I should be doing other things (aka: I'm neglecting homework)
Title: Fancy The Bathroom?
Rating: R
Pairings: Keith/Mick
Word Count: 2074
Disclaimer: Fake, as in it never happened.
I've realized that I have too much time on thinking and I neglect school work for it. Specifically takes place on June 27, 1967 when Mick and Keith's court date was set.
A heavy silence had thickly settled over the room, leaving no space for even an ounce of happiness. Mick sighed heavily, his plush lips pursed in a tight line of frustration. Keith leaned his head into his hands, hoping and wishing that this were just a dream. This must have been such a vivid dream since it happened so fast and very quickly.
Just a few months ago, the police decided to show that they were fed up with them and needed to be ‘taken care of’, deeming them very unworthy of being in the general public. They’d raided a party that was being held at Keith’s house and the groovy, soft vibe had been shattered to a point of overkill. Keith had turned to Mick and both knew what had happened. Mick swore he could have seen the police officers smirk with delight when finding the ‘substances’ that they were so looking for.
After a week, it was quiet. Nothing was brewing in the air and Keith found it a bit odd. But before they could utter a single word, News of The World had basically detonated and ignited a hell-fire brighter then any supernova could reach onto the headliners with stories of that day in Redlands and nothing was left out: the drugs, the activities, girl in a fur rug, and nothing was left private. Suddenly, things became much of a twisted reality as Mick and Keith tried to play off the story. Soon, everything fell harder then expected: everywhere, police and exuberant and very persistent reporters harassed them. It was overwhelming to the point of physical and emotional strain.
Everything was now dull, stony and to say the least, tense and tedious. The trials were set to commence today, June 27, 1967. Mick was very apprehensive and abashed about the whole situation; Keith was feeling almost the exact opposite. He was not shaking nor was he fidgeting; he was just staring ahead, his hazel eyes unblinking. Inside Keith was trying to retain his favored art student image: the fearless one who was like Roy Rodgers. Keith always liked the outlaw look even though it could (and would) get him into trouble. He could practically hear his mind shriek, ‘just shut your fucking mouth boy ‘cause you’ll get by faster,’ but not even the logical side of his brain could prevail upon the issue at hand.
Mick was just ready to drop dead and perish into thin air to never be seen ever again. Keith on the other hand was now acting as though it were the Old West: standing gallantly like a cowboy on his trusty white stallion about to brave an Indian onslaught. Mick flashed Keith a look, his eyes abundant with weary suspicion and a burnt out disdain.
“Why aren’t you worried? We could face a lot of time.” Mick’s words were laced with an irritated strain as he regarded his Dartford friend. He just shook his head, feeling the mane of ginger hair grazing his neck.
“Nonsense Michael,” Keith said, his voice slightly chipper, “this is just an adventure.”
Mick looked peeved. “How? This could be dangerous.”
“It’s not gonna go down that way; it’ll be like an adventure. Really fun.”
“Oh come now, because rape is so much fun,” Mick sneered, his face curling into a look of deride.
Mick could never admit-- never will, but something about the thought of going into prison had set him ablaze with fear and alarm. Even though he had brushed off the threats of going to jail, he always took into account of going. He’d heard stories and words passed along about what transpires in those imprisonment places: convicts ganging up on the much smaller and vulnerable people. Then how they would trap and force people to perform sexual acts on them due to the lack of women. Mick shuddered dismay at those images.
Keith turned fully to Mick, his eyes looking at Mick in a disapproving way. “C’mon Michael,” he said with a slight confident smirk that reached his eyes, “we’ve got the best lawyers that are out there and there’s no way we can loose this; they said so themselves that this should be a hoot.”
Mick sighed, his plush lips opening in a tired manor. “Sometimes I wonder just how you can be so damn happy all the time. We could face so much time.”
Keith’s expression finally slid out of his art student attitude to one of concern. “Mick, there’s no way we could. Just think about it.”
“Easy for you to say.”
