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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.


"You Look Mighty Good To Me"



Title: You Look Mighty Good To Me
Pairing: Torksmith! (But still in the Torklenzmith universe.)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hot slashy sex and some playfully executed violence. ;)
Disclaimer: Do not own!
Summary: Mike gets a chance to exploit another facet of Peter's sexual personality.
Author's Note: I didn't intend for this to be strictly a Mike/Peter scenario, but that's how it evolved and I don't think Micky is complaining about it any. :) Besides...As I mentioned before...It really is all Peter's fault.

Is he doing that on purpose? Mike thought, aiming another speculative glance toward the other side of Micky’s drum riser, where Peter and Davy were sharing a microphone. They were at the Pad, in the midst of practice, and Micky was just swinging into the second verse of “Mary Mary”.

Mike played smoothly, moving his fingers effortlessly up and down the fret board, his head bent studiously over the guitar, while all the time he was shooting intermittent glances at the vision across from him.

Peter was once more fully into the beat of the music, and was doing that rolling, bumping, grinding thing with his hips again that absolutely drove Mike out of his mind. Normally Mike knew it was a totally unconscious thing, and that Peter was just grooving out the way he loved to do. This time, however, there was just something about his movements that didn’t seem so...unconscious. Just a little too calculated, perhaps? A little more enhanced than usual, maybe?

Then Peter slowly lifted his head and looked straight at Mike, and even from the other side of band area, Mike could see the sly gleam in Peter’s eyes.


Just before turning his attention fully back to his bass playing, Peter flashed a private smile for Mike that was both knowing and slightly wicked.

Oh, you little fucking tease, Mike thought, his own lips curving into a private smile of his own. So you wanna play games, do you? All right, Pete. I can teach you a whole new set of rules.

He played the remainder of the song with his pants feeling uncomfortably tight, and continuing to watch Peter’s movements wasn’t helping the situation any.

As the last notes of the song drifted away, Micky stood up behind his drum kit, placing his hands against the small of his back and arching backwards to pop his spine. “Great set, guys.” he commented.

“Yeah, it did sound good,” Mike agreed. “In fact, I don’t think we need anymore rehearsal this afternoon. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.” He let his eyes drift to Peter, who currently had his attention focused on his bass, tightening up a couple of strings with a practiced touch.

All three of the others were surprised by Mike’s suggestion. Usually Mike was the hardest of taskmasters when it came to rehearsals, wanting every note perfect before he would release them. To hear him take a “good enough” sort of approach was unusual...but welcome all the same.

Davy, especially, seemed ecstatic about the idea. He laid his maracas aside and practically leapt away from the others, already making a beeline for the front door.

“Great!” he exclaimed. “I promised Theresa that I’d meet her down at the Psycho Jello after rehearsal. Now I can get there earlier than I’d thought. Thanks, Mike! See ya, fellas.”

With that, he was gone.

Micky stepped down from the drum riser as Peter carefully laid his bass aside. Mike watched as Peter moved toward the kitchen, and then Micky’s voice distracted him temporarily.

“I’m grabbing a shower,” Micky said. “I really worked up a sweat today on those drums. No
wonder I can never seem to gain any weight!”

Mike snorted with amusement as Micky wandered off toward the bathroom. Once the door had closed firmly behind him, Mike set his guitar into its stand and then slowly trailed Peter into the kitchen.

Peter stood by the table, his back to Mike, slowly sipping on a root beer.

Not wanting to startle Peter by his quiet approach, Mike deliberately let his boot scrape the floor as he stepped up behind his band mate.

Peter half-turned his head in response to the sound. “Hey Mike,” he said casually. He held up the bottle of root beer he’d been drinking from. “Want some?”

“Oh yeah. I want some, all right,” Mike murmured, his voice a soft growl. He moved in fast, plucking the bottle from Peter’s unresisting fingers and taking a brief swig of it, grimacing slightly at the sickly sweet taste, and then setting the bottle on the table in front of Peter.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to have more on your mind during rehearsal than just music,” Mike said, trying to sound nonchalant, though with each passing moment he was getting more and more turned on. It was scary in a way how Peter could bring this side of him out so easily. Not many women he’d ever been acquainted with could arouse this sort of passion within him, but with just a move and a smile, Peter could bring him from a simmer to a full rolling boil.

