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Mikey is losing his mind.
He can't go on like this. He's not strong enough, his heart isn't strong enough.
He's currently sitting between Ray's legs, and not because there wasn't any space left on a couch. In that case he'd rather sit on the floor than use Ray's lap as a seat.
It all happened because he sucks at playing the bass. Sure he only started playing it not even one year ago and he is still far from perfect, but next week they're going to record their songs into their first album and he can't fuck it up.
So, he can only blame himself and his shit coordination if now he is in this highly uncomfortable situation.
This morning they all met at Frank's basement that they've been using as a rehearsal room.
“So, first thing first, we're gonna decide the order of the songs, then we're going to play them and see what are the ones that need more rehearsals, alright?” instructed Gerard once they all tuned their instruments.
“Works for me,” agreed Frank who was holding his guitar with one hand and grasping Gerard’s shoulder with the other.
It had seemed to MIkey that Frank and Gerard had grown very close very fast, and it wasn’t just because Frank had officially become a member of the band. He’d been pretty sure that Frank had been flirting with his brother even before joining My Chem, and judging by the way Gerard reacted to Frank's touches and glances he'd guessed the feelings were mutual. And he was right.
Mikey certainly isn't mad at them (although he'd appreciate it if they stopped being all smitten and gross when he was in the same room as them). But if he has to be honest he is a little jealous and envious of what they have. Yeah, because while Frank and Gerard get to be lovey dovey, he's still waiting for his guitarist to notice him.
“Let’s get going then,” said Ray, while carrying the amp from where it was discarded last time they played and his biceps bulged as he picked it up from the ground and put it back down, plugging all the instruments into it.
Mikey had to look away or else he would have risked moaning aloud at the sight in front of him. Ray wasn't exactly ripped, but fuck, he was hot. His arms were strong and they shined with a thin layer of sweat, making his skin glisten.
He came to terms with his feelings for Ray not long ago. It definitely wasn't the first time he liked a boy- he realized in his teenage years that he was bisexual- but it never felt like this before.
When he realized it wasn't simple sexual attraction and that he was actually falling in love with one of his closest friends he was scared shitless. He's never been in love before and the realization hit him like a brick falling from the 5th floor.
He didn’t want to tell him. He thought it would only make things more awkward. And he was not even sure Ray was into guys at all. He never talked about his love life, let alone his sex life; so, as far as Mikey knew, Ray could be straight and completely uninterested in any other type of connection with Mikey, besides friendship. Even if Ray was into guys, that doesn't mean he'd be into Mikey. Why would someone as cool as Ray be interested in someone as uninteresting as him?
That's why he's been keeping his distance. He rarely stays for long when they hang after practice, and when he does he sits as far as he can from Ray and hides his feelings as much as he can behind a straight-face whenever he talks to him.
“Is everything alright between you and Ray?” Gerard asked him last week.
“Yeah, why are you asking?” he tried to not sound guilty.
“It looks like you've been avoiding him like the plague,” his brother replied, crossing his arms.
“What? That's not true! I've just been busy and stressed ‘cos of the album, you know,” he excused himself. It wasn't a total lie: he had really tried to perfect his bass skill the most he could and the stress and anxiety that comes with the recording session was growing with each passing day.
Gerard stared into his eyes, squinting a little, for a few seconds and he held the gaze for all the time. “Okay, but if there's something wrong you'd tell me, right?” Mikey could hear a veil of worry in his voice.
“Yeah, of course, don’t worry,” he tried to reassure him. After all there wasn't anything wrong, he just had to try to behave more normally around Ray.
And that was going great. Until ten minutes ago.
Once they reached a conclusion on the order in which the songs would be put in the album they started to play them starting with Romance and ending with Demolition Lovers.
They played each song twice and they were pretty satisfied with the outcome. They changed a few things here and there and the end results were amazing. Nevertheless, Gerard seemed a little unsure about one song.
“Mikey, can you play the part of Drowning Lessons when I sing ‘These hands stained red/From the times that I've killed you and then’?” he asked, putting the mic back onto its stand.
Mikey played his part til the end of the song, being particularly careful not to mess it up now that there weren't the sounds of Frank and Ray's guitars and Matt’s drum to cover up eventual mistakes.
“Yeah, I think you should speed it up a bit and maybe try two keys lower,” said his brother.
Shit, what was he supposed to do? It was a miracle if he managed to play it without mistakes the way he's been practicing all this time. He was sitting on a wooden coffee table they used as a makeshift sitting bench.
He tried anyway, hoping it wouldn't be too bad. He transposed the keys, but he was so concentrated on switching frets that he played it slower than the original version.
“That sounded better, but you gotta speed it up as well,” Gerard reminded him.
Lower the keys. Speed it up. He can do it.
Mikey tried again.
He couldn't do it.
He fucked it more than once; trying to move his hand faster on the fretboard he mixed low and high keys. It sounded like shit.
“I can't…” he trailed off, looking at his brother and blushing deep red in his cheek at the embarrassment of making a fool of himself.
“Wait, let me show you,” Ray suggested, “I know I don't play the bass, but maybe we can work it out together.” He walked towards Mikey and swung one of his legs on the other side of the table he was sitting on and took place behind Mikey.
And this is why Mikey is losing his mind now.
Mikey can feel Ray's chest against his back, his thighs brushing his own. He can feel his breath on his neck and his arms circling his small frame and reaching for the cords of his bass.
He takes a deep breath and shudders a little when Ray leans forward. His face is practically next to Mikey's and he can feel Ray's breath on his collarbone.