It was almost a quarter till the trial was set to commence, thus giving Mick and Keith their fatal or scott-free decision. Mick licked his lips in a reminder that all this was real. Not some petty image that his brain had conjured up to scare him into not doing anything and hating The Man even more then he already did. Mick sighed through his nose and looked at the clock. They were loitering around in the lobby, just waiting for when they would be approached by this serious ordeal and it began to show: they were tense, fidgety with jitters and unsettling feelings.
It felt like that thick silence; the one before the killer made his move and struck down his latest victim. Keith, without many bearings lashing through his mind except his own fate, had laced his fingers languidly through the thin, bony fingers that were of the other older male. He slightly squeezed, hoping for a reassurance. Mick orbited his head to look at the seemingly needy embrace of their fingers: he saw Keith’s hand on a small scale oscillate that it gave Mick a start; he had actually started to fear for this because if Keith got scared, then there must‘ve been something seriously wrong.
He never knew what Keith was afraid of. Never in his life had he seen Keith go frail in front of anything, not even when there was the possibility of being killed many times on stage. He always would reply in a decidedly cynical and insinuating tone; his sharp tongue was becoming known to be on par with the great Bob Dylan. Now, Mick wasn’t so sure that the high confidence Keith held in the past would equal up to what was on their plate. Mick squeezed his fingers, slightly alerting himself that he too wished for that confidence that Keith showed in dire situations.
Keith’s eyes flashed to Mick’s and in an instance, both locked onto each other, sensing those nervous and jittery feelings. An air of their own began to cumulate with a speed quicker then when Brian would pick up a new instrument to learn it. As an invisible attraction set itself up, the pair had slowly scooted towards each other. Everything around them disintegrated, as the other became the most important asset to the other boy. However, before their faces could lean in any closer, Mick pulled away and stood up quickly, grasping the younger boys’ hand.
“C’mon Keith,” Mick said almost urgently, “not out here.”
Before Keith could make a single sound, Mick had been looking over the room that they were in. “Ah,” he said finally, “that’ll work.” He turned his powder blue eyes back to Keith.
“Come on Keith; this might be the last one we get for a while.”
The words never dawned on Keith until his mind processed the meaning and it hit him like a high-speed crash. He quickly shot up and gave Mick the okay to go. Keith felt Mick jerk his arm and he swiveled on thin legs into the opposite direction and sped off with Keith in-tow; after rounding a few corners and avoiding furniture that seemed intent on stopping the duo, they made it to a set of bathrooms and barged into the male dormitories. Vaguely knowing to lock the door, Keith had quickly turned the lock until that soft ‘click’ had firmly rang through his ears.
He tuned quickly and saw Mick heading for the first stall and Keith briskly went after the singer. As soon as Mick turned around, he was rushed by the guitarist and felt his back collide with the material of the stall walls. Keith’s mouth was there to receive that gasp of air when he hit the wall. Both had no regards in their suits becoming wrinkled-- both believed that it would not matter. Keith placed a hand at the collar of Mick’s shirt, pulled blindly at it, and discarded it onto the tiled floor. Mick began to undo the buttons of Keith’s pants. He slid his hands up to Keith’s hair; it was starting to stick out at odd angles.
“I just-- need you. Might not-- see you in a while,” Keith panted over the lips that he was occupying at the moment. Mick made a sound of agreement and began to push down Keith’s pants. Keith’s eyes briefly darted around the small cubicle as a means of support. He lifted the lissome hips belonging to Mick onto the back of the toilet and began to remove the singer’s belt.
“Hey,” Mick interrupted. “I’d actually like it if we could keep on some of these clothes. It’s a bitch already having to put them on.”
Keith snorted and dove back down to Mick’s neck and bit on the skin. “Are you intent on causing some type of reaction in the court?” Mick spoke breathlessly, obviously enjoying the attention his neck was receiving. Keith shrugged his shoulders and hoped to get this over with. He briefly saw a clock hanging on the wall, its hands reading out a mere five minutes before the trial. He pushed down Mick’s trousers and underpants down to his knees and looked to remove Mick’s shoes.
