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"Can’t Take My Eyes Off You"
Title: Can't Take My Eyes Off You
Genre: Slash. Smut. PWP.
Warnings: Contains adult content between characters of the same sex. If that isn't your bag, don't read this. Also contains some adult language.
Disclaimer: Not real, never happened, completely 100% fictitious. I make no claims as to the personalities or sexual proclivities of the real Monkees, and I glean no profit from this story whatsoever. So don't sue me, cause I'm a broke grad student and I'd have to pay you in little tiny packets of Chinese mustard.
Summary: Peter puts on a show for Mike and Micky. And is basically a complete and total cockwhore.
Author's Note: A certain mental image came into my head one day and wouldn't leave, so this is the result: straight-up, plotless smut. It's dirty, it's filthy, and you can blame it all on Peter for being too delicious for me (and Mike and Micky) to ignore.
Peter liked to read.
But, much to his dismay, the overwhelming stench of cologne that Davy always seemed to leave behind when he went on a date was far too headache-inducing for him to concentrate. Why not sit on the couch in the living room? Mike and Micky asked after learning of his predicament. As it turned out, Peter liked to lie down on his bed when he was reading, and so after the shortest period of deliberation in history, Mike and Micky graciously agreed to let him read his books in their room.
Not that either man had said "yes" purely out of the kindness of his heart, however. They'd both been feeling an incredible attraction to the blond for months before then, with Micky reveling in his perfect view of Peter's ass as he swiveled and danced while playing his bass, and Mike sneaking glances at Peter's tanned, muscular torso whenever he came upstairs to take a shower.
After finding out that his two friends were attracted to him, and being the agreeable, curious, and unabashedly sexual sort--once you got past that surface shyness, anyway--Peter was happy to accept their attention. He loved letting Mike and Micky fuck his brains out at his and their leisure, and for someone so sweet-natured (and, at times, downright naïve), Peter had a sexual appetite that was as insatiable as theirs, Mike and Micky soon found out.
In fact, it wasn't unusual for either of them to awaken from a nap to the sight of what appeared to be a golden-haired sun god standing next to their beds, naked as the day he was born, cock hard and throbbing as he stroked it, licking his lips in predatory anticipation. It never took long for Mike or Micky to react to that, and in a flash, Peter would be on his back with one of their cocks up his ass; moaning, twisting, grunting almost primitively as they pounded him for all he was worth.
But the first time Mike and Micky had asked to watch him jerk off, Peter was uncertain. He knew he liked to be watched, but what would get them the most turned on? He tried a few different techniques, experimenting with positions and angles. Micky was easy enough to please, as he would practically jump on Peter when he was done finishing himself off. But Mike never let his reactions show, always measured and careful with what he let on, making it that much more difficult for Peter to discern what was working and what wasn't.
Some weeks later, Peter returned from working the day shift at Monte's to find a brown paper bag sitting on his night table. He opened it to inspect the contents and smiled. With a few clever purchases from Shandu's Erotic Palace (and how Mike had worked up the balls to go in there by himself, Peter didn't know--but, then again, this was Mike) he had "told" Peter all that he needed to know.
And lucky for all of them, Peter was a fast learner.
So, now Peter was reading again, lying on his stomach on Mike's bed. Given the frequency of what tended to happen then, Peter had foregone wearing clothes while he read. Mike and Micky barely had to talk him into it, which delighted both of them to no end. When the door opened a few minutes later, Peter did not look up, ignoring the shuffling of feet as Micky sat down on the adjacent bed and Mike shut the door behind them, leaning his lanky frame against it and crossing his arms.
"Peter." Micky was the first to speak.
"Mmh?" Peter still didn't look up.
"It's time, shotgun," Mike drawled. "Put on a good show for us." He could already feel his cock getting hard just from looking at the soft, sloping curves of Peter's ass as he laid there.
Peter couldn't stop the knowing smile that crept across his face as he slid his bookmark in. He closed the book slowly, reaching down to slide it under the bed. So predictable... the bassist thought, turning over onto his back. He scooted backwards toward the pillows, propping himself against them. His cock was already rock hard, as it seemed to always be these days, and it jutted up proudly, curving away from his body.
I'm gonna tease them a bit, Peter decided, all-too-aware of the two sets of eyes staring at him hungrily. He started to touch himself then, slowly drawing a hand down his chest, pinching and playing with his nipples. A low moan escaped from Peter's lips as a rush of heat coursed through his body. His other hand kept itself busy, moving down further still to wrap around his erection.