More than that...Peter could bring out Mike’s confidence in himself like no one else could. He made Mike feel like more than just a struggling second-rate musician. He made him feel like he could conquer the world.

“Oh, you noticed that, did you?” Peter asked now in response to Mike’s observation, sounding a bit sheepish. But wasn’t there just the slightest hint of cheekiness in his tone as well? Mike certainly thought so.

Then Peter jerked slightly and gasped as Mike’s hands cupped the perfectly rounded curves of his backside, stroking and caressing through the thin polyester fabric that molded itself so well to it.

“Oh yes. I noticed,” Mike said softly, his lips close to Peter’s ear. “But I’m not sure you understand what you’re doing, good buddy.”

“Mmm....What do you mean?” Peter asked, moaning softly as Mike’s hands gave his ass a brief squeeze, and then one hand was slipping slowly around his hip, moving to the front.

“Meaning that it was awfully naughty of you to tease me like that during rehearsal,” Mike murmured. Peter tipped his head back against Mike in an attitude of total submission, his honey-colored hair spilling over Mike’s shoulder. A guttural sigh shook his frame oh-so slightly.

He’s almost making this too easy, Mike thought randomly. This is really going to be fun. The snug fit of Peter’s pants did nothing to hide the massive erection that Mike’s hand located and grasped in an eager, possessive manner.

Peter moaned again, pushing his hips firmly against Mike’s hand. “I...I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted you all day.”

“You could have just told me that,” Mike said, squeezing Peter’s cock gently and delighting in the surprised gasp that greeted this. His fingers now moved to pop the button of Peter’s pants and slide the zipper down with agonizing slowness as he purred into Peter’s ear, “you know I’ll have you anytime, anywhere. You just have to ask me.”

Peter whimpered, wriggling in eager anticipation as Mike began to slide his loosened pants down his hips. “Yeah. I know that. I..." He broke off to swallow hard. "I just wanted to play a bit, I guess.”

“You just wanted to tease me,” Mike reiterated, slowly running his hands up and down the front of Peter’s thighs, taking care not to touch the rapidly hardening column of flesh between them. Not yet, anyway. “Very naughty indeed, Peter. I think we need to do something about this manipulative behavior of yours.”

In the next instant, before Peter could even think to react, Mike suddenly brought one hand up to seize Peter by the back of his shirt collar, bending him over the kitchen table.

“Michael??? What???” Peter stammered in utter incomprehension. Then whatever he was about to say next was lost in the sound of an echoing slap and a high-pitched cry as Mike brought his free hand down on Peter’s left buttock...hard.

“This is what we do with naughty boys back where I come from,” Mike drawled, admiring the red hot handprint that suddenly bloomed on the smooth white flesh. He immediately raised his hand and did it again, this time to the right buttock. Peter cried out again, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the scarred surface of the tabletop.

“I think this is just what you deserve, Peter. Do you agree?” Mike asked softly. When no answer was forthcoming, Mike smacked him again. “Speak up, boy!”

“Yes!” Peter shouted, his voice slightly ragged, his tone sounding both eager and desperate. “Yes! I agree!”

“Yeah, you might agree, but I doubt it will change your ways any,” Mike said, sounding almost bored, though his cock so hard it was ready to tear right through his zipper.

He laid his hand against one flaming buttock, noting the way Peter’s hips twitched and a trembling sigh issued from him. Mike smiled, knowing all too well that Peter was loving every minute of this. He got his proof of it when he slipped his hand beneath the edge of the table and stroked his fingers along a cock that was so rigid that it felt like a bar of hot iron wrapped in silk.

“Oh yeah,” Mike said musingly. “You’re not changing your ways at all.” Then, without warning, he issued three more blows to Peter’s ass, while at the same time, wrapping his other hand firmly around that throbbing erection. He felt it jerk in his grip as each slap rained down.

Peter moaned in pleasure even as he cried out again, and then suddenly demanded in a roughened voice, “Michael, please. I need you now...I can’t wait...please...”

Despite trying to maintain control, Mike could not stop the tremor that shook his tall frame at Peter’s words, and the pleading tone with which he said them.