As he did this and came back up he was confronted with a look from Mick that wordlessly spoke, ‘I told you not to take off that many clothes, you stupid idiot.’
“Don’t worry mate,” Keith assured with a leering smile, “I’ll leave on your shirt-- rather what’s left on your shoulders.”
Before Mick could protest, Keith’s lips were there to stop the sound from coming out; Mick let himself ease into it. Keith broke free to spit on his hand and quickly coating himself with enough of his own lubricant to make the breach less painful. He then connected his eyes with Mick’s and kept them locked even as he slowly pushed forwards and became unsheathed in Mick’s warm body. They did not start out slow seeing, as there was barely any time to be ‘romantic’. There was little time and a bathroom could hardly constitute as a ‘romantic’ accommodation.
There was a quick desire to be fulfilled and Keith delivered fast-paced thrusts into Mick’s body as he felt the strong, but agile muscles of Mick’s legs firmly latch around his waist and clench. Mick felt the wall push into his back over and over, as he felt Keith become less civilized. Mick felt the pressure lodging at the base of his spine and swell to every part of his flesh, setting him up for the height of this power. Keith’s grasp became more petrified as the seconds were ticked away by the forgotten clock. With one last snap of the hips, both had become under the influence of each other’s bodies, pulling them in enough, and then setting them free.
Both panted with ragged breaths as they calmed down back to what the world was doing. Keith’s breathing became audible after a few moments as they gathered themselves. Keith pulled himself off Mick and began to help his lover back into the pants he had so ‘graciously’ relieved him of.
“I hope we don’t smell too much for them to notice,” Mick said airily. He heard Keith guffaw at that remark as Keith helped him back into the pants.
“More importunately, hope they don’t see you limp to the courtroom.”
“Be quiet, you big berk,” Mick said light hearted. They began to stumble out, unlocking the door and heading off to the courtroom that would decide their impending fate. Only a little while after, another person came into the stalls and crinkled his nose. He glanced around the bathroom examining with a perspective eye that could rival a hawk.
‘Why are the bathrooms smelling like this?’ he questioned in his mind. ‘Gotta start looking into a better janitor and air freshener.’
Rating: R
Pairings: Keith/Mick
Word Count: 2074
Disclaimer: Fake, as in it never happened.
I've realized that I have too much time on thinking and I neglect school work for it. Specifically takes place on June 27, 1967 when Mick and Keith's court date was set.
A heavy silence had thickly settled over the room, leaving no space for even an ounce of happiness. Mick sighed heavily, his plush lips pursed in a tight line of frustration. Keith leaned his head into his hands, hoping and wishing that this were just a dream. This must have been such a vivid dream since it happened so fast and very quickly.
Just a few months ago, the police decided to show that they were fed up with them and needed to be ‘taken care of’, deeming them very unworthy of being in the general public. They’d raided a party that was being held at Keith’s house and the groovy, soft vibe had been shattered to a point of overkill. Keith had turned to Mick and both knew what had happened. Mick swore he could have seen the police officers smirk with delight when finding the ‘substances’ that they were so looking for.
After a week, it was quiet. Nothing was brewing in the air and Keith found it a bit odd. But before they could utter a single word, News of The World had basically detonated and ignited a hell-fire brighter then any supernova could reach onto the headliners with stories of that day in Redlands and nothing was left out: the drugs, the activities, girl in a fur rug, and nothing was left private. Suddenly, things became much of a twisted reality as Mick and Keith tried to play off the story. Soon, everything fell harder then expected: everywhere, police and exuberant and very persistent reporters harassed them. It was overwhelming to the point of physical and emotional strain.
Everything was now dull, stony and to say the least, tense and tedious. The trials were set to commence today, June 27, 1967. Mick was very apprehensive and abashed about the whole situation; Keith was feeling almost the exact opposite. He was not shaking nor was he fidgeting; he was just staring ahead, his hazel eyes unblinking. Inside Keith was trying to retain his favored art student image: the fearless one who was like Roy Rodgers. Keith always liked the outlaw look even though it could (and would) get him into trouble. He could practically hear his mind shriek, ‘just shut your fucking mouth boy ‘cause you’ll get by faster,’ but not even the logical side of his brain could prevail upon the issue at hand.
