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Home Slash Fiction Het/Gen Fiction Donatella's Head

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.


"Strange Voices in Your Ears - Part 2"



Title: Strange Voices In My Ears-Pt 2
Pairing: Torklenz
Rating: Progresses into NC-17
Summary: Both boys truly discover just how intense Micky's feelings are toward Peter.
Warnings: Okay, first off, there's angst in this. Nothing too tragic, but angst all the same. Followed by a healthy dose of very hot slashy sex. With a sprinkling of cursing throughout. You have been warned.
Author's Note: I apologize to those of you who might think I went a teensy bit OOC with Micky during one part of this. HOWEVER, I would also like to say that none of us really know how Micky would really react once the green-eyed monster got its hooks into him so completely. Besides, it's always darkest before the dawn as they say, and what sex is better than make-up sex, I ask you?? :)

Peter slowly opened the door to the Pad. It was just nearing sunset and a few lingering golden rays shone in through the bay windows out back as he stepped inside.

“Micky?” he called tentatively. Silence was the only reply he received.

Frowning slightly, Peter turned to shut the door behind him. He felt vaguely weary and drained, as the acid’s effects slowly dissipated and the bright colors began to wash back into their normal hues. He had been tripping wildly for the past six hours, and even now his vision was playing tricks on him, showing everyday items that looked too elongated, too starkly etched, as if he were wearing some sort of bizarre 3-D glasses. He caught sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and flinched back, but it was only Mr. Schneider against the wall, his huge blue eyes behind his spectacles looking at Peter knowingly.

He had run into Mike at the party and had asked him if he had seen Micky. Mike confirmed that Micky had indeed arrived at the party with him and Davy, but that Mike hadn’t seen him since. Then Amanda…who was holding court in the living room, perched cozily on Davy’s lap…had informed Peter that Micky had left the party a couple of hours before.

“He looked like he was sick,” she explained, shrugging. “I think he called a cab.”

Concerned, Peter had immediately called for a cab as well. Mike had offered to drive him home, but Peter insisted that Mike and Davy stay and continue to enjoy the party, to Davy’s obvious delight.

Now here he was, and he immediately climbed the spiral staircase up to Micky’s and Mike’s room. He expected to find Micky sleeping on his right side, his favorite position, his hand curled in a loose fist below his chin, as he often did. At the mere image in his mind, Peter felt a warm glow of pure affection light up his insides and his mouth curved in a small, private smile.

However, the smile faded as he quietly opened the bedroom door to find both beds empty and un-used.

Confused, Peter pulled the door closed again and slowly made his way back down the stairs, a thoughtful expression on his face. Maybe Micky felt better and decided to go back out again? Not likely unless it was somewhere within walking distance. The boys weren’t exactly destitute, but taking cabs everywhere all the time would certainly eat into their meager finances a bit too much.

Peter decided he would head out back and check out over the deck to see if maybe Micky had decided to go sit out on the beach for a while. He reached out and hit the light switch by the front door as the setting sun had swallowed the living area in shadow, and the multi-colored ceiling fixture came on.

In its glow, Peter saw Micky sitting silently on the couch, watching him.

“Micky!” Peter exclaimed, half in surprise and half in relief. “There you are! Why didn’t you answer me when I called your name a minute ago?”

Micky didn’t answer. He only continued to stare steadily at Peter, his expression unreadable. Peter felt a quiver of unease ripple through him. Maybe Micky was sicker than he thought?

“Micky…?” Peter asked, his voice cautious as he took a few slow steps closer to the couch. “Are you all right, man?”

The silence continued for a few more seconds, and Peter licked his lips nervously. He was just thinking about whether to repeat his question when Micky’s voice suddenly spoke low in the stillness.

“Did you enjoy fucking that chick at the party?”

