another finger in, knowing Mick’s reaction. Before Mick could get used to this feeling, Keith removed his fingers. He grasped Mick’s already upturned legs and scooted him closer, dragging him a little ways across the bed.
Keith then pushed Mick down, knowing this position would be a much easier access and easier to maneuver. Keith, after spitting in his palm and lubing himself up, had begun to push forward into Mick’s body until he was completely in. Keith suddenly had an idea and it made him feel a jolt of excitement at this. He looked down at Mick who’s face was mirrored in pleasure.
“Hey Mick,” Keith said with smugness in his voice. “How much do you want this?”
Mick’s eyes snapped open, knowing what Keith was about to do. “Fuck no, Keith. Not here.”
Keith smirked, giving a slow movement, causing Mick to curse quietly. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. You only need-” Keith groaned at the small movement he did, “to say small little words.”
“Fuck you, Ricky.”
Keith tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at the name Keith was called. “Just say it, Mick. It’s all I need to go on.”
“Jus’ because you can get Gram to do what you want doesn’t mean you’re gonna get me to do it,” Mick said, his voice coming out snidely and laced with pleasure and frustration.
Keith’s mood definitely turned sour after that remark, knowing that it almost overwhelmed his need to have release. The guitarist narrowed his eyes, and his hands found Mick’s hips and he suddenly thrust forward and complete caught Mick off guard, eliciting a strangled moan. Keith then leaned down to Mick’s ear and said in a dangerous, yet laced with excitement, and said, “Ah, you’re just gonna be a bitch about it, aren’t you? Still upset that Gram is better than you?”
Mick caught onto what Keith meant by ‘better’ and it made his blood boil. Keith had a leer on his face, his lips curled upwards into a confident look.
Mick knew what Keith was playing at, and though his mind warned him not to take the bait, he still pressed on and said, “I thought you were just used to fucking a fragile thing like him and that you’ve gone soft. Lost your edge, haven’t you, Richards?”
If there was one thing that Keith prided himself in, it was the fact that he could please anyone in the bedroom. When he heard Mick say that-watched him say that, it sent Keith reeling. With a snarl, Keith snapped his hips again, feeling himself drive deeper into Mick’s body, smirking when Mick seized up again.
“What’s the matter, Mick? I’m not being too rough on you now, am I?” Keith said, his voice laced with mock innocence.
With a quick flash, Mick turned them both over, surprising Keith in the process. Mick was on top now, straddling Keith while keeping the guitarist firmly within him. Mick clenched his muscles as he made a slow movement, almost drawing a mewl from Keith. The singer looked down at Keith. “Oh no, you’re not being too rough,” Mick said as though he were bored. “You’re just being too soft. Did Gram already try to convert you into a ‘country sweetheart‘?” Mick punctuated ‘country sweetheart’ with a sickly sweet tone. Keith’s eyes narrowed. His hands flew to Mick’s waist, harshly gripping them and Mick almost jumped at the pressure.
Keith then forced his hips upwards, driving into Mick from the bottom and Mick nearly arched his back and threw his head back. After gathering himself from the jolt of excitement, he glared down at Keith who had a self-satisfying look on his face. “Am I being too sweet for you?” Keith said, mimicking Mick’s previous tone. Mick kept glaring at Keith and suddenly thrust his hips downward and Keith tried hard to not let his face contort with pleasure but it still leaked through.
Though Keith would not let on, he was trying desperately to not roughly shag Mick, feeling Mick deliberately clench his muscles around Keith’s hardness. Keith was not sure how long he would last like this and Mick was showing no signs of this affecting him. Keith’s fingers itched to grab Mick’s hips, flip them over and start fucking Mick until the boy could not even lay down for the next month. The guitarist needed it now-but he would not let Mick know that he was about to go crazy. There would be no doubt that the cinnamon-haired boy would use it to his advantage.
Mick made a yawn, showing with exaggeration that he was tiring this situation, getting on Keith’s nerves. Keith just wanted to shag Mick now to wipe that look off his face. Suddenly Keith had an idea.
“I should’ve knew this was a bad idea,” Keith said in a nonchalantly way.
Keith knew Mick’s eyes were trying to figure him out. “Bad idea?”
“I’m so used to Gram being such a good person and a good person in bed that I forgot how much of a hassle and bore it is to shag you.”
Mick was definitely affected by those words and his face made a snarl and Keith knew it was only a matter of time before Mick wanted to prove Keith wrong at the so called ‘statement’ he just made.
