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"The Questions of a Thousand Dreams - Part 2"
Title: The Questions of a Thousand Dreams (2/5)
Pairing: Torksmith (with a nice heaping of Stork :P)
Warnings: Language, sexuality, slash (duh)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Monkees or Stephen Stills and make no claim that this ever really happened. It is purely the result of an overactive imagination.
Summary: Peter is eternally grateful to have found a temporary home with the Nesmiths. But he soon realises that it might not be all it's cracked up to be and calls in a favour from a friend. But while this may solve his initial problems, it only serves to dump them on his unsuspecting bandmate...
Author's Note: OK, here's part two! Picking up pretty much exactly where we left off after Peter's phone call to Stephen. Sorry it's taken so long, it worked out much longer than I'd expected so it is now four parts long! This is technically only half of part two but I got more involved with it than I anticipated. It's a bit PWP because of that but it is developed in the next part which I hope to have finished soon!
Peter had begun pacing, his eyes darting up to the kitchen clock every few seconds. It had only been 20 minutes but it was feeling like an eternity. He didn't know why he was so worked up but he did know that if Stephen didn't get here soon, he was probably going to pass out.
Another 10 minutes passed before there was a quick knock at the door.
"Hey Pete, sorry, I got ambushed just before I--mmph!" Not even digesting any of what was being said, Peter grabbed Stephen by the collar of his blue shirt, hauling him into the house. Shutting the door, Stephen promptly found himself thrown up against it with Peter's lips pressed firmly against his still moving ones.
Peter pulled back only marginally to see the surprised look on his friend's face.
"Good to see you too." The younger man said, light-heartedly, though slightly breathless. Peter gave a small smile in response.
"I'm glad you're here." He said in a slightly husky voice before he claimed the other musician's lips in another barrage of kisses, though this time Stephen was prepared enough to respond.
"How could I...say no? It's...been...awhile." He managed in between the short but frequent lip locking. "Wasn't sure if...you even still--ow!" Peter lightly nipped at his bottom lip, halting the words.
"Talk later. Can't wait." His warm breath ghosted over Stephen's lips whose brown eyes flashed at the authoritative tone in Peter's voice, managing a slight nod of agreement before instigating his first, albeit brief, kiss.
"Lead the way." He said, his voice wavering only slightly. With a grin, Peter grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him upstairs to his room.
Once inside, Stephen found himself slammed up against this door as well, Peter's lips on his once again. But these were more bruising kisses now, more demanding. Peter ran his tongue over Stephen's bottom lip, seeking entrance which was immediately allowed. Steve opened his mouth wide, pressing it against Peter's, allowing him to fully explore. They continued to swallow each other's moans as teeth occasionally clacked together with the intensity and force of the kisses.
Peter suddenly pulled away, moving his mouth over to Steve's ear, both panting heavily.
"Touch me." He whispered, sucking the lobe into his mouth and grinning slightly at the gasp it caused. Stephen realised that his hands were still resting on the door from where he'd tried to steady himself. Slightly shell-shocked from the sudden pace, he wasn't yet working on autopilot. But that was quickly rectified as he thrust one hand into the silky hair and rested the other on the older man's hip, bringing him forward into another searing kiss that Peter couldn't help but moan into.
Peter was quick to mirror the position with his own fingers tangling in the sandy strands while his other arm snaked around the slim waist to bring them closer together. A firm tug on Stephen's hair encouraged the man to tilt his head, allowing Peter to continue kissing, sucking, licking his was across the jaw line and down his neck.
Now having his mouth free, Stephen struggled to get some air back into his lungs, head falling back against the door as his skin was deliciously assaulted. Both of his hands were now resting on the slim hips, unconsciously rubbing small circles into them with his thumbs. Still keeping his mouth on that delectable throat, Peter looked up to see Stephen with his eyes closed, a look of sweet contentment on his face. Sorry, friend, not this time. Gotta have more, go faster. Now, let's see if I remember this right...Without changing pace, Peter suddenly licked a long line up Stephen's neck, running that wicked tongue teasingly over his pulse point.
