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"The Questions of a Thousand Dreams - Part 5"
Title: The Questions of a Thousand Dreams (5/5)
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: So, this is the final part, the very end. Hooray! Once again, sorry for taking so long, I will try and get back into the swing of writing again...
Mike had been standing outside the front door for a whole minute, not even making
a move to ring the bell, his heart thumping in his chest.
His grip tightened on the bottle he held in his hand before looking down at it disdainfully. What the fuck was I thinking? Wine!? It's not a goddamn dinner date. When he said alcohol, he was probably thinking beers. Jackass.
Realising he was just working himself up the longer he waited, he rand the bell twice, running a hand through his hair to sooth his nerves.
As he heard some clattering from inside and a muttered curse, he inexplicably began to panic again, suddenly feeling the need to ditch the bottle at all cost. He feverishly looked around for somewhere to hide before spotting some kind of plant to his right. But just as he made the move to stash it there, he saw the door open in his periphery. As if stabbed with a pin from behind, he stood bolt upright, clutching the bottle in front of him like a shield. He almost bit through his lip on the effort to contain any sounds as he made eye contact with the blond now standing before him.
His face was very flushed, hair sticking slightly to his forehead which he wiped agitatedly with the back of his hand. He also seemed out of breath and wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. Oh, or a shirt. A tiny little detail that Mike was finding all too distracting.
"You're early," Peter said, a scowl fixed on his flustered features. But he suddenly noticed the strange behaviour of the Texan, the edginess and forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. The fresh air was helping, at least.
"Sorry. Come on in." He opened the door wide, walking back inside for Mike to follow. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the man's back, forcing his eyes not to trail down to the perfectly formed ass that was encased in the tight cords he wore. But that wasn't much better, seeing the muscles move in his shoulders, the subtle strength there...the way he could support himself when he would get fucked senseless from behind...
Mike closed his eyes tightly, physically trying to shake the mental imagery from his head. Dammit, keep it together. Remember what Stephen said, it won't happen if ya just pounce on the guy... Which made him think of something.
"Hey, where's Stephen at?"
That wasn't a good think to ask as Peter spun round, that scowl back on his face again. "That's what I'd like to know!" He yelled, arms flailing out. Mike hadn't noticed before, but Peter held some kind of cooking utensil in his hand and everything started falling into place. "This whole thing was his idea and about an hour ago he just says he has to go out and will be back tomorrow! Guy gets on my fucking nerves sometimes, I swear."
Soon enough, they were both in the kitchen and there was stuff everywhere. Ingredients, pots, pans, knives...It was quite a picture and explained why the poor guy looked so dishevelled. The ventilation left a lot to be desired and Mike had already ditched his jacket and loosened his tie.
"What was it supposed to be?" Mike asked, nerves forgotten as a smile fought to break past his lips at the disaster area.
"I forget," Peter replied, a hand going back to his head in frustration. Spying the bottle in Mike's hand, he made a grab for it and had it open in seconds, not even questioning why he'd brough it.
He handed a glass to Mike who was poking around in the various pots, trying to figure out what was in store for him. None of it looked too appealing and he didn't do a good job og hiding it. Peter raised an eyebrow at him.
"Think you can do better, Tex?"
Mike mirrored the expression by slightly exaggerated it. "Please. I make the best damn toast in the state," he declared, matter-of-factly.
Peter's sceptical expression was quickly replaced with one of complete disbelief as he stared back as Mike for a brief moment before a genuine laugh escaped him. "Well, I may just take you up on that offer. Toaster's over there and the bread is...somewhere."
Mike raised a hand, silencing him. "A toaster is for amateurs. Behold!" And with that over-enthusiastic statement, Mike got busy finding what he needed while Peter just watched in amusement, his earlier touchiness ebbing away with every ridiculous flurry Mike made with a spatula. Maybe the evening wouldn't be as stressful as he'd anticipated, despite his friend abandoning him when he was needed for backup.
Though he didn't voice it out loud, Peter couldn't deny that it was, in fact, the best toast he had ever tasted. He'd grilled the bread and covered it in various toppings from ingredients he'd found scattered around the kitchen.
Rather than eat at the table as planned, they figured it would be more companionable in the living area so they now found themselves cross-legged on the floor (Peter now with a shirt on), still munching on the slices of bread.
While everything had been nice and light-hearted in the kitchen, it had quickly dried up and they sat in awkward silence.
Mike was continually looking around which was making Peter conscientious and then just began to piss him off, thinking that Mike was judging the way he lived. In reality, he wasn't judging, he just couldn't grasp it. It was very...orange. Everywhere you looked there was orange and then there were the crazy Eastern looking art pieces on the walls which weren't easy to decipher in the candlelit room.
The bed was also something of a distraction. Who seriously has a bed in the living room? Peter, that's who...The whole place was so very Peter. The bed also served to remind him of why he was here in the first place. For the first time since entering the kitchen, his thoughts drifted back to his intentions and he decided it was probably about time he put some of those suggestions into action, before he backed out.
"So. Recording's goin' good, huh?" Wow, way to not sound forced, genius. Peter just stared at him blankly for a moment before deciding that awkward conversation was probably preferable to awkward silence.
"Yeah. Nice to be actually working properly on the music for a change. I think we sound better than we have done before."
"Me too," Michael agreed, "Maybe we can shut those fuckers up that say we can't play."
Peter smiled slightly. Though Mike always said he thought it was preposterous that people even considered them a real band, Peter knew that it upset him more than he let on. This was his chance, their chance to prove their talent and Mike was working all hours to make the most of it. Peter understood where he was coming from but all he really wanted to do was play. He just wanted the sense of being in a working unit, screw everyone else, he didn't care what they said.
Without realising it, his contemplation had caused another uncomfortable silence although now, rather than continually looking around the room, Mike's gaze was fixed solely on him, as if waiting for him to say something profound.
Peter's mind momentarily stalled before he instinctively made a grab for his guitar, "I got a new one I wanna record for the album."
"Oh, yeah? Let's hear it," Mike said, setting his empty plate to one side, turning the last of his attention to the blond. Peter paused again, wondering if the Texan was goading him, waiting for him to embarrass himself but he disregarded this thought quickly as his fingers began to work the instrument.
"Love is understanding,
Don't you know that this is true.
Love is understaning,
It's in everything we do.
In this generation,
In this lovin' time.
In this generation,
We will make the world shine.
We were born to love one another,
This is something we all need.
We were born to love one another,
We must be what we're goin' to be,
And what we have to be is free."
Mike watched intensely as Peter played through the song with his eyes closed, feeling every emotion in the lyric, every thrum of the strings against his fingers vibrating through his body, like he was the song. Mike swallowed hard, the rawness of the impromptu performance turning him on in ways he couldn't, wouldn't even begin to analyse.
It was then that he noticed through his slightly unfocused eyes that Peter was looking
back at him with a slight frown. "What's wrong with it?" He asked, almost as if daring
him to start an argument.
"Nothing," Mike responded, wincing a little at how dry his throat had suddenly gotten, automatically reaching for his wine glass. "I like it, I think it'll sound great on the album."
Peter still looked sceptical but he seemed sincere enough, flushing with pride despite his reservations.
"Kinda nice to actually have opinion of someone important, you know?" Peter said as he continued to idly strum the guitar, "Not that he's not important, obviously, but Stephen's not involved in the same way. It's good to get feedback from a bandmate or...whatever."
Due to his preoccupation with the instrument, Peter missed how Mike momentarily tensed at the mention of the absent musician. He wasn't even sure why, but what he did know was that he was becoming grateful that Stephen wasn't there, putting even more pressure on him to make a move. He had to stay focused.
