#and yes stephen i would love to stare at your crotch

[shadowland]

it's csn 1977 comfort hours

[starrystarker]

five times that peter parker succeeded in seducing older men, and one time that he didn't

i rewrote this three times which is why this took so long i'm sorry :(

part one here :) part three here :)

contains: daddy kink, crossdressing (i think), blowjobs, um they make out and stuff 😳, no beta we die like men, minimal plot maximum porn

part two: stephen strange aka doctor strange

***

Peter felt way too exposed in this outift. Actually, a lot of him was covered, it was just very... scandalous. For a lack of a better word. But it had to be done. Any other look other than absolutely scandalous would foil the plan. He supposes it's because Dr. Strange has a lot more self-control and needs to pull out the big guns, so to speak.

Peter walks out into the living area, mock-sneaking-out. Stephen is there, as planned. He never thought he'd be marching right at the doctor, wearing a pink crop top with "BABY SLUT" emblazoned on the front. But hey, there's a first time for everything.

"Peter?" Stephen asks, eyebrow raising. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh-" Peter starts before being cut off.

"-especially dressed like that?" The doctor continues.

"Um- out?" Peter says, the sentence coming out as a question. Just playing the part of innocent and naive Peter Parker. "I'm meeting someone."

Stephen stands, and Peter backs up a few steps on instinct. "No." The older man says, meaning to leave no room for argument. He looks like he wants to go over there and tear those clothes off of Peter, but whether it's because he wants Peter, or he wants those clothes off, he doesn't know. Stephen sits back down.

"N- What?" Peter says incredulously. God, he should be given an Oscar for this. "You're not in charge of me, Doctor."

"You're right. I'm not." Stephen says calmly. "But no man in their right mind would let a boy go out like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter scoffs, crossing his arms. He catches the way the doctor's eyes linger at the inch of skin that the action reveals.

"You're a smart boy. Should be able to figure it out," Stephen says nonchalantly.

Peter huffs and stomps (in the heels) towards the door, and as his hand lands on the door handle, the doctor is suddenly in front of him. They're about arm's length apart, and Peter steps back a little when he finds that he has to look up at the older man because he's this close.

"No, Peter. You're not going anywhere dressed like that." Stephen reiterates, face a mask of calm.

Peter takes two steps forwards, backing Stephen into the wall, really tilting his head up to look at the doctor. His body is almost flush against the older man's, and he vaguely wonders whether his hardon can be seen through the fabric of his booty shorts.

"Make me." Peter smirks, hooking a leg around Stephen's as if it's a pole. He uses that to pull the doctor closer until he's sure that his crotch is pressed right up against the older man's thigh.

Stephen raises an eyebrow again, and pushes Peter back, hard, until the boy's back is against the wall, hitting it with a thump and Peter's soft unf.

"Make me?" Stephen asks rhetorically, arms straight out to the wall, hands by Peter's neck. Enclosing him, almost. "Who were you going to meet?"

Peter doesn't reply as he stares into Stephen's eyes and reaches a hand downwards towards the older man's crotch. He's hard, Peter thinks.

"You're hard, Dr. Strange." Peter giggles, licking his top lip, watching Stephen track the movement. "Can I suck you off?" he asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

Peter's impressed that up until this point, the doctor had been totally calm. But now- now Stephen's façade is crumbling.

"Or you can fuck my mouth?" Peter whispers, going on his tiptoes to press a light kiss to the corner of Stephen's mouth. He hears a low growl and suddenly they're on his bed, the doctor on top of him. Peter's completely naked save for his plain black panties. The one with a little bow on the waistband.

Stephen is completely dressed, except his pants are pulled down to his knees and his fully erect cock is out. "You want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" the doctor says, voice hoarse. God, Peter is drooling at the sight of that dick. It's an average length, but it's thick, so thick. Peter gapes at the sight.

"Yes, please-" Peter whines, and Stephen is turning, his cock in Peter's mouth in a second, the fatness of it forcing Peter's jaw open wider and wider and wider. He blushes at the filthiness of this, how the doctor's ass is on his face, dick in his mouth, face right on top of his own cock.

"You like taking my cock, baby?" Stephen grunts, fucking Peter's mouth with short thrusts. The boy doesn't reply, can't reply, as he starts to drool around the fat cock in his mouth. "You like it, don't you? I see you, drooling all over my cock, like you're hungry for it. You feel so good, babyboy," Stephen groans.

Peter moans a little, feeling the doctor's cock hit the back of his throat, and chokes. His throat is constricting around the dick in his mouth, and it's good, it's so good-

"Look at you, choking on my cock, such a good boy," the doctor grunts, pulling his dick out slightly. "Look at you, letting me fuck your face like this."

Peter whimpers as Stephen lowers himself down again, this time fucking his mouth quickly. "I'm coming-" and the doctor shoots his load into the boy's mouth. He slowly pulls his cock out and turns back around to face Peter. The boy is slack-jawed, drool everywhere, his hair an absolute mess. "Daddy-" Peter whimpers, and Stephen fucking chokes.

