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Home Slash Fiction Het/Gen Fiction Donatella's Head

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


"With Your Wings, I Can Learn To Fly"



Title: With Your Wings I Can Learn to Fly
Pairing: Micky/Peter
Rating: R bordering on NC-17, I guess.
Summary: The boys' relationship progresses as a quiet night turns not so quiet.
Warnings: Slash to the extreme. Not for the het-hearted. :)

Up and down the darkened length of Beechwood, nothing stirred, as if everyone on the street had suddenly vanished. There was only the sea breeze blowing restlessly through the trees, and the distant sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

At the Pad, Mike and Davy were both gone for the weekend. Mike had flown out to visit his mother in Texas, whom he hadn’t seen for well over six months. She had paid for his plane ticket, and he felt obligated to go, or so he told the guys. In truth, however, they all knew that Mike missed his mother and was happy to make the trip back to his home city for a couple of days.

Davy and his latest girlfriend had taken her car and went for a drive down the coast to Santa Monica for a camping trip. This would be the third week that Davy had been seeing this same girl. The guys figured it had to be some kind of a record. Either the chick was really something special, or she hadn’t let Davy into her pants yet. Those were the only two explanations.

Now in the dimness of the Pad’s interior, lit only by the weak 40 watt bulb in the kitchen fixture, the silence of the night was suddenly shattered by the sound of a body being forcefully pinned up against a door frame, and of heavy breathing.

“Peter,” Micky panted harshly, diving in to lick up the side of Peter’s neck before sealing their mouths together. Micky’s hands pulled restlessly at the shirt that was now hanging askew over Peter’s shoulders, half the buttons missing now from where Micky had violently torn the garment open not long before.

Peter groaned, squirming between the door jamb and Micky’s body, struggling almost frantically to free his arms from the remains of his shirt, finally succeeding. Once he was completely free of it, he reached out and grabbed Micky’s belt, loosening it, and then used the two opened halves to yank Micky’s hips hard against his own. Peter immediately reached around to grab double handfuls of Micky's backside, kneading it restlessly as he pushed his pelvis forward. Micky let out a grunt that turned into a guttural sigh as he felt the proof of Peter’s arousal rubbing deliciously against his own.

Micky lips trailed wetly over Peter’s cheek, down the side of his neck again, and then latched on with lustful insistence to the junction where his neck met his shoulder. He bit sharply, then immediately licked the red spot left behind even as Peter gasped and jumped from the sudden sting.

Peter was not at all surprised about the sudden aggression Micky was displaying. Ever since last Friday, when Micky had finally confessed to Peter how he really felt about him, Micky had become absolutely insatiable. He tried at every opportunity to get Peter into a corner or down on the couch, even if for a few moments while Mike or Davy had their back turned. When fate handed them an opportunity when they were alone, like tonight, Micky wasted no time in initiating even more involved activities.

Those “more involved” activities had gone to the ultimate extreme just two nights ago when Micky finally got up the courage to make love to Peter for the first time, and from there, the two of them had never looked back.

Peter groped behind him for the door handle, turning it and almost falling backwards into the room, dragging Micky along with him. As soon as Micky was inside the room that Peter and Davy shared, he was gripping Peter by the shoulders and pushing him down onto his narrow bed.

Micky stood by the bed for a moment, taking in the sight of Peter laid out before him, naked from the waist up, all lightly tanned skin and smooth muscular slopes. Peter was propping himself up on his elbows, looking steadily at Micky with that wonderful combination of adoration and trust and desire that Micky was becoming more and more familiar with. It also turned him on to no end.

There was just something in Peter’s whole demeanor that drove Micky wild, and he didn’t understand how he didn’t see it before. The undercurrent of sensuality and that scrumptious toned body just made for wicked things to be done to it, all hidden behind that cheerful naïve exterior that everyone else saw. Not hidden to Micky, though. As far as he was concerned, Peter seemed to be constantly wearing a sign around his neck which read, “
Fuck me now”.

This…Micky decided…was exactly what he was going to do with Peter tonight.

Micky quickly undressed, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor around his feet, aware of Peter’s hungry gaze upon him. He was sure Peter knew exactly what Micky had in mind, and that only made Micky’s lust click up another notch.

Peter reached down to undo his own belt and draw down his zipper, arching up to slide his pants over his hips. Micky grabbed the garment by the cuffs and pulled them off the rest of the way, reminding himself again how he
loved Peter’s habit of not wearing underwear. Convenience aside, it was just damned sexy.

Moments later he had joined his lover on the bed, and the two of them twined around one another in a tangle of arms and legs, hardened cocks pressing eagerly together as they kissed fiercely.

