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"Dress Sexy For Me"

Title: Dress Sexy For Me
Author: Moondreams
Rating: Oh-so NC-17
Pairing: Torksmith
Warnings: Language, sexuality, cross-dressing, mild non-con (Shock horror! Don’t worry, I couldn’t truly do non-con to our guys…) Oh, and guess what, it’s epically long once again! :S
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Monkees and make no claim that this ever really happened. It is purely the result of an overactive imagination.
Summary: Phyllis and Michael are having a Halloween Party. Mike has been being particularly harsh on Peter lately and so Micky suggests playing a prank on him to put him in his place. The prank, however, does not go quite as planned…
Author’s Note: So, I got this idea from reading about said party, pretty much just what they were wearing. What was intended to be a light-hearted fic actually came out kinda dark in some parts, but it’s still just an RL PWP…FYI ;) Also, as much as I tried to avoid it, it does seem to verge on crack at times. Still, I hope you guys enjoy it!


Peter leant up against the wall of his house, arms folded across his chest and one leg propped up behind him. He looked at his watch, even though barely a minute had passed since the last time he checked, shaking the hair out of his eyes as he looked up at the night sky.

He knew this was a bad idea. He usually loved a good party, being surrounded by music and people, he always had a good time. But this…this was going to go wrong, he could just feel it.

It was usually either he or Micky that threw all the parties, so when Mike announced that he and Phyllis had organised a Halloween party, he was a little stunned. It later turned out that it was very much Phyllis’ idea, Mike didn’t seem that keen after all. Micky figured it was a ploy on her part to get him to lighten up a little, take a break from work.

Everyone had noticed how moody he’d been getting lately. None more so than Peter, who every time, managed to get Mike right at his breaking point. Peter had been getting an earful pretty much every other day in the studios, which was crazy considering they barely recorded together anymore.

The previous day, they’d gotten into such an argument that Peter had practically lost his voice from yelling so much. He’d always managed to keep his temper but it had just built up so much, he couldn’t control himself.

Needless to say he wasn’t too fond of the idea of spending a whole evening with him and was on the verge of abandoning the idea and spending a night in.

But Micky had other ideas.

He knew how down Peter had been getting about the whole thing but argued that it would be nice to spend time together as they didn’t get to hang out much anymore. Plus, maybe the party atmosphere would help loosen Mike up and everything would be resolved.

Peter knew it was no good arguing with him and he did miss hanging out with Micky so he conceded, grabbing himself a costume and was now waiting to be collected by Micky and Sammy.

Moments later, he saw their car pull up and was greeted by that Cheshire Cat like grin as Micky stepped out of the car and gave Peter a big hug.

Despite his blue mood, he couldn’t help but snigger at the sight of him in his costume.

“A priest? Seriously?”

Micky’s grin broadened. “Sure. And you know, we already owned these too!”

Peter bent down to see Sammy in the passenger seat in a rather revealing nun outfit. She gave a slightly embarrassed wave as Peter stood upright again, shaking his head at Micky but failing to cover his smile.

“I don’t even wanna know! Let’s go, shall we?”

He climbed into the back as Micky revved the engine and they set off. Sammy turned round to give him a once over.

“What’s your outfit?”

“It’s a, uh, pioneer. Y’know, like from the Old West and the settlers and…” Her blank stare made him a little self conscious as he fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat like a small boy.

He’d drawn a total blank on what sort of costume to wear but for some reason this just sort of seemed fitting, it was far more understated and bland than what he usually wore, going as a hippie would have been far too easy.

“Lookin’ good!” Micky quickly commented, looking at him through the rear view mirror. Peter could tell from his eyes that it was more of an apology than a statement and Peter relaxed into the seats for the brief ride to the party, thinking that so long as Micky was there, everything would work out fine.

~*~

As they pulled up the long driveway of the Nesmith residence, it was obvious the party was already in full swing as music blared out of the open doors and windows.

Micky hammered on the front door, an arm around Sammy’s waist while Peter subconsciously hung back, anxiety threatening to take over again. He felt his throat go dry, unwrapping a cough drop in his pocket and popping it in his mouth.

The heavy door swung open to reveal Phyllis who grinned widely at the sight of them.

“Hey, you two! Lookin’ good…Come on in.”

She was dressed in a deep red leotard with a matching tutu, topped off with a pair of upmarket stiletto heels. Her hair was tied up into a fantastic twist with red ribbon which accentuated her eyes and perfect bone structure.

She led them in, catching sight of the unhippie hippie, behind them.

“Oh, hey Peter! Glad you decided to come.” She said with genuine appreciation. Peter’s head spun to face Micky who tried but failed to avoid his glare.

“What?!”

“You told him I might not be coming!?”

“He asked! He asked if you were coming or not and I said you hadn’t decided! What’s the big deal?”

Peter glowered a little more but Micky was right, what was the big deal? Surely Mike could understand that Peter might not want to spend time around him. Maybe that was why he asked, maybe he was worried that he’d scared Peter into not coming.

Phyllis led them into one of the main rooms with a large amount of the other guests, handing Sammy a glass of wine while taking one for herself. The two of them began to mingle, leaving Peter and Micky to locate the beer and take in the surroundings.

Peter had only been to Mike’s place a couple of times before, he never got over how lavish it was. I guess when you go from having nothing to having more than you could ever dream of, you’re gonna want to live the best you can…But nevertheless, it was still vastly different to Peter’s home which was large, yes, but modest too.

But it’s not like it was the first difference between them, of course.

“Alright, fellas!” Davy practically catapulted into the two of them, shaking Peter out of his thoughts. Davy had apparently been at the party a while already as he seemed to be swaying from the drink he’d already consumed.

“What the heck are you supposed to be?” Micky asked, looking him up and down.

