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Title: Rug Burn
Warnings: Language, sexuality, mad sexiness.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees and make no aspersions toward their sexualities.
Summary: Micky tries to fool Mike. That doesn't work out, surprisingly enough.
Author's Note: Goddddddddd, I don't wanna write the next one. Don't wanna don't wanna don't wanna. Title is 'The Fire in My Heart is Out'. I DON'T WANNA. That one was supposed to be the last one, but I don't know if I'm gonna be able to leave it like that. *pout* Don't wanna.
Micky grumbled under his breath as he stuffed another shirt into his dresser drawer. This was stupid. Why did he have to clean? The only people who ever even came in here were him and Mike... and sometimes Peter, but when Peter was in there, they tended to add to the mess of slothing flung about the room...
Micky shook his head. 'Focus,' he told himself sternly. He groaned when he saw yet another pile of dirty clothes.
He looked at the bed, then mentally smacked himself. 'No. Mike told you no stuffing in closets or behind or under things.'
... But Mike would never have to know, right? As long as he only his it under his own bed, Mike would never find out!
Micky grinned at his own genius.
He grabbed the pile and leaned down, shoving it under the bed and ducking his entire torso under the bed to ensure that none of it was peeking out.
"Well, well, well..." came a soft voice from behind him. Micky froze. Shit. Double shit. "You wouldn't be tryin' to cheat, now, wouldja Mick?"
A firm hand settled on his right ass cheek and squeezed. Triple fucking shit.
"When I told you not to?" Mike's voice tsked. "That don't settle well with me, Micky..."
Micky attempted to scramble out from under the bed, but Mike's hand shoved him back down.
"Ass wavin' in the air... Y'know, Mick, I think you need to be punished."
Micky's brow furrowed. There was something, some tone in Mike's voice that didn't fit - Ow!
Micky squeaked when Mike landed a firm slap on his ass.
... Oh. That was the undefinable emotion in Mike's voice.
He felt his belt being loosened and removed, felt Mike's hand creep down to his front. The hand groped at him, then unbuttoned his pants and slid them down to about mid-thigh.
Mike rubbed his left ass cheek, and Micky braced himself - wham!
He let out a soft moan as Mike gently caressed the now reddened skin.
"You've been bad, haven't you, Mick?" A hand settled on his other ass cheek.
Micky paused. That... was not Mike's voice. He counted. Hand on his ass, hand on his ass, hand on his hip. Uh... unless Mike had been experimenting with more alien chicks...
A delighted laugh sounded. "Think he caught me, Michael."
The hands on his ass left, and Mike landed another painful-pleasant smack, then removed both of his hands completely.
Micky tentatively scooted backward, but was unceremoniously shoved back into place. He pouted. He could hear Mike and Peter behind him, soft moans and the rustle of discarding clothing, and it wasn't fair. He thought furiously. Okay, he couldn't get all the way out, but maybe if he could just... move a little...
Slowly, Micky curled his body so that he could peek out from under the bed. It's uncomfortable, he mused, but check out the view...
Mike and Peter had undressed each other, and were entwined nude next to the bed. As Micky watched, enthralled, Mike pressed two fingertips to Peter's lips.
"Suck," he commanded gently.
Peter took them into his mouth, keeping eye contact with Mike. He sucked them deep, working his tongue and throat around the digits.
Mike let out a low groan and as he turned, Micky levered himself back out of sight. Mike simultaneously sank to his knees behind him and slid the two fingers into him. Micky moaned at the combination burn of the sudden entrance and pleasure that Mike had finally put something in him.
Mike scissored his fingers once, then removed them to press something much larger into him.
Peter's face suddenly popped into his line of vision.
"What the fu-"
Peter crushed their lips together in a kiss that, while perhaps lacking in subtlety, certainly made up for it with the sheer amount of tongue. This kiss seemed to last forever as their tongues tangled violently, and Micky gasped into it as he realized that Mike was now fully sheathed in him.
Peter smiled and his face suddenly dissappeared. There was apparently a quick conferral over the bed, and then Mike withdrew and thrust forward again while Peter ducked back under the bed.
"Kiss me..." Micky breathed, and Peter did. Micky rocked forward into his mouth, kissing him furiously as his lower back pressed painfully but oh so good against the unyielding bar that guarded the bottom of the mattress. Mike's nails dug painfully into his hips, and the tingling sparks of sensation shot straight to his dick.
"Mike," He whimpered, despite Peter's best attempts to keep his mouth occupied. "Fuck... Gonna come, Mike..."
Mike landed another slap on his ass. "You ain't. Not until I say you can."
"Nghhh," Micky groaned. "Please..."
"What do ya think, Peter? Does he deserve to come? Has he been punished enough?"
Peter pulled back from Micky with a wicked grin. "I think he needs more, Michael."
"I do, too." Mike shoved into him extra hard and Micky yelped. "And stop glarin' at Peter." Micky glared at Peter harder. Another hard slap. "I mean it."
Micky pouts and rests his chin in his hands. "I don't like you anymore."
Mike's hand slid around to his dick and gave it a few short strokes. "I think you love me." He smirked. "Oh, and you can come now. If you wanted to."
Micky's head banged against the underside of the bed as he came, and Peter fastened his lips to Micky's neck.
With a few more erratic thrusts, Mike exploded into Micky, stilling and sighing once he had finished.
There was quiet for a few seconds as they all readjusted.
"... How the hell does Davy not know about this? It seems like every fucking time we fuck lately, he's within a hundred feet. What the fuck?"
"Shut up, Micky, I was trying to enjoy the afterglow here." Mike muttered.
"Well, I'm not really enjoying anything glowing, because I'm still under the bed."
"And whose fault is that?" Peter asked drowsily.
"... Shut up, Peter." Micky pouted.
Mike landed a lazy smack on Micky's ass again, smiling when he squeaked and jumped. "Don't be mean to Peter."
"He knows I love him."
Peter stuck his head up to nod at Mike. "He really does."
"I love you, too, Mike, even though you hit me." Micky groused.
"You loved it."
"I love you. Big difference."
Mike frowned and tugged Micky out from under the bed, rolling him over and trying not to smile at how adorable he looked blinking to adjust his eyes to the light again.
"You'd tell me, right? If I did something you didn't want?"
Micky rolled his eyes. "Yes, you big softy. I'll tell you."
Mike grinned. "Good. 'Cause I love you, and I don't want to do anything you don't like."
"You're really just a big ol' teddy bear, aren't you? It's cute, Mike, it- OW! I didn't like that!"
"Aww, poor baby." Mike kisses Micky's forehead. "There, I kissed it better. Okay?"
"You're both cute," Peter declared.
Mike and Micky looked at each other indignantly.
"He just called us cute, Mike."
"I heard him, Micky."
"What're we gonna do?"
"There's only one option in this situation, Mick."
"Is it what I think it is?"
Mike and Micky pelted a giggling Peter with pillows.