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DISCLAIMER: This site is in no way affiliated with the Monkees or personal relations thereof. All fan fiction and fan art is intended for entertainment purposes only and no defamation of character is intended whatsoever. To break it down one more time: It's all just for fun, folks.
Author: Lucy and Ramona
Warnings: Language and sexuality.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees and make no aspersions toward their sexualities.
Summary: Peter and Mike meet again in the summer of '96.
Author's Note: This is a semi-sequel to Promises by Ramona, so you'd best go read that for some parts of this to make sense. I suppose you could read it alone, though. This is also an oldman!fic, and if you'll glance up at that thar rating, it contains oldman!smexins. Now, I, personally can deal with the old!Nez until about '98, obviously, as I wrote him smexin'. But I know some can't, so proceed with caution. We really enjoyed writing it, though!
Peter sets the phone down on the table sitting next to him.
'I can't do this... Why do I keep telling myself that I'm going to do this? I miss him. I just want to talk to him... I'll never get up enough courage to do this.'
"Damn..." Peter finally says aloud.
Mike sits in his den, just thinking.
'What am I doing? I don't even like the man. Why am I thinking about calling him?'
"Hell..." He says quietly.
Peter walks back to his bedroom, leaving the phone sitting on the table in his living room.
'If I'm not next to it... I won't have the urge.'
Peter looks at the clock.
"Jesus, it's two o'clock in the morning! What am I doing awake?"
Peter lies on his bed and tries to shut the thoughts of his old bandmate out of his mind.
Mike shakes his head, running his hands over his face and sighing.
'What's wrong with me? Why can't I stop thinking about him?'
He snorts suddenly, standing and heading for his room.
'I just need some sleep, is all. I'll be thinking more clearly in the morning...'
Peter looks over at the clock again.
"What is wrong with me? If I'm going to do it, I should just do it."
'Yeah, no. That won't happen. I cna't let that happen.'
Peter rolls over again, this time away from the clock.
Mike sighs for what he imagines is the forty-fifth time, glancing again at the digital display on his bedside table.
'It's 4:06 in the morning and I haven't gotten any sleep and it hasn't gone away. What's wrong with me? Maybe I should just...'
His hand inches over to the phone and hovers above it before he snatches it back like I fire was lit under it.
'No! There's no use, Nez. What would you even say? "Oh, hey, Peter, it's Mike, yeah, the guy who's been a total asshole to you for forty years, want a chat?"'
He sighs again and flops back onto the bed, deliberately turning his back on the clock.
----- The Next Morning -----
Peter wakes up after a night of about two hours of sleep and tries to go through his day the way he normally would. The only problem is that Michael Nesmith is still on his mind.
'He probably doesn't want to talk to me. I'll call and he'll tell me how stupid I am and how much more successful he is than me. Yet, for some reason... I can't stop thinking about him. I wonder if he remembers... remembers when we first met... remembers when we were still... Ah, hell, he'd never admit it to himself or anyone else, for that matter. Why do I miss him?'
Mike wakes up the next morning and simply lies in his bed, thinking, thinking...
'It wasn't all so bad... we were close, before... before... what happened? Why did it all go so wring? I remember meeting... and talking... and it was like I finally found a person I could really talk to. And then after... yes, after. Why did I have to be such a...'
He turns and punches his pillow.
Peter finishes all of his work for the day and is simply pacing around his house.
'Maybe... just one second. I could even make my number private. I just need to hear his voice. Oh, God... that voice. I remember the first time. I first time I heard that amazing voice.It was like he was singing just to me, even though I knew he wasn't. Oh, yes, and the first time I heard that voice full of lust... I will never forget that night, although I'm sure he's long since pushed it out of his memory.'
Peter picks up the phone, dialing Mike's number in and making sure to input star sixty-seven in beforehand. The phone rings once... twice... he hangs up.
'I can't do it. I'll never get up enough courage to do this... Never.'
Mike stares at the telephone, wondering.
'Maybe I could just... call and then hang up? Maybe hearing his voice'll remind me why I don't talk to him... Maybe that'll knock some sense into me... No. I won't do it. Fuck that. Fuck you, Peter.'