He shifted a little closer to Peter who looked up at him questioningly, "It got a title?"
"Of course...currently it's 'New Song'," he said with a small laugh.
"Man. That's a terrible name for a song!" Mike replied in distaste but unable to hide the infectious smile.
"Oh really? What would you call it then, oh 'master of ridiculous song title'?" Mike wasn't sure what came over him, he blamed the wine, but he actually found himself sticking his tongue out at the blond before thinking for a moment.
"'For Pete's Sake'." Peter waited to see if he was going to say anything else before coming to the conclusion that that was in fact his offering.
"That's ridiculous," he stated, bluntly, putting on a perfect poker face.
"You say that like you're surprised," Mike matched his expression, managing to maintain for a few moments before they both simultaneously let out a loud laugh. Peter reached for his glass, even though it was now empty.
"It has nothing to do with the song, though," Peter said, feeling like he needed to explain his opinion but Mike just shrugged.
"So what? It does better than that, it will always remind people who wrote it cos it's got your name in the damn title. Come on, admit it, I'm a genius."
Peter scoffed again, shaking his head at the almost cheeky expression he was facing. "If you're such a genius, how come you've never done it?"
There was a pause before Mike managed to come up with a suitable response. "People can already tell my songs from their ridiculous titles." That forced another laugh out of Peter who just nodded in agreement.
"That's true enough," he looked up at Mike before giving a firmer nod. "Alright, 'For Pete's Sake' it is."
Mike failed to stop his eyes from widening, eyebrows ascending below his hair. "Really?"
With a warm chuckle, Peter gave an affirmative, a not-completely-unpleasant flutter
going through him at the somewhat shy smile that was returned.
Before he could let the moment get too weird, Peter pushed himself up into a standing position, prodding Mike's thigh with his foot. "You're helping me clean up." A statement, not a request.
"It's your mess, I was tidy." But nevertheless, Mike found himself getting up to follow Peter into the kitchen.
Peter began to regret his decision to ask for help when Mike started to act very odd. It was like a switch was suddenly flipped from 'pleasant, silly Mike' to 'intense, psycho-killer Mike'. Not so much in anything he was sayig or even doing but the sudden eye contact was making him incredibly self-conscious.
He probably noticed it more because Mike was never great with eye contact, at least not with him...He tended to be more of a head down kinda guy. But now it was like those dark eyes were trying to burn holes into his skull. It was unsettling.
Mike began to pick up on Peter's edginess but wasn't exactly sure what was causing it; the topic, the close proximity, the eye contact...
"Yeah. I'm just trying to work out why you look like you're gonna murder me in my sleep."
Ah. Well, god love Peter for telling it like it is. Mike had the good grace to look embarrassed but didn't offer up much of an excuse, instead just muttering an apology and diverting his gaze. So much for that tactic...
Realising that he had probably upset the Texan, he was keen to change the subject and get their evening back on track. "Lemme grab some beers and we'll head back through. If you like." Peter added, not wanting to keep Mike there if he wanted to make a swift exit.
But Mike nodded his head, making his way back into the main part of the house and settling back on the floor.
They spent the next hour or so talking about the recording sessions, what they were working on, home life, movies, books, travel, religion...pretty much anything that came into their minds! Mike couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much, probably when Peter was still living with him. That thought managed to depress him somewhat and then reminded him that he was going off course.
It was during a momentary lull in the conversation that Mike decided to try tactic number three, which, if he recalled Stephen's advice correctly, was something to do with his accent.
"Well, hell, Pete, I ain't got no idea. Just ain't how I was brought up, y'know?" Mike said, in response to Peter's comments on Tao. Peter felt the conversation suddenly jarring but couldn't put his finger on why...
"Life's for learning. You always struck me as someone who was open to new ideas."
Mike shrugged, "In some things, sure. Music and what have ya, but not in yer everyday life. Uh, I mean, hot damn that would just be askin' for a world o' trouble, huh?" To his own ears, he sounded like a crazy fool. He was concentrating so hard on making himself sound extra Texan that he wasn't actually giving much thought to the words themselves.
This continued for about another 10 minutes, Mike throwing in all kinds of words he'd grown up with, most of which he'd never uttered and emphasising certain letters and sounds. He just hoped it was doing something, he wasn't getting any kind of feedback so far.
But it was foing something, alright. Poor Peter was gripping his beer bottle so hard he was amazed it wasn't craxking under the pressure (like he seemingly was). He really didn't understand it...He should have sounded ridiculous, like some uncivilized hick with the stuff he was suddenly coming out with.
But no. The accent was wrapping around him, so silky and smooth and lulling him into his dangerous world of fantasy. Imagining that voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. And then not so so sweet nothings. Oh yes, that deep, velvety voice could make him crumble easily, breathing unspeakably dirty things to him in the darkness.
"-I mean, it ain't like we were askin' too much, now, was it? I don't know 'bout no-one else, but I weren't about to let 'em fuck me over."
Peter actually choked, his throat closing at the same moment he took a gulp of his beer. He had no idea where the conversation had gone but just hearing 'fuck me' was enough to send him into mild crisis. Realising he was in serious danger of doing something incredibly stupid, he thought about the best way to make him stop with the 'jump me now' voice. Even though sticking his tongue down the Texan's throat seemed a viable method, it probably wouldn't be too well received. So he went another way.
"I think you've had too much to drink."
"Huh?" Mike asked, wondering why he had just been interrupted mid-rant.
"Your accent. It's gotten all thick. Stephen's gets like that when he's had too much to drink too."
Well, it had the desired effect but not for the reasons Peter had suspected. He figured that, as mean as it was, pointing something like that out, Mike would take it as some kind of flaw and would stop it immediately. But the actual cause for his sudden silence was something else entirely.
He couldn't begin to explain why, but every time Peter mentioned the other guitarist, he instinctively bristled. It felt like a slap in the face, being compared to him, in a weird way but Mike tried to brush it off, blaming the alcohol in his system.
Ticking off the items on the so-called 'sure things to get Peter horny' checklist, Mike was running out of ideas and was beginning to lose his patience.
Peter's voice drew Mike out of his thoughts as he asked, "Want another one?" Pointing at the empty bottle in his hand. Mike just nodded, handing him the bottle when he held his hand out expectantly.
While re-evaluating his game plan, he was once again distracted when a pained his made its way to his ears from the kitchen.
Fighting down a bizarre impulse of panic and concern, he stood up and made his way casually into the room to see Peter twisting his arms around, as if trying to dislodge something, wincing every now and again.
"You OK?" Mike asked, making the older man jump slightly.
"Yeah, my shoulders are just playing up. Probably the drumming, uses muscles I'd forgotten I still had," he replied with a small laugh, still moving his arms.
Mike nodded, remembering that Peter had been helping Micky with the drums quite a bit recently in preperation for the upcoming tour. And then an idea struck him. It was like the fates had intervened and provided him with a perfect opportunity to apply tactic number four.
"Ya need to work the knots out," Mike stated, urging Peter to turn around so he was facing the basin.
Peter tried to refrain from struggling as Mike's hands dug into his shoulders, pressing harsh circles into the muscles. It hurt like hell but Peter knew that that was proof he knew what he was doing. After several moments, he could feel the muscles loosen and began to relax a little more into the impromptu massage.
That wasn't to last long however as Mike's hands began to stray.
His fingers eased up on the pressure as they ran over the expanse of his back; up and down the spine, across the shoulder blades, any area he could reach. He felt Peter tense under the touch but persevered.