"You want me to be your Daddy, babyboy?" Stephen asks, pulling the both of them to sit upright, Peter on his lap. He barely feels the weight; the boy is light.

"My Daddy," Peter says deliriously, looping his arms around Stephen's neck and kissing him. He leans forward with his mouth open, and that's how their mouths make contact. Peter whines as they exchange open-mouthed kisses, and humps at the doctor.

"Your poor little cock, baby." Stephen coos as he humps at Peter's crotch. Hearing the soft "unh, unh, unh"s of the boy makes Stephen willing to go to Hell.

"Daddy, I- I-" Peter whines, cutting off at a particularly rough thrust from Stephen. "Can you make me cum, Daddy?"

"Can I make you cum?" Stephen mutters, more to himself than to Peter. "Of fucking course I can make you cum."

"Please, daddy? 'M- 'M so hard, it hurts-" Peter moans. Stephen starts humping at Peter's crotch, fast and unrelenting, and soon enough Peter's telltale whimpers and whines of "Daddy"-

"-Cumming, I'm cumming- oh, oh, oh-" Peter breaks off with a long moan, cumming in his panties. Stephen doesn't want to forget the look on Peter's face when he cums. The black panties that the boy is wearing are completely soaked. He peels them off gently, fingers sticky with Peter's fluids. The cute hairless cocklet that greets him has the doctor speechless. He traces a finger down from the base and draws a little gasp from Peter.

"So sensitive, baby," Stephen murmurs. "It's okay, I'm gonna take care of you."

The doctor leans down and takes the little cocklet in his mouth gently. He suckles at the tip, almost like sucking at a pacifier.

"O-Oh, Daddy!" Peter moans, his tiny cocklet spurting out drops of precum. Stephen doesn't reply as he takes the entirety of the boy's pink cocklet into his mouth, and continues sucking.

"Daddy! Oh, oh- unhhh-" Peter gives no warning as he spills into Stephen's mouth. The doctor vaguely wonders how many time Peter can cum just like this.

"It'sso good, s'good, unh, unh, Daddyyyy-" Peter moans, cumming again. "I- I can't, I can't,"

Stephen switches tactics. "Do you wanna fuck Daddy's mouth, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy, please-" Peter whispers, and then he's being lifted up, above Stephen, then put down, ass on the doctor's face. Peter bounces up and down, fucking his cocklet into Stephen's mouth, and it's so hot. His head is thrown back, face flushed a lovely pink, moans and whimpers falling from his lips, ass bouncing up and down on Stephen's face.

"I'm cumming, Daddy, I'm cumming-" Peter wails, plopping his ass right down on Stephen's face, and he can't breathe. The thought of him being suffocated by this boy's ass, together with how his own cock has been rubbing at his pants, makes him cum, pretty much untouched.

Peter launches off of Stephen's face as he realizes what he's been doing. His face flames as what just happened hits him.

"Hey." Stephen says softly. "It's okay. It's okay." He leans forward to kiss Peter chastely. "What do you think about a bath?"

Peter beams up at the doctor. "I think that sounds great."

"Good." Stephen says, looking at Peter, who's positively glowing. He hands the boy a damp towel to wipe the stickiness off, then heads to the bathroom to run a hot bath.

"Peter, get in." Stephen calls. "You're already naked."

Stephen stands in the middle of the ridiculously large bathroom as Peter walks in, hands covering his crotch, looking like a little deer caught in the headlights. The boy's blush extends all the way from his cheeks to the light trail of hair below his belly button. Absolutely gorgeous, Stephen thinks.

"No need to be shy," the doctor says, and Peter blushes even harder, refusing to look him in the eye. Nonetheless, the boy steps into the ridiculously large bathtub (enough room for 4, Stephen dares to say, no doubt for Stark's escapades) and inhales quickly at his feet touching the hot water. He soon gets used to the temperature, however, and lowers himself down to soak in the water, closing his eyes. He hears the rustling of fabric and opens his eyes to find Stephen undressing, back towards Peter.

Peter finds himself mesmerized by the lines of the older man's back and how the muscles stretch and move as he takes off his shirt. Finds himself staring as Stephen slides off his trousers, revealing thick, strong thighs and toned calves. He wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

"As much as I would love for you to continue staring, I do want to get in that tub." Stephen chuckles as he strips off his boxers, watching Peter blush a bright tomato red.

"It's alright." Stephen murmurs, stepping into the tub, sitting beside Peter. "I love it when you blush like that." Which makes Peter blush. Again.

They sit in comfortable silence until Peter suddenly lunges at the doctor, climbing on top of him and kissing him. It's absolutely filthy, the boy's tongue practically assaulting his mouth.

When he finally pulls away to take a breather, Peter finds Stephen hard again.

"Don't mind me," the older man says, reading Peter's mind. "Keep going."

So Peter keeps going, kissing at Stephen's neck, his collarbone, his hair. Eventually, he realizes that the doctor's just sitting there, sans reaction, other than his erection nestled right in between Peter's ass.

"Don't worry," Stephen murmurs again. "I'm just transfixed by your beauty."