He turns from the telephone before turning back and lunging for it, dialing the number without giving himself time to think.
One ring, two...
As soon as Peter places the phone down, it begins to ring. One ring, two rings.
"Hello...?" Peter asks suspiciously, waiting for a response.
He moves the phone away from his ear just enough to see the name of the caller. 'What the-?'
"Mike?" he asks, almost afraid.
'He... it's him! Why is he calling? I thought he... hated me...?'
Mike inhales sharply before yanking the phone away from his ear and ending the call.
'Fuck! How'd he know it was me? Is he a goddamn psychic now?'
"Michael, I-" Peter hears a dial tone in his ear.
'He... he hung up... I knew it, he does stil hate me. Why did things even change? How did this happen?'
Peter holds the phone for a second before dialing in that same number that just seconds ago almost put him in tears.
'Please, please answer the phone... All I want is to hear your voice. Why am I doing this to myself?'
Mike looks in surprise and fear at the telephone still in his hand as it starts ringing.
'It's him, you know it's him... Don't answer it. Aw, hell, Nesmith, be a man for once in your life!'
Mike hits the button to talk, quickly clearing his throat before speaking.
"Michael..." Peter says before his mind completely blanks.
'Oh, God! Why did I do this to myself?! SAY SOEMTHING! You called him and now you're not saying anything! What's wrong with you!?'
"P-Peter? What brings you to call?" Mike asks, stuttering uncharacteristically. 'Like you don't already know...' "Uh, haven't heard from you in a while." 'Could you possibly sound any more like an idiot?'
"Well, uh, you called me first... and..." Peter trails off.
'I can't believe I did this. Why did I do this? I'm afraid... afraid of what he's going to say... Why did I even call?'
"I'm just going to be honest with you, Michael. Lately, you've been... on my mind. I don't know exactly why, but for some reason, all I can think about is you... and us... and... the way we were, before..."
Peter feels his heart drop when the man on the other line is silent for a few seconds.
'Him, too?' Mike wonders, stunned. 'We've both been thinking? Wondering?'
Yeah, Pete," Mike replies quietly after a few seconds. "Me, too. I... I miss you. Miss us."
"You... you what?" 'He misses me? Misses us?'
"Well, Michael, I..." Peter thinks for a second. "I... miss you, too. I... never thought you... cared..."
Mike gives a quick, exasperated sigh.
"Of course I care, Peter! How could I not? We were... I could never just forget that. No matter how much I act like a... I never should have let you think I didn't care."
Mike holds his breath, surprised at the way the words had just tumbled out of his mouth. He hadn't revealed that much of himself since... Well, since the last time he talked to Peter, if he was being honest with himself.
"I thought you... moved on a long time ago. I'm just so... confused. My feelings for you never went away, Michael. And all these years, I just felt so... alone. I really do miss you. Miss us.
Peter smiles to himself.
"Peter... what we had... it was the most intense relationship I'd ever been in. I tried to hard to push you out of my head, but... I can't stop thinking about you."
Mike bites his lip thoughtfully.
"Peter, I have to see you. Soon. Can we get together? I could fly out to see you. If... If you don't mind...?" Mike's voice lilts uncertainly. This is the least confident he's been in a long time.
"I'd love that, Michael. I need to talk to you in person. When can you fly out? You can stay at my place... if you want to...?"
'I don't understand why I'm so gullible with him. I know he's hurt me in the past, but I feel like this is worth talking about.'
"Yeah, Peter. I'd like that... I'd like that a lot.:
Mike pauses, deliberating on whether or not he wants to say something else.
"I'm... I'm really looking forward to seeing you, Peter," he decides on. "I'll get the next flight out," he speaks into the phone gently.
"Really, Michael?" Peter asks, slightly confused. "I'm so glad. I really do miss you."
"Yeah, reall, Peter." Mike smiles to himself.
'Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all...'
"And I miss you, too. I miss you, I miss us, and I mis... I miss just being with you."
'In more ways than one...'