Mick was just ready to drop dead and perish into thin air to never be seen ever again. Keith on the other hand was now acting as though it were the Old West: standing gallantly like a cowboy on his trusty white stallion about to brave an Indian onslaught. Mick flashed Keith a look, his eyes abundant with weary suspicion and a burnt out disdain.
“Why aren’t you worried? We could face a lot of time.” Mick’s words were laced with an irritated strain as he regarded his Dartford friend. He just shook his head, feeling the mane of ginger hair grazing his neck.
“Nonsense Michael,” Keith said, his voice slightly chipper, “this is just an adventure.”
Mick looked peeved. “How? This could be dangerous.”
“It’s not gonna go down that way; it’ll be like an adventure. Really fun.”
“Oh come now, because rape is so much fun,” Mick sneered, his face curling into a look of deride.
Mick could never admit-- never will, but something about the thought of going into prison had set him ablaze with fear and alarm. Even though he had brushed off the threats of going to jail, he always took into account of going. He’d heard stories and words passed along about what transpires in those imprisonment places: convicts ganging up on the much smaller and vulnerable people. Then how they would trap and force people to perform sexual acts on them due to the lack of women. Mick shuddered dismay at those images.
Keith turned fully to Mick, his eyes looking at Mick in a disapproving way. “C’mon Michael,” he said with a slight confident smirk that reached his eyes, “we’ve got the best lawyers that are out there and there’s no way we can loose this; they said so themselves that this should be a hoot.”
Mick sighed, his plush lips opening in a tired manor. “Sometimes I wonder just how you can be so damn happy all the time. We could face so much time.”
Keith’s expression finally slid out of his art student attitude to one of concern. “Mick, there’s no way we could. Just think about it.”
“Easy for you to say.”
It was almost a quarter till the trial was set to commence, thus giving Mick and Keith their fatal or scott-free decision. Mick licked his lips in a reminder that all this was real. Not some petty image that his brain had conjured up to scare him into not doing anything and hating The Man even more then he already did. Mick sighed through his nose and looked at the clock. They were loitering around in the lobby, just waiting for when they would be approached by this serious ordeal and it began to show: they were tense, fidgety with jitters and unsettling feelings.
It felt like that thick silence; the one before the killer made his move and struck down his latest victim. Keith, without many bearings lashing through his mind except his own fate, had laced his fingers languidly through the thin, bony fingers that were of the other older male. He slightly squeezed, hoping for a reassurance. Mick orbited his head to look at the seemingly needy embrace of their fingers: he saw Keith’s hand on a small scale oscillate that it gave Mick a start; he had actually started to fear for this because if Keith got scared, then there must‘ve been something seriously wrong.
He never knew what Keith was afraid of. Never in his life had he seen Keith go frail in front of anything, not even when there was the possibility of being killed many times on stage. He always would reply in a decidedly cynical and insinuating tone; his sharp tongue was becoming known to be on par with the great Bob Dylan. Now, Mick wasn’t so sure that the high confidence Keith held in the past would equal up to what was on their plate. Mick squeezed his fingers, slightly alerting himself that he too wished for that confidence that Keith showed in dire situations.
Keith’s eyes flashed to Mick’s and in an instance, both locked onto each other, sensing those nervous and jittery feelings. An air of their own began to cumulate with a speed quicker then when Brian would pick up a new instrument to learn it. As an invisible attraction set itself up, the pair had slowly scooted towards each other. Everything around them disintegrated, as the other became the most important asset to the other boy. However, before their faces could lean in any closer, Mick pulled away and stood up quickly, grasping the younger boys’ hand.
“C’mon Keith,” Mick said almost urgently, “not out here.”
Before Keith could make a single sound, Mick had been looking over the room that they were in. “Ah,” he said finally, “that’ll work.” He turned his powder blue eyes back to Keith.
“Come on Keith; this might be the last one we get for a while.”