“I’m a prince!” He replied, indignantly, straightening up while smoothing out his costume as if to emphasis this.

The costume was made of red velvet with ruffles…lots and lots of white ruffles. He wore a crown and a thin, fencing-like sword. He actually looked more like a cavalier; all he needed was the moustache.

It looked like something from the kiddies department but neither dared express this opinion, instead just sharing a mutual smirk.

Peter stood on his toes, searching the vast room for the Texan, unable to spot him.

“What’s Mike?” He asked, a little croakily, popping in another cough drop.

“A dick.” Davy replied without missing a beat. Peter tried to stifle his laugh, making him almost choke on the sweet and laugh harder as a result.

“I’m glad you find him so amusing…” A sardonic drawl sounded behind him, stopping the laugh dead and giving Peter that all too familiar sinking feeling.

He turned to see Mike slouched behind him, his expression stony and harsh, although Peter was sure there was a glimpse of hurt mixed in too which wasn’t helping.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but admire the costume. Mike was wearing a dark brown leather jacket, dripping with fringe, over a faded red shirt. His weather beaten jeans kept up by a large belt with a silver buckle with a Longhorn on it. Spurs jutted out from under the jeans, attached to the dark leather boots.

The brown hat, bolo tie and holster, complete with what looked to be am original Peacemaker, made the finishing touches to a perfect costume.

A cowboy. Of course. Peter thought to himself. The look really did suit him, it looked like he had just stepped right out of a western, along with the beer he was holding by the neck between his fingers and the intense, unblinking glare that Peter noticed was still fixed on him.

“Hey Mike, great party!” Micky quickly interjected, sensing that things were already going south. After a couple of agonising seconds, Mike turned to look at Micky, his expression softening considerably.

“You bring Samantha along too?”

“Sure, she went off with Phyllis someplace.” Micky answered, waving in the general direction they went.

“Tell me she’s not a nun…” Micky just grinned making Mike shake his head good-naturedly.

“C’mon, lemme introduce ya to some folks.” He said, putting an arm around Micky’s shoulder, leading him into another room. Peter watched them go, a slightly dejected look threatening to take over his indifferent exterior.

“Nice lot o’ chicks here, mate. Come on!” Davy, who Peter had totally forgotten about in that moment, dragged him away, trying to get him more involved.

After a while, Davy went off with a princess (typical Davy) leaving Peter to mingle with some of the other guests. He would strike up a conversation but soon lose interest, unable to take his mind off the things that had been going on.

Why the hell did I even come here? Why come to the party of a guy that totally despises me?

But Peter knew why, at least partly. He hated that he didn’t get on with Mike, if he had been given a reason then maybe he would accept it but as far as he knew, he’d done nothing wrong. It hadn’t always been like this, they used to get on well. Very well, in fact, talking about music and about life. Then suddenly it all just turned sour without any explanation.

He wanted to make things right between them but couldn’t apologise, wouldn’t apologise, for something he figured was Mike’s problem.

An hour or so into the party, Peter was sat on a couch with a very boring young woman, guzzling down his fifth beer. Mike worked his way through the crowd towards them, pulling the young woman up and dragging her away. Peter found it hard to hear over the music but he could have sworn he heard Mike say something about introducing her to some “real musicians”.

Peter clenched the bottle tightly, knocking back the last half in one go. He managed to get himself upright just as he was violently pulled back down again by the suddenly present Micky who sat beside him.

“What the hell was all that about?!” Micky said loudly, nodding his head in the direction of the two departing figures.

Peter clenched his eyes closed, still trying to stop his head from swimming after the sudden movement.

“I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m leaving, Mick, I’ve had enough of this shit. He obviously doesn’t want me here.”

As he went to stand again, he felt Micky grab hold of his wool shirt, keeping him in place.

“No! Look, we pretty much never get to hang out any more, so we’re gonna hang out now! We just need to find you some of that party spirit!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I think you’re shit outta luck trying to find any.” Micky’s expression became that of a devious type as he reached into his robes to reveal two joints he’d brought with him. Peter’s eyebrows raised and he took one without even needing to be tempted.

They both headed out to the back door, lighting up on the patio which was pretty much deserted.

The large amount of alcohol in their systems made the drugs take effect even quicker than usual and it didn’t take long for the conversation to go down the bizarre route.

However, also due to the large of amount of alcohol in Peter’s system, the pot only seemed to enhance his sombre state. It just made him care less about talking about it.

“I don’t know what his fucking problem is, you know? We used to be cool. Did I do something? I shouldn’t apologise, right? He needs to sort himself out, not me. I’m sick of pandering to him all the time!”

“Preach it!” Micky said before doubling over in hysterics as he pulled on his robes and proceeded to mimic a priest.

But Peter was only half paying attention, taking another toke on the joint, wondering what to do and why he should even care. If I could get his head outta his ass it would be a start...

As if reading his mind, Micky suddenly took in a deep breath, eyes going wide.

“Ho-ly shit...”

“What?”

“We should play a prank on him!” He exclaimed. Peter casually raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at the boyishness that really came through in him when he was stoned.

“What kind of a prank?” Micky gave a wicked grin, leaning over to whisper in Peter’s ear, superfluously as there was no-one around to hear them.

This time it was Peter’s eyes that went wide, turning the bewildered expression to Micky who still wore the same grin.

“You have got to me kidding me!”

“No, man, it’s perfect! It would totally blow his mind, it’d definitely put him in his place and show that you’re not to be fucked with anymore.”

“But-“ Peter couldn’t even begin to work this out in his drug-addled brain. Was he really serious? But before he could manage to get any questions out, Micky threw up his hands to stop him.

“Ah! Just leave it to me!” Ditching the joint, he waded back into the house, searching for something...or someone. Peter decided to not let him out of his sight, lest he do something drastic in his sudden enthusiasm.