Ray starts to play the tune and shit, seeing those skilled and dexterous fingers dancing on the fretboard made Mikey's breath hitch and he had to bite the inside of his bottom lip to stop a whimper.
Did he have a fucking hand kink now?
Ray’s definitely doing a better job than him, not that Mikey is paying any attention to the sound of his bass. His mind is filled with all the sensations he is feeling at the moment.
As Ray keeps playing the part, the bass slightly shifts on Mikey's lap making him aware of the awkward and uncomfortable position he's currently in: he's rock hard in his jeans and he did let a small whine slip out of his mouth as the bass pressed deeper on his crotch. Thank God he has a leg propped onto the other, so it shouldn't be too obvious.
He is mortified. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. What if Ray noticed? He's in a room full of people and he just popped a boner and for what? Because his best friend he's in love with was a little too close to him? He's pathetic.
He's so lost in his thoughts and his misery that he barely notices when Ray stops playing. He can hear him say something about how “it takes practice”. He stands up and walks out the room, bass still hanging on his shoulders. He drops the instrument in the short corridor just outside the basement and makes his way to the bathroom.
He is almost at the door when he feels a hand wrapping around his wrist. He turns around, already knowing who he's going to find in front of him.
“Hey, is everything alright? I didn't mean to embarrass you with that. Like, it's not that I think you couldn't pull that off or something… I just wanted to help you out.” Ray smiles apologetically.
Mikey avoids his eyes. “Don't worry, it's alright.”
Ray seems a bit more relaxed, but not completely reassured. “Are you sure? You've been kinda weird lately, especially around me. Did I do something wrong? Like did I say something that offended you? If that's the case I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Just tell me what it is and we can work it out.” He blurts out. His words sound so sincere that Mikey almost feels bad to keep the truth from him.
Ray takes a step forward and breaches dangerously into Mikey's personal space. As an immediate response, Mikey averts his eyes looking down at his feet. Ray's gaze follows his and inevitably notices the bulge tenting Mikey's pants. Shit shit shit shit. Mikey wants to disappear. He's really wishing he could just snap his fingers and teleport himself on another planet and never come back.
He can feel his face heating up and he knows he’s turned the deepest shade of red that has ever been seen on a person's face. “I… I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, I… I just. Well, I'm sorta into you and-” his voice is just a whisper in the silent corridor and the words die in his mouth as he feels another pair of lips press against his own.
“I'm sorta into you, too,” Ray mumbles, lips brushing Mikey's.
Mikey is too dumbfounded to formulate coherent thoughts. “What? I had no idea know you were into guys, and into me, above all else.” He sounds so small and unsure, which totally reflects how he feels.
“Well, I've been into some guys before, but it wasn’ anything important, that's why I've never mentioned it. But with you it's different. It feels important. And to be one hundred percent honest, I would've never thought you'd be into someone like me either, like, I'm nothing like the guys you usually hang out with.” Ray mutters, his lips twist in a half smile.
“What are you talking about, you are amazing. You're fantastic. You're one of the coolest people I know. Fuck, the way you play the guitar alone is enough to make you the most talented person I know. You are a great musician and a great person, too. And then, you look so fucking good, like, you're handsome and hot and, fuck, just kiss me already,” Mikey decides he fucked up enough for today, so he shuts himself up by smushing his lips on Ray's and cradling his face in his hands.
The kiss deepens very quickly. All the embarrassment made his erection go away, but Mikey is rapidly growing hard again into his pants. He tentatively bucks his hips forward and he can clearly feel Ray's hard on taking form.
Mikey untangles one hand from the curls on Ray's head and opens the door of the bathroom right behind them. He pulls the both of them into the bathroom and breaks the kiss to take a deep breath. His glasses are all fogged up, so he decides to discard them on a counter.
He latches himself again on Ray's lips and this time he roams from his mouth to his jaw, his neck and his collarbone. Ray is panting, whimpering, moaning. And Mikey is drunk on those sounds. He lost all his inhibitions and he's ready to give Ray a good time.
He lets his hand wander on Ray's chest, he grabs the hem of his shirt and locks eyes with Ray to silently ask for permission. Ray nods, so he proceeds. Ray's chest is hairier than his, but not excessively so. Mikey trails kisses all over his chest, giving particular attention to his nipples, which makes Ray whine louder.
He brings a hand to cup Ray's cock and he's as hard as he is.
“Hand or mouth?” he asks.
“Hand. I'm so close already, I wouldn’t last five seconds in your mouth.” Ray replies.
Mikey smiles smugly and a bit shy.
Mikey unzips Ray's pants and he can already see a wet stain on his underwear. He really was close.
“I want to do it to you, too,” Ray complains, hand ghosting over Mikey's zipper, “Can I?”
“Sure.”
They quickly work each other's dick out of their underwear and start slowly massaging their erections. Slow, long strokes, up and down their shafts, interchanged with fast, short ones, concentrated on the glans.
Mikey can't believe that the hand that's currently jerking him off is the same that, not even thirty minutes ago, was playing his bass. Nonetheless, Ray is the one who finishes first. Loud moans escaping his mouth. His cum painting Mikey's hand white. The sight of Ray’s face contorted in pure pleasure by his orgasm is enough for Mikey to reach his own.
They clean themselves up the best they can. Ray puts his t-shirt on again. “I didn't last long, not even with your hand,” he says a bit sheepishly “But, fuck, that was really good,” he says after he's fixed his hair, which was all ruffled due to Mikey's hand pulling it.
“What can I say, it takes practice.” Mikey replies with a grin, as they are walking back to the basement.