#Michael2020

[rebelwith0utacause]

Resurfacing

Don’t know if it’s just me, but I tend to hyperfixate on tiny fragments of time, so here’s one of sub!reader waking up from subspace with a dash of dom!Michael being, well, Michael (a caring, sassy king). Hope you enjoy it! ^^

Length: 1.1K (told you it was a baby)

Trying to explain how you felt at that exact moment with just one word was hard. It felt like a thesaurus was chucked at your head but all you were seeing were blank pages. And in a way, that’s how you felt… blank.

There was nothing on your mind, no color, no sensation, no feeling, just one big void in which you levitated without an anchor. You were free, with no destination in sight, wondering if you even existed in your corporeal form. It felt like the atoms in your body started to reform, regroup but somewhere along the way decided that they liked being solitary units that danced to their own music.

But there was a hum somewhere in the distance, like a Brown noise slowly increasing in volume, nothing too overpowering yet but it piqued your interest. It sounded like something was moving in your direction, and the closer it got, the more you started to discern a pattern. It wasn’t homogenous, it kinda felt distorted but you could definitely single out two thumps before there was a lengthy pause. The thumps became stronger, more steady and you thought you were hearing other sounds as well, like the noise in your ears when you break the surface of the water. Maybe you were drowning, that sounded like a logical explanation for the weightlessness.

This idea that you were resurfacing made you think that breathing should definitely have been involved, so you opened your lungs to the possibility of fresh oxygen. And it hurt. It hurt like hell.

Suddenly you were assaulted with a million emotions at once. Piercing pain like you’ve never felt before as the tiny sacs inflated with air for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Crushing pressure in your ears as the blood rushed to your head. Tiny prickles all over your body as your skin awakened from its slumber. Dull throbbing on the back of your thighs. Warmth on your right cheek. Hollowness in your belly. Something rough pressing on your neck. Dried tears on your face. Strange taste in your mouth that almost felt familiar. Coarse hair tickling your left ear. Skin pressing on skin. A digit slowly smearing the remnants of your chapstick onto your lips, pulling your bottom lip down and bearing your semi-opened mouth. Light. Thump-thump. 

Blinding light as you worked to lift your eyelids. One blink, then two, and the blurriness faded. Your eyes tried to make sense of what they were seeing. Skin, lots and lots of skin, peppered with dark brown hairs sticking in all directions. Your fingers itched to run over it, to see if they were as soft as they looked.

Your focus shifted upwards, the skin less visible as more and more hairs poked out of it until your eyes met one of the most glorious sights you’ve seen. There, nestled against what you knew was a soft belly, was the reason for your blissed-out state. Semi-hard after thoroughly abusing your mouth and glistening with the remnants of your spit, laid Michael’s cock. You could see an almost imperceptible twitch, making you inhale a bit loudly. 

The silent appreciation didn’t go unnoticed as your little trance was broken by a low chuckle. You immediately moved your stare up to meet the sound coming out of the most sinful lips. Full and plump, and oh, so vividly red, you could see them move in a patronizing smirk. “I don’t think you’re ready for it yet.”

It took you a second too long to understand what he meant to say, too transfixed on the movement as they formed the words. But then you felt yourself flush, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. You were caught being a little bit greedy and very, very needy, the hollow feeling in your tummy morphing into a powerful clench.

The more you berated yourself for wanting to feel his weight on your tongue and his come gliding down your throat when you knew it wasn’t up to you, the more you became aroused. It was such a contradiction, a self-induced punishment for feeling alive in ways you never thought would’ve felt natural. But you did. You felt invigorated, buzzing with energy as the thumb that was rubbing your lips moved from the side and slowly pushed in past your teeth. 

It tasted salty with a hint of sugar as you swirled your tongue around it, finding solace in little substitutes. Your eyes met his, a grey-green storm brewing behind them, becoming electric with each hollowing of your cheeks and each nibble of your teeth.

You could feel him shift, his thumb leaving your mouth in favor of the side of your head, moving past your ear and finding a good grip on your hair. He used his other arm to wrap it twice around the leather belt attached to your neck, shortening the leash and pulling you up. 