Mick knew he had to wipe that look off Keith’s face-just the mere thought of Gram touching what was his own property, it was enough to send white-hot jealousy coursing through him, igniting a supernova of jealousy and envy through him. Mick knew that he was going to make the guitarist wish he never said that or did that. I
Keith then found himself being pulled up harshly, and his lips drawn into a fierce kiss with Mick’s own. To Keith’s delight, Mick drove himself down on Keith’s hardness, feeling himself delve into Mick’s body and repeating. Mick then broke away and went to Keith’s neck, biting and nipping, making enough time to spare to say, “I’ll make you wish you never even thought of fucking Gram.”
To Keith’s appreciation, Mick began to frantically drive himself down on his shaft, feeling the muscles clench and contract around him, giving him the friction he wanted dearly. Keith’s hands found Mick’s waist again and he grasped them. The powering need to be in control was building in his gut, needing to be relinquished. With a powerful movement, Keith flipped them over again-and thanking whatever force out there that this was a large bed or else they’d be falling on the floor and possibly getting hurt. Mick made a sound at being flipped over but when Keith hastily and roughly snapped his hips forward, Mick forgot his sentence, welling up in his throat and dissipated before he could utter a word-utter a word that did not come out as a moan.
Keith was becoming lost, thrusting his hips forward, driving himself in and out of Mick’s body. Keith, by how much Mick was making noise, knew that Mick enjoyed it. The singer’s arms found their way around Keith’s neck, trying to push the younger boy closer to him, allowing their lips to meet again. Mick allowed Keith to invade his mouth as the thrusting increased. Keith broke from Mick’s own mouth and trailed to the singer’s neck, intent on marking it again. Mick tipped his head back to give Keith more access, groaning at the satisfaction he received.
Keith then slid his sinewy arms under Mick’s legs, lifting the older boy’s hips for better access and knowing the other liked it when Mick started moaning louder, his sounds not going without an increased effect on him. Mick’s hands went to the sheets, fisting them tightly within his grasp. Keith could feel his climax approaching and tried to do whatever he could to hold it-he needed more of Mick right now, more than he would care to admit now. Keith then unhooked one of his arms from Mick’s leg, and grasped the other man’s own neglected arousal, taking it into his hand and keeping in time with his own thrusting.
Keith did longer and rougher thrusts when he knew he found the spot inside the singer to make him call out his name, sounding better than anything Keith had ever heard. It spurred him further, making Keith shudder and losing himself, making his last thrust worth it. It was also enough for Mick who was pushed over the edge, his back arching and Keith swallowed his last groan, his lips colliding with the other’s, fiercely kissing until they road out the last waves of euphoria.
Keith slumped over a bit, taking the time to catch his breath, feeling his heart thudding against his chest. Mick was also trying to come through the veil of euphoria that had settled over him. With some time, Keith had finally opened his mahogany-colored eyes, seeing the male below him also trying to overcome his moments of powerlessness.
Azure eyes opened to meet with maple eyes. Mick reached up a hand to stroke Keith’s cheek. It seemed as though all viscous talk and feelings between the two had vanished, leaving no trace of hospitality. Keith then pulled himself off Mick after a moment, collapsing into the bed and the space beside the singer. The guitarist took a moment to breathe again, his breathe still not normalized. Keith finally turned his head, eyes seeking out the other that was no more than a foot away from him.
Mick finally turned his head toward Keith, meeting with his eyes.
“You should get more angry,” Keith said suddenly. Mick’s eyebrows knit together.
“Yeah,” Keith said, “I think I like it better when you lose your temper. I don’t get to see it too often.”
Mick’s face twisted into a look of realization. “You mean… you never slept with Gram?” Mick inquired slowly, actually not in the mood to deal with an angry Keith again.
“No,” Keith said in hurried tone. “He’s just a friend-a close friend and one of the best I’ve ever had-but never would I do that.”
Mick didn’t look like he believed it.
“Besides, even if I did fuck him, he’d be too sweet for me. The cat’s too big of a gent to be rough and let go. And I’d miss that fiery reaction from you. Nothin’ else compares to that.”
“So, you’re not in love with Gram?”
“No Mick, I ain’t”
This seemed to satisfy Mick. With some effort, Mick pulled himself into a sitting position. Mick then made a groan.
“What?”
“When we were arguing and fucking, I forgot how unbearable the heat was.”
Keith chuckled. Mick rose off the bed and did not bother to get his clothes back on. “I could use a bath.”
This got the guitarist’s attention. He had on a sly smile. “We could take one together-it’s been a while since we have.”
Mick turned his head over his shoulder. “Then why are y’ sittin’ on the bed then? Let’s go take a bath.”
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Keith/Mick; 1971
Word Count: 5,678-- I lol'd.
Disclaimer: If it was true, I'd be hated so intensely by the band.
