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"Living in Sin"

Title: Living in Sin
Author: Mini
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Micky/Peter
Genre: Slash. Smut. Slight PWP (porn without plot)
Warnings: Contains adult content between two members of the same sex and adult language. Also some slight blasphemy, if you're religious like that. If any of that isn't your bag, don't read this.
Disclaimer: Not real, never happened, completely 100% fictitious. I make no claims as to the personalities or sexual proclivities of the real Peter Tork and Micky Dolenz, and I glean no profit from this story whatsoever. So don't sue me, cause I'm a broke grad student and I'd have to pay you in little tiny packets of Chinese mustard.
Summary: A look into what happens later in the night at one of Micky and Samantha's crazy parties in Laurel Canyon, when more than pleasantries are being exchanged...

***

"All right, guys. Come on. Pony it up!" Micky made his way around the house, fishbowl in hand. It was nearly midnight at his and Sammy's, and the party was in full swing. Micky smirked as he thought of just how literally he intended to take that phrase.

The idea hadn't been his, of course. He'd gone to one of Peter's parties not long ago and seen it in action there, so to speak. Men and women just randomly pairing up at a certain point in the night and heading off to whatever empty bedroom they could find. Some didn't even make it that far, choosing instead to have sex right in the pool or on one of the chairs on the deck.

Whoa... Micky thought, rubbing his eyes as the drug-induced glaze slid over them. He watched as what little clothes people had on were cast off completely, staring at beautiful women and their breasts, nipples pointed and erect in the cool California air.

"I can't believe these chicks, man!" he'd exclaimed incredulously to Peter. "They'll really fuck anyone, anytime?"

"Pretty much," the blond man smiled, one arm behind his head as he reclined on a chair a few feet away, freshly rolled up joint in hand.

"Shit. This is definitely the life," Micky opined, sighing as a puff of the pungently sweet smoke wafted over to him from Peter's direction.

"Glad you approve," Peter replied, his attention abruptly redirected as a brunette with long hair slid into his lap. She lifted the joint to her lips, taking a hit and setting it down on a nearby ashtray.

Peter's hands went to her breasts, cupping and squeezing roughly. As she leaned down to kiss him, Micky's view of Peter's face was cut off, and, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, she'd pulled the bassist's skimpy swim trunks to his thighs and filled herself with him. Peter's eyes rolled up in his head at the sensation, both of them groaning aloud as she began to move up and down.

Micky didn't know if it was the drug in his system or what, but their fucking looked downright phantasmagoric from where he sat. His cock began to harden rapidly, the fit of his pants growing uncomfortably tight. Wanting to get a better vantage from which to watch, he shifted slightly in the chair, now able to see both the girl and Peter underneath her.

As much as he tried to keep his gaze on the female half of the couple, Micky couldn't resist staring at Peter--blond bangs falling in his eyes, lower lip held taut between his teeth, long, elegant fingers pressed around her lower back. The look of pure hunger on his face enraptured Micky, who remembered being on the receiving end of that look not long ago.

Fuck, Micky thought, sighing as he reached a hand down to rub himself through the thin fabric of his trousers. I really wanna do that again sometime...

The girl was moaning loudly now as she rode Peter faster and harder, gasping as his enormous cock reached every part of her.

"Oh, God...oh fuck!" she cried out as she came. Peter followed suit moments later, thighs trembling as her muscles clenched around him. He held her hips steady, spending himself inside her with one, two final thrusts, while Micky looked on in awe.

~*~

Needless to say, it didn't take long for Micky to incorporate this little ritual into his and Sammy's parties. As much as he'd enjoyed watching Peter and the girl have sex, however, his mind was entirely too mechanical for the helter-skelter way things had gone down. It had to be a game; predictable yet fun, structured yet anarchic, and, as everything with Micky was, theatrical.

He and Sammy had already bought a priest and nun costume for Mike's Halloween party the previous year, and what better way to get some extra mileage out of it? Micky reasoned. So, he would disappear around midnight to change into the outfit, and moments later emerge from the bedroom as "Father Micky."

