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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.

 

"Crazy From the Heat"

 

 

Title: Crazy From the Heat
Author: Daytona Demon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Mostly Mike/the other three, but there's some Mike/Micky, Peter/Davy, Mike/Peter,Micky/Davy. I'm surprised I didn't work Mr. Schneider in there somehow.
Summary: It's hot. Everyone's irritated. Mike's being an ass. The other three figure out how to improve Mike's mood.
 

 

The early evening was hot and humid, as every day for the last week had been. Sea breezes and the sun’s descent brought little relief, and the Monkees’ pad was sweltering even with windows open and fans blowing.

 

Peter, Micky, and Davy had long since abandoned wearing anything but swim trunks around the house. As they sat motionless on chairs and the couch, avoiding any unnecessary movement, Mike paced around the room.

 

“Hey, restless,” Micky said. “You’re making me sweat just watching you walking around sweating. Why the hell are you still wearing the shirt and jeans? I swear you could bake bread in this house, it’s hot enough.”

 

Mike shrugged. He’d been testy for days. The unrelenting heat, the lack of work, and the constant absence of female companionship were all wearing on his nerves. Watching the other three men walking around wearing little clothing was starting to affect him in ways he didn’t like and couldn’t explain to himself. If they would go nearly naked and taunt him so, his rebellion would be to stay fully dressed.

 

“I wish you guys would put some clothes on,” Mike grumbled.

 

“Why?” Davy asked. “It’s awful in here. It’s even too hot for a wank.”

 

“It’s never too hot for that,” Micky quipped.

 

“Knock it off,” Mike snapped, walking to the window and staring outside. He wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve.

 

“I know what’s wrong with Mike,” Peter said. “He needs a girl.”

 

Mike glared at Peter. “What? I do not!”

 

“It’s like Davy said. Too hot for a…you know,” Peter went on. “You haven’t been out with a girl in forever, and it's getting to you.”

 

Mike stared out the window again. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, and we’re gonna stop having it right now. I don’t want to hear about wanking or girls or any of that. Seriously, grow up.”

 

“Somebody needs to get laid,” Micky whispered to Davy.

 

Mike continued his rant. “Why are you guys so lazy? You haven’t even touched your instruments in three days. Nobody but me has been playing their instrument lately.”

 

“I tried to play mine but like I keep telling you, it’s too hot for that,” Davy deadpanned. Micky and Peter snickered while Mike flopped down on the couch.

 

“I give up,” Mike said. “You’re all crazy from the heat.” Even he couldn’t stand the feeling of his clothing any longer, and he needed to feel what little breeze presented itself through the open windows. Giving up on his clothed rebellion, he kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his shirt.

 

“WHOO! Mike’s gonna strip for us!” Micky yelled. “About time we got some entertainment around here!”  

 

Mike rolled his eyes as the others laughed. “I’m not stripping for nobody. The shirt’s staying on. Just trying to get a little ventilation going here,” he said.

 

Davy and Peter went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. “Whatcha looking for?” Micky called out to them from the living room.

 

“Nothing,” Davy said. “Just enjoying the cool air.”

 

“Close that!” Mike barked. “You’re gonna drive up the electric bill doing that!”

 

Davy and Peter looked at each other and shook their heads. Micky joined them in the kitchen. “We need to do something,” Micky whispered to them. “Mike’s just…man, he needs to loosen up.”

 

“Why are we in the house, anyway? We should be at the beach,” Peter said.

 

“No way,” Davy replied. “Crowds, remember? Nowhere to sit, and that sun is a killer right now. The sand is too hot to walk on. It’s worse out there than in here.”

 

“I think it’s time for some emergency medicine,” Micky said. He opened a cabinet and reached for a dusty bottle of bourbon.

Peter made a face. “Ugh. I hate that stuff.”

 

“We all do,” Davy said. “But if it gets Mike to relax and stop being such a pain in the arse, we all win.” He grabbed four glasses from another cabinet.

 

Davy, Micky, and Peter walked back to the living room, sat on the floor, and poured bourbon into the glasses. Peter handed a glass to Mike.

“What’s this for?” Mike asked.

 

“It’s hot and everybody’s irritated, so we might as well get kinda drunk,” Micky said.

