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"You Just May Be the One - Part 3"

Title: You Just May Be The One P3
Author: Lily Rose-Petals
Genre/Pairing: Romance/Humor; Mike/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit m/m smut
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or settings in this story, I only claim ownership for the words and ideas I've presented.
Summary: A Mike and Peter romance, with Monkee awesomeness from all four.
Author's Note: The title is also the title of the Monkees' song "You Just May Be The One." I thought if fit Peter and Mike very nicely--especially since Mike's singing it. :-)

The gig went great. The Monkees played for a college graduation party at a local nightclub where chicks were hot and the booze was free, or at least it was for the band. The Monkees were becoming pretty well-known in Malibu and therefore the happy-go-lucky college grads who had hired them told them they could have all the booze they wanted for free, to compensate for their somewhat low payment, if they made the party a "raging success" and stayed until one a.m. ("Sorry, man, but college made us broke," one of the graduates had told them.)

The Monkees were on top of their game that night, what with the prospect of unlimited booze and rampant sex, and the band got all that it was promised. Peter and Mike had different sexual partners in mind than did Micky and Davy, but the prospect of sex was just as potent to them; everything they played, sang, or did felt ten times better than usual.

Davy had just finished singing "Valeree" and was thanking the crowd for it's great response when one o'clock rolled around. With a whoop Davy declared that it was time to really get the party started and, taking off his shirt, dove into the crowd. The crowd screamed, being made mostly of girls (who had enjoyed watching the pretty boys sing and play), and soon Davy could no longer be seen.

Micky bounded off the stage and was also soon surrounded by girls who couldn't seem to stop touching him. He grinned at Peter and Mike, gave a thumbs up and mouthed, These are hot! before turning back to the many girls wanting his attention.

Still more girls were eyeing Peter and Mike, who were putting away the band equipment on-stage. The Monkees couldn't risk losing any equipment to the wild crowd, so the two had generously offered to pack it up and take it back to the apartment in the Monkeemobile. It gave them an easy way out of having to pretend to talk to girls for appearance's sake which Peter hadn't thought of when he first concocted a plan.

Peter and Mike had even had the foresight to specifically say that one of them would would be using the Monkeemobile tonight. Mike had said he or Peter would take it to a girl's house and would bring the equipment back in the morning, while the other would ride to a girl's apartment in her car; that way each one would get to their destination and keep the equipment safe. Of course, Mike and Peter had no intention of doing any such thing, but there was no need to mention that.

Micky and Davy, of course, would each go home with a girl and catch a taxi in the morning. This routine had been decided early on in living together, as the one car provided only one of them with transportation, and the boys had unanimously agreed that no one wanted to drive around with a hangover the next morning picking up the other three Monkees from their one-night stands.

What Peter and Mike did not count on in their getaway plan was the persistence of the girls who wanted their masculine attention. They managed to get all the equipment to the Monkeemobile without much interruption and were discussing where they had put the keys when four girls came out of the club, grabbed a hand each, and dragged the boys back inside.

Mike and Peter could hardly resist and were soon back in the club being squashed by dancing bodies. Music now played from the record the disc jockey had put on. Soon they were separated as two girls dragged Peter off one way and Mike another.

Shit, shit, shit, Mike thought. The plan was not going as he wanted. Who knew girls would want them so badly? Mike just caught sight of Peter's head over the crowd and then he bobbed back down. The girls were leading him to the center of the dance floor; one let go of his hand and broke away. The other girl, a brunette, smiled at him and pulled him close.

"So you're one of the Monkees, eh?" she said, moving in rhythm to the music.

"Yeah," Mike said, thinking this was pretty obvious.

"You found anyone worth seeing tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah, yeah actually." Mike jumped at his chance. "I need to get to hi— her." Mike hoped the girl had not heard his slip up. He was not enjoying dancing with her; she was unoriginal in her pick up and was not even the type of girl with whom he would like to be friends.