"I agree. I'm glad that I called you. I'm not going to lie, I was worried. I can't forget all the things in the past, Michael... but I can forgive you. And I do. I can't wait to see you."
Peter looks at the clock.
"Oh, wow, it's 2:30 in the morning! We shouldn't be up this late at our age." Peter chuckles. "So, Michael, I guess I'll see you in a few days, then. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty tired. See you soon."
Peter waits for a response before he hangs up.
"That's all I ask for, Peter, your forgiveness," Mike assures. "I just want us to be alright with each other again. I understand that it can't go back to the way it used to be... but we were friends once. I'd like to think we could be again."
He takes a deep breath.
"I'll see you, Peter. Goodnight. Well, good morning, I suppose." He laughs.
"Alright, Michael, I'll see you."
Peter hangs up the phone and walks into his bedroom for the first real night's sleeps he's had in the past four nights.
Mike holds the phone to his ear for a few seconds after he hears the click of Peter hanging up.
He places the phone down into the cradle.
He then practically skips to his bed, full of joy and wonder that he and Peter actually had a conversation.
----- A few days later -----
Peter wakes up and looks at the calendar.
'He'll be here in a few hours. Oh, God, what do I wear?'
He looks at himself in the bathroom mirror.
'Wow, I'm old. Can't do much with these old bones anymore, I suppose...'
Mike sits on the plane, nervously reading and re-reading magazines he had read sixteen times and fidgeting in his seat.
'Stop being so goddamn nervous. It's just Peter Tork.'
'Yeah, but it's not just Peter Tork. It's Peter,' another side of Mike's conscience argues. 'My Peter... who isn't mine anymore.'
Mike sighs and stares out the window.
'Oh, it's three. I should probably go to the airport. He'll be arriving soon. I hope this outfit looks okay...'
Peter laughs at himself.
'Why am I getting so worked up about this? It's Mike Nesmith. No... no. It's Michael. The only person who has ever had this type of hold over me.'
Peter drives quickly to the airport.
'I just need to see him.'
Mike clenches and unclenches his fists as the sign goes on to prepare for landing.
'This is it... when I get off this plane, I'll be face to face with Peter... the only man who's ever been able to get me so worked up I can't think straight... I don't think I'm ready for this.'
Peter stands nervously at the gate.
'What am I even going to say to him when he actually gets here? Oh, wow... Why is my stomach doing that?'
Peter looks up and sees Mike getting off the plane.
'Oh no! There he is! Is that really him? He doesn't look too bad... Micky must have been exaggerating...'
Mike dares to search the airport for Peter and spots him standing next to the gate looking straight back at him.
'Ho-leeeee shit,' he thinks, stunned. 'He hasn't aged at all! He still looks like my Peter!'
'He's not,' another voice thinks back, furious with himself. 'And he will never be yours again. Deal. But hellfire he looks good.'
Peter gets up the courage to wave.
He sees Mike walking toward him, but he's not waving back.
'Oh no, maybe he's regretting coming here...'
Mike is focused only on Peter's face. He doesn't notice anything but Peter, his beauty, the perfection that he is. He feels suddenly and horribly self-conscious as he comes to a halt two feet away from the man who had once been his life.
He licks his dry lips.
Peter is almost frozen in shock when he hears Mike speak.
"Uh... hi..." Peter answers shyly.
He feels himself moving but doesn't consciously interpret it, and before he knows it, he's pulling Mike into a deep, loving hug.
Mike freezes for a few seconds but before he can really understand what's happening, he's bringing his arms up to wrap around Peter and pull him close, inhaling his scent, unchanged from the last time they had been together.
"You feel the same..." he mumbles into Peter's shoulder, flushing slightly red as he realizes what just slipped out of his mouth.
Peter blushes slightly.
When he finally opens his eyes, he sees a group of people just gawking at them and feels a ping of self-consciousness.
"We... uh... should get out of here, yeah?"
"Huh? Oh..." Mike trails off as he notices the same group of people. "Yeah, right."
He clears his throat.
"It's good to see you, Pete. I mean, uh, Peter. I forget." He looks at Peter sheepishly.