The reaction was instantaneous. You see, Peter had an uncanny ability to commit to memory every little button that would push people over the edge; and that pulse point just so happened to be one of Stephen's. The guitarist's eyes flew open and a surprisingly loud moan slipped past his lips, his whole body seeming to shudder at the deft touch.
As if in reflex to the sudden action, Stephen's hands left Peter's hips sliding instead to his ass, grasping both cheeks firmly, in turn fusing them together at the crotch.
"Ngh, yes..." Peter muttered at the sudden, glorious contact, their clothed erections briefly grinding together. One hand flew to the door in front of him as he felt his knees weaken slightly in an added attempt to support himself. Despite the urgency he was feeling (and from the feel of it, Stephen was feeling much the same way by now), they both stopped momentarily, breathing heavily in order to get some semblance of sanity back.
Peter knocked foreheads with the hazy-eyed figure before him, both breathing in the same stuffy air that enveloped them. It was then that he noticed just how constricted he felt, his sweat soaked clothes clinging to his heated flesh. Soon enough, his fingers were working to undo the buttons on the garment before him, his actions accompanied by an almost inaudible mantra of "off, off, come on get off..."
To speed up the stripping process, Stephen got his hands to work on Peter's shirt, foregoing the buttons, instead untucking the hem and pulling it over the blonde's head. Peter reluctantly pulled away to complete the task, the shirt thrown thoughtlessly to the floor as his attention went back to those buttons. A delightful shiver swept over him as the cool air touched his wet skin, a shiver that was returned by Stephen as Peter's mouth latched on to any bared piece of chest that became uncovered.
Eventually, the shirt was open but remained on his shoulders. Peter, not wanting to delay contact any further, pressed forward, both uttering a stuttered cry as their burning skin collided. Both pairs of nipples stood instantly erect from the cool air and rough skin. Lips were once again crashing together, Stephen's hands restlessly running over Peter's bare back while the other set of hands never seemed to stay in one place for more than a few seconds.
Steady moans escaped and mingled making it impossible to determine who they were coming from. As Stephen's mouth moved over Peter's lightly dusted chest, his tongue flicking mercilessly over a nipple, Peter knew he had to move things along before he collapsed.
Seemingly going unnoticed by the younger man, Peter's nimble fingers worked the buttons of his sinfully tight jeans but didn't move them, instead just loosening them enough to slip his slightly calloused hands beneath the waistband, then around...before thoroughly groping his backside, a finger running lightly between the crack for good measure.
"Shit!" Stephen gasped, hips involuntarily snapping forward at the caress. Both pairs oyes fluttered at the renewed friction, fingernails grazing across skin. Stephen began to grind his hips slightly against Peter, his head resting on the man's shoulder as he focused on the continued swelling in his pants.
However, the movement was too slight and torturous for the desperate bass player so, intensifying his grip on Stephen's ass, he began to frenziedly rut up against him, groaning heatedly as his aching cock threatened to burst out of its clothed prison.
"God, yes, yeah..." Stephen groaned, his fingers hooking into Peter's belt loops to increase the rhythm. He blindly captured Peter's lips, dimly registering how they turned up into a salacious smirk. but he didn't shy away from the sudden aggression from his friend, opening his mouth wide to accommodate the probing tongue.
Faster, faster, faster, it felt so fucking good, Stephen was convinced it was gonna be all over soon, which on the one hand was a shame but god did he need a release. But Peter had other ideas.
As Stephen pulled out of the kiss to catch his breath, Peter moved to run his tongue along the shell of his ear, whispering in a deep, longing voice.
"Hng?" Stephen responded, clearly not registering anything but the heat and the friction going on below his waist. Peter pulled back a little, stilling his movements which encouraged Stephen to look at him, his brown furrowed in confusion.
"Fuck me, Stephen." He rasped, dipping in for another kiss. "Fuck me..." He repeated it in a whisper, almost to himself, his lips still pressed loosely against the other man's.
Meanwhile, Stephen's eyes had gone so wide it was almost cartoon-like. Peter would have laughed had he not been so fucking horny he could barely see straight.
This...wasn't what he'd expected.
