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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.
"Sleepers Awake - Part 1"
Title: Sleepers Awake (Part 1 of 2)
Author: Daytona Demon
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash
Pairing:
Mike/Peter
Summary: Mike is taking sleeping pills for his insomnia. The pills bring
not only sleep, but dreams of himself and Peter as lovers.
Warnings: Explicit sexual
language and situations
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.
Mike swallowed his sleeping pill, chased it with a glass of water, and turned away from the bathroom sink. He jumped, startled to see Peter in the doorway.
“Hi, Mike,” Peter said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just going to brush my teeth before going to bed.”
Mike shrugged. “It’s all right. That’s why I’m taking these pills in the first place, so’s I can be less jumpy and sleep at night.”
Peter walked over to the sink and picked up the bottle, reading the label. He looked up at Mike. “Just be careful, OK? Don’t get hooked or anything. I still think a glass of warm milk at night would help you sleep just as much as those pills. Maybe a teddy bear too. You can borrow mine.”
Mike chuckled. “Don’t worry, Peter,” he said. “The doctor prescribed those pills for me, and they’re just temporary. You know I don’t sleep so good sometimes, and I’m just all tense about that big gig we have coming up. Lots of details to work out. I lose sleep so you guys don’t have to.”
Peter smiled, the innocent, wide smile that lately enchanted Mike in a way that made him a little uncomfortable.
Mike walked past Peter and was stunned when Peter hugged him.
“Thanks, Mike,” Peter said. “You do so much for us, and we really don’t tell you enough how much we appreciate it.”
Mike returned the hug cautiously. “No problem, man. We’re a team. We all have a part to play. I’m just playing mine.” He broke the hug and went off to his room.
“Sleep tight,” Peter called out to him. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
Mike laughed out loud and waved back at Peter. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Peter’s naive approach to life could be annoying at times, but more often, Mike found himself drawn to Peter and his upbeat, childlike nature.
He rolled into bed and pulled the blankets up over him, waiting for the pill to take him down into sleep. Once sleep came, so would the dreams – those strange, delicious dreams that had tortured him at first but now made him look forward to nightfall.
Ever since Mike had been taking the pills – from about the second night, it seemed – he’d been dreaming about Peter, vivid dreams in which he and Peter were together not as friends, but as lovers. The pleasure was as intense as anything Mike had felt in real life, far beyond the wet dreams he’d long been used to.
The problem with the dreams was that they had begun affecting how Mike looked at Peter, felt about him, acted around him. Mike had begun to see Peter in a different way, a way that seemed wrong, almost sinful, given Peter’s sweet, innocent demeanor. In dreams, Peter did things that Mike suspected he’d never done in real life with – or to – anyone.
Mike didn’t understand why Peter was the focus of his dreams, or why he was becoming increasingly attracted to Peter in his waking moments. He also didn’t know what to do about it. He hoped that at some point, he would know the right thing to do, the right move to make; or that perhaps when his prescription ran out, the dreams would end and so would his fixation on Peter.
The familiar warmth and fuzzy-headed feeling from the pill washed over Mike. He counted backward from 100, knowing he wouldn’t get far before drifting off.
100…99…98…97…
Mike felt a hand on his leg. He opened his eyes and saw the beach around him, small waves crashing a few dozen yards in front of him. He and Peter lay on a blanket on the sand, alone except for sandpipers and seagulls. Even his subconscious self knew this was a dream; a California beach would never be deserted on such a warm, clear day. In dreams, the beach belonged to him and Peter.
Mike turned to look at Peter. “Hello again,” he said, as Peter moved a hand further up Mike’s thigh. “You should dress like this on the beach more often,” Peter said. Mike looked down at himself and realized he was dressed as Peter was, wearing nothing but short, tight swim trunks.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Peter said, his hand moving up past Mike’s crotch to his stomach, then to his chest.
“What?” Mike asked, enjoying the feeling of Peter’s fingertips tracing patterns on his skin.
“You’re wondering why someone as nice and naive as me is acting like this now, when I’m alone with you,” Peter said. He flashed a conspiratorial grin that made Mike’s heart race.
“Well, maybe you’re not as sweet and innocent as you act like,” Mike said, resting his hand lightly on top of Peter’s.