Anything Peter was about to say was lost in the dull shock that suddenly descended over him. His eyes widened. Shock swiftly turned into swirling confusion. Oh, his poor brain was still halfway inside-out from the powerful drug he had taken. He tried to think back to when he had been out by the pool. That girl had come out of one of the pavilions and had invited him inside to share a bong with her. He had happily accepted, and one thing had led to another…

But had he fucked her? He knew she had been half-dressed and practically begging for it, but had he done it?? He honestly couldn’t remember. By that time the acid had really been kicking in and he was staring at the pool and noticing how the rippling flashes of sunlight reflecting off the water sounded like tinkling bells, and the murmur of the other partygoers around them had melded and mellowed into the hum of summertime bees in a flowery sun-drenched meadow.

Really, none of that mattered right now, did it? What mattered was that Micky had seen…something, and he obviously didn’t like it. It was enough to make him sick and force him to leave the party, and for that Peter felt instantly sorry.

“Micky, I don’t know what happened,” Peter floundered, nervously pushing his long bangs aside from where they were tickling his eyelids. “I was tripping pretty badly, and there was a girl there, I remember, but…”

“Peter, cut the shit,” Micky said flatly, cutting off Peter’s words with the force of a slap to the face. “I saw you two by the pool. If I had waited another twenty seconds, you would have been riding that pussy for all it was worth.”

Peter’s mouth hung open, his eyes pained, even though he knew that Micky could very well be right. If only he knew for sure!

Now Micky rose from the couch and moved toward Peter, and Peter took a half-step back as he caught the simmering anger that was bubbling away in those dark chocolate eyes.

“I guess I just thought that you and I had something together, Pete,” Micky said, his voice cold.

“We do!” Peter exclaimed, his stomach knotting painfully. “Micky, we do have something!”

“Yeah, but evidently it didn’t mean that much to you,” Micky said, a touch of the true hurt he was feeling breaking through the façade of coldness he was trying to present. “You so quickly and easily forgot about me when there was someone more convenient around.”

This had to be some sort of a nightmare, Peter decided. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Micky, that’s not true!” he insisted. “I could never forget about you. I belong to you.”

I love you, Micky, he thought desperately, trembling. God, don’t you know that??

Micky was looking at Peter speculatively, an odd gleam in his eyes. “You belong to me, do you?”

“Yes!” Peter said instantly. “Yes, that’s right. I do!”

Micky stepped closer still. That strange light was still in his gaze, which made Peter look back a trifle warily. There was silence for a moment as the two faced each other.

Then, his voice and his expression still carefully neutral, Micky suddenly said, “Turn around.”

His brow furrowing slightly in confusion, Peter did as he was told. Despite Micky’s odd behavior, Peter still trusted him, and besides, he didn’t want to risk Micky’s ire further by defying his request.

The next thing Peter knew, he was being shoved face-first against the wall beside the front door. The various objects hanging there shuddered with the impact, but none of them fell.

Before he could recover his senses enough to ask what was going on, Micky had pressed his body up against Peter’s and was reaching around the front of him to yank his shirt open. Peter could not stifle a groan as Micky’s fingers pinched his nipples almost brutally. The pain mixed with pleasure was almost guaranteed to get his body stirring under normal circumstances, but these most certainly were not normal circumstances.

“So you belong to me, you say?” Micky rasped in his ear as he whisked Peter’s shirt off and tossed it to the floor. “Looks like you need to be reminded of that, huh Peter?”

Suddenly Peter realized what Micky had in mind, and a sharp burst of alarm went through him.
No, Micky…Not in anger, please. Not in anger…

He was unable to voice his plea, however, as Micky’s hands descended to his pants, undoing them roughly and shoving them off his hips to pool around his ankles. For the first time since being with Micky, Peter suddenly felt very frightened and very vulnerable in his nakedness. He didn’t have time to ruminate on the subject, however, as Micky teeth suddenly bit at one of his sun-freckled shoulders, making him squeak with surprise as much as pain.

Peter sensed movement behind him and knew instinctively that Micky was now loosening his own pants. He thought of speaking again, but found his power of speech utterly beyond his reach right now, thanks to the painful lump that had formed in his throat.

When Micky curled one hand around his hip, gripping firmly, Peter actually jumped. He swallowed hard, not daring to turn his head to look at Micky. He suddenly realized that he might have to do something completely against his nature; something he never imagined he would ever have to consider doing. He might actually have to fight Micky off. He tried to steel himself for such an event, but knew deep down that he had neither the heart nor the stomach for it.

