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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.


"He’s a Tramp, But I Love Him - Part 1"



Title: He's a Tramp, But I Love Him P1
Pairing: Mike/Micky, some Mike/Davy
Rating: NC-17
Author: HMC

Summary: Micky has some fun with Mike at the cinema, but complications arise in their relationship soon after…

Micky stood shoulder to shoulder with Mike as they waited for the clerk to give them their tickets to the movie. Micky had formed an evil idea in his mind and was extremely thankful that the particular movie they were going to was bombing at the box office; there was nobody there, and there would be almost nobody in the theatre. With nobody there, he and Mike would have the theatre all to themselves, and he got excited just thinking about it. He was so wrapped up in his planning that he didn’t even notice he was slowly drifting closer and closer to his lover, until a light shove from Mike reminded him that in public, they needed to be discreet. Micky immediately took a step back, giving Mike his space.

It had been a month since their feelings for each other were realized. Thanks to a cool summer night out on the beach, a little pot, and about a dozen beers, Micky had taken the initiative only to find out that Mike had been thinking the same thing. They thanked the good Lord for alcohol and the night had eventually led to hours of passionate lovemaking. In that one night, their lives changed. Mike had decided he was bisexual, while Micky concluded that ‘just guys’ was the way to go.

They had already told Peter and Davy. As expected, it took them a little time to get used to the idea that the ‘father figure’ and the drummer of their band were in love. But they were understanding, and thank God, not close-minded, and eventually came to grips with it. Mike and Micky consciously made an effort not to make Peter or Davy uncomfortable by deciding that signs of affection that went further than a hug or a pat on the back belonged in the bedroom, or when they were alone. They both agreed it would not stay that way forever, but for now it was better to keep things light.

Mike was really the one who decided what could be done out in public and what couldn’t. The more he thought about it, Micky knew that public displays of affection were ‘against the rules’. He recalled one instance when he had tried to hold Mike’s hand when the band went out to dinner at a casual restaurant. Mike had quickly removed his hand from the table, squeezed Micky’s shoulder, and said, ‘not in front of everyone, Mick’. Micky was frustrated and embarrassed that he had just been censored. He pouted all the way home, because Mike hadn’t so much as apologized until they were behind closed doors.

Needless to say, he was getting a little tired of being the passive lover. He didn’t want Mike to have his way all the time. Fuck, if Micky could have had his way, he would be making out with Mike during their gigs. He was stuck. If word got out that the Monkees consisted of a British sex-addict, a hippy and two male lovers, they’d never get work again. That’s just the way things were. Money was tight as it was, so they were forced into secrecy.

They walked through the doors to the large theatre to find that there were only four other people in the audience, all relatively close to the front of the theatre. Micky quickly pulled Mike to the row at the very back. “Micky, we won’t be able to see from back here...” Mike complained.

“Shh. Don’t worry about it.” Micky grinned and they took their seats. He was secretly rejoicing. Mike was totally clueless. He could hardly contain himself and almost cheered when the lights went down, but he forced himself to remain cool.

The movie was some lame B flick that had men in rubber suits that were supposed to look like aliens from Saturn, or some stupid shit like that. The movie was supposedly chock-full of women who were cast only because they could scream for five minutes straight. Mike had, at first, refused to go, claiming he had better things to do. At that, Micky called his bluff and, long story short, there they were.

The theatre was pitch black as the title ran across the screen. Micky had been planning to wait until there was at least some screaming to give him some cover, but he couldn’t wait. His hand drifted from the armrest to Mike’s knee. He breathed a breath of relief that Mike had at least let him do that much. He assumed the dark theatre and the privacy of their seats had Mike relaxed enough to allow some leniency on Mike’s ‘no touch in public’ rule.

‘I love him when he not being a hard-ass’, Micky thought.

A few minutes into the movie, some shrill, dramatic music began to play as a spaceship was seen landing in a cornfield. Mike sighed. Micky could tell he was already bored out of his skull. Moving his hand up Mike’s thigh ever so slowly, Micky held his breath and waited for Mike’s reaction. The Texan squirmed a bit, putting his hand down to stop Micky from reaching his crotch. Micky pulled his hand free, and keeping his eyes forward, resumed his caresses. This time he didn’t wait for Mike to try and stop him before he moved his hand right between Mike’s legs and began a light massage there.

Mike gasped as quietly as he could and leaned back, gripping the armrests of his chair. He didn’t try to stop Micky but growled quietly into his ear, “.... just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Micky didn’t even make eye contact. “Shut up, will you?” He whispered. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“Micky, honestly....” This time he sounded more like he was begging.