You didn’t move very gracefully, your legs felt dead from sitting on them and your arms still felt like lead, trying to keep you grounded into subspace for a little while longer. Michael didn’t care. Your lack of coordination left you sprawled on top of him, arms braced on his pecks, legs bent and shaking like a little doe. His chest hair was stimulating your nipples, not that they really needed stimulation to become rock hard. Your eyes never left each other the whole way up. It’s like he was pulling your leash at the same time an invisible string was pulling your being closer to his, wrapping itself in a tangled mess, never to be freed again.

And then he kissed you. A single peck while staring deep in your soul, and your atoms found their place in your body. Each and every single one of them shifted into position, fixed every broken link, found its meaning. 

“You were so good for me tonight, pet.” He said it so softly against your lips, praise you didn’t know you needed to hear. But you did, and it felt like a balm. “Treated me so well. Passed every test with flying colors.” His stare softened even further, little crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he smiled against you, proud of how far you’ve come. 

“Now rest,” He placed a kiss on your nose, followed by another one on the top of your head. “You’re gonna need it for what I have for you in store.” He tucked your head in the crook of his neck, letting you nuzzle the skin and lay a lingering kiss. Your lips slipped out a content “Hmm.” as you closed your eyes again, following his orders. 

His arms settled around you, lifting your legs to sit sideways on his lap, his fingers gently soothing the forming bruises on your thighs. “I think you’re gonna like your reward very much.”

[karajaynetoday]

no matter how far or how wide i roam | michael clifford

Hello everyone! Thank you to Jex @sadistmichael​ for organising Michael Fic Appreciation Week here on Tumblr. Here are the guidelines for the event if you’re interested :) I’ve not written for Michael before, so I’m thrilled to be starting with this piece today! 

It’s an emo hours blurb about being homesick, and includes a genderless reader insert. Inspired by this Instagram post Michael made for his mum’s birthday, and this comment that Shal @wheniminouterspace​ found that BROKE my heart. I’ve also been watching videos of Crowded House performing at the Sydney Opera House, and then listening to I Still Call Australia Home and We Are Australian. Because when it’s emo hours, it’s emo hours. Sending love and thoughts to any of you around the world currently separated from your loved ones. 

Word count: 1.1k 

Warnings: none really, just homesickness and general sad boy vibes. 

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here 

You could always tell when Michael was upset about something. He’d never outright say it, but he’d be quieter than usual, and he’d come to bed late and then want to sleep in for longer. His appetite would seemingly disappear, and he couldn’t hold focus in a conversation with you for more than a few minutes.

2020 had taken its toll on everyone in different ways, but for Michael in particular, he’d had a pretty rough time with things. You’d convinced him that it was a good idea to take a social media break once the tour rescheduling was announced, and that seemed to help a little with his stress levels, but being locked down in your house was starting to feel suffocating, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You’d noticed the signs of his upset for a few days, but it was only when you flipped the calendar in your kitchen over to the new month of August that it all suddenly clicked. His mum’s birthday was in early August, and although Michael would’ve been on tour and away from her anyway, you just knew that this was going to be killing him inside. After so many years living away from home, Michael had built up a tolerance for homesickness, but times like these where he couldn’t go home, even if he wanted to, were a punch in the guts that broke your heart to think about. 

It was another late night, around 3am, when you heard Michael shuffle into your shared bedroom after several hours of gaming on his computer. He got ready for bed as quietly as possible, under the impression you were sleeping, and slipped under the covers, sighing heavily. You rolled over to face him, and reached out your hand to gently squeeze his arm.

“Baby… you okay?” You asked softly, your hand brushing Michael’s hair out of his tired eyes. He placed his hand onto your wrist, holding your hand onto his cheek and kissing it gently.

“Not really. But I’ve got you, so that means everything’s gonna be fine. I love you so much, you know that right?” His tone was almost pleading, his greenish grey eyes filled with worry as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey, hey.” You comforted, sitting up so you could pull Michael into a hug. “Of course I know that. Everyone who you love knows it, baby. You’re one of the most loving, generous people I know.” You reassured him, rubbing your fingers across the nape of his neck soothingly. 

Michael sighed deeply once more, and pressed a series of soft kisses into your hair, before relaxing back into his pillow and pulling you into his chest. 

“I know it shouldn’t feel this hard, and I’m so grateful to live here, and be here with you in this moment, but I just… my parents, and me, we’ve always just had each other, you know? Textbook only child, but they’ve always had my back, and the idea of not knowing when I’m going to be able to see them next, and hug them, and just be with them in the same room is… killing me.” He said sadly, absentmindedly running his hand across your shoulders and down your back, squeezing your hips. 