“Who do you belong to?” Micky suddenly purred in his ear with deceptive gentleness, and Peter whimpered as he felt Micky start rubbing his cock up and down the crack of his ass, teasing him.

“Y…You, Micky,” Peter whispered shakily, his eyes welling up again.
I can’t take this anymore…

“Damn right you do,” Micky snarled, his hand tightening further on his hip as he guided himself toward Peter’s opening.

Peter’s thin web of self-control finally broke, but he didn’t try to fight. He burst into tears instead.

“Micky, please don’t do this. Please.” he begged in between sobs. He could feel Micky pause behind him, but only registered it in a vague way, so great was his misery right now. “Please, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I’m sorry. I’m really s…s…sorry.” Then he broke down completely, unable to speak anymore.

For a long moment the sound of crying was the only sound in the Pad, and then before he knew it, Peter was being spun around to face Micky, who suddenly embraced him fiercely. Feeling the strength running out of his legs, Peter slowly sank to the floor, and Micky went down with him, cradling the other man tightly in his arms.

“No, Pete…I’m the one who’s sorry,” Micky murmured shakily, tears now spilling down his own face. “I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me.”

Peter groped out blindly, wrapping his arms around Micky, almost crushing the thinner man in his enthusiasm. Micky didn’t even attempt to pull away, however. He felt that he would rather die than let go of Peter right now. Peter was trembling, still sobbing against Micky’s chest in a way that made Micky’s heart ache horribly.

“Peter, please don’t cry,” Micky begged softly, stroking Peter’s hair softly and soothingly, and then bending his neck down to kiss Peter’s head gently. “Please, Peter. I’m so sorry for treating you that way. I just saw you with that chick and…I don’t know…something snapped inside of me, I guess is the only way I can put it.” Micky’s voice now thickened again as he said, “But that doesn’t excuse anything. God, Peter. I can’t believe I almost…” He broke off, his own tears choking off any further words.

Peter slowly lifted his head, his normally bright, trusting eyes now red and wounded as he looked at Micky. “I…I still don’t know if I even…” he began.

“I know,” Micky said hoarsely. “I know. And goddamnit, that’s what makes it even worse. It’s not bad enough that I flipped out, but I flipped out based on a
suspicion. A scenario I had worked up in my own jealous mind.”

Micky’s wet eyes gazed at the man before him. With the softest of touches, he ran the backs of his fingers down one of Peter’s tear-streaked cheeks. “I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as you, Pete. I really don’t.”

Peter sniffled, and a small smile curved his lips. “Well, whether you deserve me or not, you’re stuck with me. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Fresh tears suddenly filled up Micky’s eyes, slipping silently down his face as he cupped the line of Peter’s jaw in the palm of his hand, his thumb lightly tracing the line of his bottom lip.

“God, I love you so much,” he whispered with something like wonder.

“I love you too,” Peter replied quietly. Micky slowly drew Peter’s face toward him, and their lips met gently, tentatively. The next kiss was firmer, more lovingly involved, and the third even more so.

By this time, they realized that they were still sitting on the floor between the front door and the staircase, with Peter completely stripped down and Micky halfway so.

“Think we should move this to the bedroom?” Peter asked as their kisses grew more and more heated.

“Mmm…Don’t think I can make it that far,” Micky murmured. “I want you. Right now. Only this time the right way.”

A throaty purr emanated from Peter at Micky’s words, his cock hardening rapidly as he began to shift his way toward the main living space. Micky reluctantly broke off kissing him and crawled after him until they reached the threadbare Oriental rug in the center of the living room. Peter went to lie down, but Micky stopped him.

“Wait,” Micky said. He crawled a bit further, toward the heavy frame of the couch, and sat down in front of it, bracing his back against it, his legs straight out in front of him. He looked at Peter expectantly.

Peter felt his heart speed up as he understood what Micky had in mind, but he tempered his eagerness, crawling slowly over to where Micky sat like a jungle cat stalking its prey.

