Slip Away.

“Mike Lewis is tired. He is tired because he’s stayed up all night playing guitar hero three. Mike Lewis is thirty one years old. Mike Lewis has no shame.”

“Stu, shut up,” Mike yawned, walking into the living room with his breakfast in hand.

“Why d’you have to eat yoghurt constantly?!” Stu exclaimed, slipping his legs off the sofa and sitting up so that Mike could slot next to him.

“I don’t. I ate some cabbage last night. Now. Shh.”

Stu rolled his eyes at Mike’s absurdities, but quietened down all the same. Mike was probably the only person aside from his two year old daughter Cada who could tell him what to do and get away with it. He watched Mike eat his peculiar breakfast (a munch bunch fromage frais, strawberry flavour) fondly and just grinned when Mike spilled it onto the carpet.

Mike, however, was irritated with himself for spilling the yoghurt and went to get a cloth. He bent down to scrub at it, inadvertedly showing himself off to Stu. Stu grinned, and, like the true pervert he was, stood up and held Mike’s hips, pressing his crotch into his boyfriend’s -previously exposed- arse.

Mike jumped, surprised, then laughed, standing up and leaning his head back on Stu’s chest.

“You’re a dick,” Mike grinned, affectionately.

“Ah, and we all know who loves dick,” Smirked Stu cheekily, before receiving a wink from the younger and slightly shorter man.

“You’re so going to have to pay for that,” Mike told Stu, turning and pushing him back onto the sofa, before childishly sticking his tongue out at him.

“Oh yeah?” Grinned Stu, knowing that Mike’s version of “pay for that” might well involve sex.

“Oh yes,” smirked Mike, before sitting on Stu’s lap facing him, leaning forward and kissing his neck; Stu closed his eyes a few seconds later and started to lightly stroke Mike’s back.

About thirty seconds later, Mike reached over to the arm of the sofa, grabbed his yoghurt pot and scooped out a generous helping of strawberry yoghurt. Stu, mildly confused about what was happening and why Mike had stopped kissing his neck, opened his eyes and made a grumpy, grumbly sort of sound. Mike just grinned at him and slathered the dairy product through Stu’s hair.

“...W-...you...Ohh!” Stu’s face scrunched up in disgust as he realised what Mike had done. The younger man had slipped off him and was laughing in the kitchen as he binned the yoghurt pot.

Stu tugged his own fingers through his hair irritatedly when Mike swanned back into the room and sat himself down on their other sofa, a cheeky grin set firmly on his face.

“Why did yo-“

“I said you were going to pay for being a perv,” Mike told him, jumping in before he even finished his sentence, then grinning widely.

Stu scowled.

“If you weren’t so damn hot I wouldn’t have had to perv over you,” he sniffed. Mike just laughed.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” Mike smiled.
Stu blinked, genuinely unable to fathom that anyone, especially anyone who looked like Mike, could possibly not think they were attractive. He wasn’t a person who had ever really bothered to worry too much about whether he was as attractive as the people around him; instead he had, for a very long time, just let everything in his life revolve around sex.

Now of course things were different. He had a young daughter and wanted to set a good example, not to mention the fact that he was very much in love with Mike. Stu no longer fucked three different people every week and he didn’t have a reputation any more for being quite such a whore.

However, they say old habits never die and it wasn’t uncommon for other people to claim this actively to Mike, thinking that perhaps the guitarist could do better than the bassist. Mike always dismissed these ideas.

Mike’s own mother was a prime example. When Mike had first told his mother that he was in a relationship with Stu Richardson, she’d sounded very wary and warned Mike against him. He dismissed her claims.
But why? Haven’t you heard what he’s like?!

”I’ve heard all the rumours. I don’t care. I trust him.

I know exactly who he is, better than anyone.

And I know who he is. He’s mine.”

Stu, seeing that his boyfriend had zoned out somewhat, smiled and pulled Mike into his lap, an arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“You ok, hon?” He asked, his lips grazing Mike’s forehead; unusually soft for Stu. Mike nodded and smiled.

“I’m with you,” He beamed. “How can I not be happy?”