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DISCLAIMER: This site is in no way affiliated with the Monkees or personal relations thereof. All fan fiction and fan art is intended for entertainment purposes only and no defamation of character is intended whatsoever. To break it down one more time: It's all just for fun, folks.

"Whiskey on the Rocks, With a Twist"

Title: Whiskey on the Rocks, With a Twist

Pairing: Mike/Peter

Rating: NC-17 (sex, drugs, & alcohol, rock & roll baby!)

Disclaimer: Based on tv characters sharing the names of the actors. I don't own any rights to their image and make no real statements regarding their actual sexual orientations.

Author: Little Red Rider

Mike strolled into the pad, whistling a jaunty tune and carrying some brown  bags. He set the bags down on the kitchen table.

“Micky, Peter, Davy, where is everybody?” A moment later Peter popped out of his bedroom.

“Hey Mike, you're home from the restaurant early.”

“Well I've got good news. Not only did I get paid today, I caught a guy tryin to steal this rich lady's purse so she and the boss both tipped me.” Peter clapped his hands together.

“My stars Mike, that is good news. So what's in the bag?” Mike proceeded to remove from the bag one bottle of bourbon whiskey,  a bag of ice, leftovers from the restaurant, a few groceries, and a small black velvet bag.

“I figured that since I made rent and then some it might be nice to splurge and celebrate a little. Where's Davy and Mick?”

“Oh, they went to that party over on Mellwood, you know, the Drake twin's pad? I, uh, wasn't up to it.” Mike raised a questioning eyebrow but ignored the comment. He handed the whiskey to Peter.

“Well then, I guess it's just you and me buddy.” Peter traced a finger around the cap of the bottle & discovered the seal was already broken.

“I dunno Mike, I don't really drink hard stuff.” Mike took a sliding step closer to Peter and put his arm to his forehead.

“C'mon buddy, don't let me drink alone, that's just depressin! Besides, I got something else you might like.”  Mike dropped the black bag into Peter's hands. Peter could smell the booze on Mike and some other familiar smell. Inside the bag were four perfectly rolled blunts, one of which had been partially smoked. Peter grinned.

“You've convinced me, but are we just going to lay around and get smashed or what?” Peter handed the bottle back to Mike & watched as he poured two drinks, one straight & the second on ice, which he handed to Peter.

“Well I figured we got some dinner here, maybe later we can head out to the beach, or have a jam session, whatevers clever.” Mike took a

swig of his drink and gestured for Peter to do the same.

“What is whiskey like?”

“Well, if you drink to much I'd say 80% of the time it gets you fightin' drunk.”

“And the other 20%?”  Mike leaned in closer., grinning from ear to ear.

“The other 20%, well, I guess it just get you fuckin' drunk. Cheers!”

Mike took another swig and slapped his knee. Peter attempted to take a similar chug & gagged. “Whoa buddy, you and I have the whole night ahead of us.”


A few hours, 2 blunts, and ¾ of a bottle later, their jam session on the beach was cut short by a sudden rain storm putting out their bonfire and causing Mike to bolt back to the house, clutching his Black Beauty Gibson to his bare chest. Peter stumbled in a few minutes later with his bass, slipping in the puddles left behind by a rain soaked Mike and crashing into his band mate, causing them both to collapse to the floor, gasping for air while laughing. Eventually the 2 caught their breath and Mike grabbed them both a towel.

“Tell me the truth Pete, why didn't you go to the parteee?” Mike's speech had become slurred and his southern drawl had become more pronounced the usual. He made a half hearted attempt to clean up the rain puddles with his damp towel before giving up and sprawling out on the rug in front of the couch. Peter sat next to him.

“I just wasn't into today.”

“Bullshit, you love parties an' you been harpin' forever about that new organ the Drake boys got from their gramma.” Peter chewed on his lower lip for a moment.

“You're right. I did want to go but Mick and Davy were going with their new chicks and they told me I'd just be a fifth wheel.” Mike's eyes narrowed.

“That's just stupid. I mean, isn't the point of a party to meet chicks? I should go over their right now an' kick their asses.” Mike attempted to pull himself, and fell back down with a sigh. “I'll get'em when they come home.”

“Don't worry about it Michael. I'm not so worried about meeting chicks anyway.”

“Well even so, you need to be more straight forward an'  aggressive about what you want or they an' everybody else on this planet will take advantage a sweet natured guy like you.” Mike rested his head on the couch and closed his eyes. “ you need to be more straight forward an'  aggressive about what you want” Mike's words echoed in Peter's mind as he stared at the lanky form of his friend. Peter closed the gap between the two of them.

“I can think of something I really want.” Mike opened his eyes right as Peter pressed his own lips to Mike's. At first Mike didn't react to what was happening, then pressed back before his thoughts cleared momentarily. Mike pulled away.