 

“Yeah, we can’t stand you sober,” Davy joked. “Cheers.” They raised their glasses and downed their drinks.

 

“Another round?” Micky asked, picking up the bottle.

 

“Yeah, sure. What the hell. Fill me up, bartender,” Mike said, holding out his glass to Micky.

 

Davy elbowed Peter and they smiled at each other. “It’s working,” Peter whispered.

 

“Whose bottle of bourbon is that, anyway?” Mike asked.

 

“Yours, I think," Micky said. “Didn’t you say you brought it with you from Texas?”

 

“Maybe,” Mike said. “That’s an old bottle then. Good thing that it doesn’t spoil.”

 

“I don’t think it would taste any worse if it did,” Peter said, gulping his second glassful and making a face.

 

Mike removed his shirt, wadded it up, and threw it across the room. “Too damn hot in here,” he said, removing his jeans and tossing them aside to join his shirt. He flopped back down onto the couch, wearing nothing but his underwear.

 

“Go, Mike!” Micky catcalled, falling off his chair onto the floor. Davy leaned over to help him up, falling off his chair too as they both laughed.

Peter stood up, swaying slightly. “You two are DRUNK,” he said, pointing to Micky and Davy. “And so am I,” he said, collapsing back into his chair and grinning.

 

Mike looked at Peter and smiled. “I’ve never seen you drunk before, shotgun,” he said.

 

“I can’t remember if I’ve been drunk before,” Peter said, slurring his words slightly. “Congratumulate me.” Davy and Micky burst into laughter again.

 

“Hey, Peter, hand me the bottle, would ya?” Mike asked. Peter stood up, shuffled over to where the bottle sat on the floor, and carefully leaned down to pick it up.

 

After Peter handed the bottle to Mike, Davy pulled on Peter’s hand, throwing him off balance. Peter collapsed onto Davy and Micky, the three of them helpless with laughter.

 

Mike shook his head and drank from the bottle. “Can’t take you guys no place,” he drawled.

 

“That’s why we never left the house,” Davy said. Again, he and Micky and Peter collapsed into laughter.

 

Mike hunched over, staring off into space, his face serious again. Micky stood up and lurched over to him. “Relax, man,” he said, placing his hands on Mike’s shoulders. “Don’t be so tense.” He dug his fingers into Mike’s shoulders and back, kneading the tight muscles.

 

Mike jumped at first, then let himself relax so Micky could massage him. “You should do this for a living,” Mike said.

 

“Drummers give the best massages,” Micky said. “It’s because we use our hands and arms so much.”

 

Davy poked Peter in the ribs, saying, “Drummers do it with sticks.” He and Peter giggled, leaning in toward each other. Peter poked Davy in the stomach, making Davy wince and laugh.

 

Micky reached down for the bourbon bottle. He took a drink and handed the bottle to Mike, who took an even longer drink.

 

“Glad we had this motherfucker around,” Mike said, lifting the bottle. “I ain’t felt this good in a long time.”

 

“Such language!” Micky chided him, putting on an old-woman voice. Peter and Davy pointed and giggled, and even Mike laughed out loud.

 

“Whatcha gonna do about it, dipshit?” Mike asked, tilting his head back to look at Micky.

 

“You’re DRUNK!” Peter yelled, pointing at Mike. “But then again, so am I,” he said, laughing again. Davy stopped Peter’s laughter with a kiss, and Peter wrapped his arms around Davy, pulling him close.

 

“Kinda forward, aren’t ya, mate?” Davy said. “I guess I am, miss,” Peter replied, as he and Davy kissed again.

 

“Whoa,” Mike said quietly, watching Davy and Peter. “What. The. Hell.”

 

Micky leaned over to whisper to Mike. “It’s all for fun,” he said, digging his fingers into Mike’s shoulders again. “It’s just about feeling good. We haven’t had enough of that lately.”

 

“I know I haven’t,” Mike said.

 

“Well, maybe we can change that,” Micky said. He kissed his way from Mike’s ear to the nape of his neck, moving his hands down to Mike’s chest.

 

Mike reached his hands up to touch Micky, stroking his arms and encouraging him. On the floor, Peter put his hand inside Davy’s swim trunks as the two embraced. Mike watched, amazed at how uninhibited the normally shy Peter was with a few shots of bourbon in him.