"Transfixed by my beauty, huh?" Peter teases. "I bet you say that to all the twinks."

"Would you like me to compile a list of things I admire about you?" Stephen asks lightly, almost jokingly but not quite. Like he would do it if Peter asked. "I'll start with your physical beauty, then." the older man says, flipping them around so he's on top.

"Your hair. God, your hair," Stephen groans, kissing the top of Peter's head. "It's like a halo. These fluffy chestnut curls will be the death of every man. And every woman."

Stephen moves lower. "Your eyes. I've never found the colour _brown _to be particularly beautiful," he stops and chuckles to himself. "But your eyes. Gorgeous. A gorgeous chocolate honey whiskey colour. Utterly dazzling."

"Chocolate honey whiskey doesn't sound very appetizing," Peter jokes.

"Oh, but it is," Stephen says darkly, then brightens. "Your lips. How do I even start?"

They were in that tub for quite a while.

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[imagine-loki]

Long And Lost

TITLE: Long And Lost

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12

AUTHOR: FadingCoast

PROMT/ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being Loki’s old friend/Lover in Asgard, but you left for Earth a long time ago. For all he knows, you might be dead, but you’re still alive and you’ve been working with SHIELD and/or the Avengers.

PAIRING: Loki/Sigyn RATING: Mature. NOTES/WARNINGS: Sexual innuendos (no explicit sex) / mentions of torture and brainwashing. The prologue is set right before Avengers. The first chapters are set after Civil War. Chapter 4 and on, are all during Ragnarok.

Also on Ao3 - Tumblr masterlist

.-

Ch. 12: And now I’m reaching out with every note I sing

Sigyn woke up with a start. A cold feeling in her gut and a soft tingle on the back of her head alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Whatever presence she felt was now gone, though. She turned on the side and saw a small business card. Written on it, there was an address and a rune.

Bacraut!!

Oh, dear! You haven’t used that word since the dark ages! Did I piss you off??

You think?

I’ll take as a victory that you’ve stopped blocking me.

How long has it been for you?

4 days. You?

Sigyn didn’t answer. It hadn’t been 24 hours yet for her, and it was the middle of the night! She buried her head on the pillow and tried to go back to sleep, rather unsuccessfully.

I don’t have energy for this shit.

Go back to sleep, love.

Shut up, Loki!

First thing Sigyn did in the morning was to call Sharon and tell her she needed to fly to London ASAP on an emergency. Sharon didn’t ask many question, for which Sigyn was grateful. Bucky on the other hand, wasn’t as agreeable.

“You said you weren’t leaving!”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are!”

“I’ll come back.”

“Why are you leaving, then?”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Bucky, I am going to physically hurt you and I don’t want to.” She glared at him. Bucky just realized he was holding her against the wall. He slowly released her from his grip. “I just have to.” He looked at her, dejected. Sigyn didn’t say anything else.

.-

The flight was long and unpleasant, but she was happy to be back in London. It had been her home for over a century. It didn’t matter that it had changed greatly over time, or that she had to leave for long periods of time every once in a while, it still felt close and familiar.

After freshening up and changing clothes, she went to her usual tea spot, ordered an ice tea and a croissant, and waited.

“Sigyn Iwaldisdottir.”

“Dr. Stephen Strange.” She said, not even looking up from her croissant. “It’s been a long time since someone used my full name. Am I in trouble?”

“You tell me.” He said sitting in front of her. Only then she looked at him. “You’ve been hiding from us for a long time.”

“Not all of you. The Ancient One knew, she found me years ago.” She sipped her ice tea. “But she agreed to keep the secret. I wasn’t supposed to be found.”

“You are supposed to be dead.” He started and she nodded.

“Alas, I am not dead and the knowledge of my presence on Earth has expanded dramatically.” Sigyn bit on her croissant.

Strange smirked. “I can assure you it was the most unexpected of events when he showed up at the Sanctum.” Sigyn had to roll her eyes.

“I’m sure it was quite unexpected to have my husband contacting you from the edge of the universe, just for you to get him a date.” She said. “What did he offer you?”

“Information, amongst other things.” Strange said, crossing his hand on the table. “He must have been quite desperate to offer that kind of gift just for me to- ah… get him a date.”

Sigyn, please. She heard in her head, but didn’t answer.

“I doubt you’d bring him to Earth just for information.” She said, almost smirking at Strange’s confused face. “Besides, I am the information, so…”

“He did offer something really valuable, but, he’s only delivering if I convince you to come with me.”

“He’s locked at the sanctum, I assume? Smart. It will take him probably an hour to break through the magic locks. Maybe less, he’s crafty.” Sigyn bit the last of her croissant. “How long do you have left?” She smiled.

If Stephen was nervous, he didn’t show. Sigyn calmly finished her tea, just watching Stephen slowly lose his patience.

“I’m guessing your deal is: I babysit him for as long as this date goes, and you keep my secret? Leave me alone?” She finally said.

“And I don’t send you off Earth.”

“You wish.” She rolled her eyes.

“Or we could help one another.”