He suddenly stopped dead in front of him. “There she is.” Peter looked in the direction Micky was facing. Phyllis was having what looked like a rather heated discussion with Mike, who kept touching her hair only to have his hand constantly swatted away. After a few moments he walked off, grabbing another drink on his way.

“You wait here, I’ll be right back.” Peter was in no mood to argue, he was back to wanting to be gone. This prank would never fly, it didn’t even make much sense...

He grabbed a nearby beer bottle, taking a swig while he watched the interaction between the two. She laughed hysterically at one point, apparently she found the idea amusing, how strange.

Moments later, she disappeared and Micky looked over to give Peter a quick thumbs up. Peter unwrapped yet another cough drop, sucking more to sooth his nerves than his throat.

“Still here, huh?” That familiar drawl sounded again. Peter turned to face Mike who was now nursing something in a glass that looked (and smelled) a lot stronger than the beer.

“Got a problem with that?” Peter asked, getting his back up almost immediately.

Mike shrugged. “I couldn’t care less whether you’re here or not. Not exactly your kinda scene though, is it? Bit too civilized...” He said with what appeared to be a leer.

The alcohol had dulled Peter’s reactions somewhat so by the time he became truly offended by the statement, Mike had already moved away. In an instant, Micky was at his side with a newly acquired bag.

“OK, so I got-“ Peter snatched the bag, not even waiting for the explanation as to its contents before storming up the stairs, Micky in tow.

They bustled into the first bathroom, locking the door behind them. Peter then proceeded to empty the bag, taking out the pink leotard and tutu. He stared at them for a couple of seconds.

“They’re a different colour...” Micky waved his hands in a nonchalant fashion.

“That doesn’t matter, it’s gonna be dark. If anything, it’s the fit that’ll be the problem. It’s a spare she had for a friend that didn’t show, looks like it should be OK.”

Without giving it too much thought, Peter began to get changed while Micky kept his ear to the door.

“I can’t believe Phyllis is even going along with this...”

“Are you kidding?!” Micky gave him an incredulous glance. “I didn’t tell her what the prank was, just said we were doing one. The party doesn’t seem to be working to loosen him up so I think she was all for this.”

“Ah.” That made more sense, he wasn’t sure Phyllis would be as comfortable had she known what they had in mind.

“I told her to get him to meet her in the first bedroom which should be the one opposite here. I just hope she remembers, she looked absolutely hammered.”

“Guess Mike has that effect on people.” Peter muttered bitterly to himself.

The fit wasn’t too bad, so long as he didn’t move too much. He looked ridiculous, but Micky was right, it wasn’t the look that mattered, it was the perception.

“OK. Now, you head on in and I’ll wait downstairs for you. I promise you, after this, he won’t have the nerve to fuck with you. I’ll pray for you, my boy.” He said, crossing himself while suppressing a snigger.

They made sure the coast was clear before Peter dove into the room opposite, taking his place on the foot of the bed.

He waited in silence, save for his increasing heart beat. As soon as he began to have any doubtful thoughts, he pushed them to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the impending triumph of humiliating that know-all asshole. He knew it was cruel but he was past the point of caring, Mike didn’t seem to give any regard to him so why should he?

After what felt like an age, Peter heard the click of the door opening, casting his eyes to the cowboy silhouette in the doorway. The light from the hallway didn’t quite illuminate the room but Mike could just make out a figure sat on the bed. He reached for the light switch but was halted by a “Don’t”.

Peter panicked slightly, knowing that he would be busted if Mike caught on before the prank had even been pulled off. From the single word (and the slightly high, startled pitch with which it was delivered) Mike did not identify the voice as that of a man, let alone Peter.

He smirked to himself, abandoning the light switch and closing the door tight behind him. Managing to make it across to the bed without walking into anything in the pitch darkness, he dropped down next to Peter, looking at him without actually seeing him.

“So. Finally got bored of this party too, huh?” He asked, slurring his words slightly. “Figured you’d make your own fun...”

Peter hummed in what he hoped was a seductive way, lifting a hand to tip the hat off Mike’s head, discarding it on the bed. Mike lifted his own hand in response, running it through the sandy hair.

“Mmm, you took your hair down...” It felt different, softer. It sifted through his fingers like silk, it was such a sensual feeling he continued to do it while his other hand ran a finger down Peter’s face.

“I’ve been dying to have you all to myself all day, I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Peter made a quite shushing sound, running a hand absently up and down his arm. He was surprised by how he seemed to be able to play it out without over thinking it. The substances in his system were now pounding through him, giving him a buzz.

“I’ve seen people watching you...Wanting you, but you’re all mine. And right now, I want you.”

Peter didn’t even have time to react before the hand in his hair tightened and he was pulled into a scorching kiss. Peter tensed in reaction but knew he had to relax quickly or Mike would get suspicious. His own hand knitted in the ebony hair, tugging it lightly as he found himself kissing back.

Oh man, Mike is gonna be so embarrassed when he finds out he was making out with me and not his wife! The drug-addled side of his brain informed him. Peter opened his mouth, allowing for Mike to thrust his tongue in, thoroughly exploring his mouth.

Mike figured Phyllis must have been on some of the stronger drinks because she was far more eager than usual. By now, if Mike had made such a sudden movie, she would have teasingly pushed him away and made him wait for a more private moment. He could taste something like a cherry liqueur on her breath, it tasted good, she tasted good. He shifted his weight a little so he could kiss even harder.

Peter began to fidget and the sober part of his brain began to become more prominent as he found his body reacting to the rigorous exploration. He hadn’t expected things to get so heavy so fast and was now beginning to forget what the actual plan was. Wait. How the hell was this supposed to teach him a lesson? Whose fucking idea was this?! Oh, shit...

