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"Flammable"
Title: Flammable
Author: Lucy
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Torklenzmith.
Genre: Slash.
Warnings:
Smut, language.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees and make no aspersions toward
their sexualities.
Summary: Micky has a question. Mike has an answer. And Peter has
a good view.
Author's Note: I've got plans for about four more stories in this little
saga, so we'll see how it goes...
Mike heaved a sigh when he heard the Monkeemobile's
engine roar and then fade. Boy, they were gonna have to tell Davy about this soon.
It was all well and good to keep secrets when it was just sex, but they had involved
that L word now. And Davy was a smart kid. It wouldn't take him long to sense the
tension that permeated the room when he was in it.
Plus, not that he'd ever admit
it, but it was hell not being able to just kiss Micky or Peter whenever he wanted
to.
Speak of the devil...s, Mike thought when he noticed the aforementioned men descending
the staircase. He smiled in greeting, but it disappeared once he noticed the shifty
looks on the faces of both men.
"Hey, hey Mike?"
Mike's eyes narrowed when Peter glanced
behind him and Micky gave him an encouraging nod. Of course, Micky was up to something.
What a surprise.
"Yeah, shotgun?" He made sure to inject a hint of warning into his
voice. No need for Peter to do Micky's dirty work.
Peter, as expected, cringed backward,
but a firm look from Micky sent him leaning forward again. Mike rolled his eyes.
"I,
uh, I was wondering, um."
Mike had no idea how Peter could be so confident in the
bedroom and so... not when faced with anything else.
"What, Peter? Whatever Micky
wants you to ask," he aimed a glare at Micky, who had the presence of mind to at
least look vaguely ashamed. "I'm sure it's not that bad."
"Whydoyouneverbottom?" Peter
asked in a rush, letting out all of his breath once the sentence was out of his mouth.
He quickly danced a few steps back as though he were afraid Mike would take a swing
at him. He bumped into Micky, and they both nearly went tumbling over.
Micky steadied
Peter, eyes trained eagerly on Mike in anticipation of his response.
Mike simply cocked
his head to the side. "What?"
It was Micky's turn to roll his eyes. "For God's - Why
don't you bottom? Ever? I've done Peter and Peter's done me and you've done both
of us, but neither of us has done you. Why?" He asked all of this with barely a pause
for breath, but Mike managed to catch it all.
He breathed in, then let it out. He'd
been expecting this. He patted the seats next to him in an unspoken invitation and
Micky and Peter sat on either side of him.
He leaned back into the cushions thoughtfully,
fully aware that two sets of eyes were trained on him.
"I s'pose," he finally drawled
slowly, just before Micky strangled him. "'Cause you never asked."
Micky's mouth hung
open in indignant shock.
"You mean to tell me," he said quietly, an air of menace
hanging around him. "That all I had to say was 'Hey, Mike, can I fuck you?' and you'd
have said 'Sure, Mick, where's the lube'?!" His voice rose steadily throughout the
sentence until it was a shout.
Mike's expression changed subtly into one of amusement.
"Uh-huh."
"You mean I've been tormenting myself over this for nothing?"
"Yep." Mike
sighed, refraining from rolling his eyes only because there had been entirely too
much of that since this relationship started and he was beginning to feel like a
teenage girl. "Micky, I love you. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
"Son of
a bitch!" Was Micky's response to this declaration of love. He paused, thinking over
the previous conversation. He visibly brightened. "Hey, Mike..." He trailed off.
Mike
shared an amused look with Peter. "Yeah, Mick?"
Micky leaned close, smiling his best
'look-at-how-pretty-I-am' smile. "... Can I fuck you?"
Mike turned, whispering something
in Peter's ear. Peter nodded, slipping off of the couch so that Mike could slide
over into his spot and face Micky. He let his legs fall open and smiled at Micky's
quick glance down at the bulge straining the front of his pants.
"Sure, Mick. Where's
the lube?"
Micky ignored the question and dove, capturing Mike's lips in a fierce
kiss. He ground his hips down until he heard Mike groan and then slipping his tongue
into his willing mouth.
Mike arched into Micky, reaching around him to grab his ass
and press them closer together.
Micky began undoing buttons without pulling away,
and Mike reciprocated by undoing the button of his pants and sliding his zipper down.
Micky
finally broke the kiss, tugging Mike forward so that he could get his shirt fully
off. Mike shoved his head down and Micky squawked before Mike fisted a hand in the
fabric at his lower back and yanked it over his head. Well, it was an efficient,
if not comfortable way of removing clothing...
Micky stopped thinking when Mike reached
a hand into his pants, curling it loosely around his erection. Micky quickly shoved
his trousers down and off, doing the same to Mike's and leaning in to crush their
lips together again. Their mouths slid together with utmost urgency.
Micky broke away
breathlessly when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Peter dangling
lube in front of his face. He grabbed it, turning to Mike, then back to Peter.