So, I tried my hand at a PWP (porn without plot)-- though it may have a plot to some, it's not really a plot to me.
Mick’s back was firmly pressed against the headboard, his lanky arms crossed above his midsection. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, one leg propped in the air, the other lying across a messily made bed. Mick, usually one to have a tidy appearance, had not bothered to fix his appearance, his hair messily kept and clothes rumpled. Why should he try to keep up his appearance when it too hot to even think about doing anything other than sitting in your own heat-induced misery?
Mick could feel beads of sweat rolling down his back, often not making it halfway down his back, disappearing into his white jacket he wore. He had discarded his undershirt a long time ago, deeming it too hot to wear-but he had kept on his jacket for some reason. A trail of sweat drug its way down the side of his face to slide underneath the singer’s collar.
It was so terribly hot in this villa, the heat penetrating everything, leaving no crevice to form cooler air. Mick did not understand the reason as to why this house did not have air conditioner. This house was grand, large enough to have many people using it and was quite expensive. Mick didn‘t see why the builders didn‘t put a cooling system in the house. But they didn’t. When he walked on the marble floors, he felt his feet stick uncomfortably to the floor, feeling the grime stick too. It was like a sauna, and with it being in the middle of summer, it was only going to get worse.
It was like hell on earth, compressed into a house to avoid any suspicion. The situation that the singer was currently in was not making anything much better. He hated being here, the insufferable qualities of this house making it unbearable. Not only did Mick have to adapt to the sweltering air, he also had to make use of the new band’s schedule-the schedule was more like whoever showed up during that time for recording. The band had adopted a guerilla outfit, and Mick found this very tiring and inconvenient. The hangers-on that were around certainly were not making anything easier, their constant, and most of the time, drug-addled air did not improve Mick’s mood.
Mick thought Keith was being a brainless idiot. They both knew the bullshit that the hippies preached-and failed at-and both didn’t believe it. If Keith suddenly thought he could emulate them better by inviting random people and letting them stay was certainly a poor excuse to be one. Did Keith not think of the consequences? Mick suspected that Keith was not thinking too deeply about it.
There was also the presence of someone that Mick wished could drop off the face of the earth and never return. He didn’t care about the emotional trouble and grief that person’s wife would face if that happened-she’d get overt it sooner or later, Mick thought snidely. If Mick could, he would have kicked that person out a long time ago. It was not helping that Keith suddenly thought his priorities were with this person now than the band. A small influx of jealousy coiled into Mick’s stomach, almost hotter than the heat surrounding him and before Mick was able to lock it back up.
‘Why the fuck does Keith think that stupid sod is more important that the band?’ Mick thought bitterly.
Normally Mick was more composed, more able to control his thoughts more and filter in what he liked. But the heat had a way of frying anyone’s self-control and tolerance, often making them much more vulnerable to a meltdown-no pun intended, Mick reminded himself-and spurs of anger.
As Mick was trying to calm himself, a voice from the doorframe startled him, almost making him jerk violently. When Mick looked up to see who this person was, he saw the figure of Keith Richards hovering in the doorway, his own arms crossed above his chest, the black tank top he had been wearing still adorning his body. Mick must have been so wrapped in his own thoughts that he had not known that Keith had entered in the room.
“Mick,” Keith had said, “I need y’ to come and help me out with some ideas that I’ve been having.”
Mick, normally, would’ve said okay and gotten up to help out, but this time, his previous thoughts had refused to quell themselves in his mind, trying to push past the thinly setup guards around his mind.
“And what’s made these ideas so important that you’ve actually come out of y’ room this early?” Mick said while trying to keep his voice neutral as the sarcasm tried to edge into it.
If Keith had been affected by Mick’s words, he didn’t show it. Keith snorted, “Yeah, well, I thought it’d be great to work it out now before y’ up an’ fuckin’ leave again.” There was obvious disdain in Keith’s voice, as he made no attempt to try to soften them. Mick narrowed his eyes, knowing what he was referencing to.
Mick’s thoughts began to come back, burrowing through his thinly constructed barriers to take hold. Mick briefly bit his bottom lip, contemplating if he should comply with Keith’s want. Before he could think of anything else, a person flashed in his mind, making his fingers clench on his arms. He carefully looked at Keith who still looking at him. “… is Gram going to be there?” Mick said this as if he were unsure. Keith’s face then had a look of inquiry.
“Yeah,” Keith said, still looking at him a bit strangely, as if he was not sure what Mick was getting at and trying to understand. “I was gonna go get’im up to come and jam also, since he’s got an interest in the music we’re makin’.”
When Keith had said that, Mick’s face twisted into a light sneer, his body language showing that he wasn’t pleased about what Keith said. “Then if that country git is gonna be there, then I’ll pass,” Mick retorted, returning with a sarcastic retort.