The more deliverate, tantalising touch managed to send Peter into red alert, already feeling his body respond once again to the Texan's attentions. His grip on the basin intensified, no longer to still the sounds of pain but in an attempt to keep himself in check.
It may have sufficed in keeping him silent but it didn't suppress the full-body tremor that ran through him, evidently felt by Mike who slowed his movements slightly.
"Good?" Mike asked, wondering if he'd finally hit upon something that was working.
Tell him, no. Say you're ok, make it stop! "Yeah, s'good..." Peter muttered, eyes falling closed as Mike continued the random trail of his fingers, adding a little more pressure.
The silence became suffocating and intoxicating, both absorbed in the ministrations but oblivious to the true effects on the other.
While Mike was wondering just how loud Peter would sigh and gasp if his hands strayed from his back to slide across his hip and grasp his dick, getting him (the mere thought of it doing the same to Mike), Peter was similarly imagining how delicious it would feel for Mike's questing fingers to continue their caresses further south, increasing the swelling in his cords.
A sharper gasp escaped the blond before he could choke it down and it suddenly caused Mike to start. What if this is it? Shouldn't I make a move? Isn't this the opening I've been waiting for? Sensing the older man become ever more pliable under his grip, Mike was sure his actions were having the desired effect. If he just pressed forward, closed the distance between then to reveal to Peter the state of his own arousal, he could probably fuck him easily against this basin, right here, right now.
So what was with the sudden pang of anxiety? If this was the moment he had been building up to all night, why was he suddenly feeling like a tightly coiled spring? What the fuck was the deal!?
Without realising it, Mike's hands had stilled to a point where they were just idly making small circles on Peter's back. Unaware of Mike's sudden dilemma, Peter misconstrued the situation as that of apparent enthusiasm for the massage disturbing his guest and quickly sought to rectify the weirdness.
"That- I think that did the trick, Mike, thanks," Peter said, eyes still firmly closed, waiting to see what Mike would do. Ceasing all hand movements entirely, Mike suddenly pulled back, putting some much needed distance between them. Peter concealed the sigh of relief that escaped him but still didn't turn round, realising that he wasn't in much of a presentable state.
Mike too, had turned his back on the blond, hiding his own arousal but his thoughts were more focused on his situation, on why he couldn't cross that final line and what the hell he was doing here if he wasn't going to.
"You wanna...jam, or something?" It always went make to music. When Peter was unhappy, nervous, out of sorts, ill, he always turned to music to clear his head. Now seemed like a really good time to put that to use.
"Didn't bring anything to jam with," Mike responded, absently. He heard movement and turned to see that Peter was no longer in the kitchen. Frowning, he headed towards the living room, nearly colliding with the blond as he appeared from another room clutching two guitars, his electric and an acoustic.
Holding the electric strategically in front of him, Peter held out the acoustic for Mike to take, which he did as Peter sat down cross-legged on the floor.
Mike started fiddling with the strings, tuning it appropriately before he was about to sit down when Peter said, "It'll be perfectly tuned, it's Stephen's. He'd pretty fussy when it...comes to...You OK?"
Mike had frozen in a particularly awkward position, half standing and half kneeling as he glared at the acoustic like it had just insulted his mother. Peter looked between the two, trying to figure out what had just happened.
"He won't mind you borrowing it..." he ventured but, nope, that wasn't the thing to say because the grip tightened and the glare intensified.
Then suddenly, Mike straightened up, expression resolute. "Where's the bathroom?"
Peter faltered at the sudden change in conversation and stumbled to give a response but Mike was already gone before he could even raise his arm to point in the direction, guitar tipped haphazardly against the wall in his swift departure.
Mike bustled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him before beginning to pace the expanse of the room, hands pulling at his hair. He paused in front of the mirror before lashing out at the unsuspecting wall and punching it to make himself feel somewhat better (the wall, thankfully, survived the ordeal).
Gripping the sink tightly, he stared down the plughole, thoughts in overdrive as he analysed the evening thus far.
Borrow. He won't care if I borrow it. It's got fuck all to do with him though, does it? It's not his property, it's there for the taking, so I'm gonna take it.
Mike realised that he probably wasn't thinking so much about the guitar anymore but wasn't in the mood to explore that avenue.
And what is it with comparing me to him all the fucking time?! We ain't nothin' alike! Right, cos he's oh-so-perfect with his perfect guitar and his perfect hippie fucking attitude...Fuck.
He knew he was just dwindling into belligerence, instead letting out a great huff of air to try and calm himself down, running the cold tap to dab his face.
He needed to be more practical about this. Peter had naturally been comparing them because, for all intents and purposes, he was being him for the evening. He was following Stephen's advice and tactics which apparently are all well and good for him but have been failing miserably for Mike.
Which was when Mike came to a decision. It was time to stop trying to seduce Peter like some goddamn chick and do things his way. If he was going to fuck Peter, it was going to be his way, no more pussy-footing around!
Stepping out of the bathroom before he had a chance to back out entirely, he began to make his way back up to the living room. His short journey was impeded by Peter standing just round the corner, looking like a deer caught in headlights at being discovered waiting.
"Wanted to make sure you were OK," he mumbled in response to the unasked question.
There was a short silence before he continued, "I can get you another guitar if you
Focus, was the sole thought that Mike kept repeating in his mind as he set his new plan into action.
Catching Peter off-guard, he closed the gap between them, forcing the shorter man to back into the wall, eyes going wide.
Think the time for playin' has passed," Mike mumbled, instinctively thickening up his accent rather than forcing it and seeing a flicker in Peter's eye but continued to keep his expression neutral.
"Uh, OK. What...what did you have in mind?"
"Hmm...I got a couple ideas," Mike responded with a wicked grin, eyes darkening as he looked the blond up and down. Confidence. It's all about confidence. If I make out that I know he want me...then he'll think he does want me. Mike didn't want to think that it was manipulation but it was still present in his mind.
Peter visibly swallowed under the intense gaze, brain completely unable to process the events that were currently occuring. In any other situation, with any other person, Peter would clearly identify this behaviour as that of a very direct seduction. But this was Mike. Mike with him. So it couldn't possibly be that...So what the hell was happening?
Peter noticed that Mike's attention hadn't faltered minutely, his arm placed next to his head on the wall making it difficult for him to move, although he wasn't sure his legs would co-operate anyway.
"I got some new records we could listen-"
The rest of the sentence was forever lost as Mike took the final leap and pushed his lips against Peter's in a feverish, hungry kiss.
The older man almost choked on the gasp that was forced out of him, before he dared let his eyes close and reciprocated the kiss.
Almost instantly, the excitement and adrenaline took Mike over and he was devouring Peter with all the desire that had been building over countless months, leaving them both positively breathless. Every time they broke apart, Peter went to say something but never managed more than a half-moan as Mike quickly recaptured the swollen lips in more bruising kisses. Whether to quell his own need or to prevent the rejection he half expected to come out of that mouth, Mike wasn't completely sure.
Soon enough, Mike was pressing Peter into the wall, hands running urgently all over his body while Peter was becoming more and more pliant under his touch. Mike wrapped his arms around him, one hand burying itself in the golden strands and the other running up and down his spine, feeling a pleasurable shudder run through him.
But while Mike was focused on getting to the intended destination as quick as possible, Peter inadvertently began to derail those plans.
Feeling Mike's arousal grind against his own, Peter sighed blissfully, one hand sliding up to knit in ebony hair while the other settled loosely on the thin waist. The hand in Mike's hair began to massage the skin there, causing the Texan to falter at the gentle sensation. Taking the opportunity, Peter took the lead in the kisses then, automatically making them longer, more drawn out and...sensual.
