more lighthearted domestic kink ficlets
Three more.
For
turps: Pete/Mikey crossdressing
Pete gets up and makes coffee in breakfast in the mornings, then walks the dogs while Mikey's in the shower. He gets back and takes his shower while Mikey feeds the dogs, eats, and sets up the machine to make more coffee for Pete. Then they can cross paths again in the bedroom while they both get dressed. It's a perfect system.
"I've got a meeting at the end of the day, so I can't slip out early," Mikey says, snagging his blue dress shirt off the hanger.
"That why you're wearing something with buttons?" Pete mumbles, rubbing at his eyes and covering a yawn as he towels off.
"Yeah. A tie, even. So much bullshit."
"Mmm." Pete tosses his towel away and goes over to the dresser, digging through the top drawer and coming up with a handful of bright green satin, edged in lace. He steps into the panties, pulls them up, tucks and adjusts, then stumbles over to frown at himself in the mirror.
"Anyway--shit, there's dog hair all over my khakis, these aren't going to work. Shit."
"Black pants. Hanging over the closet door."
"Thank you." Mikey presses a kiss to the back of Pete's neck as he passes him. "Anyway, I'll be late, so can you do the post office and get something for dinner?"
"It's my turn to cook anyway." Pete returns to the dresser and takes out a black camisole, tugging it over his head and blinking blearily at Mikey through the neckhole. "But you mean we're out of milk and bread and stuff?"
"And dog food."
"Mikey."
"Sorry."
"It sucks hauling that home on the bus." He sighs and turns away, stomping over to the closet and grabbing a skirt from a set of hangers pushed far to the left. "You're the worst."
"I know." Mikey waits for him to step aside and starts digging through the mess of stuff at his end of the closet. "Where are my ties?"
"Probably on the floor."
There's one on the floor, with a complicated series of creases that suggests it was tied for unorthodox purposes the last time it came out, but fortunately he finds an unmolested one dangling from the armhole of his suit jacket. "While you're at the post office, get stamps?"
"Mmm."
Mikey looks over his shoulder and sees that Pete's standing in front of the mirror again, straightening the way the skirt falls on his hips with one hand and smoothing his hair to fall down over his eyes with the other. "Tights," Mikey prompts gently, running his tie between his fingers.
Pete shakes his head. "'m gonna wear the tall boots?"
"Still, you're showing a couple inches. Tights."
"'kay." Pete yawns again and picks up his makeup box, leaning in close to the mirror. "Spaghetti for dinner?"
"Awesome." Mikey kisses the back of his neck again and carefully straightens the strap of his camisole. "Don't forget coffee filters. Love you."
For radioaches: Pete/Mikey, sport! :D [NOTE- breathplay]
"You lost the coin toss fair and square," Pete says, "so stop complaining."
"You do not have any interest at all in college soccer playoffs and you can't tell me that you do."
"You lost the coin toss." Mikey knows Pete well enough to know that he'll keep repeating that for as long as it takes. And it is an objective fact. Mikey lost and Mikey has to put up with endless ESPN C-list coverage as a consequence. Shitty, shitty luck.
He sighs and leans his head back against the couch between Pete's knees. Pete pets his hair lightly, tangling his fingers in the strands, and Mikey closes his eyes. He can still hear the commentators rambling on, and it's still complete nonsese, but Pete's fingers playing with his hair is a nice feeling, and Pete's legs sliding forward and over his shoulders, holding him back against the front of the couch. The floor's a little too hard to be totally comfortable, but it won't bother him for a while yet. This is nice.
"You want me to explain what just happened?"
Mikey shakes his head. "Don't care."
"Mikey." There's a playful note in Pete's voice, and that makes Mikey open one eye a little and look up at him. He likes Pete being playful. "Are you sure you don't want me to explain?"
He licks his lips and nods, closing his eye again and taking loose hold of Pete's ankles. "Okay. Go ahead."
"Because it's interesting and cool and you totally care."
"Sure." He slides his thumbs slowly up and down over the bone. "You can think that."
Pete laughs softly and leans forward, talking close to Mikey's ear. "Well, the one team just swapped out their striker, and..."
He keeps talking, but Mikey doesn't care; he's focused on the warmth of Pete's breath against his ear and his neck, and the slow slide of Pete's arm down to his chest and across. Pete brings his arm up, Mikey's windpipe fitting into the crook of his elbow, and pulls.
