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"Touched My Lips"
Title: Touched my Lips (With Your Fingertips)
Warnings: Language, sexuality, sort of... creepery... on Peter's part...
Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees and make no aspersions toward their sexualities.
Summary: Peter's bored. Micky's asleep.
Peter sighed as he turned the stove's knob to 'off.' The pad was entirely too quiet. With Davy on yet another date with... someone, Mike off to find them some gigs, and Micky napping upstairs, the lack of noise was... boring.
"Micky! Dinner!" He shouted up the stairs.
Peter busied himself with dishing up the soup, ladeling the steaming contents into two bowls.
He frowned when he realized that Micky had not come downstairs or even responded. Then he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Micky was notoriously a very sound sleeper, and probably hadn't even heard him.
Peter carefully sat the bowls on the table and walked up the stairs. He paused when he heard a faint noise from inside of Mike and Micky's room, leaning closer.
There it was again! A sort of... Moaning? Whimpering? Was Micky in pain?
Peter's eyes widened and he burst into the room.
He stopped in confusion when he noticed that Micky was lying sedately on the bed, not being attacked by a mountain lion or something horrible.
Peter allowed himself to calm slightly and took a tentative step closer. Micky shifted and made another one of those small whimpery sounds.
Before he knew it, Peter was next to Micky's bed, smiling down at him. For someone who could be so much trouble awake, Micky sure looked innocent when he was sleeping... Innocent, almost.
Peter traced Micky's features with his eyes. He had never really thought about it, but Micky was... pretty. During the day, wth his features contorted in any number of zany expression, it was hard to notice, but now... He took in the high cheekbones, the smooth skin, the tendrils of curly hair that semi-obscured his face and drifted lazily whenever he breathed out. His lower lip was red and pouty, like he had been biting on it. Oh, yes, Micky was pretty.
He leaned down with an expression of almost awe and trailed a finger down Micky's face, across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose.
He had just traced Micky's pouty lower lip when Micky made another strange sound. Peter gasped as his finger was sucked into the warm cavern of Micky's mouth.
Peter had a sudden flash of realization. He now recognized the sounds for what they were and immediately flushed a bright red, but didn't move his finger as Micky began to move his mouth on it.
Micky sucked gently, stroking here and there with his tongue. Peter held back a moan. No doubt Micky's dream contained him sucking on something other than a finger.
"Mmm... S'good..." came a thick mumble from Micky's sleeping form. "Love... taste... Mmm..."
Peter bit his lip. He could feel his hardness pressing against the front of his pants.
He snapped his head up to Micky's face, terrified and ready to bolt, but Micky's eyes were still closed.
'Oh,' Peter thought faintly. 'He's... thinking about me? Thinking about...?'
His conscience tried to scream at him, but he didn't pay attention. His hand moved almost of its own accord as it traveled down to the button of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping until it pulled out his cock, hard and heavy in the palm of his hand.
Peter deliberated for a moment, glancing between his dick and his finger, still slipping wetly in and out of Micky's mouth.
Another moany whimper of his name made his decision for him.
He kneeled carefully on the very edge of the bed and removed his finger. He bit his kip, then pressed the head of his cock to Micky's lips, muffling a groan when it is immediately enveloped by warm wetness.
He leaned forward and gasped when Micky's expression didn't waver, even when his cock was fully sheathed. Micky swallowed and his throat rippled around him.
Peter slowly retracted his hips, then pushed forward again, gently fucking that wonderful mouth. Micky sucked at him greedily, a dreamy expression on his face as he acted out whatever was going on in his head.
Peter's bangs blew back and forth softly as he panted, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth to keep from shouting while his dick was surrounded by warm, sucking moistness. If Micky was this good when he was asleep, then what about when he was awake? Peter bit down against another moan.
Micky's suction suddenly picked up, and Peter looked down at him in confusion, but Micky's eyes were still most definitely closed, so he decided to shrug it off and simply enjoy.
His breaths quickened as he felt his orgasm building. He let out a quiet moan and heard it echoed below him. This spurred him on, hips snapping forward gently into Micky's mouth.
He looked down again, wanting to see Micky's face when he came, and found himself staring into two very open, very awake hazel eyes. He choked in shock, but couldn't stop his climax from rushing out. His shock only deepened when Micky calmly swallowed his release, instead of... punching him in the nads, or something.
He slumped in shock, and Micky pulled him down next to him.
"You know," Micky began conversationally. "I've been wanting to do that for a year. If I had known that naps turned you on, I'd have made sure to room with you instead of Mike."
Peter blushed and stuttered. "I... I don't-"
"Of course," Micky talked over him. "This was a good plan, I guess."
Micky looked at him with amusement. "Peter, I might be a deep sleeper, but when the guy I'm in love with puts his cock in my mouth, rolling over and going back to sleep's not really an option anymore."
"Improvised a bit with the whole moaning your name 'in my sleep'-" Micky air-quoted, "-But it got the job done, if I do say so myself."
"Mmhmm. But really, Peter, not good form to force yourself on those who are asleep. In the future - mmph!"
"I like you a lot better when you're asleep," Peter grumbles, kissing him again.