A part of Mike's brain registered this fact, realised that it wasn't the frenetic release he had instigated...but the rest of it was unable to process it any further.
Their tongues duelled lazily, finger running idly over exposed skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. Unsatisfied with the lack of flesh available, Peter slowly pulled Mike's shirt from his waistband, running his fingers over the expanse of his chest.
Forced to break the kiss to let out a stuttered sigh, Mike rested his head on Peter's shoulder, eyes closed as Peter's calloused fingers ran over his nipples, stimulating them in the most wonderful ways.
Dimly, he knew this wasn't the plan and things were getting off track but damn if it didn't feel good. He'd let it continue for a little bit before he took charge again.
He began to kiss and nip along Peter's collarbone and jawline, feeling the touch on his own body become more assured in response. Becoming a little bolder himself, he moved his hands down Peter's back to grope the ass he had had on his mind for longer than he cared to admit.
The move positively fanned the flames of Peter's passion. His grip tightened on the Texan as he found his mouth with his own to reignite their erratic kissing, somehow making them even more intense than before.
Mike was so caught up in the heat surrounding them and pooling in his groin that he didn't even noticed Peter undoing the buttons on his shirt until he was on the last one. Leaving the shirt on the bony shoulder, Peter began peppering kisses along the newly revealed chest, his hair brushing against the overly sensitised skin causing a tremor to wrack the tall frame.
Mike slid his hands around Peter's waist, softly running his fingertips over the smooth skin as his head rolled back on his shoulders in resigned pleasure. He languidly continued the thrusting motions, grinding his hips down into Peter's who mindlessly ground back, attention still focused on the bare chest before him.
At a particularly enthusiastic bout of sucking on his nipple, a very undignified splutter escaped Mike, shocking him out of the moment. His head snapped forward and instinctively, he pushed Peter against the wall, not quite making eye contact when the blond frowned at him, questioningly.
Take control...Mike thought to himself. As he saw Peter go to say something, he hastily grabbed the man's wrist and wordlessly dragged him to what he believed to be Peter's bedroom.
It was surprisingly empty but it had a bed and that was all Mike was currently interested in. With surprsing strength, he pushed Peter down onto it, causing the man to bounce a couple of times with the force.
He recovered instantly, grabbing Mike by the belt loops and pulling him over him as he resumed his ministrations to Mike's chest.
Mike groaned low in his throat before trying to shake himself out of his reverie. All fours...he needs-needs to turn over and be on-ohhh Lord have mercy!
Peter's hands had finally caught up with his mouth and he was frantically tugging on Mike's pants, blindly struggling with the button and his flies. Pulling them down a small way, he roughly palmed the Texan through his underwear, ball of his hand rubbing agonisingly against the base of his cock forcing a string of choked curses from him.
Time seemed to stop for a moment as he precariously supported himself with his hands on Peter's shoulders, all his attention on the spasms shooting through him as his cock hardened impossibly further. A thumb swiped over the clothed head causing pre-come to dampen the fabric.
But the heavenly sensations weren't the only think that Mike was suddenly aware of. Despite having his eyes clenched tightly closed, Mike knew, he just knew, that Peter was staring at him like a predator stalks its prey. His heavy breathing was almost deafening to Mike in the silence of the room, even louder and more uncontrolled than his own.
The intense interest that he was being given rapidly began to unsettle him, feeling apprehensive under so much scrutiny, especially as he was the one that was supposed to be making him come undone.
Without a second thought, Mike lowered a hand to Peter's own crotch, groping the hard on there and thrilling in the shameless cry that Peter let out at the contact. Getting to work, Peter stopped screwing around and rid Mike of his pants completely, along with his underwear while eagerly thrusting against Mike's hand which continued to grip and squeeze through his cords.
Soon they were in opposite states of undress; Mike with only his shirt hanging off his shoulders while Peter had lost his shirt at some point but was still agonisingly confined in his pants. Just as Mike was about to take care of this oversight, Peter surprised him by sitting up and claiming another kiss.
This one was slow, exploratory, the urgency once again dissipating around them. It was passionate yet tender, gentle. It was something Mike wasn't willing to dwell on in the moment. Thankfully, this was made easier when Peter pressed his whole body forward, causing his clothed erection to rub against Mike's bare one, effectively forcing all conscious thought from his brain.
He felt Peter's hands flide up his chest and over his shoulders, delicately sliding the shirt completely off his body, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. His fingers moved independently of his brain, running over Peter's chest and stomach, following the treasure trail down to the button which he promptly unfastened.
Peter shifted to allow the garment to be properly loosened, sighing into Mike's open mouth as the cool air finally made contact with his overheated flesh. Their tongues continued to plunder each other, hands wandering aimlessly.
As Mike ran his hands unconsciously up and down Peter's back, he felt a sudden violent tremor run through the blond, a muttered exclamation of 'Mmm, Michael' spoken against his lips. As Peter leant forward again, he felt Mike pull back, hands keeping him in place.
He looked up at the Texan with slightly out-of-focus eyes to see that the man looked somewhat blank, a slight frown adorning his features. He wanted to ask what was wrong but the words caught in his throat, apprehension rapidly creeping up on him as he tried to recall exactly how much they'd had to drink.
But before he could begin to overthink exactly what was happening here, Mike noticeably snapped back to himself, pushing Peter back down onto the bed, a renewed fire in his eyes as he began to deposit sharp nips and licks across Peter's chest, melting away whatever reservations Peter may have suddenly developed.
Mike's grip was hard on his hips, no doubt leaving bruises for later but Peter could only gasp and writhe as his body responded to the sudden onslaught of stimulation, head thrown back against the mattress and hands gripping the sheets tightly.
That's it...let it go. Now I got the upper hand I can just flip him...over. The thought trailed off when Mike found himself face to face with Peter's fully engorged cock, already leaking with need. As he heard Peter's roughened breaths above him, he was suddenly reminded of that day once again. Watching as Peter was pleasured within an inch of his life but his cock remained untouched, and how he had desperately wanted to go in there and...
"Micha-ahhnghhh!" Peter's query quickly transformed into a shattering groan that went straight to Mike's cock, but he was too busy working his tongue around the impressive erection to do anything about it just yet.
Rather than over think what he was doing, Mike decided to let his brain take a backseat and let his judgement take over. His thumbs found their way to the hollows of Peter's hips where they began to make unconscious circles, parallel to the swirls he was making on the pulsing flesh with his tongue. Peter continued to flex his fingers, moans running unchecked from his mouth as Mike did unspeakable things with his own.
"Ah! Shit!" Mike was good but he wasn't experienced and didn't know enough to be able to keep his teeth completely out of the way, making Peter cry out in a twisted hybrid of pain and pleasure. Mike was too caught up in what he was foing, the noises fuelling him further, to give it much notice.
He curled his tongue around the head and then traced the vain on the underside of his cock, groaning when Peter thrust a hand into his hair to guide him further down.
"God, Michael...Yeah, please," Hearing the breathless lust in Peter's voice, Mike dragged him further down the bed, forcing his knees to bend, his legs falling wider open to give better access allowing Mike to take him right down to the root. Peter almost choked on the cry that escaped him, unable to keep his hips from bucking up into the moist heat.
Moving a hand from Peter's hips, he moved down to Peter's balls rolling them between his fingers, recalling what he liked himself and judging by the shudder that shook him, it seemed to work for the blond too.
In no time at all, Peter's moans became more intense and primal, his hips rocking in a violent rhythm against Michael's mouth and his hand gripping painfully tight in the coarse hair. Mike could tell he was getting close but he was finding it more and more difficult to ifnore his own agonising arousal with all the needy, delectable noises that Peter was making.