Mike’s hand was now clumsily travelling up Peter’s thigh, round to his ass which he gripped firmly, kneading the cheek roughly. Again, it was different. There seemed to be...more, but Mike didn’t question it, it felt too good as she began to pull harder on his hair and kiss him with more intensity.

Despite himself, Peter let a moan slip past his lips into Mike’s mouth. Mike continued to kiss down Peter’s neck, sucking at the soft, delicate skin. As he continued lower, Peter came to his senses enough to realise that Mike might just notice that two rather prominent features of his wife were missing so, in an effort to distract him from this, he pulled him back up again into a fierce kiss, sticking his tongue into the open mouth in front of him.

Mike was practically delirious with the onslaught of sexual advances from his usually conservative wife that he didn’t complain. Finding an inappropriate need for air overcoming him, he pulled away, both panting heavily.

I should get the hell out of here...This was a stupid, stupid idea!

“I don’t wanna wait, baby. Can’t we just get these fucking people out of our house? I don’t think I can hold on...” He went in for another kiss which Peter returned with equal fervour. Well, maybe I can stay a bit longer... A tiny part of his brain piped up which Peter refused to acknowledge.

All of a sudden, Mike grabbed Peter’s left hand that was gripping the edge of the bed and dropped it straight into his crotch, allowing him to feel the throbbing hard on beneath his jeans.

Peter’s initial instinct was to retract his hand immediately. But he was sure that would give him away and things had gone too far for Mike to find out now. Such a move would be suicide. How would he explain himself, explain the own raging hard on he had? That wasn’t a conversation he was prepared to have.

Instead, he began to slowly caress the bulge, eliciting a ragged moan from the Texan who nipped at Peter’s bottom lip playfully. Mike struggled to get words out between kisses and sharp breaths.

“You want it bad too, don’t you? Yeah, want me to fuck you right now.” A shudder wracked his frame as Peter’s pace sped up, the words vibrating through him setting his nerve endings on fire.

As Mike continued to practically devour him unknowingly, Peter’s caresses became more determined, roughly groping him through the fabric, tugging and stroking. Soon enough, Mike was struggling to keep up with the kissing or anything else at all, concentrating on the heavenly motions.

His moans started to get louder but remembering where he was, he began to have second thoughts, thinking it would be better (and more fun) to wait until everyone else had left.

“Shit. N-no, stop. Wait, I can’t...too much. I’m too close, ngh!” Like hell he was gonna stop. Peter was now acting on his most primal needs. Here he had the most controlled, uptight guy he knew in the palm of his hand (so to speak) and the power was going to his head. There was no way he was going to stop now, especially with his own erection threatening to tear right through the thin fabric of the leotard.

He cranked the pace up another notch, making Mike’s legs tremble, forcing him to put both his hands behind him on the bed, head falling back as he groaned at the ceiling.

“Ungh, gonna come...Gonna come all in my pants. Gonna get me all dirty, that what you want? Ahhh! So you can clean me up? More, baby, that’s it, so close!” He started to grunt as he thrust into Peter’s hand, desperately trying to increase the friction, the jeans becoming damp with his pre-cum. Peter wanted to touch himself so badly but focused all his attention on Mike.

“You want it so bad, bet you’re so wet, huh?” He asked, breathlessly.

The remark reached Peter through the haze of arousal, making him think coherently for the first time since they really started. Wet? What...? As if that wasn’t enough to startled him out of the moment, the hand swiftly travelling up his inner thigh to his throbbing cock was.

Peter had never moved so fast, throwing himself out of reach and flying out of the door into the bathroom. He dimly digested the frustrated sob of agony behind him but was too distraught to give it much thought.

He paced around the bathroom, taking his clothes out of the bag and removing the leotard.

What the fuck was I thinking? Fucking Micky...No, you can’t blame this on Micky, it’s you, all your fault. You could have split when it started but no, you had to stick around, had to get him off, have him to yourself...

Peter sat dejectedly on the toilet, pants on but undone, still with an agonizing hard on. He knew he damn well couldn’t go out looking like that and it wasn’t going to go down any time soon so he began to stroke it feverishly, trying to think of anything but what had just happened and failing miserably.

That’s what it was all about, Peter had known this deep down which is why he agreed and should not have agreed at the same time, to go along with Micky’s plan. Peter had had strong feelings for the Texan for close to a year now but had reached the point that he could deal with it.

But then Mike had started this whole vendetta against him and it had really gotten him down, stirring all the feelings up again, especially a feeling of resentment. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were at least. And now he’d fucked things up beyond repair, tricking him and humiliating him. If Mike found out, he’d be a dead man.

If Mike found out...

A few more strokes and Peter came explosively after such an agonizing build up. He hurriedly finished dressing and careened down the stairs. If he could get out before Mike found him, then he’d assume that Peter had left and would be none the wiser.

In his haste, he knocked into several guests, mumbling half-hearted apologies, then proceeded to collide into none other than Micky.

“Peter! Hey, how did it go!?” He asked with a grin that rapidly disintegrated when he saw the look of anguish on his friends face. “What happened?”

“Nothing, look, I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m leaving.”

“No, wait! Hold up, let me find Sammy and we’ll drive you back.” He said, not questioning Peter’s judgement. Something pretty drastic must have happened to rattle him so bad.

“No, forget it, I’ll just walk.” Peter said, still fighting his way through the crowd.

“Don’t be stupid, you can’t walk man, your place is miles away. Mine’s no closer. Just...wait here. Sammy’s got the keys. Promise me you’ll stay here!”

Peter could see the concern in Micky’s eyes and knew he wouldn’t settle for anything other than a yes so that’s what he gave him. He slapped Peter warmly on the shoulder and went off in search of his nun.