"Well, I was kind of hoping you were thinking about seeing me, tonight," she said, smiling in a way she evidently thought was seductive. Mike resisted rolling his eyes and wondered how Peter was faring.

The two girls that had led Peter away had ditched him when more attractive, or 'manly' men, Peter supposed, had appeared. Peter was relieved and a little offended but was soon stopped by a red head with a husky voice.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said. "You lookin' for someone?"

"Er, yeah," Peter said. He really hoped she wasn't going to try to flirt with him because he already felt irritated by the girls dragging him away and then insulted because they hadn't even looked at him before attaching themselves to other men. Was he so unattractive?

"Who're you looking for, honey?"

Peter really looked at the redhead now. Her voice and manner of speaking gave one the impression she was older than she was, but actually she was in her twenties, as were most of the girls in the club, and Peter realized that her voice was not husky from smoking, but was that way naturally. She wore a tight-fitting black dress and had a pleasingly curvaceous frame. Peter mentally noted that she was the type of woman he would go for if he was into women right now.

"I was looking...for a friend," Peter faltered. He didn't know what to say. Was she trying to flirt?

"Ah. What type of friend? You lookin' to get laid tonight?"

Peter raised his eyebrows at her baldness but said, "It's a guy friend, actually. We need to get out of here."

"You need to get out of here?" she repeated. "Look, man, you just finished playing. You can have some fun."

"Yeah, but..."

"Are you going home with this friend?"


"Are you going home with him?"

"Er, yeah... I mean..."

Peter felt flustered, like the redhead could see right through him. Her darkly-outlined eyes seemed to assess him and then she said,

"Yeah, I get it," as if Peter had asked her something. "Where is he?"

"I don't know, he got dragged away by a couple chicks..."

"Okay, I'll go find him. What's he look like?"

Peter described Mike briefly. He made sure to include that Mike was wearing his green hat.

"What's his name?"


"What's your name?"


"You stay here," she said, and disappeared into the crowd.

Peter felt confused but did as he was told. She seemed to be helping him, although he had no idea why.

Ten minutes passed and Peter felt antsy. Five girls had come up to him, trying to flirt, and had walked away when he was short with them. No more girls seemed to want to try him, and he was feeling especially impatient when he saw the redhead weaving her way through the crowd, leading Mike by the hand. Mike looked somewhat perturbed but unresisting.

"Here you go," the redhead announced when she had reached him. "Had to pry this clingy brunette girl off him, but I got him in the end."

"Er, thanks. But why'd you do it?" He had to know.

"Why not? I do it for my girlfriends all the time. You seemed desperate. My girlfriends are constantly being chatted up by these pervy guys and I just step in and separate them, lead him away, and make my escape. It's easy."

"Well, thanks... What is your name?"

She made a noise of derision in her throat, presumably for her own name, but said, "Jillian."

"Nice meeting you Jillian— and thanks, thanks a lot."

"Yeah, thanks," Mike put in, shaking her hand.

"No problem. See you guys around," she said, and walked away.

"Nice chick," Mike commented.

"Yeah...she just came out of the blue and said she'd help me find you. What did she say to you?"

"'Hey Mike, Peter's looking for you, I can show you to him,' like she knew me. It was crazy. But she seems cool."

"Yeah..." Peter said.

"You wanna go?"

"Yeah. Micky and Davy have girls yet?"

"I think so, but I don't know. Haven't caught a glimpse of either one since they left the stage."

Peter blew out his breath through his lips. "Well, we should be good. And they always find dates if they really want to, we don't really have to find out if they've got rides, do we?" he asked rhetorically. "Let's go."


Even with Peter's obvious eagerness to get home, the car ride was strangely silent. Peter anxiously twiddled his thumbs; he was afraid they'd lost the chemistry they'd had earlier. Mike seemed tense and distracted, and he muttered under his breath at the other drivers they encountered.

After a few minutes of consideration, Peter placed his hand on Mike's knee and rubbed the inside of his thigh. Mike massaged the back of Peter's hand and seemed to like the attention, but was distracted nonetheless.