In fact, it only took a couple more seconds, a particularly slow, deliberate pull of his mouth on Peter's member and an aclamation of pure want to tip Mike into high gear. He needed to be inside Peter, and he needed to be inside him now.
Abruptly taking his mouth off the weeping flesh, Mike resituated himself fully over the blond. Peter was about to protest heavily at the sudden neglect but Mike closed the distance, delivering a flurry of intense kisses that Peter was more than happy to indulge in in the meantime.
Mike's impatience swiftly became obvious as Peter found himself being pressed insistently up the bed as rough hands spread his legs. It became apparent to him that Mike had no intention of slowing down and, as keen as Peter was to get things moving already, he was not about to do it dry.
Managing to wriggle out from under the taller man, his hand scrabbled for purchase on the bedside cabinet. He caught Mike's look of confusion which couldn't quite mask the hint of uncertainty there. To quell the growing anxiety, Peter quickly planted a kiss on Mike's slightly open mouth, keeping a hand on his chest to prevent him from moving while he rummaged around in the draw beside him.
Making a small triumphant noise against busy lips, Peter pulled out a tube of lube which he promptly uncapped, squeezing a substantial amount of the substance into his palm. Wasting no time, he began to apply the cool liquid to the overly heated member between them.
Mike gave a sharp grunt as he automatically began thrusting into Peter's fist, threatening to unbalance them both with the force. Mike's grip on Peter's upper arms was bruising, sweat beginning to drip down his forehead causing his bangs to stick.
Peter tried to concentrate on what he was doing but he couldn't take his eyes off Mike's face. His expression bore a look more akin to pain than pleasure, were it not for the unmistakable groans and grunts, Peter would have been convinced he was hurting him.
By the time Peter moved his hand around the base of Mike's cock, the Texan was rutting against him erratically, getting most of the lube he'd already applied all over his stomach. It was obvious that his time was up, this was it. He knew it was going to hurt like hell initially without any kind of preparation to himself but he wasn't sure he was in much of a fit state to hold off any longer either and he didn't want to give Mike the chance to snap out of whatever trance he was in and flee the scene.
Throwing the lube to the floor, Peter resituated himself under the taller man once again, knees either side of Mike's waist and cock resting on his stomach. Mike stared at him for a moment, breath coming in hard pants. A brief look flashed across his face that made Peter pause; something like a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished and Mike was all business once again.
Grabbing Peter's legs behind the knee, he repositioned him for smoothest access. Once lined up, he began to sink in slowly.
Neither were quite prepared for the onslaught of sensations they felt and made it very verbally known.
Mike, instantly completely incoherent at the incredibly tight heat that was enveloping him, just let loose a string of guttural noises as he tried to balance himself on the bed. Peter, meanwhile, cursed loud enough for probably the whole neighbourhood to hear. The intrusion felt immense, his instincts being to push Mike away before it got any worse but he kept reassuring himself that it would be worth it, just hold out...
"OK?" Peter wasn't even sure it was Mike who'd spoken, it certainly didn't sound like him but there was no-one else there. It had sounded like far too much effort for such a simple word and, managing to look up, he could see why. Mike was practically shaking with effort it was taking to move slowly, eyes closed and features pulled tight; speech was obviously being forgeited for the moment.
"I will be in a second..." Peter responded, noticing the strain in his own voice.
Mike wasn't sure he liked that response. Sure, it was intended to be a rough fuck but he hadn't planned on hurting him. He'd not been witness to the beginning of the proceedings before so didn't know if this was normal. Dammit, why'd I ask all this shit about turn-ons and crap but didn't ask about the actual fucking? Now that he thought about it, the anatomy was completely fucked. How could this not hurt? Could this cause real internal damage? Should he have used more lube? He was beginning to feel sick.
"Yeah, you kinda need to keep going." Peter's voice startled him out of his paranoia, picking up the attempt at light-heartedness to try and ease his, apparently obvious, reluctance.
He continued to sink in, trying to block out the occasional sharp gasp or curse that left the man in front of him. This became easier as he went as the tightness was swiftly becoming too much to ignore.
Once he found himself fully sheathed, they both let out a shaky huff of air and remained still for a few seconds while they collected themselves.
"You can start moving any time now," Peter said, teasingly. Mike risked opening his eyes to look at the dishevelled man below him, seeing a devious smile plastered across his face, all traces of pain and discomfort absent.
Mike tried to think of a snarky come back but found himself currently lacking the brain capacity. This was not helped when Peter started wriggling on his dick, stretching out like a cat.
Mike unconsciously licked his lips before grabbing hold of his hips to start a slow, pumping rhythm. peter perched himself up on his elbows, watching as Mike concentrated on the pace of his thrusts, swear now dripping freely down his face with the tension.
Pretty soon, the image was too much and Peter dropped himself back down on the mattress staring at the ceiling as he focused on the feel of Mike sliding in and out of him, rocking him slowly into the bed.
"Shit...feel good..." Mike managed to utter at one point, encouraging Peter to move harder against him and stepping their pace up a notch.
Mike kept his gaze downwards, watching where their bodies now met; his hard cock fliding in and out of Peter...it was strangely mesmerizing. His ears pricked up as he recognised the somewhat subdued sounds coming from the blond. The moand were still constant but not as breathless...he was getting bored.
Never one for complacency, Mike decided it was time to really go for it. He shifted his weight a little, barely noticeable to Peter, but the sudden change in rhythm did not escape his attention.
Rather than the unhurried back and forth that he had quickly become accustomed to, Mike was suddenly mixing short, hard thrusts with long, deliberate ones while occasionally rolling his hips in ways that had Peter arching off the bed.
"Ooooh, god Michael..." Peter's hands clenched the sheets in a death grip, tendons in his neck visibly straining as his body was rocked tirelessly. Suddenly feeling a need to keep his mouth occupied, Mike leant over as best he could to trail numerous kisses all over Peter's chest.
He felt the legs tighten around him and, as if reading Peter's thoughts, knew it would be safe to move his hands away from his hips, instead sliding them under his body to wrap around his shoulders giving him more leverage.
His mouth remainder busy, feeling the rapid beating of a heart beneath his tongue before taking a nipple between his teeth and teasing it endlessly, revelling in the string of cries that escaped above him.
As he found a hand once again thrust into his hair and down his neck, he gave a particularly
forceful thrust before freezing.
Peter had ceased all movement and his earnest moans and been cut dead by what had seemed like a silent yell. Mike cautiously looked up to see Peter wide-eyed, blinking at the ceiling, hands still gripping the sheets like his very life depended on it.
Shit. I broke him.
"Still with me?" Mike asked, trying to sound as casual as he could. He watched as he saw Peter's Adam's apple bob and his eyes shift from the ceiling to his own, all without moving an inch.
"I...yeah. Just-just keep doing what you just did." Peter muttered.
"You sure?" Mike clearly wasn't still feeling like he was doing something wrong. This time Peter managed a nod of his head.
"Yeah, really. Keep moving..."
Mike did as instructed though it took him a moment to get his head back in the game and regain the rhythm he was previously using. He could tell he was getting there when Peter's urgent moans returned and his confidence began to pick up.
Once again, he felt him tense but the silent cry was not so silent this time and Mike identified it for what it truly was. The elusive button. With this newfound power, he began pounding into him mercilessly, making sure to hit that same spot that seemed to drive the voice clear out of Peter and turned him into a quivering mess.