“Shh....” Micky moved his hand up to the button of Mike’s jeans and expertly undid it, sliding the zipper down slowly, to make as little noise as possible. His heart began to beat faster. The thrill and danger of it all had him aroused, but he tried to ignore it; he wanted to focus all of his attention on Mike. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a cruel thing to do, but he wanted to teach Mike a lesson. All the hiding and secrecy in public would seem pointless now that Micky was on a mission to make Mike cum in a movie theatre.

The way Mike was sitting, Micky knew it was impossible to give him a decent hand-job. No, he had a better idea. He would make Mike beg for it.

Micky fondled Mike’s now impressive hard-on through the thin material of his briefs with light touches and calculated movements. Mike’s head lolled back to rest on the back of his chair. He sat up straight again, determined not to get caught. But he was sweating, he was heavily breathing, he was weakening, he was losing. He made one last desperate attempt.

“Micky.... god....” he struggled to keep himself in check and whisper at the same time. “Please stop.... Geez, you’re making me crazy.... if you don’t stop....”

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do?” He hissed back, a smile overtaking his face. “Do you really want me to stop?” He squeezed, and Mike exhaled sharply, leaning over so that his forehead was almost touching Micky’s shoulder. “Is that was you really want?” Micky applied long, deep strokes and could have sworn he heard Mike whimper.

“.....” Mike had whispered something unintelligible.

“What?” Micky leaned closer. “What did you say?”

“I said don’t stop.... please don’t stop.” He adjusted himself so Micky could work his magic. His underwear was pushed down, and he leaned back so Micky could get his hand around that impressive cock. And that’s exactly what he did. He wrapped his hand around Mike’s pulsating erection and made a slow but firm pumping motion. But Mike was still paranoid about getting caught, so he removed his jacket and placed it over Micky’s hand in his lap.

Mike’s body temperature was rising steadily, and Micky could feel the heat radiating from Mike. He continued the long, steady strokes, getting Mike as hard as possible, until he knew the taller man wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer if he continued, so he changed tactics and took the head between his fingers. Making slow, circular motions, he massaged the head of Mike’s cock, kneading it between his thumb and his index finger.

He could swear he heard Mike suffocating in the chair next to him. Mike had latched onto the armrest and was gripping it so hard his knuckles were white. His chest heaved with effort not to cry out, or moan, or make any kind of noise to alert the other four people in the audience that he was getting off.

And Micky decided to ease off a little bit, the calm before the storm. He lightly brushed his fingertips across Mike’s balls, watching Mike’s face closely. His eyes were squeezed shut; he eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His breathing was so heavy that, if not for the cheesy soundtrack of the movie, would have gotten them caught in no time. Micky cast his eyes over the room and saw that none of the moviegoers had even become remotely suspicious. The movie had probably put them to sleep already.

Micky’s efforts got slower and slower until he stopped altogether.

Mike looked like he was about to burst out into tears.

“Just kidding.” Micky whispered. He pumped Mike again, harder this time, bringing him to the edge. At the last possible second before Mike came, Micky pulled him into a kiss. He parted Mike’s lips with his tongue and made the final jerking motion that set Mike off. Micky kissed him so deeply that any noise Mike was going to make was smothered. The orgasm sent a violent shudder through Mike’s body, and he broke the kiss. He collapsed against Micky’s shoulder and then slouched back in his chair, gasping quietly for breath. Micky removed his hand and leaned back also, putting his feet up on the seat backs in front of him. They stayed that way for at least another fifteen minutes of the movie, before Mike collected enough energy to sit up again. He pulled his underwear up and zipped his pants, folding his jacket so it covered the wet mark on his jeans.

Just as alien pod people were eating innocent civilians, Mike was doing some devouring of his own. He grabbed the back of Micky’s head and pulled the drummer almost bodily to him. His lips crushed Micky’s, his tongue forced it’s way between his lips, and then his other arm moved down to wrap around Micky’s waist. The deep-throated kiss was cut short by a strange sound coming from the front of the theatre. They broke apart and watched as the film burst into flames and quickly the house lights came up.

A voice from the back of the theatre announced that the film was broken and they wouldn’t be able to fix it. The four other people actually cheered, agreeing it was the stupidest movie they’d ever seen as they walked out.

Mike and Micky waited until everyone else had left the theatre. Micky was glad his coat reached his knees; he wouldn’t have to worry about hiding his arousal. Unlike Mike, who would have to stealthily try and hide his lap from the public until they got to the car. As they left the theatre, they were stopped by the manager, who asked them if they wanted their money back, as everyone else did.

Mike stopped and replied, “Don’t look at me, I enjoyed myself.”

The manager looked confused and shrugged, walking away.

When they finally reached the safety of the car, Mike slumped in the driver’s seat and stared at Micky with an incredulous expression.

“What?” Micky demanded, a mock-innocent expression on his face.

“Slut,” he said. “I only hope you stay that way.” He shook his head in amazement.

Micky laughed.


















He's a Tramp, But I Love Him - Part 2