Pete keeps talking, that's the thing, a steady rhythm in the calmest voice. Mikey's heart is pounding in his ears louder than Pete's words, drowning out any hope of catching the meaning while Pete holds on tight, cutting off his breath. The moment draws on and on, Mikey digging his fingers into Pete's ankles tightly and forcing himself not to struggle, just to feel.
Pete lets go and sits back, his legs still holding Mikey steady as Mikey drags in shaky, deep breaths.
"Anyway," Pete says, reaching for his beer. "That's what was going on there. Oh, check it out, I bet this is going to be a cool play, too."
For pearl_o: Pete/Mikey, Idk, I really do just love me some sex toys - their collection, shopping together, whatever.
Mikey likes things that he has to give in to. Plugs and dildos that push the limits of what he can take, restraints and clamps and rings, gags and spreader bars. He can fight, but the toys are going to win, and he's going to surrender.
Pete likes intensity. Toys you heat and toys you freeze and anything that vibrates. Anything that has batteries, really. Electrostim gets the kind of response that Mikey holds back for holidays and his birthday and when he's going to ask him to spend a whole evening at a networking event for work.
Pete is also a smartass who Mikey needs to keep under tighter control. Obviously.
"Pete," Mikey hisses at him, making sure the guest-room door is closed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"He asked."
"And you couldn't let him think it was art?"
"I can't lie to your brother, Mikey."
"But you can make him deeply uncomfortable?"
"He knows we don't use it. If we used it it would be in the box with everything else."
"You put it out here on purpose." Pete has a very eloquent duh face. Mikey is seriously considering smacking him in the mouth. "Peter."
"Okay. Okay! I am deliberately trolling our houseguests with glass dildos. I would say I'm sorry, but you already know I'm not."
Mikey takes a breath and holds it for a minute, then lets it go. "I'm deleting your wish list."
"The hell you are."
"You're sure as hell not getting anything new for a while."
"That is not a proportional response, Michael. I've been growing that thing for years." Mikey just stares at him, and after a minute Pete giggles. "Okay, yeah. I didn't even do that on purpose."
"Apologize to my brother."
"That will only make him more uncomfortable. We should all pretend this never happened."
"Fine." Mikey runs his hand through his hair and nods. "Fine. But you're getting me the thing with the tentacles for Christmas. And we're using it every night for a week. No matter how much it weirds you out."
The Dreamwidth copy of this post has
comments. Comment there or here, as you like!
For
turps: Pete/Mikey crossdressing
Pete gets up and makes coffee in breakfast in the mornings, then walks the dogs while Mikey's in the shower. He gets back and takes his shower while Mikey feeds the dogs, eats, and sets up the machine to make more coffee for Pete. Then they can cross paths again in the bedroom while they both get dressed. It's a perfect system.
"I've got a meeting at the end of the day, so I can't slip out early," Mikey says, snagging his blue dress shirt off the hanger.
"That why you're wearing something with buttons?" Pete mumbles, rubbing at his eyes and covering a yawn as he towels off.
"Yeah. A tie, even. So much bullshit."
"Mmm." Pete tosses his towel away and goes over to the dresser, digging through the top drawer and coming up with a handful of bright green satin, edged in lace. He steps into the panties, pulls them up, tucks and adjusts, then stumbles over to frown at himself in the mirror.
"Anyway--shit, there's dog hair all over my khakis, these aren't going to work. Shit."
"Black pants. Hanging over the closet door."
"Thank you." Mikey presses a kiss to the back of Pete's neck as he passes him. "Anyway, I'll be late, so can you do the post office and get something for dinner?"
"It's my turn to cook anyway." Pete returns to the dresser and takes out a black camisole, tugging it over his head and blinking blearily at Mikey through the neckhole. "But you mean we're out of milk and bread and stuff?"
"And dog food."
"Mikey."
"Sorry."
"It sucks hauling that home on the bus." He sighs and turns away, stomping over to the closet and grabbing a skirt from a set of hangers pushed far to the left. "You're the worst."
"I know." Mikey waits for him to step aside and starts digging through the mess of stuff at his end of the closet. "Where are my ties?"
"Probably on the floor."
There's one on the floor, with a complicated series of creases that suggests it was tied for unorthodox purposes the last time it came out, but fortunately he finds an unmolested one dangling from the armhole of his suit jacket. "While you're at the post office, get stamps?"
"Mmm."
Mikey looks over his shoulder and sees that Pete's standing in front of the mirror again, straightening the way the skirt falls on his hips with one hand and smoothing his hair to fall down over his eyes with the other. "Tights," Mikey prompts gently, running his tie between his fingers.
Pete shakes his head. "'m gonna wear the tall boots?"