Mike parked the Monkeemobile under the tarp canopy the boys had set up in the driveway and locked the car's doors to protect the equipment. Then he and Peter bounded up the steps to the hallway and made their way to the apartment. The keys in Mike's hand jingled in the lock and the door opened. Mike and Peter entered and Mike threw the keys on the coffee table while Peter switched on a light.

Mike seemed agitated about something.

"Mike, what is it? Why are you so tense?"

Mike fidgeted for a second and said, "I don't know. I don't know. I'm just worried, I guess, that...that you're not going to want to...do this anymore. Be..." he seemed to struggle over the words, "...with me. You sent the chick to get me, I thought... I don't know what I thought."

"I didn't send her to get you, she went by herself. She volunteered. And...would it be a bad thing if I had sent her to get you?"

"No. I'm just being stupid. I'm worrying about nothing. I don't know what's the matter with me." He sighed and sat on the couch. Peter sat beside him.

"Maybe you're just nervous? I'm nervous. I mean, we're both so anxious to get it on but we've just found out how each other feels. Trust me, I want you I'm sure at least as much as you want me. But...oh my god, I'm tired," he said, yawning hugely.

"Oh my god, me too," Mike said in a relieved voice. "I don't know why I thought we'd have enough energy for sex after playing a gig." He yawned. "Must've been my lusty brain talking." He yawned again.

"You wanna sleep? I know we could miss our opportunity to be alone," Peter said, as Mike wanted to cut in, "but really, how are we going to do this while we're exhausted?"

"Peter, you're so sensible it's disgusting sometimes." Mike paused and then said, "You wanna sleep in the same bed while Micky and Davy aren't here?" The flirty Mike smile was on his face, Peter was glad to see.

"I don't think we'll both fit. But yeah," he said, not really caring. "Come on."

He quickly switched the light back off; Mike grumbled about not being able to see to which Peter replied it would be weird if they left it on. He grabbed Mike's hand and together they headed up the spiral staircase.

"Your ass looks great in these pants," Mike said as they walked up.

"Oh, you can see it?" Peter said play-snarkily. Then: "Thanks." Smile. "Yours does too."

"Peter, I'm not in your pants. But you know I want to be," Mike smirked.

"Brat," Peter said, and hit him lightly on the head with his free hand.

"Gorgeous thing," Mike shot back.

"Mike, don't start. Which bed?" They had just entered the bedroom, and Mike closed the door out of habit. Moonlight shone on the floor from the one window.

"Yours, as we made out on my bed earlier, it only seems fair." Mike slipped his shoes off and flopped down on Peter's bed.

"Okay. Now bunch up, I'm not going to be able to fit with you like that."

"Egh, come here."

Peter slipped his shoes off and cuddled up next to Mike, pulling his hat off. Then he pulled the blanket around them both so they were facing each other.

"We're still in our clothes."

"What, haven't you ever slept in your clothes before?"

"Well, no, not after a gig. But I like it this way," Peter smiled.

"'The better to undress you, my dear,'" Mike said in his best Grandmother imitation.

"Mike, don't do that, that's wrong. It's her granny."

"Sorry. You know what I meant."

Mike kissed him and Peter relaxed into his arms. Then he sighed and his whole form seemed to melt to the bed.

"Mmm, you're right, too much—" yawn, "—right now. See you in a few hours, Pete."

"Mmhm," Peter replied, nuzzling against Mike's arm.

Mike ran his fingers through Peter's hair and soon the two were asleep, content that the other would be there when he awoke.


Some time later, Peter awoke to find it was still dark outside and Mike was still asleep. He quietly slipped out of bed and went to take a pee. When he got back Mike had sprawled out on the bed, but when he tried to slip quietly back in Mike made a noise and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Hey," he murmured, "I got cold without you."

"That fast? Wow." Peter formed himself to Mike's side, his head on Mike's chest, and pulled the blanket back around them.

"How you feeling?"

"Better. Better rested. Comfortably warm. Did you want to know all that?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Mike said, huffing a laugh. "What time is it?"