"Fuck..." Peter sighed as he started to stroke himself. It felt so good, and better still because he knew the effect it was having on Mike and Micky. He reached down to play with his balls, eagerly rolling the firm sacs between his fingers. A few gentle tugs on the heated skin sent little tremors of pleasure straight through him, and he groaned at the newfound stimulation.
Time to take it up a notch... Peter thought, spreading his legs wide, fully baring his pink, puckered opening to Mike and Micky. His eyes darted between the two men as he sucked two fingers into his mouth, rolling his tongue obscenely over the long digits, lubing them up with spit. He slid one finger into his entrance, followed by the second, groaning loudly and biting his lower lip as he began to scissor and thrust them in and out in earnest.
A groan from Micky echoed Peter's own as he sat on the other bed, his pants now uncomfortably tight and confining. He'd begun to squirm anxiously from watching the scene before him, so desperate to taste and lick and ravage, yet not wanting to break the spell. Mike, meanwhile, held fast, a cool expression painted on his face as he stood against the door, the enormous bulge in his pants the only sign of his arousal.
"Unhh...God...yeah..." Peter panted, heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure the other two could hear it. He was sweating by then, a thin sheen covering his entire chest, and his body seemed to glow as he writhed on the bed.
He reluctantly withdrew both fingers a few moments later, reaching into the night table next to the bed and pulling out the paper bag. Mike, benevolent dictator that he was, had let Peter keep the bag in his room, lest Davy unwittingly find it and faint dead away at the sight of what lie within. Conveniently, Mike also kept a jar of Vaseline right next to the bag, and Peter had grabbed that as well. He produced the first item from the bag--a large, curved green dildo--and generously slicked it up with the slippery gel.
"Michael." Peter's voice was low, brimming with arousal. He turned his gaze to the man against the door, grinning wickedly at the green hat perched atop his head. Peter kept his eyes on Mike as he eased the green dildo into his ass, fat beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as the muscles in his thighs twitched from the sensation of being filled.
Christ... Mike whimpered inside his head. He didn't want to show how much this was turning him on, but his cock felt like it was ready to tear through his trousers. He reached a hand down to the front of his pants, rubbing himself to relieve the ache in his groin as Peter fucked himself with the dildo.
"Unghh, fuck, so good...oh my God...ohhh!" Peter's eyes rolled into his head as the dildo brushed against his sweet spot, legs trembling helplessly as white-hot flashes of pleasure shot up his spine. Mike took a deep breath, convinced that the limits of his self-control could not be tested any farther...until Peter brought his other hand to his cock, stroking it hard in rhythm with his thrusts.
You fucking slut, Mike nearly growled out loud. Giving it to yourself every which way. You can't get enough, can you? Wait 'til I get my hands on you, boy...just wait... he ran his tongue along his lower lip, clenching and un-clenching his fist as Peter raised his hips. He bucked up with each of his strokes, breaths coming in short, heated gasps, and the veins on his neck pulsed as he moaned Mike's name over and over again.
Micky, meanwhile, had unbuttoned his shirt, the heat in the room too overwhelming to bear. He brought a hand to one of his nipples, pinching and tweaking the pink bud as images of shoving his hard-on down Peter's throat danced through his head. He glanced over at Mike, amazed at the Texan's ability to remain stoic and expressionless under such conditions. A small smirk curved up the corner of Micky's mouth as he noted with satisfaction that Mike was rubbing himself.
"Oh, Micky..." the sound of Peter's voice now calling out his name snapped Micky back to attention. What the...I only looked away for a second! Micky thought, surprised and very aroused to now see Peter on his knees. He'd bent himself over so that his head was resting against the bed, leaving his ass sticking straight in the air facing Mike and Micky. Peter's legs were parted just enough so that they could see everything, and his one hand was still on his cock, stroking it gently.
The first toy had been put away, and Peter had the second item from the brown bag in his hands: a blue, ribbed dildo, which slid effortlessly into that tight passage. Peter craned his neck to look at Micky from under heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes as he slowly pulled it out again. He smiled, and for a split-second, there was the innocent Peter, cheerful and bright as always. That smile somehow always managed to take Micky's breath away, and he nearly missed the quick, subtle wink that Peter gave in his direction before ramming the dildo back in, shamelessly crying out.