Keith’s demeanor had obviously changed, his eyes darkening with irritation. His glazed hazel eyes stared at his singer on the bed, his lower jaw working tensely. Mick could sense that Keith was obviously upset about Mick badmouthing Gram.
“What the hell is your problem?” Keith almost snapped at Mick. The older boy stared at the younger one, not bothering to answer. In response, Mick had said, “Nothing,” much to Keith’s irritation.
“What the hell has he done to make you hate him so much?” Keith ground out, his voice becoming gruff. Mick only looked away, shrugging his shoulders again.
The heat was weighing heavily on Keith’s patience, his self-control diminishing quickly. Keith had started growing accustomed to the heat, but there were still instances that the heat got to the guitarist, easily tempting him to pitch a fit of anger because of how hot it was and how uncomfortably it stuck to his body. Sweat was already collecting on his skin, providing little comfort but more discontent. Keith’s temper was unpredictable at times, and any moment he could snap.
Mick did not look over at Keith, knowing he was extracting a reaction from Keith. He was tempted to turn around and look at Keith to see it, but he only sighed, making it appear as though he was not taking any of this seriously. Perhaps Keith could catch the hint and go away. Mick was definitely not in the mood to deal with him, the heat already dissipating his tolerance. Maybe Keith could go off, do something useful with himself, and actually write something-
Mick was wrenched from his thoughts with a strong jerk on his collar, his body snapping in the direction he was being pulled to. His head immediately sought out who was doing this and his eyes met a set of smoldering and glazed set of mahogany eyes. Keith’s fists were balled into the collar of his white jacket. Mick saw the building fury there and was starting to think that he should approach this with caution.
“Fucking look at me when I’m talkin’ to you,” Keith lowly spoke, his voice laced with venom.
Mick knew it to be stupid to challenge Keith. He knew about Keith’s issues with controlling his temper and now was not the time to test it. However, Mick had lost most of his patience, and felt the needing urge to provoke something.
“You never answered my fucking question,” Keith spat. “What’s your bloody deal with Gram? He’s never done anything to you, so why are you treating him like garbage?”
Mick’s eyes had narrowed, briefly gazing down at Keith’s fists that were curled in his collar. The singer knew, just by the emotions that were swirling within Keith’s eyes that he was treading on very thin ice that was cracking.
“Maybe it’s you,” Mick said. He did not look at Keith directly, but his eyes had roamed away from Keith.
The unexpectedness of that answer had caught Keith off guard. The guitarist was fully prepared for Mick to make some excuse up or deny that he had a problem and had already prepared what he was going to say, but when Mick said it was him, it caused his expression to melt into that of confusion and his grip on Mick’s collar to go partially slack. But then his confusion quickly morphed into anger about not knowing what was meant by this.
“Why?” Keith asked, his voice less forced, but still having an edge to it.
Mick debated on whether or not he should tell Keith. His eyes turned back to Keith, his voice calmly-as Mick could make it-speaking, “You really don’t get it do you, you stupid sod?”
Keith held back a swell of anger that shot through him like a freight train. “Get what?”
Mick’s eyes were fire-lit, his fury swirling through the depths clearer than sunlight. “You. You’re the one who’s been neglecting everything just to be with Gram. You’re the one who’s acting like he’s the most important fucking thing in the world, and for what? Just because he shares your love of damn needles and chemicals doesn’t make the bloke a friend, just a burden. If y’re so concerned about him and want to be with him all times of the damn day, then make a bleedin’ band with him already and save us the trouble of leaving.”
Mick could barely hold back what he thought, the heat already getting to him and fizzling out his nerves. The singer expected the other man to snap and haul off and give him a punch but the fist never came. Keith had almost forgotten that his fingers were buried in Mick’s collar. He took in what Mick had told him. Keith did feel a swell of anger viciously rising in his stomach, threatening to tear through his own skin and collect around him. But he stopped when another thought came into his mind.
‘Mick’s… jealous of Gram,’ and Keith finally recognized it all.
“There,” Mick spat, “I answered your damn question. At least fucking answer me back, you stupid cunt.”
That snapped Keith’s attention onto him. His thoughts were flowing everywhere as his anger returned. “What gives the right to badmouth Gram? Jus’ because you’re jealous doesn’t mean to mouth it off on him. Everyone’s so sick of your bullshit about this-”
“And what makes you think no one’s sick of your bullshit, Keith?” Mick quipped sharply. “Why the hell do I need someone who’s constantly in the news for drugs and other stupid shit and can’t even keep it together to tell me that everyone‘s sick of me and my shit? Don’t you even try to tell me when you’re the one who’s giving everyone grief.”