Peter waves a hand in dismissal.
"It really is. I've missed you."
Peter and Mike make their way to the car.
"I missed you, too. Well, obviously," Mike says, remembering what just transpired at the gate. He climbs into the passanger's seat after stowing his bag in the back.
Peter basically just listens to Mike talk the whole wide, occasionally contributing an "uh-huh" or "yeah" to the conversation.
But truly, he doesn't mind.
Mike starts as he realizes they have arrived at Peter's house.
"Aw, hell, I talked the whole time, didn't I?" He says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm such a..." The anger on his face is directed at himself.
Peter looks at Mike sympathetically.
"No... I didn't mind, Michael. To be perfectly honest, I missed your voice."
They step out of the car and walk up to Peter's front door.
"Wow. you're actually here," Peter says, placing a hand on Mike's cheek. "I'm not dreaming?"
"No, Peter," Mike responds quietly, leaning his cheek into the warm skin of Peter's hand. "You're not dreaming. Am..." he looks uncertain. "Am I? I've wanted to talk to you for so long... it doesn't seem possible that it's actually happening."
Mike places his own hand on Peter's shoulder and squeezes lightly.
Peter looks into Mike's eyes and rubs his cheek softly with his fingertips.
"You're not dreaming, Michael. I promise."
Peter chuckles at himself.
"Oh, wow. Promise... it's been a while since I've made one of those."
Peter looks at his shoes.
"I, uh, I never did apologize for that, did I? I mean, Jesus, Peter, I was a kid! We were both kids!"
He looks to Peter desperately, unsure of what exactly he was trying to say.
Peter looks back at Mike, realizing his words must have stung.
"No, it's alright, Michael. I'm sorry, too. I should have considered your situation. I was just... so in-" Peter cuts himself off, not sure where he was going next.
Mike looks at Peter wearily and sighs again.
"Yeah," he exhales. "... Me, too."
'God, I wish I could go back...'
"I can't-" Mike pauses to gather his words. "Peter, I can't go back and change the past. All I can do is... try to fix our present."
"I agree. I think I could help there, too. I mean, we didn't exactly part on good terms and I feel horrible about that."
Peter looks at his feet again, ashamed.
"If you're hurt, I'm sorry. Truth is, we were both just smartass kids. Maybe we just weren't ready for... real love..." Peter trails off.
"I didn't... I wasn't hurt, Peter. Not because of that. You were right not to take me back. I couldn't commit, not then. No, it hurt me that I was hurting you. It was never my intention to hurt you. But I did. And I'm..." he stops as his voice unexpectedly cracks.
Peter pulls Mike into a close hug, eyes filling with tears.
"I forgive you, Michael. That's all I ever wanted; to know that you still care about me. I still love you, Michael. My feelings never left. And they never will."
"I love you too, Peter," Mike's response is muffled in Peter's shoulder as he holds back tears of his own. "No matter what else I've said, what I've done, promises I haven't kept, never doubt that I was and will always be in love with you."
Peter pulls his head back out of the hug a bit and hesitates.
"I knew you loved me, Michael. I knew deep down that you would always feel the same. You're still amazing."
Peter presses his lips slowly to Mike's.
Mike kisses back gently. He feels like shouting from the rooftops, clutching Peter to him and never letting go, like laying Peter down right here on the porch and... But no.
He couldn't. This wasn't 1967 and this wasn't his Peter. This was almost a stranger. But he could be more again. Yes, he could definitely be more...
"You still feel the same." Peter smiles genuinely.
He looks around.
"Oh, we're still on my porch." Peter laughs. "Here, let me get your bags. I'll show you around," Peter says, grabbing at Mike's bag.
Mike laughs sincerely, a real laugh, his first real laugh in a long time.
'Same old Peter... I lo-' Mike cuts himself off and then shakes his head. 'I don't have to tell that voice to shut up anymore. I don't have to suppress it. I love Peter. And he loves me.'
Mike gives a goofy grin and follows Peter into the house.
Peter shows Mike around before settling onto the couch.
"So... What have you been up to, Michael?" Peter attempts to start some small talk.