"I don't know, you look, you can see the clock better."

Mike raised up a little to look at the digital clock across the room.

"It's nearly five. We've been asleep for almost three hours."

"Mmm, very nice." He ran his hand along Mike's stomach and chest. "That's a good nap."

"Yes, yes it is," he said, as Peter kissed his side and continued to rub his chest. "Do you want something, Peter?" he asked mildly.

"Mm, maybe. I don't know. I could just go back to sleep," he teased.

"Ah, there's no need. 'I'm awake anyway,' as Davy says."

"Mmm, yes, he does say that. He's right too," Peter said, kissing Mike's side again. Then he stopped his movements and laid against Mike's side, seemingly content with what he'd done.

"What, stop now? I was beginning to like that," Mike teased back.

"Oh, what, this?" Peter said, raising himself to kiss Mike's chest several times.

"You know, this would be better without the shirt, I think."

"Yes, you should take it off," Peter agreed.

Mike quickly undid the red eight-buttonshirt he had worn for the gig and Peter kissed his sternum.

"Much better," Peter murmured, kissing his pectorals, taking a nipple gently between his teeth. He sucked gently, causing Mike to arch into him and fondle the back of his neck.

"Peter...do the other one," Mike said a bit breathily.

Peter moved to suck the other one and continued to massage the one he'd left with his hand.

"Down— down my stomach," Mike requested, and Peter obeyed. At least this was something he was used to doing with girls.

He licked inside his naval and continued to trail his tongue in Mike's pubic trail down to his pants. Then he kissed back up, alternating between sides, ending with sucking on Mike's left nipple.

"You are wicked, purely wicked," Mike breathed, and pulled him up for a kiss.

Mike's kiss was intense and Peter quickly deepened it. Mike's tongue in his mouth and his hands at work pulling his shirt up were working wonders on a certain nether region of his body. Peter arched into the mattress while Mike's hands explored under his shirt. Mike massaged his nipples and Peter ground harder into the mattress. He moved himself more on top of Mike, putting his left hand under his shoulder blade. Mike took the opportunity to push Peter's shirt up even more, to run his fingers in races around Peter's spine.

Peter could have kissed Mike that way forever. He felt drugged by the power of his kiss, by the desire he felt behind it. But then Mike was pushing him up, keeping their lips in contact but fumbling his hands at Peter's shirt buttons. Peter helped him and soon had his own eight-button shirt off, thrown carelessly over the side of the bed.

Peter gave a little moan of desire as their lips parted and reconnected. Mike pushed into him and this sent the two toppling off the side of the narrow bed and onto Peter's discarded shirt.

"Mike!" Peter complained, glad that his knees had remained away from any important areas, and vice-versa.

Mike grinned gleefully on top of him, not minding the interruption, and kissed Peter's abdomen all over, making his way down to the pants. He kissed Peter's erection through his pants and, as Peter gasped and panted, lay himself back down on top of Peter. He attacked his mouth with his own and several minutes passed as the two tongues warred and Peter worked Mike's shirt off the rest of the way, Mike whining when Peter's mouth had to break contact.

Mike pulled Peter up— his foot slipped on his own shirt— he laughed— and fell back onto the bed, taking Peter with him. Peter pulled Mike back on top of him, spreading his knees so their pelvises could grind together. Peter panted at Mike's hard, insistent thrusts and his kisses and nips to his jawline.

"Oh...oh Mike! Please, no more, you're going to..." Peter moaned deeply and Mike suddenly stopped his grinding.

"Oh god, why'd you stop?" Peter asked.

"Because you told me to. I didn't want you to finish too early. Did you?" he said.

"No, but I was so close. So close," he breathed, arching his neck back to regain his breath.

"I better get off you then," Mike said reluctantly.

"No, you'd better get me off, is what you'd better do," Peter said, as Mike sat up. Peter sat up as well, after a moment.

"Ah, but not too soon." Mike breathed in deeply, his own heart racing from the excitement.

