
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5848477.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Monkees
  Relationship:
      Micky_Dolenz/Davy_Jones, Mike_Nesmith/Davy_Jones, Peter_Tork/Davy_Jones
  Character:
      Davy_Jones_(The_Monkees), Micky_Dolenz, Mike_Nesmith, Peter_Tork
  Additional Tags:
      Male_Slash, Oral_Sex, Sexual_Play, Humor, Fluff
  Series:
      Part 7 of The_Adventures_and_Perils_of_Davy_Jones
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-01-29 Words: 1978
****** Stressed Spelled Backwards is Desserts ******
by htfrjolenz
Summary
     (The Monkees are as they were in 1966 in this saga but this is an
     altered reality story, it takes place in modern times and certain
     facts have been changed to create the plot and environment.)
     Summary: Series follower to 'Arresting Developments'
     A recuperating Davy gets bored and antsy … so the boys cook up a
     little something sweet to calm him down …
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
   Finally home from the hospital, Davy recuperated languidly on the couch.
Flipping through the TV channels for the umpteenth time he turned off the set,
tossing the remote on the cushion beside him.
   "I'm bored outta me wits."
   "Wanna play some more checkers?" Peter offered enthusiastically.
   "No thanks Petah, I'm all checkered out right now."
   "Got the new issue of Rolling Stone in the mail today Tiny."
   "Already read it Mike, twice."
   "Wanna play a game?" Micky suggested.
   "I wanna go outside! I wanna go to the beach, I wanna ride a horse - I want
to rehearse. I want to get orf of this bloody couch!"
   "Babe it’s only been two weeks."
   "Two weeks, five days, seven hours n forty-two minutes." Davy snarled.
   "Dr. Bowen said five to six weeks Davy," Mike reminded him again, "if you
don't do what he says those bones won't heal."
   "So wha' am I s'posed to do? Sit 'ere n listen to me hair grow?"
   "It’s growing in real nice." Micky teased.
   Davy poignantly flipped him the finger.
   "Tell you what shotgun, lay down n take you a little nap, n when you wake up
I promise we'll all do something fun together."
   "Don' wanna take a nap," Davy grumbled, punching his pillow into shape.
   "Here's your blankie," Micky said in a googly-mommy voice, covering his
steely-eyed lover, "and here's your huggie."
   He handed him the plush bear Camryn had brought him in the hospital.
   "Now be a good boy and take a widdle nappy-bye. Don't suck your thumb it'll
give you an overbite."
   He dodged Davy's doubled fist just in the nick of time.
   "Fuck orf," Davy scowled, slinging an arm around his teddy bear and
shrinking under the blanket.
   The three remaining Monkees settled at the kitchen table for a quick confab.
   "So. What's your plan Mike?"
   "Don't have one yet Mick, but I'll think of sumthin fore he gets up."
   "Now I'm bored," Peter said, chin in his hands, "do we have any desserts in
the house? I'm craving something sweet."
   "Aww Pete ya know sweets make you hyper," Micky countered.
   "Not that hyper. Besides man I'm REALLY stressed - and stressed spelled
backwards is desserts."
   "Peter you're a genius!" Mike snapped his fingers.
   "Huh? He is?" Micky puzzled.
   "What is one of the most natural ways to boost the immune system, promote
healing?" Mike asked with a gleam in his eyes.
   "Chicken noodle soup!" Peter offered.
   "A little more natural than that shotgun."
   "I dunno," Micky shrugged.
   "Orgasm!" Mike winked, and rose from the table.
   "I LOVE the way your foul little mind works Iago!" Micky mimicked, rubbing
his hands together, "whatta ya got in mind?"
   Davy woke to a dimly lit living room and his roommates lying casually about
on the floor.
   "Welcome back sunshine," Micky giggled.
   "Hey Tiny, nice of you to join us!"
   Peter gave a half-lidded silly grin that told Davy something was clearly up.
   "Wha's going on fellas?"
   "Lot's going on, lot's coming off," Micky slurred.
   Peter snickered.
   Sitting up and disentangling himself from the covers, Davy peered into the
gloom for a better gander at his strangely behaving friends. As his eyes
adjusted to the scant light it dawned on him what the cause of all the
giddiness was: Perched between his three semi-clothed bandmates was an almost
empty fifth of bourbon.