"Still, you're showing a couple inches. Tights."
"'kay." Pete yawns again and picks up his makeup box, leaning in close to the mirror. "Spaghetti for dinner?"
"Awesome." Mikey kisses the back of his neck again and carefully straightens the strap of his camisole. "Don't forget coffee filters. Love you."
For radioaches: Pete/Mikey, sport! :D [NOTE- breathplay]
"You lost the coin toss fair and square," Pete says, "so stop complaining."
"You do not have any interest at all in college soccer playoffs and you can't tell me that you do."
"You lost the coin toss." Mikey knows Pete well enough to know that he'll keep repeating that for as long as it takes. And it is an objective fact. Mikey lost and Mikey has to put up with endless ESPN C-list coverage as a consequence. Shitty, shitty luck.
He sighs and leans his head back against the couch between Pete's knees. Pete pets his hair lightly, tangling his fingers in the strands, and Mikey closes his eyes. He can still hear the commentators rambling on, and it's still complete nonsese, but Pete's fingers playing with his hair is a nice feeling, and Pete's legs sliding forward and over his shoulders, holding him back against the front of the couch. The floor's a little too hard to be totally comfortable, but it won't bother him for a while yet. This is nice.
"You want me to explain what just happened?"
Mikey shakes his head. "Don't care."
"Mikey." There's a playful note in Pete's voice, and that makes Mikey open one eye a little and look up at him. He likes Pete being playful. "Are you sure you don't want me to explain?"
He licks his lips and nods, closing his eye again and taking loose hold of Pete's ankles. "Okay. Go ahead."
"Because it's interesting and cool and you totally care."
"Sure." He slides his thumbs slowly up and down over the bone. "You can think that."
Pete laughs softly and leans forward, talking close to Mikey's ear. "Well, the one team just swapped out their striker, and..."
He keeps talking, but Mikey doesn't care; he's focused on the warmth of Pete's breath against his ear and his neck, and the slow slide of Pete's arm down to his chest and across. Pete brings his arm up, Mikey's windpipe fitting into the crook of his elbow, and pulls.
Pete keeps talking, that's the thing, a steady rhythm in the calmest voice. Mikey's heart is pounding in his ears louder than Pete's words, drowning out any hope of catching the meaning while Pete holds on tight, cutting off his breath. The moment draws on and on, Mikey digging his fingers into Pete's ankles tightly and forcing himself not to struggle, just to feel.
Pete lets go and sits back, his legs still holding Mikey steady as Mikey drags in shaky, deep breaths.
"Anyway," Pete says, reaching for his beer. "That's what was going on there. Oh, check it out, I bet this is going to be a cool play, too."
For pearl_o: Pete/Mikey, Idk, I really do just love me some sex toys - their collection, shopping together, whatever.
Mikey likes things that he has to give in to. Plugs and dildos that push the limits of what he can take, restraints and clamps and rings, gags and spreader bars. He can fight, but the toys are going to win, and he's going to surrender.
Pete likes intensity. Toys you heat and toys you freeze and anything that vibrates. Anything that has batteries, really. Electrostim gets the kind of response that Mikey holds back for holidays and his birthday and when he's going to ask him to spend a whole evening at a networking event for work.
Pete is also a smartass who Mikey needs to keep under tighter control. Obviously.
"Pete," Mikey hisses at him, making sure the guest-room door is closed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"He asked."
"And you couldn't let him think it was art?"
"I can't lie to your brother, Mikey."
"But you can make him deeply uncomfortable?"
"He knows we don't use it. If we used it it would be in the box with everything else."
"You put it out here on purpose." Pete has a very eloquent duh face. Mikey is seriously considering smacking him in the mouth. "Peter."
"Okay. Okay! I am deliberately trolling our houseguests with glass dildos. I would say I'm sorry, but you already know I'm not."
Mikey takes a breath and holds it for a minute, then lets it go. "I'm deleting your wish list."
"The hell you are."
"You're sure as hell not getting anything new for a while."
"That is not a proportional response, Michael. I've been growing that thing for years." Mikey just stares at him, and after a minute Pete giggles. "Okay, yeah. I didn't even do that on purpose."
"Apologize to my brother."
"That will only make him more uncomfortable. We should all pretend this never happened."
"Fine." Mikey runs his hand through his hair and nods. "Fine. But you're getting me the thing with the tentacles for Christmas. And we're using it every night for a week. No matter how much it weirds you out."
The Dreamwidth copy of this post has
comments. Comment there or here, as you like!