Mike meanwhile, came down the stairs, now wearing a fresh pair of jeans having ruined the other pair by immediately rubbing himself to climax after Peter’s departure. He searched the room for his tormenting wife, spotting her in a corner talking to a friend.

He strolled over to her, adjusting his hat for the fiftieth time as he pressed up behind her, wrapping his long arms around her small waist. She tried to ignore him, continuing the conversation with her friend.

“That was very cruel...You know you’re gonna have to be punished, right?” He whispered huskily into her ear but still she ignored him. His grip tightened and he pressed further into her, allowing her to feel him rising again already. She stopped talking then, looking round to stare incredulously at him.

“What the hell is with you? Can’t ya just keep it in your pants until the damn party finishes?! I went to a lot o’ trouble to do this for you and you don’t even give a shit.” She managed to yell without even raising her voice.

Mike looked at her, waiting to see the joke, the playfulness...but it wasn’t there. She was completely serious and it confused the hell out of him. Then he noticed something else.

“You put your hair back up...”

“I never took it down, Michael. I never wanted to, I like it like this.” She said to him while still looking at her friend. He frowned, pulling away from her, allowing her to walk away.

He stared dumbfounded at nothing in particular. He knew he’d had rather a lot to drink but there was no way in hell he could have imagined that whole thing, was there?

His eyes suddenly fell on Peter who was bouncing nervously on his feet, sticking yet another one of those damn cherry cough drops in his mouth, almost forgetting to take off the wrapper in his haste.

Cherry...cough drop. Cherry. Cherry liqueur. Silky hair...Peter.

His mind began to reel as he put the pieces together and came to the all too daunting conclusion. But the horror was soon replaced by a burning humiliation and raging anger at being so cruelly deceived.

He walked over to the blond with such determination that no-one dared get in his way. He made a point of softening his exterior as he approached him.

“Hey, Pete?” Despite the soft tone, Peter still jumped a mile, the colour draining from his face.

“Huh?” He squeaked.

“I want ya to meet someone.” He didn’t give Peter the opportunity to decline as he grabbed him by the elbow, leading him towards the stairs. As he passed the music system, he cranked the volume to maximum, pushing Peter up the staircase, unwitnessed by anyone else.

He walked to his and Phyllis’ bedroom with Peter following, apprehensively. He followed Mike in, pushing the door to but purposely not closing it.

“So who-“ Before he had a chance to finish the question, Mike had grabbed his shirt, flinging him against the wall by the door, using his other hand to close and lock it.

His face was inches away from Peter’sm eyes blazing, the alcohol coursing through his veins, fuelling his anger.

“How dare you!”

Oh, shit... Was all Peter’s brain managed to muster. This was not a good place to be. Everyone knew about Mike’s temper when he was sober. It didn’t take much to guess what he’d be like under the influence and after such a traumatizing trick.

“I’m s-sorry, Mike. Really.” He managed to splutter.

“You have no idea...” He started but Peter noticed him frown, as if changing his mind about going down that route. Instead, he threw Peter against the wall again, attempting to control his anger.

“You like dressing up as my wife, huh? That it, that work for ya?” He seethed. He suddenly let go of Peter who remained frozen against the wall. He flung a wardrobe door open, rummaging around as if looking for something specific. He took something else out of a nearby drawer, then sauntered over to Peter, thrusting the folded garments into his chest, forcing Peter to grab them.

“You like it so goddamn much, try those on for size!” Peter stared at Mike then at the clothes. He was actually serious. He knew this was revenge. Peter had humiliated Mike and now Mike was humiliating him. He knew he deserved this but that didn’t make it any less hurtful.

Mike decided that he wanted to build up the humiliation so he went into the ensuite, allowing Peter to get changed in peace. Not wanting to drag things out for longer than they needed to, Peter got dressed in record time. Mike had thrown him a black bra, white silk blouse and a black leather miniskirt. He put them all on, kicking off his shoes and socks.

Moments later, Mike exited and fought to stop his jaw from dropping open. Peter had all the right curves in all the right places to pull the outfit off, it was a good choice indeed. He noticed that Peter was still wearing his boxers and giving Peter a stern look, he slid them off, avoiding any eye contact with him.

Due to Peter being taller than Phyllis, the miniskirt acted more like a very large belt, covering very little of what lay beneath. Mike casually meandered up to him, looking down at him with triumph...The same triumph that Peter had been thinking about not even half an hour ago.

“Almost there, babe.” He said, pulling something from his pocket. Peter frowned at it, unable to work out what it was until Mike pulled the lid off. It was lipstick, a light pink lipstick.

He handed it to Peter but he couldn’t bring himself to take it. Mike grabbed Peter’s chin in his hand, lifting it up though Peter still managed to keep his eyes down.

Mike gripped the lipstick tightly in his right hand, concentrating hard on not shaking too much as he slowly, seductively, drew the lipstick across his bottom lip. Without being prompted, as if in a trance, Peter pursed his lips together, evenly distributing the makeup. The result made his lips look full and plump, just begging to be kissed.

Mike faltered a little at the sight, subconsciously leaning forward as if to kiss him. Peter looked up then, making eye contact with Mike for the first time. He looked so youthful, so...confused. Mike shook himself out of it, spinning Peter around so he was holding onto him from behind. He found them directly in front of the wardrobe mirror, drinking in the sight of them together.

“Look.” Mike ordered. Peter couldn’t cope with much more of this, he was beginning to feel totally drained. Mike twisted a hand in his hair, pulling his head up so he could see their reflection.

Peter gasped slightly at the sight. He was...hot. The clothes hugged him in all the right places, the small amount of makeup somehow bringing all his features to life. Seeing Mike stare at the reflection hungrily, he couldn’t help but find himself getting aroused.