Innocent, my ass... Micky smirked as Peter fucked himself ruthlessly, the hand on his cock now a blur of motion as he jerked it furiously.
Peter angled the dildo so that it brushed against his prostate with every thrust, groaning uncontrollably as the stimulation from both ends threatened to undo him right then and there. He knew he would come soon, the familiar tightening in his balls growing more apparent with every thrust. He thought of Mike and Micky there in the room and how hard he knew their cocks were then, all because of him. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have not one, but two hot studs who were willing to please him anytime he wanted.
Suddenly, a warm heat engulfed one of Peter's testicles, and he yelped, both from surprise and pleasure. He looked down to see that Mike had crawled between his legs and sucked one of his balls into his mouth. The thoughts Peter had been having combined with the intensity in those black eyes as Mike stared up at him was too much, and he nearly screamed Mike and Micky's names as his orgasm overtook him.
"UNGHH! FUCK! OHHHH!" Peter cried out, his climax rushing from hair follicles to toes, so intense that he thought he would black out. The hand on his cock dropped down to claw into the sheets below as jets of hot cum landed on his stomach and chest, and he buried his head against the bed in sheer bliss as the last of his release spurted out.
Mike had moved away from him then, sitting at the foot of the bed. The hand that Peter still had on the dildo slowly pulled it out, and he hissed at the sudden emptiness, sighing as he reached into the night table to shove the toy back in the bag. He turned around again, flopping down on his back, reveling in the warm stickiness spread out over his stomach.
Peter was the very embodiment of debauched as he laid there, hair stuck in sodden, sweaty strings across his forehead, cheeks red, and skin completely flushed and glowing in post-orgasmic delight. Peter stretched lazily, arching his spine like a satisfied cat, his relaxed state a stark contrast to the tension Mike and Micky were feeling, every muscle poised to strike at a moment's notice.
Peter dipped a finger into the cum on his stomach as he gazed up at them, bringing it to his lips and licking it off as if it were the best thing he'd ever tasted. He grinned lecherously at the hungry looks in their eyes, almost feeling guilty for teasing them so badly, knowing how they could barely contain themselves at that point.
Well...maybe not that guilty... Peter thought, sliding his arms behind his head, smiling that innocent, sweet smile at the two of them.
"Well..." Mike finally spoke, clearing his throat as the word came out in a broken, half-high pitched tone. "Looks like you made quite a mess there," he continued, stroking a guitar-calloused palm along the inside of Peter's thigh. Mike didn't know how it was that he could form coherent sentences, especially given that every red blood cell in his body felt like it was concentrated in his cock.
"Mick, why don't you come over here?" he patted the space of bed next to him, never taking his eyes off Peter the entire time. The sentence hadn't even finished leaving his mouth before Micky was there, his shirt now forgotten as he pulled it off on the way over.
"Help me clean this boy up," Mike whispered. Micky didn't need to be told twice, and Peter gasped as he felt twin tongues gliding up his stomach, greedily licking off his cum.
"Mmmhh..." the blond groaned softly, eyes fluttering as they bathed him so luxuriously. Mike snaked a hand around the back of Micky's head, gently yanking his soft curls to pull his head up, crashing their mouths together in a heated kiss. They moaned into each other's mouths, and Peter was amazed to feel his own cock lengthening again as he watched, loving the sight of their tongues mingling over the taste of his cream.
Mike and Micky pulled apart a moment later, panting harshly as they fought to catch their breath.
"I bet that tasted really good," Peter murmured, sitting up slightly to run a thumb across the corner of Mike's mouth, where a little bit of his cum still remained. He gasped when Mike grabbed his wrist, his grip so tight that it began to hurt, but Peter welcomed the pain, never once asking Mike to stop.
"Kiss me, you gorgeous whore," Mike hissed, and Peter gladly obliged, leaning in and pressing his lips to the other man's. Mike immediately took charge of the kiss, demanding entrance to Peter's mouth and sliding his tongue in once Peter gave it. Peter reached a hand around, fisting it in Mike's thick, raven locks, deepening the kiss further.
Mike broke the kiss abruptly then. He was harder than he could ever remember being, and too far gone to wait another minute. He glanced knowingly at Micky, who seized Peter's other wrist, and he and Mike shoved Peter's arms above his head at the same time, pinning him helplessly to the bed. Peter closed his eyes, the last sight before him a flurry of torn clothing and swollen, eager cocks, happily surrendering to Mike and Micky's wild, uncontained passions.