"Yeah, I think if you made me cum right now, I wouldn't recover for a week," Peter declared seriously.

"You're funny. But I know what you mean," he said.

The two sat for a moment, just breathing. Then, seeming to realize that they were no longer touching, Mike made eye contact with Peter in the dark and Peter threw himself back onto him. Peter kissed him roughly, raking his fingers through his coarse black hair. He rubbed fiercely down Mike's sides, not able to get enough of his skin.

Mike kissed him back fervently, pinching his nipples, at which Peter groaned. Mike kissed him and kissed him, kneading every inch of his chest and stomach, needing to know everything that turned Peter on. Soon, Peter was panting again, and a surge of adrenaline shot through Mike when Peter moaned in his ear,

"Just do me right now, Mike, I don't care. Please, I'll do anything you want," his voice husky with desire.

"Peter..." Mike kissed his mouth. "Peter." Mike sucked on his lip, then sucked on his ear lobe. "We're going to do it, right now. Come 'ere," Mike breathed.

He pulled Peter onto his lap and reconnected their lips. Mike's hands roamed over his body, over his chest, stomach, sides, ass; down inside his pants.

"Take them off," he growled.

The thrill of pleasure Mike's voice produced surged all throughout Peter's body, concentrating in his rock-hard member. He quickly stood and complied, shoving the pants and briefs together off his hips and yanking the tapered ends of his pants off his ankles.

Mike watched his penis bounce and sway as he did so and immediately pulled Peter so his penis was level with his mouth. Peter was circumcised and Mike sucked the glan into his mouth, which was red and dripping with precum.

"Mike! I don't have a condom on!" Peter gasped.

Mike didn't use condoms for blow jobs, he didn't see the point, but for Peter he quickly leaned back and rummaged through a drawer beside the bed and pulled out a handful of condoms he found in a box of Davy's. He ripped one open carelessly and unrolled it onto Peter's twitching member. As much as he liked the feel of Peter's bare flesh in his mouth, he didn't want to delay by asking him what the deal was with the condom. Somehow Mike had expected something strange like that coming from Peter anyway.

Peter was gaping with lust at Mike and gasped as he took his whole member in his mouth. Peter was an average length and width but even so he was impressed with Mike's boldness at swallowing him whole.

Peter felt the head of his member hit the back of Mike's throat, but instead of gagging, Mike's throat seemed to contract and allowed Peter's glan to enter, squeezing it. Peter bowled over at this, placing his hands on top of Mike's head. He gave an involuntary thrust into Mike's throat. Mike's amazing throat accepted more of his member and then Mike's lips were right at its base. Mike's entire mouth, then, seemed to contract around Peter's member and then loosened, and then did it again, and then loosened.

"Mike...Mike...Mike..." was all Peter could manage. He was trying to tell him that he wasn't going to last much longer with this kind of attention, but Mike seemed to understand. He gave Peter's member a hard suck and a press with the flat of his tongue before sucking his way off him, leaving with a pop at the end.

Peter was shaking. He had never felt so intensely aroused in his life as he did at that moment. He stood with his hands fidgeting unconsciously on Mike's head, trying to control his breathing.

Mike was suddenly standing, right in front of Peter, undoing his own pants. Peter was suddenly glad he hadn't cum yet; he had to see Mike's penis. If he came at the sight of it, then so be it, but he had never wanted to see another man's penis so badly in his entire life.

Mike was pushing his tight, tan pants off his narrow hips, revealing dark green plaid boxers. A dark stain of precum lay near the waistband. Peter could see it, even in the dark. Mike hastily pushed his boxers down and his member popped out, fully hard and throbbing. Peter heard a throaty sigh. Mike stepped out of his boxers and Peter recovered enough to pump his shaft while looking at Mike.

Mike was slightly bigger than him, and also circumcised. The tip of his red penis leaked precum and Peter couldn't resist running a finger on his member's underside, along the ridge. Mike grunted and grabbed his wrist.

"Peter, not right now..."