Usually, when Peter called in "the other kind of favour", it was a case of Peter needing a change of pace, something a little tighter than a chick could give him and Stephen always obliged, not really over-thinking why he was more than happy to bend over (as it were) to accommodate his friend's needs.
There had only been one occasion, fairly early on, where Stephen had topped and it was something of a disaster. It had been Peter's suggestion and Stephen was all for it. But as soon as he thrust in, the tightness was excruciating, he wasn't sure he could move without his whole body crumbling. What also didn't help was that Peter responded completely differently to receiving sex than he did giving it. Needless to say, he just wasn't prepared for the onslaught on his senses and after just one more thrust, he found himself succumbing to his orgasm. He fell on his side completely spent forcing the older man to take care of himself.
Stephen was convinced then that whatever it was they had was over but it wasn't to be. They just carried on as before, Peter never mentioning the incident assuming Stephen felt bad enough as it was.
That was three years ago now, and in those three years Stephen had actually been with a few other guys, more to just try and work on his control than anything else, just in case Peter ever lost his mind and suggested it again. And it looked like that time had come.
A sharp thrust against his groin promptly brought him out of his reverie as he stared back at the man in front of him. Right there was the real problem, the man himself. No-one he'd been with was quite as enthusiastic in the throes of passion as Peter Tork, it took no effort for him to sweep you up in a whirlwind of pleasure...Which was all well and good when he was the one taking control, not so much when he was looking at you with wide, hopeful eyes glazed slightly with desire, lips invitingly red and swollen with his bangs sticking to his forehead from the thin sheen of sweat covering it. As was the case now. When Peter's tongue darted out to moisten his drying lips unconsciously, Stephen thought his mind would break.
Peter wasn't doing much better. He didn't think it was that big a deal but Stephen was looking at him like he'd proposed marriage to the guy and asked him to come live with him on Mars. He was beginning to get frantic, though he portrayed none of this outwardly. God, come on Steve, I need this, I need you. Please. Please. Please. But, keeping his voice as steady as he could, all he voiced was: "You up for it?"
Despite the casual delivery, his eyes couldn't lie. Stephen could see the need there and realised that it didn't matter how he felt or how it went down, all that mattered was that he could help out a friend any way he could.
"I don't think I can get any more up." He quipped, striving for the same level of casualness. Peter let out a laugh in a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, the sound oozing relief.
Stephen smiled lightly as lips pressed against his, not in a passionate kiss, but more of a thank you. Thank you for being such a great fucking friend (in every sense of the word!)
He soon pulled away, moving further into the room to sit on the bed, legs tucked underneath him and spread slightly, emphasizing the encased bulge. He looked over at Stephen, who seemed to be glued to the door, raising an eyebrow in his direction. That was it, that was Peter silently handing the reins over to him, an open invitation to do as he pleased. Even the mere thought made Stephen's cock twitch in his pants making him doubt his abilities once again but he pushed such thoughts aside. Letting out a gush of air, he pushed himself away from the door, divesting himself of shoes and socks as well as the opened shirt on the way to the bed so he was in an equal state of undress as Peter.
Crawling across the bed, he didn't stop until he was hovering over the older man, forcing him to lean back on the palms of his hands. As his eyes roamed over the lightly tanned and beautifully toned body beneath him, he wasted no time in swooping in for a heated kiss, his dirty blonde hair falling on either side of both of their faces.
As the kiss grew more intense and complicated, Stephen hooked a hand around Peter's neck drawing him closer while their hips met and began a steady rotating motion. Peter risked losing his balance by moving a hand forward to run along that glorious hard-on before him.
Well, what he felt was certainly hard but somewhat...thin. Not how he remembered it. Frowning, he pulled out of the kiss, looking down to where his hand rested. Noting the sudden loss of contact, Stephen followed Peter's gaze with a frown of his own. Shifting his weight a little, he reached into his pocket pulling out the tube of lube he'd been told to bring.
"Ah, that's more like it." Peter commented, more to himself sharing an amused grin with Stephen. He abruptly snatched the tube, doing a double take at the label, raising an eyebrow.
"What?" Stephen asked, suspiciously. Peter merely showed him, watching as he turned an amusing shade of pink.