The words never dawned on Keith until his mind processed the meaning and it hit him like a high-speed crash. He quickly shot up and gave Mick the okay to go. Keith felt Mick jerk his arm and he swiveled on thin legs into the opposite direction and sped off with Keith in-tow; after rounding a few corners and avoiding furniture that seemed intent on stopping the duo, they made it to a set of bathrooms and barged into the male dormitories. Vaguely knowing to lock the door, Keith had quickly turned the lock until that soft ‘click’ had firmly rang through his ears.
He tuned quickly and saw Mick heading for the first stall and Keith briskly went after the singer. As soon as Mick turned around, he was rushed by the guitarist and felt his back collide with the material of the stall walls. Keith’s mouth was there to receive that gasp of air when he hit the wall. Both had no regards in their suits becoming wrinkled-- both believed that it would not matter. Keith placed a hand at the collar of Mick’s shirt, pulled blindly at it, and discarded it onto the tiled floor. Mick began to undo the buttons of Keith’s pants. He slid his hands up to Keith’s hair; it was starting to stick out at odd angles.
“I just-- need you. Might not-- see you in a while,” Keith panted over the lips that he was occupying at the moment. Mick made a sound of agreement and began to push down Keith’s pants. Keith’s eyes briefly darted around the small cubicle as a means of support. He lifted the lissome hips belonging to Mick onto the back of the toilet and began to remove the singer’s belt.
“Hey,” Mick interrupted. “I’d actually like it if we could keep on some of these clothes. It’s a bitch already having to put them on.”
Keith snorted and dove back down to Mick’s neck and bit on the skin. “Are you intent on causing some type of reaction in the court?” Mick spoke breathlessly, obviously enjoying the attention his neck was receiving. Keith shrugged his shoulders and hoped to get this over with. He briefly saw a clock hanging on the wall, its hands reading out a mere five minutes before the trial. He pushed down Mick’s trousers and underpants down to his knees and looked to remove Mick’s shoes.
As he did this and came back up he was confronted with a look from Mick that wordlessly spoke, ‘I told you not to take off that many clothes, you stupid idiot.’
“Don’t worry mate,” Keith assured with a leering smile, “I’ll leave on your shirt-- rather what’s left on your shoulders.”
Before Mick could protest, Keith’s lips were there to stop the sound from coming out; Mick let himself ease into it. Keith broke free to spit on his hand and quickly coating himself with enough of his own lubricant to make the breach less painful. He then connected his eyes with Mick’s and kept them locked even as he slowly pushed forwards and became unsheathed in Mick’s warm body. They did not start out slow seeing, as there was barely any time to be ‘romantic’. There was little time and a bathroom could hardly constitute as a ‘romantic’ accommodation.
There was a quick desire to be fulfilled and Keith delivered fast-paced thrusts into Mick’s body as he felt the strong, but agile muscles of Mick’s legs firmly latch around his waist and clench. Mick felt the wall push into his back over and over, as he felt Keith become less civilized. Mick felt the pressure lodging at the base of his spine and swell to every part of his flesh, setting him up for the height of this power. Keith’s grasp became more petrified as the seconds were ticked away by the forgotten clock. With one last snap of the hips, both had become under the influence of each other’s bodies, pulling them in enough, and then setting them free.
Both panted with ragged breaths as they calmed down back to what the world was doing. Keith’s breathing became audible after a few moments as they gathered themselves. Keith pulled himself off Mick and began to help his lover back into the pants he had so ‘graciously’ relieved him of.
“I hope we don’t smell too much for them to notice,” Mick said airily. He heard Keith guffaw at that remark as Keith helped him back into the pants.
“More importunately, hope they don’t see you limp to the courtroom.”
“Be quiet, you big berk,” Mick said light hearted. They began to stumble out, unlocking the door and heading off to the courtroom that would decide their impending fate. Only a little while after, another person came into the stalls and crinkled his nose. He glanced around the bathroom examining with a perspective eye that could rival a hawk.
‘Why are the bathrooms smelling like this?’ he questioned in his mind. ‘Gotta start looking into a better janitor and air freshener.’