"Oh...
you... Peter, I..." Micky bit his lip. He had been so excited that he had forgotten
Peter was even in the room.
Peter laughed quietly, somehow deeper and more raspy then
his normal laugh, and the inherent dirtiness of it made Micky shiver. Peter leaned
back against the chair Micky guessed he had been watching from, and wasn't that a
nice thought?
"Oh, I'm good, Mick. I'm real good." For the first time Micky noticed
that Peter's own pants were undone and sweet gentle Peter was jacking off to him
and Mike. Micky didn't think he'd ever been more turned on in his life. He returned
his gaze to Peter's face, and that dimpled smile was very far from sweet and innocent.
Micky had to turn away. He was getting perilously close to coming from a smile, and
that wouldn't do at all.
He uncapped the tube of lubricant in his hand, squirting
some onto his fingers. He slid one into Mike, reveling in the fact that he was about
to fuck Mike..
Mike inhaled sharply. It had been a long time... He moaned, though,
when Micky added a second finger, angling them to nudge at his prostate.
Micky removed
his fingers and positioned himself at Mike's entrance. "Okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah,"
Mike panted. "Just..."
Micky nodded quickly, understanding the implied request to
go slowly. He moved forward, and then his dick was in Mike, holy Jesus.
Mike clenched
his eyes shut as Micky moved forward. Just a bit further, just a bit... Ah! There
it was! The pain almost dissipated under an intense wave of pleasure as Micky hit
that spot again.
Finally, Micky was fully sheathed, and holyfuckingshit, he thought
he might come right then, from the heat and the tight and the thought that he was
fucking. Mike. He had to hold back from simply thrusting and humping and fucking
and coming.
Mike breathed out shakily, nodding. "You can move now, Mick."
Micky forced
himself to not slam in and out like a madman. "Y-You sure?"
"Yeah," Mike said in a
sigh. "I'm sure."
Micky pulled back, then thrust forward again, and Mike nearly saw
stars.
"Fuck," he grunted. "More."
Micky did it again, thrusting in earnest now. With
Mike making those noises underneath him, with the knowledge that he was making Mike
make those noises, he thought it was a good bet that he wouldn't last long.
He slammed
forward, pulling Mike's face to his and thrusting his tongue into Mike's mouth in
the same rhythm he was thrusting into his ass.
Mike whimpered.
Mike. Whimpered.
And
then Micky knew it was over, he was gone, he was going to come so hard his brain
would ooze out his dick.
He moaned into Mike's mouth, clutching at his biceps.
He moved
one of his hand down to stroke Mike's cock, urging him on, come on, Mike, come, come
for me-
Mike groaned his release loudly under him, spilling into his hand.
Yes, yes
yes, Micky thought absently, not realizing that he was still operating under the
mentality that he could only come once Mike did.
He thrust into Mike erratically,
once, twice, and then he was coming as well, vision a wall of white before he collapsed
onto Mike, arms unable to hold him anymore.
"... Fuck."
Mike laughed exhaustedly. "I
don't think I can go again right now, babe. Maybe later."
Micky mustered up the energy
to giggle quietly.
"... No, seriously, fuck."
"I'll say," came Peter's voice from the
chair. Mike rolled his head lazily to the side to see that Peter was zipping up,
face flushed.
"You have fun, shotgun?" He asked with a teasing glance down at Peter's
crotch.
He got his own dose of the dimpled smile in return and inhaled lightly.
"...Shit,
Peter."
"What?" Was the innocent response.
"Just be careful who you smile like that
at and we won't have a problem."
"Alright, Michael."
The smile became one of the sweet-and-innocent
variety and Mike sighed in relief. Any longer and he woulda had to jump him, and
he wasn't sure he could actually move, not to mention Micky was still on top of him.
Actually,
he had been silent for an unusually long time. Mike tilted his head down to check
on his suspicions.
Yep, he was asleep.
Mike looked up at Peter in amusement.
"Guess
I tired him out."
"Mike, you tired me out."
Mike didn't look even remotely apologetic.
"Help
me?"
Peter leaned down to assist him in carrying Micky over to the bedroom. They laid
him on the bed and stepped back, watching as he curled in on himself.
Peter laughed
softly. "He's adorable."
Mike smiled, pulling Peter's head over to him and planting
a kiss on his head before leaning over to whisper in his ear. "Yeah, well, all the
same, I'm pretty sure he'd flip if he knew I let you fuck me last week, so let's
not tell him that, okay?"
"Ohhh, yeah, well, I wasn't going to, no."
"Good." Mike leaned
away. "Love you."
"Love you, too."
"Love you guys..." drifted over sleepily from the
bed.
Mike and Peter both smothered laughter.
"Love you, Micky," Mike called.
"Me, too."
"Mflsup,"
was Micky's final word on the subject.