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"Melt With Me"
Title: Melt With Me
Warnings: Language, sexuality, mad sexiness.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees and make no aspersions toward their sexualities.
Summary: Peter doesn't think Mike can follow directions. Mike wants to prove Peter wrong.
Mike obeyed, moving a hand to Micky's shoulder and running it lightly down the smooth skin of his chest.
"Good, good, Michael... Now kiss him. Hard."
Mike snaked a hand behind Micky's head, tugging him forward and pressing their lips roughly together.
"Very good... now, keep going. Open your mouth.."
Mike did so, forcing his tongue into Micky's mouth and moving the hand at his neck up to capture a handful of curly hair. He tilted his head for a better angle and Micky let out a small mewl of pleasure in response.
"Mm, yes." There was a sort of rustling as Peter settled on one of the beds, reclining languidly and cupping his clothed hardness. "Lay him on the other bed."
Mike pushed forward, forcing Micky to back up until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Mike lowered him, leaning gently into him and then looking to Peter for further instrustions with a challenging glint in his half-lidded eyes.
"Kiss him again."
Mike pressed his lips to Micky's yet again.
"Lower." Peter shifted, leaning his head into one hand and rubbing his other palm into the crotch of his pants.
Mike slowly propelled himself down, planting an open-mouthed kiss on Micky's neck, then his collarbone.
"Use your tongue."
Micky arched as Mike's tongue circled his nipple before sliding down to his ribs and sucking kisses from the skin there. Micky gasped when Mike swirled his tongue around his belly button.
Mike's head ducked lower and Micky yelped, grasping at his hair.
"Hands at your sides." Peter's voice was made of steel and Micky, whimpering, obeyed.
Peter laughed softly.
"Tell him what you want to do to him, Michael."
"I wanna fuck you." Mike's voice was raspy and low, and Micky and Peter shiver in unison. "Wanna shove my dick in you and screw you and make you scream."
Peter caught his breath.
With one motion of the hips, Mike was buried inside Micky and they both groaned. An echoing groan sounded from the other bed, and Mike and Micky looked over as one to see Peter fisting his erection. Peter glared at them. "Eyes on each other." Their gazes locked together. "Better. Michael, move."
Mike began to thrust, retracting his hips and then shoving forward again gently.
Peter let out a harsh laugh. "He won't break, Michael. Harder."
Mike's speed picked up and Micky moaned softly.
"I thought you wanted to make him scream? Come on, Michael... I wanna hear him scream..."
Mike gripped Micky's hips hard enough to leave bruises, pistoning in and out rapidly.
"I don't hear him screaming, Michael... Bite him."
Mike leaned down and fastened his teeth to Micky's neck, slamming into him and sucking and licking at the bite mark before biting down again, grinning when Micky yowled.
"Close... Not quite loud enough, though. Hurt him, Michael. He wants it. Don't you, Micky?"
Micky let out a string of syllables that vaguely resembled, "Mmmhmmm..."
"Tell him, Micky. Tell Mike what you want him to do to you."
"Mmmwant you to hurt me... yes, just like that..." Micky groaned, tilting his head and giving Mike better access to his neck. Mike bit down hard, and Micky bit his lip against a scream.
"Oh, no, Micky, that won't do at all... Let it out... Scream for me..."
Micky threw his head back and screamed, his release coursing through his body and exploding in between him and Mike.
"... Ohfuck, that's hot..." Peter falters. "Mmm... Michael, keep going."
Mike almost snorted. Like that was gonna be a problem.
Peter suddenly appeared next him, like some magical nude sex god, and pressed a firm hand against the back of his head.
"Suck me," the sex god commanded, and when sex gods commanded, Mike Nesmith tended to listen. He twisted his head to suck the tip of Peter's dick into his mouth and moaned. He took more and more into his mouth until he felt it hit the back of his throat and gagged. He lifted a hand to stroke the part he couldn't fit into his mouth.
"Yes..." A breathy moan and the hand at the back of his head sifted lazily through his hair. "Just like that... make me come, Michael... Make me come in your mouth..."
Mike sucked with long, smooth dips of his neck until he felt Peter shudder and braced himself. The fluid coursing down his throat was unpleasant, but he felt a certain satisfaction in the fact that it was he who had helped it into being.
He looked back down at Micky and inhaled at the hazy quality to his eyes. Micky stared straight at him, grinned, and clenched around Mike's cock.
"Ah! Jesus, fuck!" Mike slammed into Micky one more time and came, slumping onto the man beneath him once he was through.
Peter laughed exhaustedly. "Shit, that was good."
"Yeah, you didn't have to do any of the work," Micky grumbled up at him. "Or have a giant Texan fall on you. What the fuck, Mike, move."
"Suck my dick." Mike remained on top of him, words muffled into Micky's shoulder.
"I would, but after where it's been..." Micky said sardonically
"It's your asshole."
"Yeah, do you know what comes out of assholes?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "Boys!"
"No, I don't think so..."
Peter and Mike exploded into laughter.
"I love you, Micky."
"You only keep me around for comic relief."
"Yeah, that too."