 

Peter broke away from Davy and stumbled over to Mike, taking his hand. “You’ve been real uptight lately,” he said, pronouncing his words carefully. “You need some…some…”

 

“Some lovin’,” Davy said.

 

Peter and Davy burst into giggles again. Micky placed a hand under Mike’s chin, moving Mike’s head back so it was easier to lean over and kiss him. Peter and Davy settled in on either side of Mike, stroking his chest, his stomach, his legs.

 

Mike wanted to resist, wanted not to enjoy what was happening to him. He broke away from Micky, protesting, “I’m not queer, you know. This is just for kicks.”

 

“Of course you’re not,” Micky said. “We all like girls. That doesn’t mean we can’t like this too.”

 

Davy moved a hand down Mike’s thigh. “C’mon, big guy,” he said. “Wouldn’t you rather feel good than bad?”

 

Mike relaxed, closing his eyes as Micky kissed him again and Peter and Davy put their hands all over him. It felt too good to stop now.

 

Davy broke away from Mike, standing up and extending his hand. Mike let Davy lead him off the couch and onto the floor. Mike didn’t have to remove his underwear; Davy took care of that for him.

 

Micky sprawled out near Mike, brushing his lips lightly against Mike’s and then pressing harder. Peter and Davy continued exploring Mike’s body, their hands and mouths finding the places that made him moan with delight.

 

Peter kissed Mike’s stomach, nuzzling the dark hair that tickled his face. He worked his way down, flicking his tongue over the tip of Mike’s hard cock, making Mike jump. Peter looked up, meeting Micky’s gaze, and Micky nodded. Peter lowered his head to Mike again, licking him slowly at first, and then taking Mike completely into his mouth.

 

Davy sucked gently on Mike’s fingertips as Micky nibbled his neck and breathed into his ear. “Don’t hold back. Let go,” Micky said. Mike tried to speak and couldn’t, writhing underneath the attentions of his bandmates. The pleasure had built up to a point that was nearly unbearable.

Davy and Micky tried to hold Mike in place as he moved around, thrusting deeper into Peter’s mouth. At last, Mike went over the brink, and the feeling was like the first drop on a rollercoaster, a freefall of sensation that centered between his legs and shot like electrical current up to his hands, down to his toes, even the top of his head. He cried out as he came, his noise and thrashing enough to startle his friends.

 

Mike lay panting, exhausted from the fierceness of the orgasm that had ripped through him. “Sorry, Peter,” he said. “I should’ve warned you I was getting close.”

 

“That’s OK,” Peter said, wiping his mouth. “It tasted better than the bourbon.”

 

Mike closed his eyes and sighed as Micky stroked his hair. “How you doing?” Micky asked. “Better now?”

 

Mike didn’t answer. Davy nudged Micky and watched the steady rise and fall of Mike’s chest, the slow, even breathing. “He’s asleep already,” Davy said.

 

“Wow. That was fast,” Micky replied. “Peter, you’re good.”

 

Peter looked depressed. “There’s only one problem. Now I’m horny,” he said.

 

Davy laughed. “Well, then, why don’t we go back to our room and take Micky with us. We’ll push the beds together so we have some room to play, and we’ll leave the door open so Mike can join us if he wants to when he wakes up,” he said.

 

“Good idea,” Micky said. They stood up, swaying slightly, and made their way to Peter and Davy’s room.

 

When Mike woke up later, he wondered at first if he’d dreamed the entire thing. He heard sounds from Peter and Davy’s room that assured him what he remembered was real. He wandered to the bedroom, leaning in the doorway and watching his three friends in a tangle of arms, legs, and groping hands.

 

“Got room in that party for one more?” Mike asked.

 

“Always,” Micky said. He and Davy moved to one side, leaving space for Mike get into bed next to Peter.

 

Mike winked at Peter, putting an arm around him. “Come here, you,” he said, pulling Peter toward him for a kiss. Peter smiled at Mike and whispered, “I like having you all to myself.” He reclined on the bed as Mike began to reciprocate the pleasure Peter had given him earlier.

 

Four men and two beds added up to a hot night, even after the sun went down and a cool sea breeze rolled in at last.

 

 

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