It was a wordless cue, a sign for those who weren't interested or were ready to call it a night to hit the road. Ever the shepherd tending to his "flock," Micky went around to those who were left, making sure everyone had enough grass and booze before moving ahead to the next stage of the game.

Clunk! The last set of keys was tossed in then. Micky grinned, setting it down on the coffee table.

"Pick your keys, my children. Any keys." He leaned back on the couch, watching as one person at a time got up to reach into the bowl.

Everyone knew the rules. If you got the keys of someone who was already taken, you could either pick a different one or join in, which always made things more interesting, as far as Micky was concerned. Then it was off to one of the many rooms in the house, and all you had to do was throw a pair of love beads over the doorknob--the hippie version of a "Do Not Disturb" sign.

The couples (and a few trios, Micky noted with gleeful satisfaction) were forming fast. He craned his neck to look around for Sammy, and spotted her over in the kitchen chatting with a group of half-dressed revelers on the prowl for more snacks.

Well, she's busy...she won't mind, Micky thought, shrugging his shoulders before turning back to the coffee table. He sat up, leaning over and thrusting a hand into the now half-empty fishbowl. The hand came out a moment later, a pair of silver keys clasped between his fingers.

"Wait a minute..." Micky's brow furrowed as he studied the glinting metal. "I know these keys. These are--"

"Mine."

A silky voice drifted up to Micky's ears at the same time that he felt movement on the couch. He didn't even have to look to recognize who it was.

"Hey, Pete," Micky said, finally turning to face his bandmate, whom he greeted with a shy smile.

Peter settled in comfortably next to him, a half-drunk bottle of beer clutched in his right hand. He brought his free arm up, splaying it out on the back of the couch behind Micky's head.

"I see you got my keys, Mick." Peter couldn't hide the grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah. I, uh...I guess I did." Micky fingered the keychain idly, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. He could smell the sandalwood and clean detergent scent coming from the other man's clothes, and just a hint of Peter's own natural musk behind it.

God, he smells good...

"So how 'bout it? Shall we go find a room?"

The question was so nonchalant that it caught Micky off-guard. He'd been so hyped up to play his own game, and now it was becoming something else altogether. He remembered the taste of Peter from their tryst not long ago--hurried and hasty in the back of Micky's van, when he'd driven Peter home from the studio. The warmth of the bassist's skin left Micky in a fever, and he'd been aching to feel it again. Now, suddenly, he seemed to have his chance.

Micky looked over at his friend for a sign, a confirmation that Peter wanted this as much as he did. He studied Peter's eyes and swallowed hard when he saw it--past the marijuana-fueled haze, nearly hidden, was the unmistakable spark of desire.

A surge of arousal washed over the curly-haired man, and he closed his fist around the keys, grinning lustfully at Peter.

"Sure. Let's go."

The two of them stood, Peter setting down his beer and Micky shoving the keys into the pocket of his robe. Micky discreetly left the living room, eyes darting from door to door in search of bead-free knob. Peter followed wordlessly, his gaze moving up and down Micky's body, admiring the drummer's slim build and the faint outline of his ass in the costume. His own pants were becoming entirely too constricting as memories of the past collided with the very present reality that he and Micky were looking for a room to screw in.

"Oh! Here," Micky paused, stopping in front one of the guest rooms at the end of the hall. The knob was stuck slightly and he fiddled with it, sighing as he felt Peter's breath tickling the back of his neck. Two strong arms slid around his waist, and Micky fought back a groan as Peter's lips pressed a line of kisses down his overheated skin.

The uncooperative knob wouldn't yield, however, and he began to pull at it forcefully. The combination of frustration and mounting arousal was making Micky sweat, and he kicked an impatient foot against the door.

"God damn it!" Micky swore, pain flooding several of his toes through the front of his boot.