Peter hadn't been screwed by many guys, this was true, but he was finding it hard to comprehend how this could be so much different to any other experience. But he couldn't remember ever having such a violent reaction before, where the pleasure was so overwhelming that it verged on a delicious pain.
He managed to get his hazy eyes to focus on the Texan above him, concentrating a little too intensely on what he was doing, watching as their hips crashed together almost viciously. He decided it was about time Michael Nesmith stopped working so hard and just enjoyed himself.
With strength he wasn't even sure how he possessed at the moment, Peter pushed himself up into a sitting position and then crawled further into Mike's lap, forcing him to kneel on the bed as they now sat facing each other.
A frown set in Mike's features, still looking down as if trying to comprehend what had just happened but his eyes quickly slipped closed as Peter began to move up and down, taking control of the pace and rhythm himself while holding on to Mike's shoulders.
It was slower now and yet somehow far more deliriously arousing to Mike as Peter rode him, clinging to him for all he was worth. He continued to look down but found any view obstructed as their torsos were pressed so close together.
He wanted to look up, he wanted to watch Peter come undone under his touch but found himself to be more than a little hesitant. Vividly, he could recall the intense pleasure across his face as he was ridden to completion, the cries that fell past his lips so effortlessly. He desperately wanted to see that now but was afraid it wouldn't be there, that he wouldn't be enough to bring that out in him. Maybe the memory would have to be enough...
Peter's forehead suddenly connected with is own, harsh breaths ghosting over his lips, their hair sticking together. Maybe he was a masochist but Mike realised that he had to look, no matter what he saw.
The sight quite literally took his breath away. peter gazed back at him, eyes so blown there was barely any brown left to be seen. His own breathing noticeably hitched when he realised Mike was watching him but he didn't even blink, maintaining the eye contact for all he was worth.
Mike's brain shut down for good as he studied Peter's face, saw the overwhelming desire there and began working on autopilot. His hands slid to Peter's hips, running his hands and fingers over the damp skin of his ass, thrilling in the slight twitches it caused.
A small smile found its way to Peter's lips but it wasn't the devious one from before, nor was it his usual beam that made Mike go weak at the knees. This was something else entirely; if he didn't know any better, he would have described it as shy and unsure, almost.
Without giving it a second though, Mike closed the already minimal gap between them, capturing Peter's lips in a slow, thorough lip-lock. The blond responded eagerly, his undulating slowing to match it as they both revelled in the connection between them.
An unconscious shift of hips caused Peter to gasp into the kiss, hands flying out to Mike's shoulders to steady himself as he attempted to shake the invisible stars from behind his eyes. Realising he had located that spot again in the new position, Mike thrust upwards, watching wide-eyed as Peter positively melted before him, incoherent encouragement spilling from his lips.
Peter lunged forwards for another pleading kiss. Mike, no longer willing to take his eyes off him, watched under half-lidded eyes as his mouth was enthusiastically plundered.
It was obvious that they were on the home stretch; Mike's balls felt three sizes too small as the familiar heat was rising in his stomach while Peter was making the most delectable keening noises as his rhythm became much more erratic and uncontrolled.
"Not yet...just a little longer babe...please." It was taking all of Mike's strength to keep his orgasm at bay, determined to push Peter to climax first but not until he was ready.
"I-don't think I-can. Feels too goo-ngh!" Peter gasped between laboured breaths, fingers curling into Mike's shoulders. As Mike began to run his hands restlessly up and down Peter's back, a sharp tremor shot through him making him shiver despite the intense heat between them.
He let out a huff of air that was a combination of arousal and pure frustration. He knew what game Mike was playing but he was no novice...Mike needed to know what it felt like to truly lose control for once in his life.
With all the energy he had left to draw up, Peter clenched his muscles hard around Mike's cock.
The reaction was instantaneous. Mike's eyes flew open, turning from incredulity to total bliss in a millisecond. "Son of a--fuck!" was about all he could manage before he fell into an abyss of violent spasms and incoherent gobbledegook.
Peter wasn't prepared for such a strong reaction and his breath caught in his throat as he found himself pulled into a bone-crushing embrace as Mike rode out his orgasm, breath tickling his ear. The feel of his agonisingly hard cock trapped between their bodies, rubbing feverishly against Mike's jerking body was more than enough to trigger his own climax.
"Ohhh, god, Michael!" Oh, and if that wasn't the most gorgeous sound Mike had ever heard. It sounded so perfect, so natural falling from thos kiss-swollen lips. Mike managed to hold off the sudden post-orgasmic haze that was threatening to overtake him to truly bask in the vision before him.
Peter's face had contorted, forehead furrowed in concentration as his hips shook wildly. His hair fell limply around his face, brushing tantalisingly against the Texan's collarbone with every rock forward. Fingernails dragged angry lines down his back, breaking the skin but Mike didn't even notice, so absorbed was he in committing everything to memory that someone could have branded him with a hot poker and he wouldn't have noticed.
After what seemed like an eternity, they bothe managed to get their breathing under control, still clinging to each other like life-lines. Mike looked the very definition of the word debauched, hair sticking up in every direction, whereas Peter had never looked so content. His eyes were still a little glassy but the colour had returned and they were looking intently at Mike. Without saying anything or giving any inclination of his motives, Peter pressed forward, laying a soft, tender kiss on Mike's lips.
Mike's eyes slipped closed and he kissed back, just as gently, fingers stroking up and down the expanse of Peter's back. Peter tilted his head just so to deepen the kiss but didn't make it any more forceful or urgent, his hands caressing Mike's neck and shoulders.
The embrace was comfortable, soothing...loving.
Mike was quickly recovering from the post-coital mist causing his brain to reboot and wake up. It did not like what it was faced with. He pulled away from Peter, trying not to be totally tactless, and lifted him as best he could to slide out, wincing a little at the hiss that escaped Peter as he did so.
He manoeuvred himself so that he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, pulling a sheet to cover himself as best he could. Peter watched this with some trepidation before mirroring his position, the silence heavy around them for what could only have been a few minutes but felt like a lifetime.
"Well..." Peter started, figuring someone had better say something, no matter how awkward, "...That was fun, huh?" He gave a chuckle that was high in anxiety, the question not merely an attempt at conversation but a real quest for some insight, some feedback. He turned to look at Mike who was still staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, trying to gauge a reaction and getting absolutely nothing back.
"Mm," Mike managed after a whole minute. Fun... Yeah, fun wasn't exactly the word he'd have used to describe it. Intense, mind-blowing, sensual, life-altering, amazing, perfect... Yeah, those all seemed much more appropriate words. He was screwed.
"I'm gonna...clean up," Mike said suddenly, rolling off the bed, picking up his clothes on the way out of the room. Peter opened his mouth to say something but didn't actually know what, so shut it again and just watched him leave.
As he listened to the running water next door, Peter sat up, back pressed against the headboard trying to work out some of the stiffness in his muscles. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair as he began to contemplate what the hell had just transpired.
How did it even start? Did I start it? You know what, I don't think I did. But why would he start is? What does this even mean, was it just for kicks? Was he just trying something new for the hell of it? Was it the alcohol? Are things gonna be weird now? How can things not be weird now? Is he even gonna be able to face me after this?
Peter got his answer when he heard the front door slam about 10 minutes later.
By some miracle, the next day saw them in separate studios as Mike put the finishing touches to one of his tracks and Peter was working on some stuff with Micky. He was continually distracted and apparently didn’t do a good job of hiding it, people constantly asking if he was OK.
He hadn’t slept all night (or what had been left of it), mind unable to shut down no matter how much he willed it to. It didn’t help that so much of it had already become a blur that he couldn’t really make sense of everything that had happened. He needed to talk about it someone but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing you can share with just anyone.