Micky had just time enough to shrug out of his shirt before Peter had bent over his lap and devoured his cock in one smooth dip of his neck.

“Oh Christ, Peter…” Micky gulped, grabbing up handfuls of the wool rug on either side of him. Damn it all, this man knew how to suck cock like nobody Micky had ever experienced. Every time Peter went down on him it was a contest to see whether Micky could keep his sanity before he blew his load.

This time, however, Peter was tempering his usual skills. He certainly didn’t want to make Micky come. Not yet, anyway.

Micky’s head had tilted back onto the couch cushions, his eyes closed, alternating heated moans with whispered curses as Peter continued to tease him into full hardness. When Peter was satisfied that Micky had reached the right stage, he slowly slid his mouth off of him, purposely leaving as much saliva behind as possible.

Wasting no time, Peter moved up on his knees, straddling Micky’s lap. He reached around to position Micky’s cock properly, and then slowly started sinking down onto it.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Micky murmured huskily, slipping his hands up either side of Peter’s torso as the other man took him into his body inch by inch, rocking his hips in a careful rhythm, his eyes drifted shut in concentration.

Once Peter had successfully taken Micky’s entire length, he sat still for a moment, blowing out breath in a long sigh and briefly relishing the sensation of being filled so completely. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with Micky’s as he began to move, using his thigh muscles to lift and lower himself onto Micky’s cock, his own throbbing erection rubbing sweetly over Micky’s stomach.

The pace Peter set was slow, languid. He did not want to rush this. He wanted to savor it. He placed his hands on Micky’s shoulders to steady himself, feeling a minute vibration in the muscles beneath his palms, as if Micky’s body was humming with some sort of inner electrical charge.

“Peter…oh god, you feel amazing,” Micky moaned softly, his hands slipping up to cradle Peter’s upper back, tilting him forward a bit more. Micky delicately began to flicker the tip of his tongue over Peter’s nipples, causing them to stiffen into hardened peaks which Micky then rolled between his lips, suckling them firmly, feeling Peter’s cock jump against his stomach in response. Peter groaned, his head rolling on his neck, his movements picking up their pace the slightest bit.

Micky’s mouth trailed up Peter’s chest, pausing now and then on the way to place random kisses, relishing the warmth and the firmness of the skin beneath his lips. His tongue laved over Peter’s collarbone, then traced a long line up the center of his throat as Peter tipped back his head and sighed heatedly. Micky’s lips continued their journey up toward Peter’s chin, loving the transition between the relatively soft skin of Peter’s throat and the faint scratchiness of razor stubble just above it.

Peter’s hips continued to rock in a steady rhythm all through Micky’s oral exploration of his upper body. The physical pleasure was absolutely fabulous, but what Peter was really digging out of this was the mental pleasure. This was far more than just making love, and both of them knew it. Peter could feel the emotional hurts of this evening fading away with each inch of skin that Micky lovingly kissed and licked and adored. By the time Micky had reached his mouth, the whole horrible incident earlier seemed like just what Peter had always hoped it had been….just a bad dream.

Micky sealed his lips over Peter’s, his tongue plunging deep and dueling briefly with Peter’s own before drawing back again. He looked steadily into Peter’s eyes, watching the minute changes within them as his self-control wore away bit by bit, like the slow progress of erosion. Micky had always thought Peter was a good-looking guy, but when he was like this…naked and in Micky’s arms, giving and taking and sharing pleasure between them, he thought Peter was absolutely the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and tonight he seemed to have an extra-special luminescence around him.

Damn, maybe I accidentally got a bit of leftover acid from inside his mouth, Micky thought, smiling suddenly.

“Hmm…And what are you smiling about?” Peter asked, his voice slightly ragged, his own mouth turning up at the corners.

And just like that, Micky felt a sudden surge of pure, clean desire shoot through him. He slipped his hands down Peter’s back, and then lower to cup his buttocks in his hands. At the same time, he slid his opened mouth over Peter’s shoulder, then up toward his neck.