"Little of this, little of that. Been writin' some. Mostly songs, but I've been trying to write a script for a movie or somethin', get into TV like Micky, maybe.
"Really? What kind of script?" Peter giggles. "I should be in it." He grins at Mike goofily.
"Trust me, it it was up to me, you'd be the star." Mike grins back just as goofily. "I mean, I already wrote a book ab-" Mike stops, eyes wide.
'What. Did. You. Just. Do?'
"A book about what?" He grins. "I haven't read your book yet. What is it called?"
"Um, The Long Sandy Hair of Neftoon Zamora," he mumbles uncertainly. "And nothing. It is about nothing. And nobody. At all," he adds emphatically.
"Oh, come on. You can tell me," Peter says, batting his eyelashes. "It sounds interesting. Do you have a copy I could buy?" he smiles sweetly.
Mike rolls his eyes.
"Peter, I am not letting you pay for my book." He contemplates. "I... I think I might have a copy with me," he ventures cautiously. "If you really want to read it."
"I do," Peter says in a sing-song voice. "What is it about, Michael? Long... Sandy... Hair...?" Peter grins to himself.
"Just some chick, y'know," Mike mumbles. "Named, uh, Neffie. She's the main... completely female... character..." he winces at how awkward he sounds.
'That was probably the least convincing thing I've ever said.'
"You know, you don't have to hide things from me, Michael. You can tell me the truth."
"I am!" Mike insists. "She's the lead female and her name is Neffie!" He looks down at his hands, now twisting in his lap.
'Oh my God, I think I'm blushing.' Mike thinks, mortified. 'How long has it been since someone made me blush?'
"Michael? Are you blushing?' Peter asks with a smile on his face.
"No," Mike says hurriedly. "It's just hot in here. What, do you keep your thermostat at melting?"
"I bet," Peter chuckles. "Here, let me get your coat." Peter pulls on Mike's sleeve. "I'm sure that could have something to do with the whole 'hot' thing." Peter grins.
"It just might." Mike nods, eagerly seizing the excuse and shrugging out of his jacket.
Peter takes the jacket in his arms and walks over to the coat rack.
'I still can't believe he's here. Michael Nesmith. My... Okay, not mine... but he's here. He's actually here. Why have I never thought of this before? How did I not realize how much I missed him? I love you, Michael. I wish we had never lost that closeness we had. Then I wouldn't be holding back. I'd just tell you everytime I felt it.'
Peter sits back on the couch next to Mike.
"I know I said it already," Peter says, placing a hand on Mike's knee. "But I'm so glad you're here."
Mike tentatively reaches out a hand and sets it on top of Peter's.
"Me too, Peter. I'm... happier than I've been in a long time. You make me happy," he makes sure to emphasize.
"Then why did we wait so long? Why didn't we get in touch sooner? I should have reached out. I should have gotten in touch sooner." Peter rambles on.
He holds onto Mike's hand lightly.
"Peter," Mike makes sure he has Peter's attention. "You shouldn't have had to do anything. You might have, uh..." he searches for the right words. "Well, broken up with me, I guess, but it was my fault and if I had been more of a man, none of this would have happened."
He squeezes Peter's hand.
"So no 'I should have's, okay?"
Peter intertwines their fingers and presses his lips to Mike's again.
"I didn't realize how much I missed you until I felt your lips again, as corny as that sound," Peter smiles. "You're still the same Michael Nesmith I fell in love with. I miss hugging you and kissing you and... touching you." Peter runs his hand up Mike's other arm.
Mike watches as a wave of goosebumps follow Peter's hand up his arm.
"You're still my Peter. We're the same people. You definitely still affect me the same way you always did, anyway."
"Michael... are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Peter asks hesitantly. "It's been a long time."
"Too long." Mike reaches his hand out to gently caress the side of Peter's face.
Peter presses his lips once again to Mike's, this time letting the kiss deepen. He feels Mike's tongue at the entrance of his mouth and opens it, happy to oblige.
"Mmm," Mike moans at the feeling of Peter's tongue against his.