The two stood for a moment, Peter with his hand still around his own shaft, looking at Mike's; Mike looking at Peter's but not touching himself.

"Peter, I need you right now. I can't wait any longer." Mike's voice was thick with need; Peter, although hesitant about his skills, lowered himself to his knees.

"No, no...get over here, on the bed... No, wait, let me."

And then Mike knelt on his hands and knees on his bed, grabbing Peter by the wrist and dragging him closer.

"Mike, what are you doing? No, not right now..." Peter began apprehensively. "I could just use my mouth. I know I've never done it before, but this..."

"Peter, please, I want for you to be inside me. I need to be filled up. Please. I know you're close, just stick it in and pump once or twice and that will do me and you."

"But Mike, what about...what about...poop?" Peter whispered.

"Oh Peter!" Mike began impatiently, but immediately changed his tone. "That won't happen. It hardly ever does. I'm clean. Just...just go get that lube from Davy's drawer and do something."

"Okay." Deep breath. "Okay. But don't blame me if I mess it up—"

"You won't—"

"And I don't want to hurt you, but I might need to go fast to finish. Is that all right?"

Mike set his butt down on the bed to look at Peter. "Yes, that sounds wonderful. You won't hurt me, I've done this before. Just lube up and...work it in. It should be easy."

"I'm not that small!"

"That's not what I meant— at all! Peter, I'm just saying, I've done this before, so it should be easy. You have a very nice size."

Peter smiled a little. "Thanks. But you're bigger."

"Just a little. It's not important. You're great."

Peter could tell Mike was trying to be nice, considerate, but as the other man was fondling his member while they talked and looked as if he were in pain, Peter knew that he was going to have to do something about his condition as quickly as possible. Peter didn't understand Mike's need to be filled up, as he'd never felt that need himself, but if that's what he wanted, that's what he would do.

"Okay." Peter grabbed the lube out of Davy's drawer and applied a generous amount. "Is that enough?"

"Yes," Mike said, and flipped himself back onto his hands and knees.

Peter knelt tentatively behind him and placed his hands on his butt cheeks. Really, this was how he wanted it? Okay. He spread the cheeks, considering, for a moment, how the sensations would feel different than those he felt with a woman, and then pushed the head of his penis against Mike's sphincter. The ring of muscle flexed and Peter figured that was a good thing. Then he heard Mike's whispered please, and he truly pushed forward.

He had only entered with the head of his penis and he didn't know what to think. The space was tight, and warm. The lube made it wet. He pressed in a little further as Mike pushed back against him. Okay, here the tightness was starting to feel good. He pushed in the rest of the way and his chest was flush with Mike's back, his hands down on the mattress. He felt Mike trembling beneath him, his arms shaking. Peter kissed his back and thrust once. Mike made a whining noise in his throat and Peter figured what he had done was good.

Mike arched his posterior into Peter, encouraging him to continue. Peter pumped again, Mike shifted a little.

"Down, Peter, down...angle down," Mike begged. Peter pressed his chest into Mike's back, placed his hands right behind Mike's, and raised his own butt in the air a little more to do as he asked. He hoped he was doing it right, but was distracted because he was a little surprised at how intimate this position felt to him. He hadn't expected that.

"Peter, move, please move!" Mike said desperately. He was about to cum and he didn't want to without Peter moving inside him.

At Mike's voice Peter regained his senses and pumped into him, and again, and again.

I'm fucking him, Peter thought.

No, making love, another little voice said, and he thrust harder. His member twitched and throbbed, seeming to expand even more inside of Mike even though he knew it wasn't possible.

Peter worked at his rhythm. Mike shifted, making incoherent sounds, making sure Peter got into him as deeply as possible. Peter knew he had to be close, so close, but was holding off for him.

Peter picked up his pace, rocking against Mike. The bed started to creak, and he thrust hard, feeling the beginning of his orgasm. He vaguely hoped the angle was good for Mike because it was good for him, but his mind was becoming muddled as he climbed toward his peak and he couldn't quite focus.