Mike slid a hand up to that luscious hair once more, pulling more gently this time while his other hand slipped around Peter’s waist pressing them flush together.

“Yeah, you love it. You love dressin’ up all pretty for me, it gets you off...” Mike whispered roughly in his ear making Peter swallow hard. The hand around his waist moved to his hip, then back to his ass, grasping it firmly.

Peter cursed quietly, eyes fluttering at the contact. He felt like he was in some sort of heaven and hell amalgam. Here he was, getting everything he’d ever dreamed of and more but unable to enjoy it for it being out of spite.

Mike ran his hands all over Peter, gripping onto one of the bra cups. He closed his eyes, imagining his wife as the one in his arms, feeling all the differences between the two of them. Beneath the thin silk, Mike could feel all the subtle muscles in Peter’s stomach and chest.

He slipped a hand under the blouse, tracing a finger down the flesh that quivered under the delicate touch. A shaky breath left Peter at the ministrations. But then the hand moved away, now making its way up his thigh.

He found himself holding his breath as the hand disappeared under the skirt, the fingers just lightly brushing the erection that was rapidly swelling below.

“Ungh, fuck...” Peter stammered, unable to control himself. He felt himself shift forward, trying to find that hand but was pulled back roughly, feeling Mike’s own hard on behind him.

“Oh, you slut. You like me touching you? Such a sweet young thing...such a fucking whore. Just dying for me to get you off.”

Peter whimpered a little, wanting so hard to distance himself but it was no use, Mike was pressing all the right buttons and turning him on beyond belief.

“Don’t try and fight it, baby. Give it up.” He whispered tauntingly, in Peter’s ear, his hand sliding back down to the leather clad ass. He gripped it tightly but Peter managed to keep his composure, barely.

“I said, give it up.” And with that, he lifted his hand, bringing it back down in a loud smack, catapulting Peter forward. He gasped in shock as the sting spread across his backside but before he had time to really adjust, the hand came down again, in a slightly different position.

This time, Peter heard a moan escape his lips. He was beginning to get feverish, wanting Mike to smack him again but not daring to ask, not wanting to openly participate in Mike’s sick game. Apparently, this was the only way Mike could fulfil his sexual needs with ‘Phyllis’, Peter would accept that but wouldn’t provoke him, no matter how much he wanted to.

He slapped him again, pulling him back when he stumbled forward. He did it with such force that they both groaned involuntarily as Peter’s ass ground against the swelling cock confined within the jeans.

Peter’s cock wasn’t in a better state. It jutted out from beneath the skirt, forcing it to ride up slightly. As he uncontrollably spread his legs, silently begging for more while also trying to steady himself from the slaps, Mike looked up at him through the mirror.

He had his eyes clenched closed, brow furrowed in concentration. His mouth was slightly open, allowing little gasps to escape him. Mike ran a hand up to his neck, holding it firmly while blowing the golden locks out of the way, making Peter shiver.

He licked a line up the newly exposed neck, dragging the hand down to grope him through the bra, making his nipples harden as the silk of the bra and blouse rubbed against him, erotically.

Peter found himself succumbing to the ministrations, his heading falling back slightly on Mike’s shoulder, allowing him better access to the flesh he was still nibbling on.

While he was distracted, Mike very lightly snaked his hand round to Peter’s crotch, suddenly grabbing his cock through the shiny fabric, rubbing his thumb over the head.

“Ahh, god...!” A spasm wracked Peter’s frame as his knees weakened slightly. Mike grinned smugly at the reaction while continuing the rigorous motions.

Peter’s breathing got steadily heavier, as he ever so slightly bucked his hips forwards.

“Please...” He blurted out, shakily. He didn’t know what he was begging for. Maybe he was begging for Mike to stop, maybe he was begging for more. Or maybe he was just begging the powers that be to get him out of this heavenly nightmare.

Mike was getting hotter by the second, feeling the power he had over the man in front of him. He looked so good, so different yet startlingly similar to his wife. The same slender figure, the same soft skin, but more toned and forceful.

He looks better... The random thought flitted across his mind so quickly, he barely registered it. But he did...and it only managed to bring back his anger. He moved the one hand away from Peter’s crotch, wrapping it tightly around his arm. In one sharp movement, he spun him round, keeping his other hand locked in the dishevelled hair.

He was about to deliver another belittling remark but it died in his throat as he fully took in the vision of perfection before him.

Peter was still breathing heavily, sweat beaded on his forehead from the teasing and constricting fabric of the silk. His hair was mussed, sticking to his face a little but the eyes... He looked up at Mike, locking gazes with him and it took his breath away.

He saw a cocktail of emotions in those caramel eyes: arousal and passion were prominent but there was also confusion, fear, shame, guilt...The expression hit him like a slap in the face.

All of a sudden, it was like a floodgate had been opened, an unexpected wave of feelings crashing over him. He remembered when he had first fallen for Peter, all those months ago when they had been recording Headquarters. They’d bonded over the music like he’d done with no other living person. It made him happy. Peter made him happy.

But the feelings grew, making him confused and uncomfortable over time. He had to get a hold of himself or he was liable to screw up everything he’d worked so hard on like his family and his career.

But dammit, Peter just seemed to mean more and more to him every damn day. Finally, Mike realised that if he couldn’t hide it, he would have to lock it down, shut it all away in his mind. So he began to distance himself from the hippie, spending more time in the studios alone.

Over time, he became so accustomed to this way of being that it just became routine. He’d made the wall so tall and so thick, he could barely remember the light that was once outside it.

But he could see that light now, there, in those eyes in front of him. He didn’t want this, not this way. He wanted to take that confusion away, to show Peter how he really felt about him, how much he adored him, how much he meant to him. How could he ever face him after this? What had he done?