'I had almost forgotten... He tastes the same.'
Mike brings a hand to the back of Peter's neck and urges him closer.
Peter quickly unbuttons Mike's shirt and presses his lips to his chest.
'This is a lot different than I remember... but he still sounds the same.'
The sound of Mike's moans fill Peter's ears.
Mike bites his lips self-consciously but is quickly assured that Peter doesn't mind the few exra pounds he's put on when the other man begins placing kisses on his chest.
He leans back on the couch, pulling Peter sown on top of him.
"Michael..." Peter moans into Mike's chest. "I really mised you."
He continues heading lower until he reaches Mike's belt buckle.
"Missed you, too," Mike pants, grabbing the back of Peter's shirt and yanking it over his head. He groans, tugging Peter's head up and pressing their lips together once more.
Peter groans. "Too long... way too long..." Peter feels his erection growing.
The phone rings.
"Unh... I'm not getting that..."
Peter shoves his tongue into Mike's mouth.
He runs his fingers down Mike's chest.
Peter moans into Mike's mouth when he feels a hand around his cock.
"Hi, this is Peter. Please, leave a message after the tone."
"Hey, Pete, it's Micky... I know you're there... Hey, pick up the phone!"
Peter looks at Mike, a look of embarrassment and astonishment on his face.
Mike stares back, eyes wide.
"You, uh, you should get that, I guess..." Mike runs a hand over his short hair. "Boy has the worst fuckin' timing..." he mutters under his breath.
Peter stands up and walks over to the phone.
"I knew it. I knew you were there!"
"Uh, Micky, you called me at kind of a bad time-"
"Just hold on, Peter! I've just got a question for you."
Peter huffs. "What?"
"Well, don't you just sound like sunshine? Some guy gave us an offer for a TV special. Would you be interested?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
"Cool. Now you, me, and Davy are on board." He groans. "I don't even wanna try to ask Mike..."
Peter's eyes open wide. "Well, uh, he's here... if you wanna talk to him..."
He hands Mike the phone and Mike hesitantly places the phone to his ear.
"Mike? What are you? Why are you-?" Micky stutters.
"Long story, Mick." Mike unconsciously reaches a hand out to rest on Peter's shoulder. "What can I do for you?"
"Uh, there's this... offer... some guy gave us for a TV special... and I was wondering if you'd be interested?" Micky asks, extremely confused.
"Yeah, sure, Mick," Mike answers impatiently. "Hey," a light goes off in his head, "Can I write it?"
"Probably," Micky answers, amused. "You're Michael Nesmith."
"Awesome, then. Now, can we talk leter? We were kind of in the middle of something."
"In the middle of- Mike, are you two-?" Micky asks, tone now serious.
Mike curses. He had forgotten how perceptive Micky was.
"Later, Mick," he insists.
"But Mike, I remember how much he hurt you-"
"Micky. Later." Mike says firmly. "Goodbye, okay?"
"Okay, Mike. Be careful."
"Yes, mother," Mike responds sarcastically before hanging up the phone.
He turns back to Peter and sighs.
"So, I don't know about you, but I'm still, well... you know?" Peter motions to his still visible erection.
"Same here," Mike says. "Pick up where we left off?"
He doesn't wait for Peter's confirmation and simply shoves him back onto the couch.
Peter groans as Mike strips him of his pants. "Michael, that feels so good!"
Mike moans at Peter's wods.
"Your voice never fails to get me so fucking hard," he grunts, leaning in to kiss Peter again.
"Yours has the same effect on me," Peter breathes into Mike's mouth.
Mike gasps lowly.
"Peter, can I...?" He can't finish.
'Who are you to ask him for anything after all you've done?'
"What, Michael?" Peter asks, a slight frown creasing his brow.
"Can I take you? Like I used to?" he asks, biting his lip.
"I was hoping you would. Pease." Peter smiles, pressing his lips quickly to Mike's.
Mike kisses back softly before spreading Peter's legs with a gentle hand.
"D'you have lube or something?"
"There's probably some in the bedside table in my room if you want to go get it..." Peter trails off, blushing.