   "You guys are drunk!"
   "Yep, sure are shotgun."
   "Just a bittle lit," Micky grinned.
   "What’s (hic) wrong with that?" Peter asked.
   "I'm not, that's what!" Davy groused.
   "Ahh the better to eat you with my dear," Mike mumbled.
   "What was that?"
   "Nuthin Tiny, jes thenkin out loud."
   "So what 'appened to 'avin fun together when I woke up?"
   The tipsy trio exchanged knowing, furtive glances, grinning wickedly up at
their unwary prey.
   "Wha'?" Davy eyed them cautiously, his head cocked at a curious angle.
   "You look a little stressed out there shotgun. We've figured out a fun way
to alleviate the situation," Mike winked, standing up.
   "Why do I have this sudden urge to run?" Davy asked, shrinking into the
sofa.
   "Gee Davy its just us," Peter smiled, getting to his knees.
   "Now wai' a minit fellas-"
   "Davy, Davy!" Micky schmaltzed, crawling seductively toward his panicky
lover, "What could you POSSIBLY have to fear from us?"
   Without understanding exactly how it had occured, Davy found himself penned
in, surrounded by a triangle of drunken mischievous giants with EVIL INTENTIONS
screaming from their blood-shot eyes. He was both excited and terrified in the
same token.
   "Take it easy there, I've got broken ribs ya know," he pleaded, craning his
neck to eyeball the sneaky Texan behind him.
   "Then you're probably well off to keep in mind not to struggle with us on
this'n Tiny."
In a fluid motion, they had him on his feet, moving to the center of the room.
Peter undid the buttons on his shirt while Micky made fast work of the tie on
his pajama pants.
   Mike meanwhile, was busy placing tiny little nips along the graceful line of
his neck, sending delicious little shivers down his spine.
   Peter arranged the throw pillows on the carpet, and they gently guided him
to the cushy heap. He lay on his back clad only in his briefs, contemplating
the potential of making a break for the door. He decided he was far too
outnumbered.
   "Will yas at least tell me wha's going on?" He pleaded.
   "Davy - babe - relax," Micky winked, "Its gonna be .. sweet."
   Mike smothered a snorting laugh.
   "Do I at least get some of that booze?" He pouted.
   "Sorry shotgun cain't mix it with your pain meds."
   "But I 'aven't even 'ad one since six o'clock this morning!"
   Mike looked at Micky who looked at the clock.
   "It's fine nirty thive - er nine thirty-five."
   "Okay," Mike sighed, "one glass - ONE."
   Davy grinned: Battle won!
   With shaky hands, he took the bitter, amber liquid and sitting up on one
elbow downed it in one swallow.
   "Dadgum Davy!"
   "Hey! If I'm stuck being the pahrty favor I'm gonna at least join the
pahrty."
   Divesting him of his BVDs, Micky leaned in and whispered to him in a sultry
tone,
   "Babe, this is YOUR party!"
   Davy felt an exciting warmth that ran from his forehead to his heels. He
couldn't decide if it was the liquor or anticipation; either way he was good to
go. The three men gathered around him on the floor, touching and caressing
every inch of exposed skin. Micky trailed licks and suckling kisses along his
inner thighs, stroking his hips with tickling fingertips. Peter rubbed a
calloused hand across his toned stomach, flicking his nipples, one then the
other with his crafty tongue. Mike tangled his long fingers in Davy's silky
chocolate strands, pressing fiery kisses to his passion-thirsty lips. Davy
moaned thickly into Mike's eager mouth, the symphony of sensations driving him
wild. Mike dipped his tongue between the youngsters parted lips to tango
briefly in a silky lover's dance.
   "Don't youmove," Mike breathed in his ear, "I've got a sweet surprise for
you."
   Drunk with pleasure Davy closed his eyes, drifting along lazily on wings
gilded with gossamer desire.
   "Do you trust me little one?" Came Micky’s silky questioning voice.
   "You know I do."
   "Then just relax and go with the flow, okay?"
   "Sure babe."
   He sensed busy hands about his face and the unmistakable feel of a blindfold
being strapped securely around his eyes. A nervous grin played on his lips, but
no struggle or objections came from him.