"That's no way for a priest to talk," Peter whispered warmly into his ear, lightly nibbling on the pink lobe. He gently moved Micky aside, calmly putting a hand on the knob and pushing. Without effort, it opened.

A low growl escaped Micky's throat then, and he shoved Peter into the room from behind. The door slammed shut behind them, taking the light with it and leaving them with only a faint glow from a little lamp on the night table.

Neither of them had time for their eyes to adjust before lips were crashing together, twin groans pouring from panting mouths as hands roamed wildly. Micky massaged Peter's tongue with his own, enjoying the alcohol and herbal taste on his breath, with just a faint hint of spice from the curry downstairs.

Already Micky could feel his cock swelling to full hardness, throbbing and hot between his thighs. Peter's own erection was pressing insistently against the front of his pants, and Micky decided he would feel it, groping him roughly.

"Ah! God," Peter gasped as he broke their kiss.

"Good to hear you starting on your prayers, young man," Micky whispered, looking up through long eyelashes at the blond's slightly bowed head, bangs falling over his eyes as he flinched and hissed with every one of Micky's ministrations.

He stopped suddenly, his hand falling away from Peter's body.

"Get on your knees." The words were soft, but too much like a command for Peter to refuse. He gracefully slid to the floor, his gaze now level with Micky's crotch.

From above, the curly-haired man sighed, skin humming and nerves twitching from excitement as he realized just how long he'd been waiting for this. He reached down for the buttons near the bottom of the robe, undoing each one at a time. Peter's eyes widened as long expanses of flesh were made bare, not realizing that Micky had been completely naked underneath the robe.

The black fabric still rested on Micky's shoulders, the only skin visible a narrow strip of torso and stomach, and the thin trail of hair leading to the erect cock below. It jutted out proudly, the solo act emerging from behind the curtains.

Peter licked his lips, eager to taste the bit of precum that had gathered at the tip, making it glisten. He tensed, then relaxed as Micky's hand went to the back of his head, fingers threading in the golden locks. His mouth opened almost instinctively, and he snaked his tongue out to touch the tip. He was surprised to feel a firm tug from behind, holding him in place.

"What do you say when you come to confession?" Micky's normally high-pitched voice was low as he assumed an unusual air of authority. "Bless me, Father...."

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Peter echoed below, finishing the sentence without further prompting.

"Yes, you have. You're going to pay for those sins, Peter."

"I'll write you a check."

Micky chuckled despite himself, sliding a long finger under Peter's chin, tilting his head upward. Hazel-brown eyes met earthy caramel ones, and Peter kept his gaze focused on the drummer as he leaned forward, sliding his tongue over the head of his cock in a long, slow circle. Micky shuddered as he felt his cock twitch from both the sensation and the visual that accompanied it.

His hands moved to Peter's shoulders, gripping and gently tugging the blond to a standing position. Immediately, Micky set to unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt, sighing as the soft patch of hair on Peter's chest became visible. He traced a delicate line down Peter's wrists, twining their fingers together, and slowly lifted his arms above his head.

Micky pulled at the hem of Peter's tunic, wrestling the fabric free from the bassist's sinfully tight trousers and off his athletic upper body. The garment was promptly forgotten as soon as it fell to the floor. He hooked his thumbs in Peter's belt loops, yanking him forward into a searing kiss. Micky groaned as Peter's fingers threaded into his hair, tightly fisting the curls as the kiss deepened.

Having taken note of the bed's position behind them, Micky thrust his hips forward, forcing a loud groan from Peter as their clothed erections made contact. He continued grinding into the other man, nudging them backwards until Peter's thighs hit the edge of the mattress.

"Want you..." Micky panted in a half-choked gasp between kisses. He could hardly contain himself as the heat from Peter's body radiated out onto his own. "Wanna taste you..."

Micky's self-control was rapidly evaporating by then, and he moved his hands to Peter's chest, shoving him onto the bed on his back. He pawed at the waistband of Peter's pants, popping the button free and reaching inside to feel the massive hard-on within.

"Oh, fuck..." Peter sighed as Micky eased his cock out from its clothed prison.