Knowing that he would not be able to hold out much longer himself before relief had to be sought, Mike released Peter long enough to claw his own pants open, tugging them down to his knees roughly. His own cock curved away from his body, the tip leaking with fluids. Peter did not attempt to move.

Looking around frantically for a moment, Mike snatched open the nearest cupboard and grabbed out the bottle of cooking oil that they kept there. He was in such a hurry to open the bottle that he sent the cap spinning off across the linoleum floor. There was time enough to worry about that later, when the world widened enough to include more than just his need and Peter’s.

Quickly slicking himself up, Mike wasted no time in spreading those beautifully wounded buttocks and sliding inside of that hot, welcoming body up to the hilt.

“Ohhhh...shit yeah,” Peter groaned, laying his head down on the table in blissful surrender.

Mike knew this couldn’t be a gentle fuck. Things had gone too far and he was way too excited. He began to piston in and out with long, hard strokes. Peter whimpered loudly as Mike’s cock slammed home within him again and again and again, his hips slapping flesh that was still red and stinging from the punishment it had received, though of course the intense pleasure was only enhanced by the minor pain that he felt.

Peter’s fingers grasped hard at the edges of the table as the motions grew more and more enthusiastic. The root beer bottle toppled over and smashed on the floor, unheeded by either of them in the heat of their passion.

“Michael...Oh fuck...Oh god...” Peter cried. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Give it to me.”

Mike gritted his teeth, Peter’s enthusiasm almost undoing him.

“Goddamn it, you hot little slut,” Mike growled almost savagely, his hands almost brutally grasping Peter’s hips, holding him firmly in place. “Do you have any idea how fucking horny you make me, Peter? Do you have any...fucking...clue???” He punctuated each word with even harder thrusts.

Peter was past the point of making any sort of sensible words now. He could only cry out and groan incoherently as his body was so completely and deliciously violated. Only Mike could give him this. Micky would never even
think of treating Peter in such a fashion. To Micky, Peter’s body was a shrine and needed to be worshipped like one. It took Mike’s rough, demanding, domineering brand of sex to satisfy this part of Peter’s sexual psyche.

After all, variety was the spice of life, was it not?

Unfortunately, violent passions always came to swift endings, and this time was no exception. Peter’s fingernails dug into the soft wood of the table as his orgasm struck him like a blow to the side of the head. His spine arched as he uttered a shout of ecstasy that echoed throughout the Pad, his release raining down onto the floor in burst after burst.

Mike came only seconds later. He uttered a sharp curse that trailed off into a long groan of satisfaction as he spent himself deep inside that hot, clenching channel. He bent over Peter, sliding his hands up the slippery slopes of his back beneath his shirt and nuzzling into the back of his neck. He breathed deep, delighting in the luscious combination of clean sweat and sex and the lingering traces of sandalwood and patchouli. All of it so sexy, so masculine, and so purely Peter.

“Mmm...You are amazing, you know that?” Mike purred, kissing Peter’s neck gently as Peter uttered a happy, sleepy sort of sigh.

Then Micky’s voice suddenly came from the kitchen doorway, startling them both.

“Now would someone
please explain to me how I can ever come in here to eat my morning Corn Flakes again without this whole scene going through my mind?”

Mike straightened up, smiling in his sly way at Micky, who stood with his arms folded, a towel wrapped around his slender waist. “Did you actually
see the whole scene, though?”

“Enough of it!” Micky said, grinning and watching as both men pulled up their pants and tried for some semblance of normalcy again. “I was having quite a solo party in the bathroom doorway watching you two. I don’t think I’ve jerked off that hard in a long time. Thanks, guys!”

Peter pouted slightly. “You didn’t have to do that, Micky. We could have included you.”

“What? And miss such a great show??” Micky asked, looking shocked at the suggestion. “That was way better than the skin flicks you can catch at the Bijou Theater at two o’clock in the morning, let me tell ya!”

Peter’s tawny eyes suddenly grew soft and affectionate, and he stepped forward to envelop Micky in a warm, loving hug.

“Just remember, tonight I’m all yours again,” he whispered softly in Micky’s ear, making Micky shiver against him. “Then it will be your turn.”

As far as Micky was concerned, the hours couldn’t pass fast enough.



As We Go Along Leave Yesterday Behind