"I didn't even know you could get it in different flavours. Didn't strike me as the type, Stills." He teased.
"It's not mine. I grabbed the first thing I found in a tube...you're fucking lucky it wasn't super glue." Stephen bit back, attempting to grab the lube back but Peter was having none of it.
"Oh, I don't know. That scenario doesn't sound all bad..." He replied with a wicked smirk. Stephen was about to spout another remark but he practically choked on the words as he felt Peter grasp his cock and begin stroking it. He hadn't even noticed him pull down the zipper...he was too good.
"Mmm, yes, that's definitely more like it." He purred, delighting in the unsteady breathing of the young man in front of him. The sound of the cap popping open was almost deafening, the air practically forced out of Stephen's lungs as he felt the cold, slick substance get spread liberally and lovingly over his aching member.
Huh, it really does smell like strawberries... Peter thought randomly as he intently watched the man's features twitch in restrained pleasure. Of course, the tube didn't say 'Strawberry Scented'...it said 'Strawberry Flavoured'... An evil grin spread across his face. Even though he was the one desperate for some release, working his partners up into a sexual frenzy always seemed to be part and parcel of the process.
"Ah, shit!" Stephen's eyes flew open as the coolness was suddenly replaced with a warm, wet tightness. He risked a look down to see his cock sliding comfortably down Peter's throat, feeling that skilful tongue roll around the throbbing flesh. He palmed the back of Peter's head, trying (and failing) to stop himself from bucking into the torturous mouth. Too good, gotta stop it...ungh, don't wanna stop it...
Luckily, Peter knew not to push the poor guy too far if he had any hope of getting fucked any time soon, so with one last lick he pulled away.
Stephen looked at him incredulously, to which the blonde simply shrugged. "Just wanted to see it was accurate advertising."
"And was it?" He asked, still somewhat aghast. Peter answered with a searing kiss, delving his tongue purposefully into his welcoming mouth.
When he pulled back, Stephen smiled along with a nod of affirmation. "Strawberry."
Looking back down, Peter realised that he'd pretty much licked off all the lube, reaching for the tube to apply more. Catching on to what he was about to do, Stephen abruptly grabbed the tube, pouring a substantial amount in his hand.
"M-maybe I should do it. Or we'll never get to the good stuff." The guy had a point so he watched as Stephen slicked himself up, breath hitching every now and again as familiar fingers brushed over sensitive spots. Peter's dick responded favourably to the enticing imagery, the front of his pants already wet from the leaking pre-cum. And then he wondered why the fuck he was still wearing pants. He quickly fought his way out of the skin tight cords, sighing in bliss as the cool air wrapped around the fire in his groin.
He sat on the bed, one leg stretched in front of him, leisurely stroking his cock as he waited for Stephen to complete his preparations.
The sight of the hippie watching him with nothing but unbridled desire as he pleasured himself sent Stephen into overdrive as his conscience took a back seat and his libido took over. He abruptly pulled Peter forward into another kiss, their now bared erections gliding deliciously together.
Stephen cupped a firm ass cheek before suddenly sliding in a lubed finger, breaching the tight passage, taking the older man by surprise judging by the yelp that escaped him.
Soon enough, another finger entered, followed by another. Peter's eyes rolled into the back of his head as it lolled back. As Stephen continued to finger-fuck him, stretching him out, Peter began to rut against him again, increasing the friction between them.
His moans had taken on a desperate tone once again and when Stephen pushed in particularly hard at one point, he almost sobbed, gripping Stephen's bony shoulders so tight he left marks. This was it, this was what he needed, what he craved that no-one else could give him.
Suddenly, the pressure was gone, his body feeling horribly empty as Stephen pulled away. Peter's eyes flew open in panic. No, that wasn't enough, please, can't stop now, don't stop! But he soon got his bearings, realising that he'd been getting ahead of himself. Looking at his friend, he could see the doubt creeping in again, no doubt brought on by his sudden eagerness so, in an attempt to help him regain control, Peter strived to calm himself briefly.
Giving a seductive smile, he leaned forward as if to kiss the tentative man but stopped just short of his lips to mumble against them. "How do you want me?"
