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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.
"Lucky Guess"
Title: Lucky Guess
Author: Daytona Demon
Rating: R
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Mike/Peter
Summary:
Mike and Peter discover they're kindred spirits in enjoying the thrill of fear and
pain.
Warnings: The sex and pain infliction don't start out entirely consensual.
Disclaimer:
This story is about the characters, not the guys who played them, no implication
is meant about the men who played the characters, I don't own the characters, and
I get no profit from this (except a case of the jollies). So there.
Peter woke slowly, his mind foggy as he felt the weight of someone next to him on his bed.
Davy? Did you have a bad dream?
He raised his head, wondering who had joined him. He knew he didn’t have a girl with him, and certainly not when Davy was in the bed across the room.
Not Davy? Then who?
Peter turned over, immediately recognizing the lanky form next to him. Even buried under blankets, facing away from Peter, the tall Texan’s shape was unmistakable, the shock of dark hair spilling onto the pillow a dead giveaway.
“Michael?” Peter whispered.
Under the blankets, Mike wrapped his fingers around Peter’s wrist.
“Mike…” Peter whispered again. Mike remained still except for the hand that tightened around Peter’s wrist.
Peter winced, feeling the tendons and bones begin to shift slightly. “Mike, stop! You’re hurting me!” he whispered, louder this time, ready to shout if he had to.
Mike finally turned to look at Peter. He smiled a devilish smile, his expression both enchanting and frightening. Peter felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.
“You love it,” Mike whispered back, still smiling. He didn’t blink as he stared Peter down.
“No,” Peter said, struggling to free himself. Mike reached out and pinned his other wrist. Peter looked up at him, fear giving way to anticipation. Something was going to happen, something he should be scared of.
Scared because it’ll hurt you? Or scared that you’ll like it?
…Both.
Before Peter could say or do anything more, Mike’s mouth was on his, Mike’s tongue demanding entry, Peter giving in and opening himself up to his friend’s exploration. Peter shivered as Mike’s hands roamed, long fingers tracing delicate patterns on Peter’s skin.
In a flash of a few seconds, Peter remembered another moment, his ten-year-old self and his bike parked at the top of a steep hill. I dare you, I dare you, I dare you, his friends had said. Urged on by their words, Peter had hopped on his bike and gone down the hill.
Until the first big bump, flying down that hill had been the biggest thrill Peter could imagine. Now, feeling his hands lifted and his wrists pinned by one larger hand, he felt Mike’s other hand going places Peter would have been embarrassed to talk about in daylight.
Peter was going down the hill again, flying, not caring about the bumps or the rocks or what lay below. Flying. Flying. I never knew I could feel like this--
“Flying?” Mike whispered into Peter’s ear, stopping to nibble on his earlobe. Peter caught his breath, the pain building into pleasure. He moaned as Mike’s hand tightened around his wrists again, the sensations suddenly enjoyable instead of unpleasant.
“It hurts…but good…” Peter tried to explain. It hurt like that first bump, the one that had knocked him halfway off his bike, his ass slamming down onto the seat so hard he thought he’d broken his back. Up and then down again, hard, tilting at a dangerous angle, the bike out of control, his body out of control, speeding down, down, down, so down and so fast that it felt like he was soaring toward the sky.
Mike moved on top of Peter, leaning over to keep his hands held still in a firm and slightly painful grip. Mike’s other hand was between Peter’s legs, stroking and teasing him, circling his cock and then moving away when Peter would thrust toward him.
“Mike, please,” Peter begged, not bothering to whisper, no longer caring if Davy woke up and heard them.
“Please what?” Mike taunted him. “What do you want, Peter?”
I want to land. Hard. I want to land so hard I fall off the bike and hit myself on the rocks and I bleed, and even as I’m lying there dazed, I can’t stop thinking about what an amazing ride I just had.
Peter struggled out of Mike’s grip. He pulled Mike toward him, kissing him and biting his lip. Mike reacted as Peter had hoped, pushing him down and grabbing a fistful of hair.
“Don’t move,” Mike growled. “You’re gonna lay here and like what I do to you.” He pinched Peter’s ass hard, and Peter groaned as he dug his fingers into his sheets, both fighting and enjoying the sudden, sharp feeling.
Peter closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing as he felt Mike’s tongue on his cock, the pleasure tempered by sharp pinches inside his thighs, on his stomach, all over. Pleasure and pain, mingling into one overwhelming ride that threatened to shake him as he hurtled toward that rocky bottom, both dreading and welcoming the impact.
Mike lifted his head and Peter opened his eyes, frantic. No. Mike couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop now. That wasn’t how it worked.
“That’s what I wanted to see,” Mike said, smiling the devilish smile again, and down he went, his mouth enveloping Peter in delicious warm wetness. Peter tensed and tried to close his eyes, but he couldn’t stop watching Mike between his legs, any more than he could stop the adrenalin surging through him.
Mike dug his fingernails into Peter’s ass, clawing him hard enough to draw blood.
See the dirt and the rocks, heading straight for you? It’s gonna hurt…so good. Face first, full speed ahead, double or nothing, here we go.
Peter slammed into the ground or flew into the clouds; he couldn’t be sure which, and his body shook. He tried not to moan too loudly as Mike swallowed spurts of hot cum and scratched his fingernails down Peter’s legs.
Mike lifted his head, enjoying the sight of Peter lying spent and breathless.
“Did you fly, buddy?” Mike asked, his voice and entire manner suddenly soft and gentle.
“I flew and I landed hard. It hurt just the way I wanted it to,” Peter said, his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath and get his bearings.
After a few minutes had gone by, Peter opened his eyes. Mike was still watching him intently. Watching over me, Peter thought. Mike looked protective, alert, aware.
“How did you know I would like this so much?” Peter asked.
Mike smiled at him, and this time, there was nothing devilish about it. “Lucky guess,” he said, shrugging slightly. “You, um, seem like the type.”
Peter decided he’d ask Mike more about that another time. “Stay with me?” he asked, patting the space on the bed next to him.
Mike looked at the empty space, looked at Davy’s sleeping form across the room, and crawled under the blankets next to Peter. “We’ll let Davy figure it out for himself,” Mike said.
“Tell him we went on a bike ride,” Peter replied, gazing off into the distance.
“You went down a really steep, rocky hill and hit bottom hard, didn’t you?” Mike asked.
Peter stared at him.
“I think all of us did that, Peter,” Mike said. “Some of us never got over that thrill. Nothing ever hurt more or felt better.”
“Until now,” Peter said, sliding a hand across Mike’s chest. Mike moved closer to Peter, the two falling asleep to the warmth of their bodies nestled together and their slow, quiet breathing.