   "You ready for that fun I promised you Tiny?"
   "Yes," he whispered, an excited tremble in his voice.
   "Nothing dangerous, nothing disgusting; trust us Shotgun n this’ll be
great.”
   Davy nodded and sighed out a relaxing breath. A moment passed by. He could
hear them whispering amongst themselves and other sounds he couldn't place.
Then the blessed contact began again.
   He felt something cool and sticky brush across his lips, and smelled the
scent of toffee or caramel. Mike's tongue hungrily licked at the sweet sauce,
sucking in his plump lower lip and grazing it with his teeth. As he moved to
taste the other lip, Peter continued to pet him, kissing his now-erect nipples.
With the first swipe of Mike's skilled tongue against his mouth, Peter sucked
the pink peak into his mouth to mingle with the ice he held within. He swirled
the frozen cube to touch the rosy flesh he now held in his teeth, and deftly
pinched its twin with gruff fingers.
   Davy groaned deeply, his body humming from the contrasting flourishes of
attention. A third sensation entered the tantalizing physical cacophony, as
Micky enveloped his shaft in a soft, leathery fruity film. Mike probed into his
mouth, a chocolate candy kiss melting between their tongues, while Micky worked
at softening the fruit-rollup around his hardened cock. Peter switched sides,
taking a frozen square of bliss to Davy's other breast. He squeezed a spray of
Reddi Whip along the line of hair that rain up his stomach and proceeded to lap
it up in small flicking licks.
   "Bloody FUCK Micky!" Davy cried.
   "Feel good Tiny?" Mike breathed in his ear as Micky began to suck wildly at
his candy-wrapped hard-on.
   "So good!" he panted.
   Mike placed a strawberry between his lips and bending down he pressed it
into Davy's waiting mouth, kissing him and sucking at the sweet red juices.
They devoured one another's mouths, savoring the taste of skin and chocolate
and fruit. Having sucked down to bare skin, Micky paused long enough to empty a
paper packet into his mouth. The incredible sensation of the pop rocks
exploding against his head sent Davy into fits as his lover resumed the
relentless blowjob.
   Peter continued to kiss and suck at the warm bare skin of his torso,
occasionally tweaking Davy's stiffened nipples. Face covered in whipped cream
he was having the time of his life. Mike went at the luscious little mouth
again, the stinging bite of cinnamon dancing on his tongue, the tiny red hot
candies dissolving easily in the heat of their impassioned kiss.
   Davy's resolve was wearing thin, his body stoked to a fever pitch. Mike
joined Peter in tasting the small taut form from neck to hip as Micky sucked
his organs out at breakneck speed. Brown hair stuck to his sweaty brow as he
tossed his head from side to side in the throes of his mounting euphoria.
Clutching the cushions beneath him, Davy begged for merciful release. On hands
and knees Micky sucked him fiercely, taking his cock from stem to tip as Peter
and Mike each mouthed a tiny nipple greedily.
   "Oh God, please - I'm.. I'M CUMMING!"
   Davy pounded his fist on the carpet, a strangled cry escaping him as Micky
swallowed his velvety fluids taking him over the edge.
   "Enough! STOP, PLEASE!" He begged.
        And suddenly it was over.
   His body buzzed with energy as the aftershocks hit him, shaking him to his
very core. Too weak to move he lay breathless and sticky, a film of sweat
glistening on his skin in the low light. Someone wiped him down with a warm,
wet cloth, cleaning him thoroughly of every vestige of the evening’s
experimentation. Quickly toweled dry he was covered again with a soft blanket
and drifted into sleep.
   When he awoke he was back on the couch, fully pajama'd and smelling food.
   "Hope you're hungry," Micky called from the doorway.
   "Are yer kidding I'm famished! What's on the menu?"
   "Bacon and eggs, Mike's making breakfast."
   "Breakfast? Did I sleep all night?"
   "Sure did sleepy head, ya act like something knocked you out last night."
   "Ha-ha, funny," he smirked
   "You want jam on your toast Davy?" Peter called from the kitchen.
   "Erm .. no thanks man," he grinned bashfully, "I think I had my fill of
sweets lahst night."
End Notes
     Thanks go out to:
     Willy Wonka
     JL Kraft
     The Pillsbury Dough Boy
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