“Don’t you tell me what I am when you can’t even face the real you,” Keith growled.
Mick brought up an arm to swipe Keith’s hands off him, standing up and began to walk out. “I’ll be damned if I sit here and let you tell me what the fuck is wrong with me when you can’t even decide that for yourself.”
Mick didn’t need any of this. It was so frustrating-the whole situation was. The taxes, the lingering presence of police trying to find anything on them, the frustrations of their record company-even after they had left those bastards, Klein was still trying to claim the rights to their material-just everything was so frustrating and Mick wanted to scream. He was receiving very little help to combat this problem and it was becoming to a point where Mick was sure he would have an early heart attack at the stress it was causing him.
Mick didn’t get very far before something roughly closed around his shoulders, wrenching him in the opposite direction and meeting Keith’s burning gaze staring back at him. The next thing Mick knew was that his back was slamming against the wall, a dull thud rumbling through the wall, vibrating outwards.
Keith was dangerously glaring at him, his eyes narrowed into livid slits. Mick glared back, the fury in his eyes trying to match the darker-haired boy’s stare. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me.”
“And so I did, eh? Why should it matter when you’ve already done it to the band?”
“I never fucking did anything to the band and you know it.”
“Tough talk coming from someone who’s in denial,” Mick shot back.
Both were angrily staring at each other, both caught up in their vehement emotions. Keith’s eyes briefly flickered to a bead of sweat that was dripping down the side of Mick’s face, watching as it disappeared under Mick’s jacket collar, now distracted. Mick noticed Keith’s distraction and became more frustrated that Keith wasn’t looking at him anymore, preparing another sharpened statement and-
Mick was not expecting Keith to yank on his jacket collar and then violently collide their lips together, and though it surprised Mick, he took it to stride anyways. Keith’s tongue demanded entry, fighting to push past Mick’s own lips. Mick opened his mouth and Keith wasted no time in tangling his hands in Mick’s hair, harshly tugging on the strands, not being gentle, causing Mick to wince. Keith was still stressing and angry so there was no way in hell that he was going to be gentle.
Keith took Mick’s bottom lips and sucked on it roughly, making Mick almost groan-almost. There is no way Mick was going to give Keith that satisfaction now. Mick brought his arms up, wrapping them around Keith’s back, his fingernails digging into Keith’s back through the material he was wearing, relishing in the slight jerk Keith’s body made in reaction. Bastard deserved it.
Keith’s mouth broke away, heading straight for Mick’s neck, intent on marking it. Keith’s teeth scrapped rashly against the skin, creating red marks and teeth imprints. He did long licks with a small but hard nip of Mick’s neck to make sure Mick was paying attention to him. Mick’s hands traveled up and down Keith’s back, feeling the heat and sweat marks through the thin material of his black tank top. He tipped his head back, letting out a loud groan coupled with, “You stupid fucker.”
“Oh, I’m a stupid fucker, huh?” Keith said with a smirk in his voice. “I can show you what a stupid fucker I can be.”
Before Keith could continue, Mick then flipped them both over, and Keith’s back made contact with the wall, and Mick wasted no time going to his mouth, his tongue fiercely meeting with Keith’s in a battle of dominance. They were becoming sloppy, trails of saliva leaking from their mouths. Both made animalistic sounds as they both fought for dominance. Keith began to roughly tug at Mick’s jacket, grabbing fistfuls and yanking it off his shoulder, exposing skin. Keith broke away, his teeth burying themselves into the soft flesh of Mick’s shoulder. Mick made a grunt of discomfort, jerking slightly. Keith’s mouth then went back to Mick’s neck, intent on marring the singer’s neck again.
Mick ground his hips with Keith’s own, making his building need known, not caring enough to restrain himself. He did, though, look back over at the wide open door and used his foot to kick the door closed, the slamming sound telling both that they were no longer going top be seen. Wouldn‘t want anyone to come in on them to them fucking animalistic ally-that would be quite something to explain. Keith went to Mick’s mouth before trailing rough kisses to his cheek and then sliding his tongue around Mick’s ear, his hands busying themselves with trying to free the singer from his clothes again. Mick’s hands traveled under Keith’s tank top, fingers scratching into the skin, feeling the sweat that was already there, using it to make a smoother trip around Keith’s torso, brushing against the hardening nipples, making Keith shiver and breaking contact to give a light shudder.