"Peter, I don't think I can go get it."
"Ohh, is that so?" Peter reaches out and feels Mike through his pants.
"Ohgod," Mike groans, reflexively thrusting into Peter's hand.
"You have to get out of those pants."
"I'd love nothing more."
Mike nimbly undoes his button and zipper and tugs his pants down and off.
"Oh, well I see you haven't changed," Peter says, directing his words at Mike's crotch.
"Back atcha," he comments, taking hold of Peter's hard length and giving it a quick stroke.
"Ah," Peter moans. "I can see your hands still have the same effect as well." he grins, holding back another moan.
"See, we haven't changed at all," Mike grins in return. "Spread."
Peter spreads his legs, staring at Mike lustfully.
"Guess spit'll have to do for now, You mind?" Mike asks courteously, sliding a finger into the man under him.
"That's, ah! Fine with me," Peter whimpers.
"Awesome." Mike slides in another finger.
"Oh God, Michael! Give me more, please... Jesus, I forgot how good you were at this..." Peter exhales.
Mike tilts his head curiously and smiles.
"I haven't even done anything yet..."
He slides in a third finger.
"Please, Michael, I'm ready... I've been waiting for this for thirty years!" Peter turns a light shade of pink.
"God," it's been too long," Mike groans as he removes his fingers and begins to sink into Peter.
"Oh, Michael! I'm still so in love with you. Ah! Yes, harder!" Peter tries to push himself further onto Mike.
Mike clenches his teeth to try to hold back from simply burying himself inPeter.
"I love you, too... I don't want to hurt you..."
"Michael, you won't hurt me... I want this. I want you," Peter says, eyes half-lidded.
Mike inhales sharply and nods, as he is unsure that words will come out of his mouth. He shoves forward, impaling Peter on his dick.
Peter moans louder.
'I can't believe we waited all these years...'
Mike breathes heavily into Peter's shoulder, attempting to adjust to the heat, the tightness, the scent of Peter surrounding him and slowly driving him mad.
Peter pants against Mike's neck, breathing becoming more rapid with every movement.
Mike pulls out before thrusting forcefully back in.
'Why did I wait so long? He still feels so...'
"Amazing... S'good, so good..." Mike groans, repeating his movement.
"OhmyGod! Michael! You still feel amazing, too!" Peter pulls Mike's body closer to his, fitting them together like a puzzle.
"We still fit..."
His breath quickens as he feels his orgasm approaching.
Peter feels Mike getting close and arches when he feels Mike come inside of him. He reaches for his own cock, eager to finish.
Mike brushes Peter's hand away and replaces it with his own, stroking Peter hard and fast.
"Come on, Peter," he whispers in a raspy voice, "Come for me, just like you used to..."
That was all that Peter needed. He hears Mike's urging voice in his ears and comes with a shout onto his stomach.
After a few seconds, Mike pulls out and collapses onto his side next to Peter.
"Peter, I am entirely too old for this," Mike sighs, eyes closed in satisfaction.
"Well, I think you still have it," Peter breathes. "And it was still good." Peter turns on his side and wraps his arms around Mike.
"Very good," Mike assures, planting a small kiss on Peter's lips and wrapping an arm around the other man to rest a hand on his hip."I can't believe I missed you this much." Peter smiles.
"I can't believe it took us this long. I love you." Mike holds Peter close. "It feels good to be able to say that again. I love you." He kisses Peter's forehead. "I love you." His cheek. "I love you." Another gentle kiss on his mouth.
"And I love you. I wish things had never changed between us. I wish I could just lie here with you forever." Peter presses his lips to Mike's again.
Mike kisses back gently.
"If you think you can handle me for that long," he whispers, "Then forever sounds nice."
"I could handle you, handle this everyday for the rest of my life. I'll love you always, Michael." Peter lays his head on Mike's arm and shuts his eyes.
"Tired?" Mike asks quietly, sweeping some of Peter's hair back behind his ear.
"Mmhmm..." Peter mumbles, pressing a kiss onto Mike's skin.
"Go ahead and sleep, Peter. We have forever, after all."