“What help could you get from me? You already know what’s coming. And he’s coming for you… For that thing around your neck to be more specific.” Stephen stiffened a bit. “C’mon, Strange. Any magic wielding being can sense those things from miles. Agamotto did a great job building a pendant to conceal it as well as use it, but seidr will always find a way.”

“See? That’s what I meant by help one another. You possess abilities that we don’t. You could teach us.” Strange expression seemed to soften.

“You’re talking about my healing magic.” She realized. “That’s the price. You need a healer on the team.”

“We do. Besides, you know whoever is coming won’t be coming just for me. Hence the help one another.”

Sigyn knew Loki’s fear. She had seen him being tortured by Thanos, she had shared his pain, and she had managed to hold it back. But this wasn’t just about Loki. It was about what Thanos would do to all of them.

“So, I join your avengers team, keep tabs on my husband and teach you whatever you can grasp of healing magic. Is that my end of the deal?”

“In exchange for not exposing you and letting you stay on Earth. I’ll even let Loki stay if he delivers what he has promised.”

“The tesseract.” Sigyn watched Strange’s face grow uncomfortable, probably wondering how much she actually knew. He nodded anyway.

Taking a deep breath, she mulled over her situation. If Loki managed to give them the Tesseract, Thanos would be everyone’s problem, and she could count on them to fight the titan. And if Loki was allowed to stay…

Then there was the side of her who had been crying since she saw Loki tangled with another woman and wanted to curse the living Hel out of him.

Sigyn stood up, Strange followed her lead. She took a deep breath. “I’m guessing the sanctum is still on the same spot?” Strange smiled as they walked outside the shop. “No teleportation, it makes me dizzy.”

Strange looked at her startled. “How–”

“We all have our tricks.” She simply stated. “Now, I really like going around in trains. So I’m taking the tube. You’re free to teleport, though you’re not impressing anyone.”

Strange decided to go with her, even when he was growing more and more anxious by the minute. Loki could break out of the magic locks, he’d be on the loose, free to do–

“To do what?” She suddenly spoke. “He’s there because of me. He ain’t leaving, he knows I’m coming.”

Strange rubbed his forehead. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“No backsies.” Sigyn sang.

The rest of the trip they spent in silence, until they reached the London sanctum. Sigyn had been there before, a long time ago. The Ancient One provided shelter for her after a run with some inquisitors. Nothing had changed much. The tall stairs were still there, glowing with the sunlight filtering through dirty windows. The books, the relics, the ever changing doorways…

Then, she saw him, a few feet away from her. None of them moved. Not even Stephen Strange wanted to move. Loki and Sigyn stared at each other wordlessly.

Standing in front of him she wasn’t sure she wanted to kick his crotch or fling herself into his arms.

.-

ANNOUNCEMENT: I’m leaving on holidays for the next two and a half weeks. I am so sorry that there won’t be any updates during that time (mostly cause I’m not sure how often I will have internet access on my computer)

[thesimsbuzz]

S1 ¦ EP. 4 ¦ Reunited and It Feels So Good 🎶

One Week Later

Hanneli's POV

For the past week, I haven't left my house at all. I didn't even sit by any of the many windows in my house to look outside, and it's all thanks to freaking Stephen and his disrespectful little butt. I never wanted to see his face ever again! So if that means I have to stay in my house all day long then so be it!

Welp, that didn't last for long. By Friday I gave up and decided to make a run for the park. I made sure I got out of my house at the right time. Stephen is so interested in gardening, he has a dozen of the same plants in his back yard. He practically lives outside which makes everything worse for me.

After three o clock, he finally decided to head inside. Once I heard his door shut close, I dashed straight to my car and drove all the way to the only park in town. I always wanted to go, but I never managed to find a great time for it until now. I made sure I brought my yoga mat so I could do some yoga.

When I arrived at the park I was mesmerized by its beauty. It was so simple yet so inviting and exotic at the same time.

I spotted a gorgeous water fountain by the edge of the park. Maybe I could do some Tai Chi over there, I could use the exercise.

Stephen's POV

Did the girl die? It's been days since I last saw her outside. Her trash is cluttered all over the front of her yard and I could see her roses beginning to die in her garden at the backyard. I hope me calling her a bitch didn't literally break that heart of hers.

Why should I care anyway?

Because you're not a heartless human being.

True, but Hanneli specifically said to never step foot in her house ever again. So - as the kind gentleman I am- I'm simply following her instructions.

I carried on with my week as usual. I woke up, made breakfast, tended to my weed garden, went back inside, watched a movie and went back to sleep. It was like that everyday and I was completely fine with it. So what if my routine is undeniably tedious? I'm going to be making big bucks soon and I'll probably use it to get the future ladies who step on this town in the future.

By the fourth day of the week, I began to panic.

What if she's dead? Did I kill her? Does she need help?

I couldn't eat or sleep. I only talked to her once and now I suddenly feel protective of her, what if someone did get to her?

Day 7 and still no sight or word from Hanneli. That's it! I need a break, it's about time I visit that park they have around here. I need fresh air and a break from this house, the smell of weed is becoming intoxicating.