Peter suddenly pulled away, falling back against the pillow, his eyes heavily lidded with arousal. “Do it now, Mick. I can’t wait. Please…”

Feeling his cock twitch at the sheer desperation in Peter’s voice, Micky reached over to slide open the drawer of Peter’s bedside table, pulling out the jar of Vaseline they had stashed there after the first time they had made love.

“I have to do it now,” Micky said, his voice not quite steady as he slicked up his aching member with the jelly. “I won’t last ten seconds if you get me anymore turned on than I already am.”

Peter smiled lazily. “Maybe I should stop turning you on so much, then.”

“Don’t you dare,” Micky replied warmly, then he was leaning over Peter, pushing his legs up with one hand while he guided himself with the other, and mere moments later, he was pushing smoothly inside.

Peter tipped his head back, his brow furrowing as he groaned in combined pain and pleasure. Micky stopped moving instantly, watching Peter’s reactions carefully.

“Is it okay?” Micky asked anxiously.

“Yeah,” Peter said, his voice low and husky. “It just took me a minute to…you know…get used to it again.”

“Yeah, you’ve definitely tightened back up since the other day,” Micky ground out. That was an understatement. Fat beads of sweat rolled down Micky’s forehead and chest as the hot constriction around his cock threatened to undo him right then and there. Once he got his own libido under control, he began to move.

“Oh yes,” Peter sighed, reaching up to grip the headboard, his fingers curling around the wooden struts.

Micky slid his hands up the backs of Peter’s thighs, closing around the crooks of his knees and pushing his legs up still further, at the same time steadying and anchoring himself. He shifted his hips slightly, trying to find that spot that had driven Peter crazy last time…

Ah. There it was. Micky held on tightly as Peter suddenly arched off the bed with a sharp gasp. Micky was fighting with every ounce of his being not to come yet. The heat and the tightness and just the sight of Peter slowly going to pieces before him were unbearably wonderful. Undaunted, Micky picked up his pace, taking care to brush by that sweet spot on every third or fourth stroke.

“Micky…Micky…Oh my god,” Peter groaned, undulating beautifully on the bed, his torso gleaming, the hair laying against his forehead and neck in sodden strings that now looked as dark as Micky’s own. His knuckles were white where they gripped the headboard, his arms trembling.

Looking down into tawny eyes that were dark and dazed with pleasure, Micky drove into him faster, harder, delighting in each gasp, grunt and groan that came from Peter’s lips. Micky had always dug partners that were vocal during sex, and Peter definitely had no inhibitions whatsoever about letting Micky know exactly how he was feeling. In fact, Micky could honestly say that he'd never had a lover as responsive as Peter was, which was another reason why Micky could never get enough of him.

“Oh…oh fuck, Micky…It’s so good…”

Knowing that he couldn’t last much longer, Micky reached down to grasp Peter’s cock, marveling at how hard it was.
Ol’ Pete could almost pound nails with this thing, Micky thought distantly. He began rubbing his clenched fist up and down its length, following the same rhythm as that of his steadily thrusting hips.

Peter was much too close to the edge to put up with that sort of treatment for long. He arched up again, moaning plaintively. His face contorted with sweet agony.

“Micky please…Please…Oh god, I’m going to come…”

Then every muscle in his body locked tight as his release was finally reached. He threw his head back and cried out to the ceiling as he was thrown into the abyss. His sweat-slicked chest and stomach were quickly coated with his own fluids in burst after violent burst.

The sights and sounds of Peter in his final throes, combined with his body convulsively tightening around his cock, proved to be the final straw for Micky. His own orgasm suddenly slammed into him with the force of a freight train. He let out a startled, strangled sound that ended in a low moan as he came deep inside of Peter, his hips twitching spasmodically until he was absolutely spent. He knelt motionless for a moment, panting, his head down, until he felt some semblance of his senses returning to him. Then he carefully withdrew his softening cock from Peter’s body.

While Peter slowly released the headboard and started flexing his fingers repeatedly to drive away the stiffness in them, Micky reached over the side of the bed to grab up his discarded shirt, using it to wipe the slippery remnants of the Vaseline off his fingers as well as wiping up the worst of the mess covering Peter’s torso. He then stretched full length over Peter, twining their legs together.

Peter eagerly embraced his lover as Micky lay against him. They kissed slowly, tenderly, with none of their former urgency. Their hands moved over one another’s bodies, but they were soothing now, not arousing. The immediate fire had been put out, and now all that remained was to bank the glowing embers.

“Shower?” Peter asked, his naturally deep voice even deeper as he passed the tip of his tongue delicately over Micky’s top teeth.

“Mmm…I’m ready whenever you are,” Micky replied, nibbling eagerly at Peter’s lower lip.

But it was a good five minutes more before either of them actually moved from the bed, and once again, the street was completely and darkly silent.


Strange Voices in Your Ears - Part 1 A Simple Thought May Occur to You