He shoved the pants down to Peter's thighs, making the bassist shiver at the feel of the cool air on his skin, the fine hairs on his legs standing on end. Not wanting to waste another minute, Micky lowered his head, engulfing Peter's erection in the welcoming heat of his mouth.

"SHIT!" Peter's eyes rolled up in his head, back arching in pleasure and hands fisting the sheets below. Memories of that night in Micky's van came flooding back, the same glorious sensations he'd experienced then, his upper body jammed against the wall of the vehicle as Micky sucked him voraciously.

"Oh, Micky...oh, man, that feels so fucking good..." Peter wailed both then and now, trying not to give in and buck his hips against that amazing mouth.

"Mmmh..." Micky hummed around Peter's cock, smiling as he felt it throb in response. The sounds Peter was making were absolutely exquisite torture to his ears, and he longed to hear more. He pulled Peter's pants the rest off the way off, tossing them aside.

A disappointed groan of loss came from the bassist as Micky pulled his mouth away. Just wait, babe... he thought, sitting up to take in the sight of a now fully naked Peter.

"You're so beautiful..." he murmured, admiring the other man's body.

Much to his surprise, Peter's cheeks went red at this. Micky hadn't thought there was anything that could make someone as open and free-spirited as Peter blush.

"Hasn't anybody ever told you that? Hmm?" he continued, pressing a hand to one of Peter's thighs to caress it gently.

"N-no..." Peter moaned softly, looking up at Micky through bashful eyes.

The hand drifted lower now, down to the lily white buttocks below, spreading them open. Peter's eyes grew wide as he watched Micky's head slowly descend between his legs.

"You know, God created us all in His own image. But he didn't really get it right until he made you, Peter."

Micky punctuated the sentence with a flick of his tongue over the puckered opening. It was enough to render Peter incoherent, unintelligible half-swears pouring from his lips as he thrust a hand into the back of Micky's head, pulling roughly on the tight curls and begging for more.

"Unnghhh, oh God..."

Micky gasped as he began to tongue-fuck Peter in earnest, the air around him becoming thick with the scent of sex. The fabric of the robe was making him heat up even more, small beads of sweat sliding from his brow down his naked chest and stomach.

Peter writhed above him uncontrollably, lost to the pleasurable sensations flooding his lower body. Micky reveled in the musky taste of Peter on his tongue, his cock pulsing with need at every shudder and twitch of Peter's muscles.

As much as Micky would've liked to stay there a while longer, there was work to be done. He pulled away, ignoring the choked sob of frustration that came from Peter, and kissed his way up the blond's stomach and chest. He took one nipple in his mouth and nibbled on it, eliciting a small cry from the other man that changed to a desperate, pleading whimper when he stopped.

"Don't whine, Peter. I've been entirely too good to you as it is." Micky's voice was gentle but firm. "This is confession, after all. And it's time for your penance."

Micky pushed Peter's knees apart, sliding his own legs in between. The sides of the robe hung low on either side of them, enshrouding their overheated bodies in a private cocoon.

"So what'll it be, Father?" Peter purred. "Five 'Hail Marys' in the missionary position?" he grinned wickedly, hissing as Micky lowered his body on top of his just enough for their erections to brush against each other.

Micky was losing patience, eagerly moving his hands to the crooks of Peter's knees and shoving upward, twining the blond's long legs around his waist. He sucked in a deep breath, teasing the puckered entrance with the head of his hard-on.

"Mmmh, no...I think just one 'Our Father' will suffice."

He clamped a hand over Peter's mouth and snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside the bassist's tight ass in one fluid motion. Micky gasped, the wonderful heat threatening to undo him at any moment. He breathed deeply, fighting to stay completely still and focus on Peter's startled eyes staring up at him.

"Start praying," Micky breathed, his body trembling with arousal. He slowly moved his hand off Peter's mouth and down to his chest, reassuringly stroking the tanned skin. At last, Peter relaxed, both men sighing as they felt the tension drain from his body.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name--ungh, fuck!" Peter moaned as Micky began to rock his hips against him, pulling out slightly before thrusting forward again.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in...heaven..."