When I made it to the park, my heart dropped.

She's here and she's safe.

I calmly stood behind her and watched her sleep for a few minutes, her tiny little snores brought a smile to my lips. She looked so peaceful and extremely hot, just by looking at her I could feel a hard on coming on. The size of her breasts were just perfect, I could practically imagine my hands cup and squeeze them.

Argh! I should stop, she doesn't feel that way about me so I shouldn't feel that way about her.

But I can't stop.

I took a few steps closer to her until I was directly behind the bench she was resting on. I laid a finger on her chocolate brown skin and slid the digit down the side of her soft cheek. As soon as I reached down her neck she began to stir. I stepped back immediately but I ended up tripping on a rock.

Stephen: Ow!

Hanneli: Huh?

Oh shit. She's awake. The girl whipped her head around to see my stupid ass on the ground staring right back at her.

Hanneli: What are you doing here?

Stephen: Uh... I wanted to look at the scenery.

Hanneli: Did you touch me?

Stephen: No.

Hanneli: Liar! I felt something slide down my cheek and I bet it was your crazy ass.

Hanneli: Ugh! You pervert!

Ouch, that hurt.

Stephen: I didn't mean to. I was just so captivated by-

Ignoring my words, Hanneli marched right over to me and slapped me right on my cheek.

Instead of feeding into my anger, I replaced it with peace. I grabbed both of her hands and held her still.

Stephen: Listen to me.

Hanneli: No! Let go of me!

Tears started streaming down her face as she tried to let go of my grip, but I wasn't having it.

Stephen: I spent the last few days hell bent over your well being. You didn't come outside for days, I thought you were dead. The guilt ate me alive!

Stephen: I don't know why, but I just can't get you out of my head.

Hanneli: Stop-

Stephen: Give me one more minute Nelli, if what I say next doesn't change your mind, arrest me.

I can feel her resistance against me slow to a stop, she nodded slowly and let me hold her.

Stephen: You're one of the most beautiful women I have ever met in my life. I'm interested in you Hanneli. I want you and I to get to know each other, I feel that I can be perfect for you. We're both alone in this neighborhood. You need someone to be there for you.

Stephen: Let me try to be that person. Please?

Hanneli: *sighs* Let go of my hands first.

I let her free and for some odd reason, it pained me to let her go.

Hanneli: You barely know me. Are you only interested in me for my looks? Sheesh, I'm not even that pretty.

Stephen: Yeah, you're not.

Stephen: You're sexy and your looks are just a plus compared to all the other things I adore about you.

Hanneli: What else do you like about me?

Stephen: For one, you make a mean burger and fries. Like damn, you're an amazing cook.

Hanneli: *laughs*

Stephen: Secondly. Who wouldn't fall in love with that smile of yours. People would kill to have a smile like that.

Hanneli: *blushes* Oh stop!

Stephen: *grins* I'm serious! Oh, and plus you give me hard ons.

Hanneli: WHAT? 😳

Stephen: It's true. Just looking at you right now I'm getting hard.

Hanneli: Uh, goodbye.

Hanneli turned around and began walking away. Quickly.

I rushed right in front of her and blocked the exit.

Stephen: Sorry. That was really inappropriate.

Hanneli: Yup. I didn't need to know that at all.

Stephen: I'm weird and I don't usually do these type of things, I have no idea how to get a lady to go out with me.

Hanneli: I see.

All of a sudden a strange idea popped in my head. If I do this, I could jeopardize my whole chance with her.

Eh, fuck it.

The taste of her lips were fruity, I could taste strawberry and a bit of vanilla as I sucked on her lips and tied my tongue with hers. Not one slight of reluctance came from her as I kissed her. I felt her hands travel up to my neck and wrap themselves around it. I took the initiative to plant my hands on her curvy waist.

Kissing her was the most amazing feeling ever. She knew exactly what she was doing as our heads bobbed back and forth and in and out. I inhaled her scent, the smell of her beautiful skin and the the way her crotch was right in front of Mines made me kiss her harder and stronger.

Just before I reached for the buckle of her pants, she stopped.

Hanneli: Already trying to get in my pants and you didn't even bother to take me out to dinner?

Stephen: *smirks* So that's a yes to taking you out?

Hanneli: Yes.

😊

END

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[sherlockmonkeesstartrek]

Party Fic Part 3

I know I keep saying if you guys like it, I’ll post more, well I’ve been writing so much of it, I just want to post it all the same, even if it’s shit. So yeah, here is part 3, it’s smutty and does contain some pretty old-fashioned (perhaps slightly offensive) views on homosexuality, but as was the 1960s, so I apologise in advance (for the bad views on being gay, not for the smut. That I am very not sorry for)

The kiss had gone on a lot longer than expected. Everyone watched for longer than they meant to. It was getting to some people, turning them on. As a group of guys, most of which had not seen a chick since the start of the day where some may’ve rolled out a bed they shared with wives or fans or actual groupies. That was too long for many of them.