“You’re just so fucking hot tonight,” Micky panted, the sheer lust in his voice suddenly causing Peter’s own arousal to spike dangerously high as well. Micky sensed the change, saw the dark, hungry expression in Peter’s eyes, and felt Peter’s movements become more urgent, less controlled.

“Micky…” Peter moaned desperately, his teeth biting into his lower lip as he rocked himself harder on Micky’s cock, taking him all the way with each downward motion, his nerve endings positively singing with pleasure.

“That’s it, Peter,” Micky growled softly, concentrating with all his might on holding off his own orgasm in order to give Peter everything he needed…everything he deserved. “That’s it, baby…That’s it. Take that cock. Take it all. Oh yeah.”

Spurned even further by Micky’s words, Peter redoubled his efforts, not even realizing that he was making steady, throaty moans as his entire world dwindled down to where nothing existed but him and Micky and the passion between them.

Micky realized that this wasn’t going to be enough for Peter, however. He caught the edge of frustration and urgency in both his movements and his sounds. He knew more had to be done…and now.

“Hold on tight,” Micky warned, sliding his hands beneath Peter’s back at the same time that he drew his own legs up. Then, with a strength driven by sheer adrenaline, he rocked himself onto his knees, lifting Peter with him. Before a startled Peter could even register what had happened, he was flat on his back on the floor, his legs wrapping firmly around Micky's back as Micky’s body leaned over his.

Slipping his full length into Peter once more, Micky didn’t pause for consideration, but immediately began to pound his lover with fast, driving thrusts. His hips slapping Peter's ass hard each time he plowed forward. Peter’s reaction was instantaneous, and enthusiastic as he was rocked violently back and forth on the rug.

“Oh god…Micky. Oh Micky. Oh fuck…Oh…”

“Oh yeah…that’s my baby. You like that, Peter?” Micky ground out between clenched teeth, sweat trickling down his face and down his neck and chest and back in a steady stream. Holy shit this was so good. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this. “Do you like me fucking you hard like this? Do you love it, Peter? Come on, baby. Tell me how much you love it.”

His eyes positively wild, Peter clutched helplessly to Micky’s slippery back, his voice on the verge of cracking. “Oh yes, Micky…Yes…Oh god, I love it. I love it. Oh god, fuck me. Fuck me harder...”

Shifting his hips slightly, Micky began what he knew would be the final
coup de grace. He angled himself to where he was brushing Peter’s prostrate on every single pass.

“Oh god...ohgod...ohgodohgod
ohgod...” Peter’s voice grew in volume with each outburst, and Micky dimly felt stinging pain as Peter’s short fingernails raked red streaks down his back. He also vaguely wondered if the neighbors could hear what was going on. Peter was louder tonight than Micky had ever heard him before, not that Micky for an instant wanted Peter to stop.

However, when Peter’s orgasm finally erupted with extraordinary violence, he actually
screamed out Micky’s name, shocking Micky so much that he almost forgot to keep moving. Then the next thing Micky knew, he was flooded with a feeling of intense ecstasy like he had never known before as he began to come as well. The feelings were so concentrated, so sublime, that he indeed stopped moving just so he could fully savor them. A long groan of pleasure escaped his lips as he spurted inside of Peter again and again.

Then he collapsed on top of his lover, and for a several long minutes there was only the sound of their mingled ragged, sobbing breaths that gradually became more steady and controlled.

Finally, Micky rolled off of Peter and helped the other man lift himself up to a semi-sitting position, though Peter was already most of the way asleep after their exertions.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Micky murmured, kissing Peter’s temple gently. “Let’s get our clothes picked up and then we’ll go to bed.”

“Mmmm….'kay,” Peter said drowsily, but didn't even attempt to move. Micky supposed it didn’t really matter. They could stay here for a while. The guys wouldn’t be home for a while yet, and Micky really didn’t feel much like getting up right now anyway.

“Okay, we’ll stay here for a bit longer, Pete…Sound good to you?”

“Mm-hm…sounds good,” Peter confirmed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Micky with a contented sigh. “Love you…”

Micky stroked his hair and kissed his head again. “I love you too, baby.”


To Prove My Love is Truly Yours - Part 1 Strange Voices in Your Ears - Part 1