“Maybe not,” Peter said. “Maybe you figured out how much I want you, and that’s why you realized you want me too…at least when you’re sleeping. You’re stubborn. I’m going to have to keep doing this in dreams until you decide you want it to happen when you’re awake.”
Mike started to speak, and Peter leaned over to silence him with a kiss, his tongue brushing over Mike’s lips. Mike grabbed him, pressing Peter’s mouth onto his. Peter pulled away, grinning with a lustful expression that had none of his usual innocence.
“You tease,” Mike said. “You know you want this. Come over here. Come get it.”
Peter leaned in for another kiss, his tongue finding Mike’s as his hand found its way inside Mike’s swim trunks.
Mike moved closer to Peter. He felt himself being pushed away slightly. “You have to give me some room to do what I’m doing,” Peter said, his low voice resonating in Mike’s head and driving him just a bit mad.
Mike closed his eyes and let himself collapse into the beach blanket as Peter’s hands explored him. He felt Peter tugging at the waistband of his swim trunks, pulling the clothing off him, leaving him gloriously exposed as the sun bathed him in warmth.
He moaned as an even more delectable warmth and wetness enveloped his erection. Peter was going down on him, giving him better head than he’d ever received from a girl. Mike writhed about, grabbing Peter’s hair and forcing himself further into Peter’s mouth.
Peter pushed Mike’s hands away and sat up, smiling that infuriating, teasing smile and wagging his finger. “Naughty, naughty,” Peter said. “Don’t try to control this. I’ve got the steering wheel, and you’re here to enjoy the ride.”
Mike watched as Peter dove back down between his legs. Peter used his mouth expertly, tasting every inch of Mike. He slipped a finger up inside Mike, sliding the finger in and out with the rhythm of his mouth on Mike’s cock.
Mike’s breathing turned to gasps. He began to thrust into Peter’s mouth, unable to hold himself still. Peter raked his teeth slightly over Mike, just enough to trigger both pain and ecstasy. Mike cried out as he came, feeling Peter’s tongue on him lapping up every drop.
As he lay spent on the blanket, Mike felt Peter kiss him on the lips and then on the forehead. “For real, Mike. Some day. But you have to tell me it’s what you want,” he heard Peter say. For what seemed like an eternity afterward, he heard waves crashing onto the shore and felt the sea breeze cooling his skin.
Mike opened his eyes to darkness. He was awake, the dream long since over. When the dreams had first happened, waking up was a relief. Now, he felt a little depressed when he returned to reality. The sun and sand and ocean and warmth and Peter’s touch had been bliss.
He realized that something was different from when he’d awoken from similar dreams during the last few nights. He looked down and realized that he was no longer wearing the underwear he’d worn to bed, nor did he have the sticky puddle on himself that was the usual result of such dreams. Was it possible that some of what he dreamed had actually happened?
Did I take my underwear off in my sleep? Or did someone do it for me? How could I come like that in a dream and not make a mess all over myself like I always do?
Mike turned over in bed, staring into the darkness, speaking aloud. “Peter…”
In the other bedroom, Peter lay awake. Nobody knew that he often slept as poorly as Mike did. Nor did anyone know that Peter had fallen for Mike when they first met. For months, Peter had slipped into Mike and Micky’s room in the middle of the night, entering only when he was sure both were asleep. He would stand by Mike’s bed, watching Mike’s restless slumber. He’d nearly been caught more than once, but he’d always slipped out of the room before Mike was fully awake.
Until Mike had started taking the sleeping pills, Peter had never dared touch him. He knew the slightest contact could awaken Mike immediately. The first night of the pills, Peter had watched Mike sleep for hours. He had chanced only a caress here and there, stopping if Mike reacted. The second night was when Peter had begun using his hands and mouth more aggressively, rejoicing in Mike’s dream-state responses.
Peter began to touch himself as he always did after his nighttime visits, remembering the smell and taste of Mike, his sounds and movements. Peter had left clues behind this time, removing Mike’s underwear completely, using his mouth to bring Mike to completion without leaving a mess behind that could be written off as just another wet dream. He wanted Mike to figure it out, to want him in the daylight as much as he did in the darkness. It would have to be Mike’s call; that’s just how it was. If and when Mike approached him, Peter would be ready.
His hand moved more quickly on his own erection as he thought about what he had just done, what he had been doing for several nights now, and a sound escaped him.
"Mike…"