The husky timbre coupled with the sultry look he received from under those lashes was enough to reignite the fire inside him and to recover his confidence.
"I want you on all fours..." he replied, his own voice roughened with lust. Peter complied, shifting into position in front of Stephen, making sure to stretch slightly in an effort to rile the man up even more. A barely suppressed groan let him know he'd succeeded, a hand landing on his hip while the other moved to shift the sandy hair away from his ear so he could whisper into it. "...this way, I can fuck you harder, just the way you want it."
A shudder visibly ran through the older man, his sense of urgency spiking. This was certainly different to anything they'd tried before but both were too far gone to back out now, not that either wanted to.
Stephen gripped the base of his cock, guiding the head to Peter's entrance. He could feel the muscles twitch beneath his fingertips as he lined himself up slowly, trying to shake the hair out of his eyes.
"Fuck Stephen, do it!" He didn't mean to snap but feeling the stiff flesh seemingly pass over his passage time and time again was rapidly dissolving his self-control. The sudden outburst was enough to shock Stephen into action, hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt in the vibrant body before him.
The sudden heat and tightness and the sudden sensation of being so abruptly filled caused both men to groan loudly. So loudly that neither heard the door open downstairs...
Mike thought he was going to rip someone's throat out if the recording session didn't start going his way soon. To save himself and the poor soul who would be on the receiving end of his fury, he decided to forgo his plan to work through lunch, instead heading home to clear his head. He found himself hoping that Peter was home, nothing helped him unwind quicker than talking to someone that actually knew where he was coming from. That person was always Peter.
Making his way into the house, a quick scan of the downstairs showed no signs of life leaving Mike with a rather strange sense of disappointment. Walking into the kitchen to rummage for some lunch a sound suddenly broke the silence.
"Oh, god, ungh..." Mike's eyes widened at the unmistakable sound. A light pink dusting spread across his cheeks as he returned the potential lunch items from whence they came, slowly and quietly. Peter had never brought a girl back with him before but in all fairness, it had never been empty before. He wasn't supposed to be home so, even though it was his house, he felt obligated to give the guy his privacy.
As he crept towards the door, he found himself wondering who it could be. That dumb wardrobe bimbo better not be back in the picture. He thought, moodily. He can do so much better than that. Another part of his overactive mind spoke up suddenly. Oh? What does he deserve? Someone who shares his love of music, respects him, sees past that dumb TV persona he's been dumped with, someone that he's comfortable around, someone like... Someone like y-
Another louder noise cut off the thought he wasn't prepared to acknowledge, shaking his head as if to dislodge it. His hand was around the doorknob, front door ajar for his departure when,
"Shit Pete, god!"
Mike's brain shut down for a good few seconds before he allowed himself to process the noise. He noticed that he still had an iron grip on the door, his knuckles turning white. That wasn't Peter. Not a chick either. Which means... He didn't know what it meant. It couldn't possibly be what he thought, no way. Another bout of strangled moans threatened to shatter his delusion.
Why the fuck am I even still here? I don't care and it sure as hell ain't any of my damn business and I need to get back to the studio- His body seemed to contradict this, however, as he suddenly found himself halfway up the stairs. Frowning to himself, he continued walking. It was like some kind of siren song; though he fought internally to run away, it was drawing him in to what he believed would be some kind of doom.
Soon enough, he was standing outside of Peter's room, hand poised at the handle. His mind was such a mess, he didn't even think to consider what to do if he was caught; probably just run away and deny everything. As delicately as he could, he opened the door just enough to get a good view of about a third of the room. And what a view it was.
Mike's eyes nearly fell out of his skull as he stared slack-jawed at the sights unravelling before him.
Two men, most certainly fucking under his roof. But not just 'two men'. The one kneeling looked early to mid-twenties, lightly tanned with a lean body, almost like himself but not as gangly. Who the hell is he? I don't recognise him. Peter's never mentioned him. Is this a regular thing? What makes him so special? Why's he better than-? Better than who? Shut up.
And the man on all fours in front of him, undulating beautifully, hair falling into his eyes and around his face...that man was Peter. Peter.