Peter stared back at Mike for a second, wondering what he was concocting. But he faltered slightly from the glazed expression on his face, as if he was deep in thought and somewhere other than in this room with him right now. Any menace or fear suddenly disappeared, but the confusion remained.

He wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, whether Mike leant forward, Peter moved in or a mixture of both but suddenly they were on each other, delivering desperate, bruising kisses.

Mike ran his hands repeatedly through the silken hair, while Peter clumsily knocked off his hat to tug at the coarse, raven hair beneath. They pulled their heads together as far as they could humanly managed, tongues tangling furiously with each others.

Mike grabbed a handful of Peter’s ass, fusing them together at the crotch, sharing a groan as their clothed erections caused a glorious friction.

Mike felt his jacket and shirt being unceremoniously discarded, felt Peter’s rough hands running all over his heated flesh. He began to grind feverishly against him, seeking the release he could feel rapidly building.

But then he noticed the feel of being pushed away. No, this can’t be happening, it can’t end, not yet...

Peter broke the kiss, looking back up at Mike through his bangs, now dark with sweat. The confusion in his eyes had lessened, replaced with a look of need and urgency.

Gripping on to Mike by the shoulders, he gave him a look that made Mike quiver.

“Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me like you fuck her...”

The sheer impassioned delivery of the request was almost enough to make Mike come in his pants all over again, but he had to maintain some composure, if he was planning on salvaging some small part of what they had.

He spun Peter round, undoing the large belt buckle, discarding it on the floor.

“I’ll fuck you how I wanna fuck you.” How I’ve always wanted to fuck you...

He practically tore the blouse off, sending buttons scattering across the floor. The softness of the silk sliding over and off his skin gave Peter goosebumps, the cool air refreshing on his overheated body.

Mike unhooked the bra, revealing the finely muscled torso in all its glory. He was perfectly tanned, with a sprinkling of fair hair adorning the chest which Mike ran his fingers through, admiring the sight in the mirror opposite.

His hand moved down to the zip on the skirt when he felt Peter’s hand clamp over his own. He looked up at Peter’s reflection to see his chest heaving slightly, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Leave it...” He croaked, huskily. Mike cocked an eyebrow, moving his mouth over to Peter’s ear.

“You are such a slut...” But there was no malice behind the statement anymore, just pure desire.

“Always...” Peter responded as he felt Mike’s hand, slip under the skirt and grasp his cock, giving it a good tug. Peter gave a strangled moan, his hands involuntarily reaching out for a grip on something.

He wound up thrusting one hand into the hair behind him while the other went behind him to blindly work at Mike’s zipper.

The fumbling and constant brushing of Peter’s hand against his crotch got Mike so worked up that he let go of Peter, pulling down the form fitting jeans along with his underwear, freeing the achingly hard cock. He gave a loud sigh at the sensation, leaving Peter to whimper in anticipation.

“Please, Michael...please.” He implored, his cock already leaking and begging for attention. He didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t hold back. Whatever this meant for their friendship, or what was left of it, was something to be dealt with later, right now, this was all that mattered.

Mike spat into his hand, lubing himself up significantly. Even the touch of his own hand was enough to set him on fire at this point. Peter quickly grabbed Mike’s other hand, sticking two fingers in his mouth and began sucking on them enthusiastically, rolling his tongue over the digits in an obscene fashion. Mike felt his dick twitch at the ministration, pulling his fingers away before he came all over the place.

He inched one finger into Peter’s entrance, hearing him suck in a breath, then he added the second making a scissoring motion to stretch him out as much as possible.

Peter began to lean back onto the fingers, letting Mike know he was ready. Mike took a mental deep breath as he eased his hips forward, entering a tightness he had never thought possible.

They both clenched their eyes closed, one to concentrate on anything but the pain, the other to concentrate on anything but the intense pleasure. Mike feared that if he moved, he’d be finished, and Peter feared if he moved, Mike would mangle his insides. He could feel him inside him with every nerve ending possible.

After a few moment, Peter let out a gush of air, spurring Mike into moving ever so slightly back and then forward again. The pain subsided quickly and soon enough, Peter found himself making a slight keening noise in the back of his throat.

“Oh, god...You’re so tight...” Mike muttered into Peter’s shoulder, the warm breath making him tremble, making the muscles in his ass tighten momentarily forcing a groan out of the Texan.

“Want more...” Peter rambled, beginning to thrust back every time Mike pulled away. Mike lifted the skirt up further so he could get a good look at that perfect ass in front of him, being so deliciously filled by his throbbing cock. Seeing the hard piece of flesh gliding sweetly in and out of him, balls pressed tightly against his cheeks on every thrust...it was such a turn on. God, if only Peter could see this, fuck!

Then it occurred to him. The mirror. Mike looked up in the mirror, watching Peter’s perfect features contort in ecstasy in the reflection, seeing the erection fully exposed and at attention under the hiked up skirt.

He shifted them slightly, so they were facing the mirror side on. Knitting his hand into Peter’s hair, he turned his head to the side to face it.

“Take a look...” He whispered. Peter managed to open his eyes, focusing on the reflection of them both, seeing where their bodied connected. His eyes became glassier with arousal, a subdued yell being forced out of him as Mike snapped his hips forward again, sending a strange tingle through him.

“Fuck, harder, Michael. There’s...there’s something-“ Mike, infatuated with the sight before him and Peter’s restless ramblings, gripped tight onto Peter’s hips, pulling almost all of the way out, before thrusting back in, right to the hilt.

“THERE! FUCK! Oh, Christ, NGH!” Mike watched Peter’s reaction intensely as he hit his magic button. Without waiting for him to recover, he did it again, causing the same reaction.

Peter watched as Mike pounded into him mercilessly, his own expression one of utmost concentration as he struggled to keep his orgasm at bay. Mike cast another glance, seeing Peter’s gaze fixed on him.

