Yesterday was national kissing day, and I was talking about how it would have been a good excuse for a kiss meme, and how it seemed those kind of themed memes seemed to have died out a little
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Pete/Mikey - Wishes Were HorsesromanticalgirlJuly 14 2011, 02:14:36 UTC
The sounds of a serious party filter in through the open windows, but they’re drowned out by Pete’s pulse, by the rush of blood in his head. Even those are secondary to the wet slide of Mikey’s tongue on his, the low moan that fills his bunk, even though he’s not sure which of them is making the noise, or if it’s both of them, just the sound of this, of them.
Mikey’s hands are fisted in the pillow next to Pete’s head. He’s braced over Pete, knees between Pete’s spread legs and there’s a heavy heat in the hair, hanging in the space between them. Pete wants to rock up, wants to wrap his arms and legs around Mikey, wants to slide their bodies together and take this further, deeper, but he’s petrified, scared to take that step. Scared of rejection. Scared of acceptance.
He never promised to make sense, not even to himself.
“Fuck,” Mikey breathes, mouth swollen and wet from kisses that haven’t stopped in the hours since they’ve both been off the stage. Pete reaches up, tracing the red flesh. Mikey presses a kiss to the tip of Pete’s finger then sucks it into his mouth.
Pete moans and thrusts his head back against the pillow, tightening every muscle so that he doesn’t give in to the need to grind into Mikey. “Jesus. Jesus, Mikey. Fuck.” He turns his head and sinks his teeth into his bicep to try to keep quiet.
Mikey gasps loudly, releasing Pete’s finger, and then moves in, kissing Pete’s jaw, his neck. It’s frantic and desperate and Pete turns his head, finding his mouth again and surrendering to the thrust of Mikey’s tongue. He can feel the heat of Mikey’s body, and he wants. Mikey presses closer, lowering himself to his elbows, body sliding along Pete’s.
Pete arches up, his body bowed, muscles taut and shuddering. “Ohgodohgodohgod.”
Mikey breaks the kiss and shifts away, just enough so that Pete feels alone in his own skin again, like there’s distance between them instead of him being overwhelmed by Mikey, taken over, taken in. Mikey’s breath fans hot against Pete’s skin, his forehead on his shoulder. “I should…”
Pete nods, not sure he’ll ever breathe properly again. “I want…”
“I know.” Mikey kisses Pete’s shoulder, his jaw, his forehead. “Me too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Mikey kisses his lips this time, soft and sweet. “Don’t ever be sorry for kissing me.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He pulls away, easing out of the bunk. His hard-on is obvious, pressing against the tight denim, bulging against it. He leans in, pressing a kiss to Pete’s shoulder again, nodding down to Pete’s own erection. “Think about me, okay?”
Re: Pete/Mikey - Wishes Were Horsesturps33July 14 2011, 15:00:27 UTC
Pete wants to rock up, wants to wrap his arms and legs around Mikey, wants to slide their bodies together and take this further, deeper, but he’s petrified, scared to take that step. Scared of rejection. Scared of acceptance.
Gah! Pete.
He has to battle so hard with his issues, wanting so much and yet always that little bit afraid.
Mikey’s hands are fisted in the pillow next to Pete’s head. He’s braced over Pete, knees between Pete’s spread legs and there’s a heavy heat in the hair, hanging in the space between them. Pete wants to rock up, wants to wrap his arms and legs around Mikey, wants to slide their bodies together and take this further, deeper, but he’s petrified, scared to take that step. Scared of rejection. Scared of acceptance.
He never promised to make sense, not even to himself.
“Fuck,” Mikey breathes, mouth swollen and wet from kisses that haven’t stopped in the hours since they’ve both been off the stage. Pete reaches up, tracing the red flesh. Mikey presses a kiss to the tip of Pete’s finger then sucks it into his mouth.
Pete moans and thrusts his head back against the pillow, tightening every muscle so that he doesn’t give in to the need to grind into Mikey. “Jesus. Jesus, Mikey. Fuck.” He turns his head and sinks his teeth into his bicep to try to keep quiet.
Mikey gasps loudly, releasing Pete’s finger, and then moves in, kissing Pete’s jaw, his neck. It’s frantic and desperate and Pete turns his head, finding his mouth again and surrendering to the thrust of Mikey’s tongue. He can feel the heat of Mikey’s body, and he wants. Mikey presses closer, lowering himself to his elbows, body sliding along Pete’s.
Pete arches up, his body bowed, muscles taut and shuddering. “Ohgodohgodohgod.”
Mikey breaks the kiss and shifts away, just enough so that Pete feels alone in his own skin again, like there’s distance between them instead of him being overwhelmed by Mikey, taken over, taken in. Mikey’s breath fans hot against Pete’s skin, his forehead on his shoulder. “I should…”
Pete nods, not sure he’ll ever breathe properly again. “I want…”
“I know.” Mikey kisses Pete’s shoulder, his jaw, his forehead. “Me too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Mikey kisses his lips this time, soft and sweet. “Don’t ever be sorry for kissing me.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He pulls away, easing out of the bunk. His hard-on is obvious, pressing against the tight denim, bulging against it. He leans in, pressing a kiss to Pete’s shoulder again, nodding down to Pete’s own erection. “Think about me, okay?”
“Never going to think about anything else.”
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Gah! Pete.
He has to battle so hard with his issues, wanting so much and yet always that little bit afraid.
I love them so.
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Oh, that's so PETE. Thank you!
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