“I know it seems silly, this isn’t even the longest time we’ve spent apart, but with everything going on in the world, I just feel so uneasy about everything and I don’t know how to make it better.” Michael continued, wiping away the tears that had started to well up in his eyes. 

“Baby, it’s okay. No one knows what’s going to happen in these next few months. It’s okay to feel scared and worried and miss your family. I miss my family all the time, and they’re a two hour flight away, not on the other side of the planet. Don’t apologise for recognising your emotions, okay? It’s important to be able to express yourself and not bottle it all up inside, hey?” You said gently, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

Michael cupped your cheeks in his hands and deepened the kiss, and you could feel all of his pent-up frustration and sadness coming to a breaking point through his embrace. A few more tears and whispered worries later, you slipped away into a deep sleep, entangled in each other’s arms. 

Waking up the next morning, you reached for Michael beside you, but the bed was empty. You could smell something in the kitchen… pancakes? Michael never cooked, so you hurried out of bed to see what he was up to. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the food takeout boxes on the counter, and Michael pouring two cups of coffee into your favourite mugs instantly put a smile on your face. 

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He cooed, offering you your mug as he took a sip of his own. You gratefully accepted, and gestured towards the take out boxes as you sat down on a barstool at the counter. 

“Well,” Michael began enthusiastically, opening up his laptop as he joined you at the counter, “Pancakes are my mum’s favourite food, so I organised to FaceTime with her and Dad for her birthday while we’re having breakfast. It’s late evening where they are, but Dad was going to get some pancakes as sort of a midnight snack dessert thing… I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea at the time?” He spoke quickly, glancing over at you for your approval and encouragement.

“Of course, baby! That sounds great. When are they calling?” You asked, reaching over to pull the take out boxes towards you and open them, groaning appreciatively when you say the delicious, fluffy pancakes oozing with maple syrup and butter, just the way you and Michael loved them. 

Before Michael could answer, the Facetime call tone sounded on his laptop, and he cheered before hitting answer. You saw his face light up as soon as he saw his mum and dad on the screen, and it warmed your heart to see Michael so happy, and so at ease. It was like the stress of the last few weeks and months washed away, even if it was only for the moment, and that was enough for you.

Because no matter where he was in the world, you knew that Michael was loved, and he was home. He was home when his feet touched the ground in Sydney, and he could hug his parents for as long as he needed. He was home here with you, in the house you’d made your own, and in the relationship you’d grown into together. He was home out on the road, with his brothers, doing what he loved to thousands of people on stage across the country and the entire world. Because Michael’s heart was where he kept his home, and you knew that heart held more capacity to love and care for others than anyone you’d ever met in your life.

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @loveroflrh​ @spicycal​ @notinthesameguey​ @metalandboybands​

[nostalgiabones]

Without Me // M.C

This is for @sadistmichael’s Michael event! Thank you so much for holding this Jex — I’m always here for as much inclusive Michael content as we can get so I’m so glad to be a part of this! Please check out the other writers blurbs/fics who have written for this event too, under the tag #michael2020 ♥️

The idea for this is based on this text post! I also made a side blog where i’m going to be reblogging inspo for writing, so follow me at @loveroflrhwrites​ if you’re interested in seeing that! 

Content — singledad!Michael x non-gendered reader

“Hey, I’m home. Where are my two favourite people?”

Michael’s loud voice calls out from the door to his apartment — his black boots squeaking against the wooden floor as he enters the place he calls home. The scent of a familiar dish instantly fills his senses; Levi’s favourite chicken and vegetable pasta. He spots his own dinner plated up on the kitchen counter, and his stomach rumbles at the sight.

He drops his keys in the dish next to the door, before removing his boots and jacket. He wonders why the apartment is so quiet — definitely out of the ordinary.

Michael is confused as he moves through the apartment, yet he doesn’t have to look far until he solves the mystery of the quietness. His gaze softens as he spots you on the sofa, Levi tucked up to your side — his head on your shoulder as the two of you have an evening nap. He knows Levi shouldn’t really be asleep at this time, but since he’s already had dinner, he hopes he can just move him to his bed and let him have an early night.