Mike continued to watch unblinking at the pair who remained totally unaware of his presence. He, however, became all too aware of how constricted his clothing felt as sweat made the fabric cling to his skin. Not to mention the sizable bulge filling out the front of his pants. Without even thinking about it, he pressed up against the door frame, suppressing a groan at the much needed pressure. His attention returned to the two figures as he rubbed against the wood, fingernails occasionally digging into the frame. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should be elsewhere, knew that he should not be watching this but his body never once listened.
Stephen pounded into Peter relentlessly, groaning heatedly at the sound of wet flesh slapping together and the sight of his dick sliding into the writhing body beneath him. He was amazed at how different it was to the last time. "Shit Peter, you feel so good, so tight..."
Peter had a frown on his face as he focused on every touch, every movement, on the feeling of being so filled but also on keeping his orgasm at bay for as long as possible. "You feel, fuck, good too. Harder."
As instructed, Stephen gripped his hips tighter allowing him more leverage to get deeper, fuck harder, moving his hips in a quick curve to find that spot inside him that Peter took so much pleasure in hitting when he was on the receiving end. Judging by the startled yelp and brief clamping of muscles around his cock, he'd found it. Without giving the gasping man time to recover, he repeated the motion, groaning himself at the eager response.
Peter gripped the sheets tightly beneath his hands as he fought not to fall face first into the mattress, the intense pleasure causing his limbs to weaken. But he didn't want it any other way.
"That's it, right there, fuck, ngh."
"Ya look so fuckin' hot like this. Wish I could -ah!- could fuck ya all day, goddamn!" Peter let out another low groan, but not just because of the things he was hearing. Why had he never noticed how thick Stephen's Texan accent got during sex? Probably because it was never much of a turn on until... His dick swelled more at the thought of Mike and he had the sudden need to hear that voice, that accent again.
"Keep...keep talking." He managed to gasp. Stephen had another burst of self-consciousness, already out of his depth but he'd had no complaints so far so did as requested.
"Fuck Peter, anything you say. God, it's so good. You love it don't you, having my cock up your ass?" Peter nodded in response, unable to get his vocal chords to work.
"Like it hard and rough, dontcha? Pounding into you over and over, ya can't get enough. You'd beg for it ya want it so fucking bad, hot damn fuck!" He knew it was meant to be for Peter's benefit but the dirty talk was pushing him dangerously close to his own climax.
Meanwhile, Peter had returned to tightly gripping the sheets while he pushed his hips back to meet each of Stephen's thrusts, lost in his little fantasy. A fantasy wherein a certain dark haired Texan was uttering such delicious comments, practically purring the words into his ear, but in a voice that was deep and smouldering and so completely Mike. His voice would hold a hint of a smirk, knowing just how much it was affecting him as he ground into his ass.
"Ohhhh, fuck..." He choked, the imagery making him somewhat light-headed. Stephen could see that Peter's shoulders were beginning to shake from strain under their weight.
"Ah! A-arms...can't..." was all that he could vocalise but amazingly, Stephen was so in tune with his friend, he didn't hesitate in hooking his arm around the older man's chest, pulling him upright. Peter's arms fell limply at his sides, both feeling like dead weights.
Fuck... That was the only thought running through Mike's head at the change in position. Now the younger man was more or less obscured by the absolute vision in front of him.
Peter's head was lolled back, resting on the guy's shoulder, his exposed neck being assaulted with bites and kisses. But that body, damn! How could someone with such a sweet, sometimes even angelic, face have such a downright sinful body? His skin was lightly bronzed, apparently not an ounce of fat on him but subtly toned all over. The hand that was still supporting him started to run over his chest, through the fine sprinkling of hair before tweaking a nipple. Even from where he stood, Mike could easily see the muscles twitch under the tantalizing touch.
Peter was unconsciously making a continuous keening noise as guitar calloused fingers explored his body, the thrusting having slowed slightly. Mike's breathing was getting heavier by the second, abandoning the door frame which was no longer having the desired effect, his hand was now roughly rubbing himself through the fabric that stretched over the throbbing bulge. Resting his forehead and loosening his tie, his other hand began unknowingly making gentle patterns on the wall as he imagined how Peter's skin would feel under his touch.