He heard a small cough to his right, realising he had, once again, become vacant. He looked up to see Micky looking at him with some concern.
“I’m fine, Mick.” Peter said, firmly. Seeing the way Micky’s frown deepened, he tried to soften his voice, “Really. Just got some stuff on my mind. Nothing some recording won’t cure.”
He was scrutinised a few moments longer before Micky nodded, not saying another word but expression plainly saying ‘if you need to talk…’
The music did help to distract him, at least, but not indefinitely. He knew he was going to have to face Mike sooner or later and he needed to figure out how that conversation was going to go to prepare himself for the worst.
When he returned home, he quickly realised he was not alone and was never so grateful to see anyone in his entire life.
“Thanks Christ, I need to talk to you! You will never guess what happened last night, seeing as how you failed to grace us with your presence.” Stephen stared wide-eyed at his friend, startled by the sudden barrage of conversation.
“It all went pretty much as I’d expected it would, better actually and then things exploded!” Peter was pacing back and forth, hands flying all over the place as Stephen watched with a barely concealed expression of amusement.
“I don’t even know how it happened, I keep seriously wondering if it even did happen but-“ Peter turned to look at Stephen, catching the amused smile before he could hide it, “You know.”
Stephen laughed as he shrugged, “Know what?”
“I…How can you…? Tell me you didn’t have something to do with this.” Either Stephen didn’t pick up on the tone of distress the last question emitted or he just chose to ignore it.
“You still haven’t told me what this is.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Stephen, I swear to God…”
“Alright, alright,” now he was picking up on some building hysteria but tried to dismiss it, “I don’t know what happened but I have a good idea. Spill.”
Stephen sat on the sofa, watching Peter as he resumed his pacing. “We had sex,” Peter said, bluntly.
Peter stopped to look at Stephen with total indignation, “And what? We had sex, it was amazing and then he left.”
There was a beat as Stephen processed this vague information, smile turning into a frown. “He left?”
“Yes, as in ‘no longer here’,” Peter responded, getting more and more irate as the conversation went on.
“But…Well, what did he say? You know, afterwards?”
“Yes, ‘Mm’. I asked him if he enjoyed it and he said ‘Mm’.” His hand was back in his hair pulling at it restlessly as Stephen stood up.
“Dammit, never have I met anyone as stubborn and pig-headed in my life as that friend of yours…”
Stephen started when Peter suddenly closed the distance between them, eyes blazing and finger pointed accusingly at him.
“What did you do?”
“I already said I had an idea-“
Peter shook his head violently, “No, you knew before. That’s why you went out and left just the two of us. What. Did you. DO!?”
Stephen had never seen Peter truly angry before and it was quite the terrifying sight, it didn’t suit him at all and Stephen was quick to try and placate him.
“Nothing!” When he saw Peter about to continue his tirade, he held up his hands defensively, “OK! Wait. Yes, I left you two alone because I knew something was going to go down between you two but it wasn’t my idea! He was the one that brought it up.”
Peter paused, looking at Stephen critically but he noted, thankfully, that the fire in his eyes dimmed considerably.
“In the studio, when you had gone to get the coffees. He just randomly brought up the deal between you and me.”
Stephen sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to be well received, “You remember the last time we hooked up, we heard a car door slam or somethin’?”
Peter nodded, then his eyes bugged, anger now completely replaced by horror, “No. Shit, he heard us?”
“I think he did a little more than that…”
“He said that?”
“No. Just the impression I got.”
“So, what? He wanted to know how to get me on my back and you just told him!?” And the anger was back again.
“No! I mean, he made out like he that was what he wanted but I swear to God there was more to it than that. It was a proper grilling…”
“Well, he’s never fucked a guy before, understandable he’d need some tips,” Peter snapped. He was completely aware that he was more angry at himself for being such an easy mark and letting his own feelings get the better of him but he had to take it out on somebody. He’d apologise later.
“But that’s not what it was! It wasn’t anything anatomical it was all like ‘What does he like?’, ‘What doesn’t he like?’, ‘What turns him on?’. Shit like that. You don’t ask that kinda stuff for a casual fuck, Peter."
“…But, what about-“
“And,” Stephen interrupted, feeling a need to get all his points out while he thought of them, “That was months ago! This has been on his mind a lot, if it was just a quick fuck he was after, I’m pretty sure he would have gone for it before now.”
“Listen,” Stephen said, grabbing Peter’s wrists to make sure he was properly listening to him, “Bottom line, as simple as I can make it…I think he likes you.”
He let go of Peter and watched as the older man turned the words over in his mind and just finding more questions.
“Then why did he just up and leave?”
“Because he’s a jackass. I may have seen through his feeble charade of ‘oh, I just want to fuck him and then move on’ but I guess he hadn’t realised it was a charade until after the fact. I wouldn’t have encouraged it had I thought he was gonna split on ya. Guess I underestimated his obstinacy.”
Peter flopped down on the sofa, head in his hands.
“What a fucking mess…Think it can be fixed?”
Stephen dropped down next to him with a sigh, “You need to talk it out with him. He’d be an idiot if he let it interfere with the Monkees scene. He’s a lot of things but he ain’t an idiot…Do you regret it?”
Peter looked up at Stephen who was looking the very picture of remorse, seeing the result of what he thought had been such a brilliant plan. Peter gave a small smile, “It may make me an idiot but no. I don’t regret it.”
A few minutes later, their contemplative silence was interrupted by a knock on the door. Leaving Peter on the sofa, Stephen went up to answer it.
His eyes widened at the visitor stood before him.
“Mr Nesmith,” he said, louder than was necessary to alert Peter to his presence. “What a surprise…” Peter suddenly appeared in his peripheral, hiding in the doorway, eyes like saucers.
“…Peter here?” The Texan muttered, eyes downcast.
“Uhh…” he noted Peter violently shaking his head from the corner of his eye and inwardly sighed, “’Fraid not, haven’t seen him since the other day. Want me to pass somethin’ on?”
“…No, it was actually you I wanted to talk to.”
Both Peter and Stephen raised an eyebrow at this turn of events. Stephen stepped aside to let the older man in, catching Peter ducking behind the door to remain out of sight.
“So. You go through with it, then?” He asked, knowing full well what the answer should be but curious to know Mike’s interpretation of events.
Mike tensed, hands firmly stuck in his pockets but he did look up when he answered, “Yeah.”
Another pause and then the Mike’s shoulders slumped, tension draining from him to be replaced by an hysteria similar to what he had just experienced with Peter.
“And…it was terrible!”
From behind the door, Peter’s face fell and his heart sank, maybe he shouldn’t listen…
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“I didn’t say that-“
“So you did enjoy it?”
“Would you just shut the hell up a minute?!”
Stephen buttoned his lip, watching as Mike began pacing, hands now out of his pockets to allow for wild gesturing. Once he was sure the younger man had completely finished, he stopped in front of him.
“It wasn’t…it went wrong.”
Just as he went to ask ‘wrong how?’ Mike shot him a look that killed it in his throat, nodding for him to continue.
“I did all the things you suggested, as much of a damned fool it made me feel. None of that shit got me anywhere so I went my own direction and everythin’ was pretty much workin’ out how I’d figured it would. But then something…happened.”
When it seemed like he wouldn’t continue, Stephen interjected. “Happened?” The fact that he wasn’t admonished for the interruption proved how absorbed Mike was in the re-telling.
“I had it all planned out…” Now Stephen wasn’t even sure he was talking to him, his voice having dropped down to more of a whisper. Peter strained to hear what was being said behind the wall despite his better judgement.