Keith briefly gazed over Mick’s shoulder to see the bed, Before Mick’s mouth could make contact with the skin of Keith’s own neck, Keith brought his arms up and grabbed a handful of the jacket that was hanging on Mick still and pushed Mick back, and pushing himself off the wall and towards the bed. Mick fell first with Keith following after him. Keith wasted no time in keeping Mick’s jacket open, his hands traveling up the feverish skin, making Mick shudder. Keith leaned down, claiming Mick’s mouth in a rough kiss. Their tongues clashed again, swabbing over the other, and the guitarist’s calloused fingers were sliding down Mick’s torso, feeling the muscles contract with every touch.
Mick hooked one arm around Keith’s shoulder, the other trying to grab a fistful of his tank top, trying to almost rip it away. Keith grunted, not pleased that Mick was going to destroy his fashionable top. His mouth was at Mick’s already marked neck. It was almost as if he were claiming his territory-marking what was his own property. Mick began to move his hips, clashing his groin with the guitarist’s, feeling the grimy jeans Keith had on scrapping against his own white pants. Keith began to move down Mick’s exposed chest, biting, scratching and nipping, making sure to leave a mark each time. Mick’s back arched, loving how Keith’s teeth felt on his skin, though there were jolts of pain from them-but Mick loved them.
Keith placed his hands on Mick’s hips, grasping them and trying to grab at his pants to release the singer from them. Mick groaned, arching his back lightly, feeling Keith’s fingers drag back over his skin again. Making himself more comfortable, the singer raised his legs, creating an arch with them, with Keith dividing them in the middle. Keith then smirked and left Mick’s pants, not going any further as the pants were hanging loosely on his bony hips. Mick made a frustrated noise but was quickly covered up by Keith’s mouth n his own. Keith, taking a quick move, inched his hand into Mick’s pants, stopping before he got to Mick’s pronounced need, fingers scratching just above where Mick needed Keith to go. Mick made a frustrated noise.
Keith chuckled. “Wha’s the matter, Jagger? Impatient?”
Mick glared at him through the haze of lust in his eyes. “Fuck you, Richards.”
“I’ll gladly do that for you.”
Keith went back down Mick’s body, raking his tongue across the smooth planes of Mick’s chest. Mick made an appreciative sound at this. Keith was facing the pants that he tried to get rid of earlier, seeing as they were hanging from his hips. Keith took his hands and undid the button, his fingers working slower than before. Mick was becoming impatient, telling Keith, “Fucking hurry up, Keith.”
“Calm down, Michael. You’ll get it,” Keith said, deliberately saying it slower, hearing the growl that Mick made after.
Before Mick could make another sound, Keith swiftly pulled apart the white pants he was wearing. Before Keith did anything more, Mick grasped Keith’s head wit his hands and flew up from the bed, dragging himself to Keith to connect their lips again, their tongues meeting again. Keith had almost forgotten what he was doing, and Mick absently felt Keith’s fingers play at the edges of his boxer shorts. Mick’s fingers plowed through Keith’s hair, feeling the greasy locks filter past his fingers and anchoring his fingers into the strands to tug at them.
Mick made a moan when Keith’s fingers slunk past his boxer shorts, absently playing around his groin, Mick breaking contact with Keith’s mouth and leaning his forehead on Keith’s own. Keith crawled up but did not force Mick back onto the bed, His knees divided, and one knee resting on either side of the older boy’s own legs. His fingers then curled around the base of Mick’s arousal and Mick made another sound of approval. Keith went to Mick’s neck again, placing small but needy kisses on the marked skin. Mick’s hands went to Keith’s shoulders, grasping them as Keith’s hand moved up his arousal, but at a slow pace. Mick groaned and wanted Keith to go faster.
The older boy had not noticed the other moving down his torso, his eyes pressed shit and mouth slightly agape. It was not until Mick gasped audibly, feeling Keith’s mouth descend upon him, engulfing him in heat. Mick resisted the urge to buck, his hands going to Keith’s hair and tangling in the unwashed hair. Mick made another howl as Keith swallowed more of him, halfway down the length. The guitarist’s hands were now at the singer’s hips, grasping them as though he needed leverage. Keith relaxed his jaw before he finally swallowed Mick to the base, and began to move.
Mick made audible gasps, his breathing shortening as the guitarist worked him with his mouth. Keith had used his tongue to massage the underside of Mick’s shaft, and he knew that Mick appreciated it. Keith could feel himself tighten in his own trousers, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before his attention was drawn to that place. Keith bobbed his head, feeling ticklish hair brush against his chin, and he knew Mick was getting close just based on the sounds he was making.