The rhythm was steadier now--long, deep thrusts coupled with several shorter ones. Micky slid his arm around the back of Peter's head, leaning down to kiss him, his tongue mimicking the movements of other parts of his body.

He broke the kiss a moment later, panting heavily, and brought his lips up to Peter's ear to whisper: "Fuck...keep going..."

Peter's eyes fluttered closed as he gave himself over to the moment completely. "Give us this day our daily...ohhh...bread, and forgive us our--mmh!--trespasses as we forgive those--SHIT!"

A flash of white heat shot up Peter's body as he felt Micky's cock nudge his prostate. He moaned loudly, arching his back against the gleaming torso above as Micky pounded into him harder. The feel of Peter all around him was making the curly-haired man delirious with lust, along with the sound of flesh meeting flesh as his balls slapped against Peter's ass again and again.

"--who trespass against us. And lead us not into--unnghh, fuck me, Micky, oh God--temptation..." Peter was barely holding on, the familiar tingling beginning to build in the pit of his stomach. He exhaled rapidly, blowing the hair out of his eyes as he lifted his hips to meet Micky's fevered thrusts.

"But deliver us...ohhh..." Peter wrapped a shaky hand around his aching hardness, groaning as he began to stroke himself to a much-needed completion.

"No. You're not done yet, Peter," Micky growled softly, pushing the hand away. Peter whimpered, certain that his cock was turning an alarming shade of purple by then.

"Micky, please...I can't--I need to come," he pleaded, the tingling now winding its way into his balls, tightening and raising higher and higher as the muscles in his thighs began to quake.

"Finish it, babe..." Micky's breath was hot against Peter's neck as he pulled nearly all the way out of his ass, before slamming back in again.

Deciding to take a small measure of mercy on Peter, Micky reached down, grasping the blond's leaking cock in his hand. He flicked his thumb over the head, spreading the precum that had collected there.

"FUCK! Yesss, that's it...deliver us..." Peter grabbed the sides of Micky's robe as he thrust mindlessly into the drummer's grip, the thin fabric nearly slipping from his increasingly sweaty palms.

"Shit, I'm gonna come...yeah...you want that, Peter? Want me to come in your ass?"

The game was steadily collapsing around Micky as the reality of his impending orgasm drew nearer. The boisterous shouts and commotion of the partygoers outside fell away, and for the moment, the only people who existed were the two of them in that room.

"Yes...God, do it...please," Peter begged. "D--deliver us..." the pitch of his voice grew higher as the tingling shot up his body.

"From evil--FUCK!! UNGHHH! MICKY!!" Peter's climax hit then, waves of unbridled pleasure rushing over him from head to toe. He thrust into Micky's stilled hand, coating it and his own stomach with several spurts of hot cum.

The night in the van came rushing back to Micky--the feeling of Peter's thighs convulsing as he brought him to climax, tasting the sweetness of him as he came down his throat. Micky hadn't thought anything could be better than that.

But the clenching of Peter's ass around his cock then swiftly proved him wrong. He came seconds later, howling out almost primitively as his orgasm ripped through him. He sunk his teeth into Peter's shoulder, groaning as he spent himself into that glorious heat and tightness.

Neither man moved for a few moments, the only sounds those of harsh gasps and labored breathing as they waited for the world to reassemble itself.

Micky finally lifted his head, still fighting to catch his breath as he looked down at Peter. The blond's cheeks were flushed and red, his eyes still dark but slowly returning to their normal, lighter color.

Micky brought a hand to Peter's forehead, gently pushing aside his sweat-dampened bangs. He dipped a finger into the sticky substance between their bodies, bringing it to his lips and sliding it between them with a satisfied purr.

He leaned down for one more heated kiss, sighing into Peter's mouth as their tongues dueled briefly before pulling back.

"Amen."