“All fours, take him from behind, make him come first, mission accomplished. Forget about, move on.” He counted it off on his fingers like a laundry list, giving a delirious laugh that had little humour in it.
He ran a hand nervously through his hair before looking up at Stephen once again, suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. He had to wonder why he had come here. Why was he talking about this with some guy he barely even knew when he could barely bring himself to talk about it to a mirror? Nevertheless, he was all he had and he needed to get his thoughts out into the open.
“I set out to fuck him. And I wound up…making love to him.” He said it in such a way that you’d think ‘making love’ was the vulgar term here. Stephen had to bite back a small smile as he observed the truly distressed expression of the man in front of him. He truthfully look like a man driven to the brink of sanity with Stephen being his last tie.
“And that bothers you?”
“Course it fucking bothers me!” Mike suddenly exclaimed, even managing to catch himself off-guard but Stephen didn’t back down, he was suddenly seeing a light at the end of this tunnel and by God he was going to get them there just as he had originally intended.
“Because--!” Mike paused. Of all the things he’d thought about from the previous night, he had failed to comprehend just why exactly he was having such a hard time with it, save for the obvious. He’d originally thought it was because it was wrong and sick, a man, no, a married man making love to his male friend. But when asked outright, he realised with such clarity that that wasn’t the case.
The realisation visibly showed on his face as he spoke, “Because I want to do it again.”
From behind the door, Peter’s eyes had gotten impossibly wider, heart practically beating out of his chest.
“So, what’s stopping you?” Mike gave him an disbelieving glance but Stephen just shrugged, “Sure, you may not be in the best of situations but you just gonna forget about it all? This has clearly been on your mind for more than a couple of days.”
Mike shot him a look that was meant to say ‘mind your own business’ but wound up being little more than ‘don’t go there’.
“You got feelings for him?” Mike frowned, not out of annoyance but more out of concentration as he really gave the question some thought. Was that what this had been? Hadn’t there been something there before all this? The lust hadn’t just sprung from nowhere, it had been born from something else, a different kind of intimacy that Mike had almost forgotten about in his overwhelming need to fuck him. But that had all come back yesterday; the familiar chat, the carefree jamming, the joking around… Yeah, this hadn’t all been about a casual fuck.
The sudden voice managed to scare the crap out of both Texan’s, especially Mike who hadn’t even been aware of the other man’s presence. As he spun round, his gut positively churned as he made eye contact with two very panicked caramel orbs. His instinct was to flee, he was only a few feet from the door, but his legs seemed rooted to the spot.
“Peter, what the hell-?”
Stephen started to say something but was cut off by Peter who didn’t even seem to hear Mike’s unfinished question.
“Don’t say something you don’t mean or will regret, Michael. Please.”
“Pete, why don’t you just listen-“ Stephen tried to cut in but there was no stopping him.
“I don’t want you to confuse him-“ He said to Stephen but still looking at Mike, eyes positively wild. He could live with what had happened and the lack of follow-through but he wasn’t sure he could cope with Mike saying things just because they were being planted in his head by a well-meaning but scheming friend.
“Peter-“ This time Mike tried to intercede but, predictably failed.
“-And make him think-"
“-That there was anything more to it than-“
“Peter!” Mike yelled, grabbing the older man by his upper arms and giving him one hard shake.
“Nobody confuses Michael Nesmith…Except maybe Michael Nesmith.”
Peter cocked his head to the side with a questioning expression. Mike loosened his grip but didn’t let go. He sighed before he spoke, watching Peter with an almost apologetic expression. “You are a pain in the ass, Peter.”
Not what he had expected to come out of his mouth but he refrained from saying anything, sensing Mike wasn’t finished. “So’s he,” He added, jerking his head in Stephen’s direction.
“I agree with that,” Peter replied, a genuine smile creeping across his lips. Another sigh from Mike.
Peter’s faced registered surprise and Mike smiled at that, “For just leaving yesterday, for being a total dick to you the last few months, for kicking you out of the house, for not realising or comprehending that I might actually be falling for my friend…”
Peter’s smile spread into one of the knee-weakening kind and Mike swallowed hard. “I’m still not…I mean…I’ve been in a pretty fucked up place recently. I managed to bury everything and turn it into some kind of deranged lust that I thought would dissipate after the event. Turns out it had the reverse effect. Now I just want you more.”
That was enough talking for Peter, he didn’t care about the psychology anymore. Mike was a blind fool who had trouble with his feelings, nothing new there. Instead, Peter buried both hands in Mike’s hair and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss, full of promise and intent.
He stroked his hands over the expanse of Mike’s neck, making him shiver in delight. Dammit, he really does memorise your buttons… He thought, absently.
“And I thought I was supposed to be the dummy, Michael,” Peter said chidingly but with a smile. Mike returned it with a sheepish one of his own but as Peter leant in for another kiss, he found himself restrained by a hand on his chest. He looked up to see Mike frowning as if deep in thought.
“Michael…” Mike said, absently. Peter looked to Stephen with worry but the younger man just shrugged, just as bewildered as his friend.
“Yes…That’s your name.” Peter said, wondering if Mike had just suffered a mental breakdown. But then the Texan turned to face Stephen, frown still on his face.
“But it’s not your name.”
This time Stephen threw a look to Peter, looking for some kind of support. “Um. No, my name is Stephen.”
Mike turned back to Peter who was beginning to look very concerned, “But you said ‘Michael’.”
Suddenly, the light bulb clicked on above Stephen’s head and he realised where Mike was coming from.
“When we were-uh…you kinda…remember?”
Peter’s expression remained blank for a moment before everything fell into place. “Oh! Oh,” The blush crept across his face completely unbidden, “Yeah, that was…”
“…probably the only time in history yelling out the wrong name in bed was a good thing.” Stephen finished, helpfully.
Peter and Mike chuckled at that, realising that that was pretty much the turning point in this whole scenario. Took long enough to get to the destination but here they were, looking at each other with shamelessly dopey expressions.
“You know,” Mike said after several seconds, “I have been informed by a meddlesome party that fucking you and getting fucked by you are two entirely different experiences…”
“Oh, really? You heard that did you?” Peter asked, casting a none too subtle glance to Stephen who just smirked.
“Mm-hm. Neither to be missed if I understand correctly…” Peter’s head suddenly snapped back to Mike, eyes flashing at the suggestion disguised within statement.
Something else flashed in Mike’s eyes which Peter identified as panic. He could tell that the sudden courage Mike had just displayed had instantly petered out and he was beginning to doubt himself again, wondering if things were moving too fast and that there was too much pressure.
Peter planted a quick, chaste kiss on Mike’s lips. “Keep that in mind, I’m not going anywhere.”
Mike smiled back, grateful that he didn’t have to spell things out, that Peter understood him enough to draw his own conclusions. He knew there was so much more that needed to be discussed, so many more issues but right now he just wanted to revel in this newfound calm.
“Now that you mention it, me too. Got somewhere in mind?”
“I do, actually. The kitchen. I believe your friend here owes us a slap up meal.”
They both turned to look at Stephen expectantly, Peter barely able to conceal the smirk on his face. Stephen rolled his eyes theatrically.
“Haven’t I done enough for you guys, already?” But nevertheless he made his way to the kitchen, listening as the two Monkees suddenly slipped into a heated conversation about the goings on in the studio that day. He smiled to himself as he heard Mike laugh at Peter recounting a tale involving Micky’s attempts at trying to pick up a couple of girls.
Oh Stephen, you’re just too good… He thought to himself as he began rummaging through the cupboards for ingredients.