 For example, Croz, known for his insane sex drive, stared at the two men in the middle of the garden and wished he had some’s lips right now. Not to kiss. No, he wanted a mouth around his semi-hard dick. He was also pretty high, high enough to lose inhibitions almost completely. It seemed that it was the only way to get these guys to loosen up, to be out of their minds. Otherwise, they had images to put out, ways they wanted everyone else to see them. They would never kiss another guy, never have even a remotely sexual thought about anyone in their band, not even to win a challenge, even in they did have a secret crush on them. No, the only way they’d ever act on impulses like that was if they knew most people there wouldn’t remember the next day. That, or everyone else was doing it. Since the latter was not yet true, Croz would blame it on the former.

“Willie,” He tapped Nash on the shoulder, “You wanna beat these Beatles?”

Unsure, the English member of Crosby Stills and Nash looked back at his friend sceptically, “How?”

“Get your lips ‘round this.” He grasped the crotch of his jeans that were becoming a lot less roomie for him. Visibly so too. Nash could not believe it. He could not fathom the idea that Crosby actually wanted a blow job… from him. Ok, so it wasn’t the want of the act that surprised him. It was the fact that he’d turned to Nash for it.

“You’re serious?”

“Can you think of another way to one up that?” Oh, he was deadly serious. Nash felt a shiver down his spine, followed by an odd, hot feeling. He cursed himself for smoking too much pot, because he was totally considering it. He convinced himself it was only to beat the Beatles at their game. They’d been the ones to make it up after all. He’d always wanted to prove himself to them, and prove how good a friend he was to Croz. A friend though? The definition may’ve been a stretch as he turned 180 degrees and let his hands run up to the zipper of Croz’s jeans.

It struck him then that he’d never done this before. Well, no shit. He didn’t go around sucking guys off. He’d not been into guys and doubted very much that he’d ever be in a situation where he might need to know a couple of tricks. He wasn’t so much concerned by the eyes he could feel on him, as much as he was with wanting to be good at the act, both for Croz, and just to prove a skill that not many of the guys would know.

Everything was linked back to proving themselves.

Still, as the kiss went on and heated up, Nash pulled down Croz’s fly and sought out his member from his pants. In his hand, it was half hard, hot, thick. He gazed at it, feeling just slightly overwhelmed. Then he realised that he’d felt the same since he’d met Croz, as though he was in just a tad over his head. As he had done when he’d first sung with Croz and Stills, he sucked in a long breath, thought about what he was going to do and decided that it was now or never.

Meanwhile, he had several spectators. The kiss had been well and good to watch, but Graham Nash going down on David Crosby? That was a whole other sight, one that most of the guys hadn’t actually been privy to. Well, of course not with these two particular participants, but any participants, they’d not seen two guys in the flesh getting it on. It was certainly a jump from merely a kiss. A huge one. And no one, not one person was complaining.

Stills looked on with a huge grin on his face. He felt like a naughty school kid looking at a porno magazine. He felt the same guilt. He was actually enjoying it.

He rolled his eyes and glanced over at Peter Tork. He knew something interesting about the kid that no one else did. Peter had fucked a guy before. He’d said he didn’t enjoy it, but the way his eyes glistened, staring over at John and Paul, Stills wasn’t convinced. Maybe he’d just said it because it was the thing to say. Being gay was still seen as something to cover up, whether it was legal or not now. Well, in the UK, it was legal. In their home states, it would be totally wrong.

So, as Stills’ mind rationalised it, if he was going to experiment with a guy, he might as well do it now, while he was in England, at a nice big hippy party where it seemed everyone was having the same thought.

“Pete.” He called over to his friend once again. The blond monkee peered over, slightly reluctantly at first, but the grin on Stills’ face was enough to convince him it was worth tearing his attention away. “Come here for a sec.”

Most of the Monkees watched as Peter crawled on his hands and knees to Stills. They were curious. They’d always known this one side to Peter, this musical side of him, the talented one, the hardworking one. They’d only just become a little more aware of his hippy side, the side that filled himself full of drugs and hung out with his musician friends he’d somehow picked up along the way. It was as though they could collectively tell that they were about to see another side of him with Stills, since they’d been friends before the Monkees even started.

“You kinda into this stuff?” The younger of the two asked. Peter shrugged, casting a nervous glace over at the two men by Stills’ side, Nash and Crosby, the former of which had his face buried in the latter’s crotch. He couldn’t really deny that it was kind of turning him on. And neither could Stills. “You wanna have a go?”

“You don’t mind?” Peter asked quietly.

Stills shook his head, “I’d rather be with someone experienced.” He quipped, which got him a slight, fond punch from Tork. But since the answer was yes, he wasted no more time joking about it. Peter, already up on his hands and knees, straddled the younger musician and kissed him, sloppily.

“God,” Clapton’s voice rung out amongst the party, “Doesn’t it just look like Tork’s finally getting to fuck himself?” He nodded at the two similar-looking musicians locked in a heated kiss, grabbing at one another to feel their hot flesh beneath their hippy clothes. George Harrison, who seemed hardly fazed by what was going on around him, least of all John and Paul making out close by, cast his gaze over at the Monkee and Stills were up to. A light laugh escaped his mouth.