Suddenly Keith’s mouth was gone and it took the heat and wetness from around Mick’s arousal and Mick opened his eyes to see what had happened. Keith was already quickly moving up his body and meeting his mouth. Mick felt Keith’s fingers travel lower, and under the curve of his backside, feeling them collect at his entrance and felt them push in. Mick’s body jerked, feeling the intrusion. Mick fought the instinct to tense up, knowing that it would be faster to fight it and let it go on. The singer did not see the guitarist’s mouth curl into a smirk. Keith roughly pushed another finger in, knowing Mick’s reaction. Before Mick could get used to this feeling, Keith removed his fingers. He grasped Mick’s already upturned legs and scooted him closer, dragging him a little ways across the bed.
Keith then pushed Mick down, knowing this position would be a much easier access and easier to maneuver. Keith, after spitting in his palm and lubing himself up, had begun to push forward into Mick’s body until he was completely in. Keith suddenly had an idea and it made him feel a jolt of excitement at this. He looked down at Mick who’s face was mirrored in pleasure.
“Hey Mick,” Keith said with smugness in his voice. “How much do you want this?”
Mick’s eyes snapped open, knowing what Keith was about to do. “Fuck no, Keith. Not here.”
Keith smirked, giving a slow movement, causing Mick to curse quietly. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. You only need-” Keith groaned at the small movement he did, “to say small little words.”
“Fuck you, Ricky.”
Keith tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at the name Keith was called. “Just say it, Mick. It’s all I need to go on.”
“Jus’ because you can get Gram to do what you want doesn’t mean you’re gonna get me to do it,” Mick said, his voice coming out snidely and laced with pleasure and frustration.
Keith’s mood definitely turned sour after that remark, knowing that it almost overwhelmed his need to have release. The guitarist narrowed his eyes, and his hands found Mick’s hips and he suddenly thrust forward and complete caught Mick off guard, eliciting a strangled moan. Keith then leaned down to Mick’s ear and said in a dangerous, yet laced with excitement, and said, “Ah, you’re just gonna be a bitch about it, aren’t you? Still upset that Gram is better than you?”
Mick caught onto what Keith meant by ‘better’ and it made his blood boil. Keith had a leer on his face, his lips curled upwards into a confident look.
Mick knew what Keith was playing at, and though his mind warned him not to take the bait, he still pressed on and said, “I thought you were just used to fucking a fragile thing like him and that you’ve gone soft. Lost your edge, haven’t you, Richards?”
If there was one thing that Keith prided himself in, it was the fact that he could please anyone in the bedroom. When he heard Mick say that-watched him say that, it sent Keith reeling. With a snarl, Keith snapped his hips again, feeling himself drive deeper into Mick’s body, smirking when Mick seized up again.
“What’s the matter, Mick? I’m not being too rough on you now, am I?” Keith said, his voice laced with mock innocence.
With a quick flash, Mick turned them both over, surprising Keith in the process. Mick was on top now, straddling Keith while keeping the guitarist firmly within him. Mick clenched his muscles as he made a slow movement, almost drawing a mewl from Keith. The singer looked down at Keith. “Oh no, you’re not being too rough,” Mick said as though he were bored. “You’re just being too soft. Did Gram already try to convert you into a ‘country sweetheart‘?” Mick punctuated ‘country sweetheart’ with a sickly sweet tone. Keith’s eyes narrowed. His hands flew to Mick’s waist, harshly gripping them and Mick almost jumped at the pressure.
Keith then forced his hips upwards, driving into Mick from the bottom and Mick nearly arched his back and threw his head back. After gathering himself from the jolt of excitement, he glared down at Keith who had a self-satisfying look on his face. “Am I being too sweet for you?” Keith said, mimicking Mick’s previous tone. Mick kept glaring at Keith and suddenly thrust his hips downward and Keith tried hard to not let his face contort with pleasure but it still leaked through.
Though Keith would not let on, he was trying desperately to not roughly shag Mick, feeling Mick deliberately clench his muscles around Keith’s hardness. Keith was not sure how long he would last like this and Mick was showing no signs of this affecting him. Keith’s fingers itched to grab Mick’s hips, flip them over and start fucking Mick until the boy could not even lay down for the next month. The guitarist needed it now-but he would not let Mick know that he was about to go crazy. There would be no doubt that the cinnamon-haired boy would use it to his advantage.
Mick made a yawn, showing with exaggeration that he was tiring this situation, getting on Keith’s nerves. Keith just wanted to shag Mick now to wipe that look off his face. Suddenly Keith had an idea.
“I should’ve knew this was a bad idea,” Keith said in a nonchalantly way.
Keith knew Mick’s eyes were trying to figure him out. “Bad idea?”
“I’m so used to Gram being such a good person and a good person in bed that I forgot how much of a hassle and bore it is to shag you.”
Mick was definitely affected by those words and his face made a snarl and Keith knew it was only a matter of time before Mick wanted to prove Keith wrong at the so called ‘statement’ he just made.
