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"All Alone on Christmas"
Title: All Alone on Christmas
Summary: Micky faces the prospect of a very cold Christmas.
Warnings: Language and yummy slashiness. Though of course, since it's Micky and Peter, and especially since it's the holidays, you knew there had to be a healthy dose of schmoopiness to go along with the smut, right? :)
Micky sighed, his eyes drifting toward the Christmas tree again.
It was 11:35pm on Christmas Eve, and he was alone in the Pad.
A small, sad smile turned up the corners of Micky’s mouth as he shifted on the rug in front of tree and glanced over at the silent, ever-watchful figure of Mr. Schneider seated against the wall; Mr. Schneider, who had been witness to many, many strange goings-on in this place over the past few months.
“Looks like just you and me tonight, Mr. Schneider,” Micky said, expecting his tone to come out sounding light with just a touch of that patented Micky Dolenz sardonic humor.
So where did this tiny forlorn little voice come from? Did that really come from him?
What’s the deal? he thought to himself, honestly flummoxed. It’s not like this is the first Christmas you’ve spent on your own. Remember when you were a teenager and you would rather DIE than spend yet another Christmas at Lake Tahoe with your folks? You stayed home instead and had a great Christmas stuffing yourself with gingerbread men and mince pies and eggnog and watching all those hokey specials on TV. This is no different, man. No different at all.
But it certainly felt different. There was no way he could deny that.
Mike had left days ago, packing up the Monkeemobile and driving it to Texas to spend Christmas with his mom. Davy had likewise gone to visit family. His grandfather had sent him an airline ticket to fly over to England, and he had gone to the airport just last night.
Micky drew his knees up to his chest and folded his arms atop them, resting his chin on them as he gazed steadily at the multi-colored lights strung around and around the tree; Lights that he and Peter had put up together last week.
“I don’t have to go out to Connecticut, you know,” Peter had said two nights ago. “My mother will understand if I cancel.”
“No Pete, I can’t let you do that,” Micky had protested. “This is kind of a tradition for you guys. I don’t want you breaking it on my account.”
Peter had been silent for a moment, then he ventured uncertainly, “You could come with me...”
Micky had burst out laughing at that. “Oh no. I know you come from a family of progressive thinkers, but I seriously doubt they will be so open-minded as to understand why their son would want to bring his male band mate all the way across the country to his family’s Christmas celebration.” He had smiled winningly and leaned in to press a brief, loving kiss to Peter’s mouth. “I appreciate the offer, Peter...But seeing as how we’re not engaged yet, I don’t think that would be a best course of action.”
Peter had smiled at that, but just as quickly the concern had returned to his face. “I just don’t like to think of you here all by yourself on Christmas. It just doesn’t seem right, man.”
Micky had pushed his hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “Pshaw,” he had said breezily. “You go and spend time with your folks. I’ll see you when you get back. I’ll be fine.”
It had sounded good, but had he really believed his own words, even then? Maybe so, but that was during the bright sunlight of a California day. Not the dark reality of a lonely Christmas Eve.
A sigh shook Micky’s frame, and his heart felt heavy in his chest as he began to sing softly to himself.
“I’ll have a blue Christmas without you. I’ll be so blue just thinking about you. Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree won’t mean a thing if you’re not here with me.”
His voice trembled a bit on the last few words, and he buried his face in his arms to stop the tears that threatened to fall.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, hands were upon him.
“Wha...?” he demanded sleepily, staring around with bleary eyes, and finally focusing on the person who knelt before him.
“Peter?” Micky asked, suddenly wide awake with surprise. Jesus...how long had he been sleeping?? He glanced at the clock and saw that only about twenty five minutes had passed. It was now five minutes to midnight. “How...What....?”
Peter’s eyes were soft and a little dreamy as he leaned in close, and whatever Micky may have been planning to say next was swallowed by Peter’s devouring his in a delicious whirlwind of a kiss. Dear God. Micky’s head fell back as he surrendered himself completely and totally. Holy shit, those hot lips, that tongue darting inside his mouth, slipping teasingly over his own tongue...
Peter’s hands were now slipping under his shirt, softly pinching his nipples, and then lightly caressing the flat planes of his stomach. Micky moaned into Peter’s mouth as those hands descended lower, lower, cupping him between his legs with a practiced touch.
Micky arched his hips into Peter’s grasp as he slipped his arms around his lover’s shoulders, clutching double handfuls of the brightly patterned tunic that Peter was wearing. Yet another moan was forced from him as Peter deftly slipped his hand inside the elastic waistband of Micky’s pajama pants, grasping the throbbing erection within.
Micky was now simultaneously trying to return kisses with equal fervor, while pumping eagerly through Peter’s hand and stripping Peter’s clothing off to feel his warm flesh beneath his fingers. He was only managing the first two right now, but two out of three wasn’t bad at all under these circumstances. To be honest, he barely minded Peter not being undressed right now. At this moment, Peter being fully clothed was perfectly acceptable as long as he didn’t stop.
With a desperate sort of half-growl, Micky pulled Peter down with him onto the rug, pressing his body against the other man’s as Peter continued to fist his cock with long, lazy strokes. Micky buried his face against Peter’s neck, smelling the clean deliciousness of his skin mixed with the smell of citrus and exotic spices; the combination only serving to excite him all the more.
“Oh shit...Peter...” Micky gasped, and then he was coming. The lights of the Christmas tree doubled and tripled before his eyes, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the intensity of his orgasm, or from the tears of happiness that glazed his vision.
Micky closed his eyes and drifted, letting the warm, blissful sensations have their familiar way with him, dimly aware that his clothing was being swiftly and effectively removed. The cool air of the living room felt good on his overheated body.
Then Peter was stretching out on top of him, his own lean, toned nakedness slipping over Micky’s as he gazed down at his lover.
“I had to come back,” Peter said softly. “Yes, traditionally I’ve always gone home for the holidays, but now....” He paused, his fingers toying idly with Micky’s dark curls. “This is home for me now, Micky. Here with you. I can’t imagine spending Christmas anywhere else.”
Micky’s lips trembled slightly. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” he whispered huskily. He twined his legs around Peter’s waist with an anticipatory sigh as Peter slowly entered him.
Fuck...Could any Christmas gift in the world match this? Micky thought randomly as his body was rocked back and forth on the rug in a sweet, slow rhythm. His nails dug helplessly into Peter’s shoulders as the intensity built and built. The glow from the Christmas lights shimmered off their slippery bodies as they worked and strained against one another.
“Oh god...Oh Micky...” Peter groaned helplessly, panting, his hips moving in a quickening tempo, driving his full length hard into Micky’s willing body again and again and again.
“Yeah, Peter,” Micky growled softly, encouragingly, mindlessly. “Yeah, baby. That’s it. So good, baby...so good....” He gasped and cried out as Peter brushed his sweet spot, as his vision whited out temporarily and almost paralyzing pleasure flooded his senses.
“Shit, you feel amazing,” Peter ground out. “God...gotta come, Mick....Gotta come...”
Mere moments later, Peter’s entire body stiffened and he uttered single sharp cry as his orgasm slammed into him. He shuddered, groaning softly as he emptied himself deep inside his lover’s body.
When it was over, the two of them lay together in silence for a long moment, listening to each others’ breathing, feeling each others’ heartbeats, and relishing the simple gift of being together again.
At length, Peter lifted his head to press a soft kiss to Micky’s mouth. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
“Merry Christmas,” Micky replied softly, smiling.
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW!
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