“I never knew Peter was so narcissistic.”

“No no,” Croz interjected, slightly breathlessly, “It’s Stephen who is.”

“Oh, so it’s Stephen fucking himself.” Clapton reiterated, “Lucky guy.”

“Lucky, yeah?” George chuckled.

“Well, why not? He knows what he likes. It’s got to be the best sex of his life, no?”

George shrugged, understanding where Eric was coming from.

“But it’s always nice to be with a someone who has to learn you. I mean, it builds a bond, between people, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, Guru Harrison’s speaking, guys!” Clapton announced mockingly. It got no attention from the guys busy with each other, though it did get a few snickers here and there. Proudly, he looked back at the Beatle. However, George smiled back with narrowed eyes. Oh, Eric was about to get it, in more ways than one.

“So, you’d rather fuck yourself instead of me?”

“Why, are you offering? Thought you wanted Ringo.”

“I do, but as Stephen said, I can have both. Get your butt over here.”

Clapton did not believe he’d ever been commanded by anyone in quite the way George just did. If he had, he doubted he’d ever been so obedient as to comply, but it is often said that guys think with their dicks. His had overrun his brain, quite enjoying the submissiveness he’d usually never allow himself to seem. He stumbled on his knees over to the Beatle and waited to be told what he wanted done.

Ringo watched as the two guitarists bypassed the snogging stage, unlike Peter and Stephen or John and Paul, and went straight to cupping one another’s hardness as casually and blissfully as though they’d done it many a time before. The oldest Beatle felt himself blush, partly out of embarrassment, as he was watching something, well several things that were totally taboo, but also because he was pretty jealous. He loved George, more than he could ever say, and he was no good at writing songs, nor poetry, or anything like that, so not even on paper or singing could he express how he felt to his friend. But even so, he thought that George knew. George was that kind of guy; he didn’t take things at face value. He observed, he analysed. He was always looking for a deeper understanding, like with what he’d said about sex being more than just an act, but a bond.

That’s why it sort of hurt when he’d happily beckoned Eric over. Did he forget that Ringo was there, willing, as a close friend, to participate in this… well it had long lost it’s challenge. It was now more of a brewing orgy, a sexual free-for-all, for guys to experiment in the company of friends. Maybe it was the friendship that got in the way. Maybe George worried that things would not stay the same had he picked Ringo as a partner. But he had said that he’d have both Ringo and Eric, so why was he focusing only on the latter?

Oh, the drummer didn’t want to spend his time at this party feeling miserable. He already had a reputation for being less than cheerful, at least in expression if not actually in personality, he didn’t want to bring down the mood of the place.

Turning away from George and Eric, he found himself looking at the three remaining Monkees. Mike Nesmith, beneath his sunglasses and strategically grown sideburns, was blushing too. As a boy from Texas, this kind of thing… it wasn’t talked about, it wasn’t good. But he was enjoying it, as was everyone else. He couldn’t see what was so wrong with it. No harm done. It was all just fun.

Davy Jones was looking a little more insecure. He half observed, his expression giving away that me might want to join in but was too proud and too nervous to spark anything. He sat up on his knees, beside Micky Dolenz. Now Micky, Micky had no pride what so ever, no shame. The man did as he pleased and enjoyed whatever he did. At that moment, he looked like a puppy begging to be taken on a walk. He couldn’t sit still for anything. His eyes excitedly darted from the array of couples around him, obviously taking great pleasure in being a voyeur. But just like the others, watching wasn’t quite enough for him. He too wanted to join in. He just wasn’t sure where, or with who.

Ringo was sitting closer to little Davy, probably the most conventionally good-looking boy in the Monkees, if his teen idol status was anything to go by. He was like the Paul McCartney of the Monkees, no one could deny how very sexy he was, not even Ringo.

“Wasn’t expecting this.” The Beatle chuckled, his eyes set firmly on Eric and George. Davy’s, on the other hand, couldn’t find one place to settle. They kept glancing up at Ringo to ensure he wasn’t judging. Davy obviously didn’t know that the oldest Beatle was incapable of doing so. He was far too sweet and far too loving to judge severely.

“Oh no, me neither. Do your parties usually end up like this?” The Monkee asked.

“With a lot of sex? Not my parties specifically. And not usually sex with my mates.”

“Well, it’s better than fighting with them, I s’pose.”

“That’s true. This isn’t too bad, actually.”

Finally, Ringo cast his eyes down at Davy. He was glad that someone else had a similar thought to him; he hated his friends fighting. Whether Davy in his own band was provoker of fights or not, it was nice to hear someone say it.

Ringo knew that it was probably the drugs, or his jealousy of Eric Clapton, or this whole situation at the party of broken societal norms, but he was starting to wonder whether Davy might consider being his partner. God, it sounded so much like this was a formal school dance. Everyone was trying to find someone they could ask, and Ringo’s choice had been snapped up by a guy way cooler than himself. He wished he’d been quicker.

Still, Davy was cute, and he had the added bonus of not being too close a friend, therefore it couldn’t get too weird when they saw each other again.