Mick knew he had to wipe that look off Keith’s face-just the mere thought of Gram touching what was his own property, it was enough to send white-hot jealousy coursing through him, igniting a supernova of jealousy and envy through him. Mick knew that he was going to make the guitarist wish he never said that or did that. I
Keith then found himself being pulled up harshly, and his lips drawn into a fierce kiss with Mick’s own. To Keith’s delight, Mick drove himself down on Keith’s hardness, feeling himself delve into Mick’s body and repeating. Mick then broke away and went to Keith’s neck, biting and nipping, making enough time to spare to say, “I’ll make you wish you never even thought of fucking Gram.”
To Keith’s appreciation, Mick began to frantically drive himself down on his shaft, feeling the muscles clench and contract around him, giving him the friction he wanted dearly. Keith’s hands found Mick’s waist again and he grasped them. The powering need to be in control was building in his gut, needing to be relinquished. With a powerful movement, Keith flipped them over again-and thanking whatever force out there that this was a large bed or else they’d be falling on the floor and possibly getting hurt. Mick made a sound at being flipped over but when Keith hastily and roughly snapped his hips forward, Mick forgot his sentence, welling up in his throat and dissipated before he could utter a word-utter a word that did not come out as a moan.
Keith was becoming lost, thrusting his hips forward, driving himself in and out of Mick’s body. Keith, by how much Mick was making noise, knew that Mick enjoyed it. The singer’s arms found their way around Keith’s neck, trying to push the younger boy closer to him, allowing their lips to meet again. Mick allowed Keith to invade his mouth as the thrusting increased. Keith broke from Mick’s own mouth and trailed to the singer’s neck, intent on marking it again. Mick tipped his head back to give Keith more access, groaning at the satisfaction he received.
Keith then slid his sinewy arms under Mick’s legs, lifting the older boy’s hips for better access and knowing the other liked it when Mick started moaning louder, his sounds not going without an increased effect on him. Mick’s hands went to the sheets, fisting them tightly within his grasp. Keith could feel his climax approaching and tried to do whatever he could to hold it-he needed more of Mick right now, more than he would care to admit now. Keith then unhooked one of his arms from Mick’s leg, and grasped the other man’s own neglected arousal, taking it into his hand and keeping in time with his own thrusting.
Keith did longer and rougher thrusts when he knew he found the spot inside the singer to make him call out his name, sounding better than anything Keith had ever heard. It spurred him further, making Keith shudder and losing himself, making his last thrust worth it. It was also enough for Mick who was pushed over the edge, his back arching and Keith swallowed his last groan, his lips colliding with the other’s, fiercely kissing until they road out the last waves of euphoria.
Keith slumped over a bit, taking the time to catch his breath, feeling his heart thudding against his chest. Mick was also trying to come through the veil of euphoria that had settled over him. With some time, Keith had finally opened his mahogany-colored eyes, seeing the male below him also trying to overcome his moments of powerlessness.
Azure eyes opened to meet with maple eyes. Mick reached up a hand to stroke Keith’s cheek. It seemed as though all viscous talk and feelings between the two had vanished, leaving no trace of hospitality. Keith then pulled himself off Mick after a moment, collapsing into the bed and the space beside the singer. The guitarist took a moment to breathe again, his breathe still not normalized. Keith finally turned his head, eyes seeking out the other that was no more than a foot away from him.
Mick finally turned his head toward Keith, meeting with his eyes.
“You should get more angry,” Keith said suddenly. Mick’s eyebrows knit together.
“Yeah,” Keith said, “I think I like it better when you lose your temper. I don’t get to see it too often.”
Mick’s face twisted into a look of realization. “You mean… you never slept with Gram?” Mick inquired slowly, actually not in the mood to deal with an angry Keith again.
“No,” Keith said in hurried tone. “He’s just a friend-a close friend and one of the best I’ve ever had-but never would I do that.”
Mick didn’t look like he believed it.
“Besides, even if I did fuck him, he’d be too sweet for me. The cat’s too big of a gent to be rough and let go. And I’d miss that fiery reaction from you. Nothin’ else compares to that.”
“So, you’re not in love with Gram?”
“No Mick, I ain’t”
This seemed to satisfy Mick. With some effort, Mick pulled himself into a sitting position. Mick then made a groan.
“What?”
“When we were arguing and fucking, I forgot how unbearable the heat was.”
Keith chuckled. Mick rose off the bed and did not bother to get his clothes back on. “I could use a bath.”
This got the guitarist’s attention. He had on a sly smile. “We could take one together-it’s been a while since we have.”
Mick turned his head over his shoulder. “Then why are y’ sittin’ on the bed then? Let’s go take a bath.”