“Wait, what? What did ya say about chicks?” Peter grinned slightly.

“That's what you're responding to? Well I kinda came to the conclusion recently that I'm really not into chicks that much. I mean, I've been with my share of cute girls but we never click the same way like I do with guys. And well, since I figured that out, I must admit I've become a bit, infatuated, with you. I hope you're not mad.”

“No, no of course not, I dig what yer sayin', I just didn't know you'd gone that far with it.” Peter brushed a few drops of rain water from Mike's shoulder.

“I haven't, yet. It's not exactly the easiest thing to admit and, well, I kinda hoped my first time like that would be with you.” The two were quiet for a moment, Peter unsure of how Mike might react to such a thing. Peter glanced down then, fiddling with the hem of his shorts. He was surprised when Mike leaned toward him, his fist curled under his chin.

“If ya've never done it before, how are we supposed to know if we're doin' it right?” Peter's eyes widened a bit.

“Are you sure that's not the alcohol talking?”

“Well that might be part of it, but I kinda agree. Chicks can be stone drag sometimes.”  Mike moved to lean back against the couch once more but slid and hit the floor, cursing.  Peter felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the sight and decided to try Mike's advice before he slid into an alcohol induced mini coma. He slid his fingers in the hem of Mike's swim trunks and yanked them off so quickly Mike's eyes shot open. He knelt between the taller man's knees & moved closer, forcing Mike's legs up and out. Mike's breathing had quickened but he stared almost blankly at Peter, just waiting. Peter pressed his body down against Mike's and kissed his neck. His fingers dart to Mike's chest & begin tracing circles around his nipples, a motion Mike's body jerked at initially but did not pull away from.

The excitement of the moment had already formed a mini tent in Peter's swim trunks when he felt a slight rise against him from Mike's hips, sending him into a full raging erection. Slowly, almost shyly, Mike's hand crept to the back of Peter's neck, finger momentarily sifting through his hair. The simple touch emboldened Peter, who bit at Mike's collarbone, forcing a short hight pitched yelp to escape. Peter ground his hips against Mike, his excitement bubbling each time he felt Mike's growing erection brush against his. Mike's legs gingerly wrapped around his own. Peter could take no more.

Peter hopped up suddenly, ignoring the surprised expression on Mike's face as he tugged his own swim trunks off. He glanced around the room, & quickly grabbed a bottle of sunblock left from earlier in the day. Peter returned to his spot between Mike's knees and squirted a generous amount of sunblock on his hand. Peter slathered his own member in the lotion. Mike bit his upper lip as Peter pulled his hips closer, raising them up slightly. He pressed the head against Mike's anus, causing another spasm. ::Now or never::

Peter pressed inside, slowly at first but did not stop until he was completely inside. The air caught in Mike's throat and the only sounds that escaped were breathy, high pitched, & staggered. His hands grasped at the shag area rug underneath them. Peter remained motionless, enjoying the sensation of Mike's body involuntarily tightening and releasing around him. Finally the spasms subsided, and Peter began thrusting in and out of Mike.

Mike's eyes were closed, but the rapid instances of both pain and pleasure danced across his face. Occasionally his tongue  darted out to lick his lips, dried in his struggle for air between thrusts. Peter noticed Mike's long arms were sticking straight up at the elbow, fingers limp, jerking to their rhythm, and he laughed internally at the idea of palm trees swaying in the breeze. Or T-Rex arms.    

Mike's rapidly increasing moaning had a lilt to it that reminded Peter of the higher pitched vocals Mike used in his songs. “I wonder if I can play you a different way.”

Peter pulled out, & before Mike could register complaint, Peter flipped him onto his knees and pressed back inside. This time Mike released a deep growl. Peter pumped faster,  pushing Mike forward then pulling him back. Mike had bunched the carpet in his fists, his knuckles turning white. Occasionally a hand would release and shakily brush sweat & bangs away, until another thrust made him clutch at the carpet like his life depended on it.

“Ung..oh..oh...oh god-unh, fuck....oh Peter!” The sound of Mike crying his name as he orgasmed sent Peter over the top, ejaculating during an outward motion which caused him to slide out. Mike crumpled into the carpet, body quivering, torso heaving. They only had a moment however, before Peter heard the familiar sound of the Monkeemobile's engine coming down the street.

Peter shot up on shaky legs. This is not how he wanted their roommates to find out, if anything was going to come from this anyway. He scooped up Mike, already snoring, and carried him to bed. There was no time to clothe him, so he pulled the covers up to his chin and hoped Micky didn't notice. He then slid down the spiral staircase, grabbed up the discarded swim shorts, and torpedoed into his own bed just the engine was cut off. He glanced up at the ceiling towards Mike's room, hoping Mike would remember their encounter. ::Til next time, cowboy.::