Round Robin "Stranded" Part 9 By Vanity
	Davy didn't know what to think or where he was or what was really up with Peter.  Since the encounter with Mike, all he knew was that he couldn't fully talk and that he desperately missed Micky.  The hardest thing though was dealing with Peter, who was so unusally nice, giving him bits of found food and worrying over his injuries.  At times, all Davy could do was look at him, take the fussing, and sit quietly by himself, whenever he could get away. Today was one of those days that he found himself alone under a tree, curled tight in position as Peter fingered the dirt around him, mumbling to himself.  On occasions, Peter would look to him just to make sure he was still there and hadn't gotten away.  Then that interesting blush would come along, Peter embarrassed that Davy would catch him looking, turning away with a slight smile and going back to the dirt.  It reminded Davy of the morning after, realizing Peter's hard-on and that odd feeling of wondering just why.  At times he felt guilty when Peter's attentions came to him and all he could see was Micky, beautiful, soft, sweet sounding Micky.  He wished he knew where he was and where Micky could be, but he couldn't ask Peter, as if Peter would tell him anything. Damn, he thought, shifting positions as Peter got up to make his way over.  Where are you Micky? "The least you could do is talk to me," Micky whined from his distance from Mike.  Mike just grumbled and folded his arms over his chest.  Micky was tired of trying this one sided game with Mike, but that's what love did to him.  No matter how shitty Mike could be, he would come back for more, and then some.  It had been three days and Peter had whisked Davy away somewhere, while Micky was stuck here trying to make amends.  The first day was the roughest.  Mike should've thrown stones rather than yell at him.  It would have been easier to take.  Yesterday, Micky found some food and dared to share, and Mike took it, but without a glance or nod.  Later, Micky realized he hadn't even touched it at all and Mike just grumbled about not eating a whore's meal. "I'm sorry," Micky whispered as he turned away.  He didn't like being alone, let alone being with someone he knew he loved, but that person not wanting to do anything with him.  He should just leave; maybe go find his own private spot or a way out.  Maybe he could find Peter and Davy, or maybe just Davy.  Davy cared for him, Davy would give him all the affection he needed.  Davy was nice and understanding.  Davy was not Mike. He stood up, determined to do something, anything just to get a way. "Where the fuck are you going," Mike boomed behind him.  Micky started at the question, whipping around to see Mike struggling to get up.  "You're staying here," Mike growled.  "I will not have you going out there looking for that piece of shit Jones.  If you attempt to make another move, so help me I will catch you and scar that beautiful skin of yours.  Now, sit your ass down." Mike looked serious, that penetrating gaze forcing all of Micky's weight back into place, and right then and there, Micky didn't know what he was going to do. Davy stirred a bit in his sleep at the absence of Peter's body warmth.  He rolled over to the strange sound of water splashing, his blurry eyes focusing on a nude form in the stream.  At first he thought he was dreaming, maybe even fantasizing a bit.  But as his eyes took recognition, all he could do was stare as the water cascaded down Peter's bare back, over the slight curves of his ass.  Peter's muscles flexed as the water ran over his arms, his face; the long fingers running through his damp hair.  It was a nice view, something Davy thought he would never admit to himself.  But he had never seen Peter like this before, so raw, so uninhibited, so....Oh my God, he thought as Peter's form turned around to a new breed of physique, complete with a fully engorged penis nestled in a slew of curly dark hair.  His own penis shifted as Peter slowly dressed and came to him, his shadow quite demanding as it stood over Davy's small form.  By the slight smile, Peter knew he had been watched and made it no secret as he began to undress himself again.  Davy kept his eyes steady as Peter lowered himself onto his body, hands touching and feeling everywhere.  "You're so beautiful, Davy," Peter whispered as his hands skimmed over Davy's bulge.  "I've wanted you for so long.  I know you feel it too.  Don't be shy with me.  I can take care of you; make you so happy.  Micky, Micky doesn't know you like I do or can understand.  He only wants you for sex, not love.  I love you, Davy, I do, and, you can love me too, I know you can if you just let me show you what you mean to me." Davy felt helpless and yet in Peter's breathless tone it felt all right.  He allowed Peter to gently kiss his bruised mouth and undress him, no rush in the manner or feeling.  Peter just held him as if he were a delicate flower, rocking his hips in a rhythm Davy soon followed.  It only got better when Peter paused to carry him into the stream, the water cool and soothing as they wrapped each other in delicate embraces.  Peter's mouth was so smooth and demanding of each kiss, flesh, and nibble, Davy trembling at the contrasts of water and Peter's mouth on his dick.  When they settled back on land, Peter held him tight, planting kisses all over his body, licking at the droplets of water running over his skin.  Davy prepared for the second orgasm as Peter's mouth found its way to taste him again, over and over, sucking and pulling until his body shook with countless waves of pleasure.  It had been a long time since any affection was targeted towards him and being on this island meant life was too short to be alone and worrying.  If Peter loved him, Davy was going to let him, no matter what his feelings for Micky. Mike stared at Micky's curled form, cursing himself for being such an ass.  He loved Micky and it broke his heart when Micky found pleasure with another.  What could Mike do, allow it?  Micky belonged to him and he wasn't going to let anyone or anything take Micky away from him. But you're pushing him away, he yelled inside, Micky's back so cold and unfeeling towards him.  You have to be better than this.  You have to be a little gentler with him and than he should understand.  He'd die without you, Nesmith, and you know damned well you'd die without him too.  Mike took a deep breath and settled against the tree.  He couldn't loose Micky like he almost did in the crash, or to Davy.  If he was going to keep him, he would have to do it quick and do it right.  But how?
		~End of Vanity's Part~ On to Part X Back to Index