Tattoo

                                    

                                          
"They're not coming down," Rob said at breakfast, his eyes first flicking to Dave as he pocketed his phone, then Brad, who looked annoyed.
                          
"Mike hung over?" Dave asked, concerned.
                          
"Or is it Chester?" Brad snipped, drawing a dark look from the other three band members. 
                          
"It's Mike," confirmed Rob calmly, emptying his sugar packet into his coffee, "he certainly had enough to drink last night."
                          
Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts of what could be happening behind closed doors, floors away from where they sat. 
                          
"Well," Joe said finally, "at least the meet and greet isn't until the afternoon. He'll be fine by then. I'll take him some toast or something when we're done." 
                          
Rob looked at Dave, and Brad looked at Rob, and then Dave and Rob and Brad looked at Joe. 
                          
"What?" Joe said with an air of innocence. "I just want to make sure he's okay. You know, swing by the room, see if he needs anything..." He scowled at everyone's skeptical look. "See what's going on," he mumbled.
                          
"There's nothing going on," Rob said. "Mike's sick. That's all."
                          
"That better be all," Brad said, and all eyes turned back to him, frowning into his morning tea and newspaper. Rob just sipped his coffee, eyeing Brad, saying nothing, wondering how much Brad knew.
                          
***************************************************************
                          
Mike inhaled deeply, eyes closed, Chester's neck close and warm against his nose, his back against Mike's chest, his ass tucked up against Mike's crotch. I want to wake up like this forever. I want to wake up with my face in his hair, I want him next to me, I want to hear his breathing. I want everything, just like I told him last night. This is all so fast.
                          
He brushed his lips along the back of Chester's neck, but Chester didn't even stir. Mike smiled to himself, amused by his lover's ability to sleep so deeply. It was an opportunity to move his hands along Chester's smooth skin, his fingertips lovingly caressing the sleeping beauty in front of him. It still felt unreal, that they had crossed that invisible line, that they had become more than the best friends they had been for so long, that Mike's secret dreams were being realized. Where do we go from here? What will happen to us? What will happen to the band? What's going to happen to my family?
                          
Long minutes passed, Mike's hand roaming Chester's skin, when he opened his eyes and pulled Chester into his body closer, and finally the singer seemed to wake under his gentle touch. His muscles barely flexed under Mike's hand and then came a sleepy, contented whisper, "good morning, Mikey."
                          
Mike kissed in Chester's hair and responded, "morning, Ches." They lay in contented silence as Chester woke up slowly, lows hums of happiness escaping his throat as Mike continued to run his hand along his skin.
                          
"That feels... sooooo.... goooooood," he mumbled, turning his face into the pillow and pushing his ass back into Mike's morning erection. 
                          
"You're so warm."
                          
"Mmmm-hmmm. I slept good. How ya feelin'?"
                          
"Amazing."
                          
"No hangover?"
                          
"Nah," Mike chuckled softly, "I can hold my liquor." Silence stretched between them, and then, lowly, "I'm sorry I drank last night, Chester. I didn't mean for you to be around me like that."
                          
" 'S ok... I should have told you I'd be back. I shouldn't have ignored your text."
                          
"You're forgiven. Clearly," Mike hushed, gripping Chester's hip and pushing against him.