“Like watching me fuck you? You look so good, dontcha? Look so good taking my cock, you love it.”

“You love having your cock up my ass, you can’t get enough.” Peter replied, unexpectedly, catching Mike off-guard. “Go on, fuck me harder, Michael. Fuck me like you mean it! I want you, I want you to make me come!”

Beside himself with lust at the words pouring out of Peter’s mouth, whether they were conscious or just a by-product of the pleasure he was feeling, Mike gripped Peter’s hips with such force, there would undoubtedly be bruises. He thrust forward, hitting his prostate again, forcing out a string of curses from the trembling blond.

The pleasure that flooded him in that split second was so debilitating that his legs gave out on him, making him collapse on his knees, dragging Mike down with him without so much as breaking contact.

In an effort to break the fall, Mike reached out for the nearby chair but only managed to topple it in front of them. Neither had come yet, still holding out for the other. Mike lifted Peter up into a sitting position so his ass was cradled in Mike’s lap, allowing him to thrust upwards, into him repeatedly.

Mike looked to the mirror, only to find the glorious view obscured by the damn chair. Aw, shit... But before he even had a chance to act, Peter, in fit of sex-driven madness, violently pushed the chair out of the way to reveal the magnificent reflection.

Sick of the last of the fabric in the way, Mike kicked off his jeans that were still around his ankles and literally ripped the skirt away from Peter’s shaking thighs, exposing him fully to Mike’s lecherous gaze.

He once again wrapped his long fingers around the dark purple cock, jerking it in rhythm with his thrusts. Peter watched with half-closed eyes as he worked his magic, thrusting into the fist then pushing down on the cock.

But then Peter stopped watching his hand, instead moving his gaze onto Mike, watching him with such intensity, Mike almost forgot to keep moving. He flicked his thumb over the head, feeling Peter’s dick swell even further in response. Peter flashed a wicked grin, opening his mouth slightly.

Taking the hint, Mike mesmerizingly lifted the wet fingers up to Peter’s mouth where he sensuously licked his own juices off of Mike’s fingers, while never taking his eyes off him.

Mike groaned loudly, suddenly speeding up the pace of his thrusts, becoming far more erratic and urgent.

“Peter...” He muttered into Peter’s shoulder, his voice thick with passion.

Peter knew this was it, he could feel the fire ball building inside him, feel his whole body begin to shake. It was only a matter of seconds now.

He managed to twist himself so I could look Mike dead in the eye, his real eyes. “Give me everything, Michael. I need it, right now. Everything you have, I’m so close, I want you to make me come, come in me. Gotta come!” His plea quickly became more desperate as he felt the orgasm begin to crash in on him.

Mike didn’t need asking twice.

He lifted himself on his knees, hurling Peter forward onto his hands and knees, leaning over him to get as deep inside of him as possible.

The mirror stood forgotten as Mike admired the perfect body beneath him, the reality of what was in front of him, so much better than any reflection. He ran his hands over his back, around his chest, down to his cock, fisting it one, two, three more times before Peter hollered at the floor.

“AHHHHH! MICHAEL, SHIT!”

He spasmed uncontrollably on the floor, his cock exploding all over Mike’s hand and the carpet below. The violent constricting of all his muscles gave Mike the push over the edge as Mike’s cock was compressed tightly within Peter’s ass.

“FUCK, oh GOD! MMMM” He bucked several more times into the twitching body, milking himself of his release. He collapsed on his side pulling Peter over with him, dick still inside of him, both trying desperately to get some air into their lungs.

Peter quickly turned to face Mike, giving him a forceful yet tender kiss, a goodbye kiss. Peter knew that once Mike got his bearings, he would probably just leave Peter lying there and walk out, never to speak of this again. If he was lucky.

So when he saw Mike’s eyes go wide at the gesture, saw him begin to awkwardly fidget with his hands and heard what came out of his mouth next, he was completely dumbfounded.

“I...I don’t know, how it would work. I wouldn’t know what to do. There’s just so much...”

Peter failed to stop his jaw from dropping open. He had just assumed this was something Mike needed to get out of his system, something he would deny at any given opportunity. He knew something had changed partway through, he could see it, but this...what was this?!

He looked at the man beside him and it was like looking at a stranger. There was nothing of the Mike Nesmith he knew here, no hard ass attitude, no smart alec remark, no barrier...

But that’s when he realised, he was wrong. What he was seeing here was the real Michael Nesmith. For the first time, he wasn’t seeing a mask of confidence, he was looking into vulnerable, fearful eyes, seeing the insecure young man that just wanted acceptance and approval. Those eyes looking at him for guidance. He was at a total loss.

Mike stared back at Peter, a gut-wrenching feeling overtaking him as he realised he had totally misinterpreted everything. As quick as it had come down, the barrier went back up as Mike quickly back peddled.

“I mean. It was good, right? So we should do it again. I just don’t know how we’ll keep it quiet is what I meant! Keep it from-“ Before Mike could finish, Peter had moved up to lay a soft, loving kiss on his lips, telling him everything he needed to know that words couldn’t quite express.

Mike closed his eyes blissfully, kissing back harder, never wanting it to end, fearing that it was all just going to be dream he could wake up from at any minute.

As Peter pulled away, Mike smiled weakly, overwhelmed by the sudden weight off his shoulders, the weight he’d been carrying with him for what felt like an eternity. He chuckled to himself as he saw the pink lipstick smeared all over Peter’s face, grabbing a nearby piece of clothing and wiping it off.

“Nothing can make you any more beautiful than you already are, you know that?”

Peter flushed slightly, leaning back to look at the ceiling.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna work it either.” Peter responded to Mike’s earlier statement. He looked across at him to see the dishevelled man look back at him wistfully before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

"But we'll sort something out. Promise."