While the one hand remained teasing Peter's nipples, the other began to slide down past his abdomen, over his hip to caress the inside of his thigh. Peter's breathing noticeably changed, hitching suddenly before coming in short gasps in the anticipation of the touch moving to a much neglected part of his anatomy. But it never came, the hand simply remained torturously close but never strayed.
He thrust his hips forward, trying to communicate his need but all he got in response was a soft chuckle and the feel of a face nuzzling into his neck.
"Want me to touch you, Peter? Want me to pump you while I fuck you? Bet that would make ya come so damn hard, huh?" Stephen's fingers quickly brushed over the head, picking up the pre-cum that was oozing from the tip but almost instantly the contact was gone. Peter had to hold back a sob, his cock a startling shade of red from the lack of attention.
Mike watched Peter's face as it contorted in blissful agony. What the fuck is that guy playing at!? Mike seethed, feeling Peter's urgency almost as if it were his own.
Unable to stand the tension any longer, Peter arched his back into Stephen before increasing the pace, impaling himself on the stiff cock behind him.
"Oh, shit..." Stephen knew that neither of them could wait any longer, this was the home stretch, no more games. Moving both hands to firmly grip Peter's hips once again, he met Peter's thrusts, building up to an almost violent, bruising rhythm.
Mike's hand worked his cock even harder through his pants, desperately trying to keep his voice down as his other hand moved to grope his balls. He watched Peter's chest heave with every harsh breath and couldn't look away from the member jutting out between his legs, bobbing against his stomach with the force of their movements.
God, how he wanted relief. But he found himself wishing relief on Peter more. If only he could just waltz in and take that impressive hard-on into his mouth and bring the tormented man to completion. His balls tightened at the mere thought and he knew he was close.
Would this be what it would feel like? Is this how Mike would feel, how he would fuck? His mind flitted back to the night before, the feel of Mike pressed up against him, the sinewy strength he sensed in him.
"Ahhh! Oh god, so close...gonna...don't stop." Peter suddenly exclaimed as Stephen stimulated his prostate. Stopping was most certainly not an option for the young guitarist, his hips now moving erratically, all rhythm lost as he struck that bundle of nerves on every thrust, reducing them both to an incomprehensible mess.
No, this isn't what it would be like, it would be better. Better because it would be Mike. Mike's dick, Mike's hands, Mike's breath, Mike's words...
"Unghhhh, Michael!" He spluttered as his body finally gave into the pleasure, his orgasm hitting him full force, his seed spilling onto his stomach and some on the sheets.
What are the fucking chances of the bastard being called Michael - oh, shit fuck! was the last conscious thought Mike had before his release struck, the believed coincidence of their shared name spoken with such euphoria more than enough to send his cock into spasm.
Seeing no immediate alternative to silence the slew of exclamations, he'd resorted to clamping his teeth down on the hand not occupied at his crotch, leaving a set of rather angry dents in their wake.
Looking back into the room, he assumed that 'Michael' had also succumbed to the pleasure as they were now both a tangle of limbs on the bed, their breathing loud and shallow.
Mike turned his back on the door, leaning against the wall as he got his own respiration under control. Soon enough, his face paled, his expression unreadable as he headed almost trance-like to his bedroom. Unhurriedly, he changed into a clean pair of pants, mind completely blank as he focused solely on the task at hand.
Ignoring the contents of the other bedroom, he made his way down the stairs and out of the front door.
Peter and Stephen both held their breath, looking at each other in mild panic at what sounded like a door closing. Untangling himself from the sheets and Stephen, Peter practically fell off the bed, grabbing his pants as he went to investigate the noise, wincing slightly at the pain in his lower back.
Looking around, there was no evidence of anyone in the house or anyone having been there since Stephen arrived. Shrugging, he headed back up to the room.
"Must've been a car door or something." He said to Stephen who was now propped against the headboard, pants on but still unzipped with a lit joint casually held between his fingers. Taking a toke, he raised a questioning eyebrow at the flushed and utterly debauched blonde standing in the doorway.
"Sooo. Got something ya wanna share?"