Mike was thrusting back against him, making sounds, some of them words, some of which Peter could make out.

"Oh god...oh god. Oh! Please. Right...right... Theeere. Oh god. Oh my god. Right there. Right there. Peter."

Peter gave a hard thrust at the sound of his name, pulled mostly out, gave another hard thrust, and then he could feel Mike cumming, his whole body shaking, words pouring out of his mouth, now completely incoherent.

Peter came too, in a flash thinking of his seed pouring deep into Mike's bowels— then remembering he was wearing a condom— remembering that Mike wasn't— the bed— And all thoughts were obliterated, he was still thrusting hard, even as he came, Mike was moaning and collapsing onto his forearms, Peter was pretty sure he was going to pass out...

Peter became aware that he was laying on top of Mike, his penis still inside him. Mike's back was rising and falling rapidly beneath him. Peter felt too good to move, but a thought came to him that Mike might need to breath, so he rolled off him and laid panting on his back on the narrow bed.

After a minute Peter rolled his condom off and thrust it weakly in the direction of the trash can, not really caring if it made it or not. Mike raised his head and scooted over weakly to lay it on Peter's chest. His chin dug into Peter's pectoral muscle but Peter didn't care.

Neither one spoke for quite a while.

Finally, when both had regained their breath, Mike raised himself to a sitting position, looked around, and then decided to clean the cum off himself with the blanket he had ejaculated on. Peter watched him but did not speak. He did not trust his voice to sound manly enough yet.

After some time that probably wasn't as long as it felt, Peter muttered, "That was good."

"Yes," Mike murmured, and leaned over and kissed him. Peter opened his mouth easily and let Mike probe around, too limp to do much else.

Mike seemed to be recovering more quickly, however. After thoroughly kissing Peter, he got up and walked over to Peter's bed and gathered their clothes. Once he'd collected all items, flicked on the night light in the wall, and thrown away Peter's condom, he sat back down on the bed.

"You'd better get up now," he said, sounding somewhat amused, as Peter still laid spread-eagled on his back. Mike surveyed his body openly. "Are you always this relaxed after sex?"

"Yes. But not this relaxed, I don't think. I feel like a jellyfish... You seem relaxed too," he said, flopping his head to look at Mike.

"Oh yes, I am much less tense than I was before. Thank you," he said, stooping to kiss him.

"Oh, no problem, my pleasure. My pleasure..." he murmured, looking at the ceiling.

"Peter, do get up. I need to get this blanket," Mike said after a bit, although he still had his eyes on Peter's body.

"Oh, right, okay." Peter raised himself onto his elbows. He sighed and pulled himself off the bed. Mike handed him their pile of clothes and Peter started pulling on his briefs as Mike wadded up the blanket.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, why are you putting your briefs on?"

"Um, I don't know, I just thought I should..."

"Don't you want to take a shower?"

Peter paused. "Yeah, that would be good actually."

"You wanna shower together?" Mike grinned.

Oh, so that's why he was asking.

"What if Davy or Micky come back?"

"They won't. They're probably sleeping off sex right now."

Mike grinned more broadly.

"Mike... Mike!" Peter growled, grinning now too, playing along. He pulled Mike by his wrist toward the door. "You're absolutely dirty!"

"Me?" Mike stumbled along behind him, out the door, grinning maniacally. "You're the one who needs a shower so badly!"

"You know that's not what I meant, you ass!" Peter stopped in the hallway and pulled him in for a kiss. Mike made sure to use his tongue indecently. Then Peter grinned and pulled Mike toward the stairs.

"As I said, absolutely filthy! You need a good soaping!"

"Do I? Which part of my body? Not my mouth, surely?" He tried to peck Peter on the mouth but Peter pushed him away. The two tripped the rest of the way downstairs, laughing and bumping.

"You need to be washed all over! Get in here!" Peter declared, and pulled Mike into the shower after him, not even bothering to close the door.

You Just May Be the One Part 4 You Just May Be the One Part 2