Title:And so I come to you, my Monkee, my heart above my head

Author: Amy Throcklesonmorrison-Smythe

sequel to T'Monkeelover's "Monkees rush in where angels fear to tread"

Fandom: The Monkees (Series)

Pairing: Mike/Davy

Rating: NC-17

Summary: PWP

And So I Come To You, My Monkee, My Heart Above My Head

by Amy Throcklesonmorrison-Smythe

"Are you busy, Mike?"

"No, come in, babe," Mike Nesmith continued to re-string his guitar. "Where're Micky and Peter?"

"They picked up some birds in the pub downstairs," Davy smirked. "They'll either be back right away or tomorrow sometime." He settled on the twin bed opposite Mike's and watched him nimbly re-sting his favorite guitar.

"And nobody tried to pick you up?" Mike asked, glancing up at him, mischievously.

"Oh, some bird, yeah," Davy admitted. "She saw the show, thinks I've got nothing better to do than get laid."

"Have you got something better to do?" Mike asked, not looking up.

Davy waited until Mike looked up at him before answering. "No, not really. But I'm tired and she looked like work."

"Know what you mean, babe; this tour is wearing me out, too."

"Is that why you've been 'aven't been bird-watching?" Davy asked.

"Yeah," Mike said slowly as he tuned his guitar. "There's always chicks, I just want to focus on the music right now." He glanced up at Davy, who nodded and smiled, and then played a few chords to cover his nervousness.

Mike had been wanting to get Davy alone since the night of the littlest Monkee's elevator dream. It wasn't as if Davy was avoiding him, but there never seemed to be time for them to get together or for Mike to open the subject of Davy's dream.

And then the tour had started and it was all a blur to Mike. They'd been playing one-night stands for weeks. These four days in St. Louis were the first breather for the band. This was their second night in town and the exhaustion was just starting to wear off Mike. He wondered how Peter and Micky had the energy to go on a vixen hunt every night (on tour or off). Of course, sex was not in short supply for the Monkees (on tour or off), just rest, thought, privacy, peace and quiet were in short supply. When all Mike really wanted to do was curl up somewhere quiet with Davy in his arms, there were gigs, sound checks, interviews, photo shoots, and other annoying interruptions. At least in St. Louis they each had their own room and that gave them some space.

Still, this was the first time Mike had been alone with Davy and he was nervous and tongue-tied. 'If I don't say something soon...' he thought.

Davy must have had the same thought because he mentioned a new song by the Beatles he liked.

"What's it called?" Mike asked. This was interesting because Davy almost never talked about music.

"'I'll follow the sun'," Davy said, humming a bit.

"Goes like this?" Mike asked, starting to play the deceptively simply melody. "Know the words?" He played a simple intro and gave Davy a big downbeat to come in on. Davy was cute but his musicianship was sketchy.

Davy smiled gratefully and launched into the song. A nice little song, wistful and vague, not unlike the singer.

Or at least that's what Mike thought as he played an inspired solo on the A section and nodded Davy back in for the B, A and out. They sat smiling at each other as the last chord faded away.

'He'll probably say goodnight now,' Mike thought sadly. But Davy surprised him by slowly crossing the distance between the beds, easing around the guitar neck and sitting very close to the tall Texan.

"I've been thinking about my dream a lot, Mike," Davy said quietly, slipping his arm around Mike's waist.

So as to appear in control of himself, Mike carefully placed his guitar on the other bed and looked down at Davy looking up at him. Somewhat awkwardly but with determination, he put his arm around the smaller man's shoulders and tried to look cool. "What," he squeaked and cleared his throat. "What," he said firmly. "Have you been thinking?"

"I was thinkin' about the part in my dream where the lights went off," Davy said, reaching across Mike to turn off the lamp. "And I freaked and you 'eld me close."

"Like this?" Mike put both arms around his bandmate.

"Yes," Davy sighed. "And then the lift jerked and I was frightened and you tilted my chin up."

"Like this?" Mike drew a caressing hand along Davy's shoulder and neck to his chin, which he titled up at the perfect angle for kissing.

"Oh, yes," Davy sighed, letting his eye fall shut and his lips part. So he was very surprised when Mike turned the lamp back on. "Mike? What...? Are you...?"

"Davy, do you know what you're doing?"

"I think so..."

"Good." Mike turned off the lamp and pulled Davy close again. "I just want to be sure one of us knows what he's doin' here." He cupped Davy's face and kissed him.

It started out a simple kiss, just lips pressed against each other and nothing special. But Davy leaned against him and sighed and the kiss became more complex. Mike ran the tip of his tongue along Davy's soft lips and coaxed the singer's mouth open so he could explore it.

Davy welcomed the invasion with another soft sigh that nearly blew Mike's mind. Why had they waited so long? And if this was just a kiss... what would the rest of the night be like?

Sliding his arms around Mike's neck, Davy ran his fingers through the thick black hair. He let his hands play until they reached Mike's shirt collar and slipped inside. Casually, the little Englishman tugged the top buttons undone and ran his fingers through the thatch of chest hair. Feeling Mike shiver, and not from cold, Davy broke the kiss. "It grew back," he whispered.

"What did?" Mike asked desperately.

"Your chest hair," Davy explained. "The man made you shave it off for that beach romp, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Mike said calming down, but he jumped when Davy's fingertips brushed his rock hard nipple. "Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you trust me?"

"You said that in my dream," Davy smiled up at him, kissing his neck. "Of course I trust you, Mike."

"Then stay with me tonight." Mike buried his nose in Davy's soft hair, hoping against hope...

"You'd have to throw me out, luv," Davy said, pulling him back down in to the kiss.

Feeling more secure, Mike eased Davy onto his back and out of his shirt. He ran his long guitar-player fingers over the firm muscled warm skin, marveling for the hundredth time how perfect Davy's body was on a small scale. He paused in this exploration so Davy could pull his shirt off and they lay chest to chest, smooth against furry, playing light kisses and little nips over their necks and shoulders.

Mike's hand strayed from Davy's chest to his tight little tummy and beyond, to tug at his belt. Deftly undoing the clasp and zipper, Mike gently caressed the perfectly proportioned sex he found there. "Why don't we get out of these clothes?" Mike suggested, feeling Davy fumbling with his own pants.

"Ummm, an excellent idea," Davy said happily wriggling out of the last of this clothing and sliding between the covers of Mike's bed.

Mike lay down next to him and drew the smaller man into his arms. They kissed passionately, rubbing their erections together, bringing each other higher and higher. Davy came first, with an anguished sigh and tipped Mike over the edge. He came, growling and crushing Davy against him as his cock jerked against Davy's smooth taut tummy.

When their breathing got back to normal and they lay drowsily, twined in each other's arms, Davy suggested he should go to his own room.

"Never!" Mike said, holding him closer. The last thing the leader of the Monkees heard was a contented 'yes, Mike' as Davy snuggled against him.

~~~

Mike Nesmith woke with a start. The sun was pouring in his hotel room window and he was alone. And hard.

'Damn! Another dream about Davy,' he cursed, ungluing himself from the sheets.

Just then, Davy leaned out of the bathroom and invited him into the shower.

As Mike leapt out of bed and chased the smaller Monkee into the spray, he was thinking that some dreams really do come true.

THE END?