“Its not too bad.” Davy had parroted quietly while Ringo was lost in his contemplations.

“Do you dig it?” He asked. Davy looked confused by the question… or conflicted about his answer.

“This stuff? Man, it’s whatever floats you’re boat. I don’t get hung up on things like…”

“No, I mean, do you like it, would you ever…?”

“Kiss a guy? Oh well, I don’t know, y’know. If the opportunity passed…”

“What if I’m your opportunity?”

Davy’s already huge brown eyes widened, and his perfect, pouty pair of pink lips parted in astonishment.

“Wha… really?”

“Just asking.”

Well, if it were any other situation… Ringo probably wouldn’t be asking something so seemingly strange, never mind whether Davy would accept it or not. Since they were in the situation, it seemed rude not to accept. Rude, or was Davy just denying the fact that he’d wanted to join in for a while. Either way, he wasn’t thinking straight, not by any stretch of the imagination, so he got up onto his knees, inched closer to the Beatle and laid one of his girl-creaming kisses on his lips.

Ringo had underrated lips, he decided. They were plump, nice and pink, had nice shape to them. They were quite wonderful to kiss. If Davy had to have chosen which Beatle- in fact, which guy here in general- he would kiss, he probably would’ve gone with Paul. That man’s mouth was almost as perfect as his own. Now, however, he was quite satisfied with his choice of partner. Ringo was gentle and sweet, allowing the younger man to guide him in what he wanted.

“Mike…” Micky’s whining voice sounded behind the two men kissing. In watching what had developed between Ringo and Davy, the Monkee had decided it was his turn to get some. The closest guy to him happened to be the very man everyone assumed he had a crush on. And…  he’d say they were probably right. Not a crush in the kind of school boy way. Not like he’d stare at his friend from miles off and doodle his name on any scrap of paper he could find. No, it was more like he found himself gravitating towards Mike when he had no reason to do so. He seemed to have a brotherly bond with him, having more in-jokes and games than the others. Then again, it wasn’t all that much like a brotherly bond, because neither man ever really fought. The others did. Mike and Peter clashed about their music, both aspiring to be musicians above everything else. Mike and Davy rammed horns because they were fiery Capricorns and their egos were big enough to rival anyone else’s at the party. Micky rarely butt heads with anyone, but he’d lost his patience with Davy before, and maybe Peter. However, with the latter, it was probably the other way around, as Micky liked the on-screen chemistry he and Peter possessed, whereas the older Monkee preferred not to appear as ‘the dumb one’ in at any other time than on screen.

Mike, on the other hand, was quietly cool. Course he had an ego and took everything way too seriously, but Micky had the ability to draw the silliness out of the man. Mike had a wicked sense of humour and a great smile. Micky felt it an accomplishment when he was able to coax one onto his lips.

He wondered if it might help in this situation. Mike had not opened his mouth once since this whole make-out session had begun. He’d sat quietly, not knowing where to look, whether he really liked it or not, whether he thought it ok or not. He’d never stop anyone else doing what they wanted to do, it was ‘their hang up,’ he just wasn’t sure if he should join in. And if Micky wanted to persuade him to place even one single kiss on his lips, he’d have to find some way to make him feel comfortable.

“We have to…” He whined like a kid.

Mike’s brow knotted beneath his shades, “Have to what?”

“We have to get involved… it’s only right.”

“Pretty sure we don’t. There isn’t a rule book.”

“Well,” Micky thought hard, “I’m going to have to write one. I’ll title it ‘Get Into The In-Crowd.”

“Yeah?” Mike softly chuckled to himself, “I see what ya did there.”

As though the half-pun was something to be proud of, Micky shrugged humbly, pursing his lips and closing his eyes for a moment, as if to allow it to sink in. For Mike, it already had, and he was not laughing at the genus of the line, rather the ridiculousness of it. Still, he was where Micky wanted him, focusing on him rather than on the people around them, the few remaining guys with their eyes darting over each pair.

Mike sort of knew what Micky was doing. The first whimper had told him all. When Micky wanted something, he turned into a polite child. He’d beg for it, but if you told him to stop, he’d say no further word. And it wasn’t too difficult to tell that he was turned on by the sight in front of him. Mike had been subtle in his glance down his friend’s body and gotten a look at an unmistakeable shape in the crotch of the boy’s pants.

With seriousness infecting his voice, he asked, “Do you really want to?”

Now, Micky was rarely ever serious. Not, like, dead straight with difficult conversations. He had his ways of dealing with stiff. But here, Mike saw a side of the boy he hadn’t been party to before. Micky’s sparkling brown eyes showed a sense of vulnerability he’d always covered up with smiles and jokes.

“Yes.”

Broken to the boy’s gaze, Mike could not help himself, “Well come here then. I have to warn ya, I’ve not done this kinda thing before, so if I’m shit…”

Micky silenced him with a kiss, kneeling beside him. As it heated up, he kicked one leg over Mike’s thighs and sat down lightly on them. Mike had limbs so thin they were like sticks and Micky feared breaking them. That did not, however, prevent him from doing anything else.