“Hey, bud.” Michael kneels down next to the sofa, ever so gently pushing Levi’s hair away from his face. He stirs, a hand lifting to rub at his eyes, as he realises he’s fallen asleep in the lounge. He gives him a minute to wake up and to get his bearings. “I’m here. Shall we go to bed, huh? Are you sleepy?”

He’s met with a small nod, and Levi cuddles up to you a little more — wanting to retain the warmth radiating from you and the thick fluffy blanket you’re tucked under. He holds his arms out to Michael, letting him pick him up, and curling into his chest to stay warm. Michael kisses his forehead as he holds him for the first time that day, feeling content with the weight of his son in his arms.

“I missed you so much today, bubba. I’m not going to the studio tomorrow so we can do whatever you want, okay?” Michael speaks quietly to his son, not wanting to disturb him anymore than he already has. He feel as though he hasn’t spent anywhere near as much time as he should’ve with Levi this week and it makes his heart ache. After another long day working on the album, he told his bandmates that he needs tomorrow off, that he needs the time to spend with his son and partner. They understand — they always do.

“Okay, dad.” Levi is trying to hold onto the sleep he had fallen into. There’s nothing he loves more then spending the day with Michael and you (and Milo), especially when he’s given the choice of what to do. Levi is usually chatty — especially when Michael has just gotten home, and he hasn’t seen him all day. Not in his current sleepy state though. “Can we go swimming please?”

“If that’s what you want to do buddy,” Michael replies, carrying him through to his bedroom. Levi has done a few swimming lessons so far, and he loves it — especially when Michael is there to get involved.

Michael leans down, pulling back Levi’s planet themed duvet (following his latest obsession — space and everything to do with it) and setting the four year old down into it. He kneels down next to the bed, watching as Levi curls up against the soft sheets, lying on his front, his hands above his head. He’s slept like that ever since he was a baby and Michael loves that he still does it now.

“Good night, Levi. Have a good sleep so we can have a fun day tomorrow,” He whispers, tucking the covers over his back and running his fingertips through his hair. “You know where we are if you need us. I love you.”

“Love you, dad.” He murmurs sleepily in response, and Michael’s heart melts at the sound — he still remembers the first time Levi told him that he loves him, and it still provokes the same reaction every time.

Michael stays there for a moment, rubbing his hand over Levi’s back gently until he knows he’s fallen asleep once more. He stands up, switching on the moon and stars nightlight on the dresser, illuminating the room with a soft yellow glow. Levi hasn’t quite defeated his fear of the dark yet, and Michael wasn’t going to rush him, although they were working on it.

He softly closes the door behind him, heading back to the lounge where you were still asleep on the sofa. It’s then he notices the Disney + home screen on the TV, and it’s clear the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie.

“Hey, you,” Michael gently shakes your shoulder, sitting on the edge of the sofa. All he wants to do is to get under the soft blanket and cuddle up next to you, yet he knows he should help you into bed instead, where you’ll be more comfortable. “Wakey wakey sleepy head.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the disturbance, slowly opening your eyes to find Michael in front of you. You realise Levi is no longer next to you and whatever movie you were watching has finished, and that Michael is home from the studio.

“When did you get back?” You ask sleepily, stretching out your arms and shoulders from where you’ve been laid on the sofa for so long. He smiles at your voice, heavy with tiredness — it makes him feel soft and warm inside. “And why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“How rude of me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to drop a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, before he brushes his lips against yours in a greeting kiss. “I’m sorry, baby. Also I got home about five minutes ago, I just put Levi to bed.”

“I made you dinner,” You tell him, sitting up a little so you can cuddle into his side. His hoodie is warm and soft and smells like him, a subtle scent of fresh cotton that always reminds you of him. His arm wraps around your shoulders and his hand lands on your side, thumb rubbing little circles. “It’ll need heating up, I can do it if you want.”

He shakes his head, turning to press a kiss to your temple as you attempt to stay awake.

“I got it babe, thank you.” He replies, deciding he’ll eat it in bed. He knows if you stay out here you’ll fall asleep again, and he can’t think of a better way to spend the rest of the evening than having an early night with you. He playfully slaps your thigh to coax you to stand up. “Come on, let’s get in bed.”

“You’ll get crumbs in the bed.” You yawn as you stand up, rubbing your eyes once more as he rolls his.

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael replies, knowing that you’re right, and even in your half asleep state you’re still aware of how messy he can be. “If it annoys you so much you can go to your own bed next door.”

His touch lingers on your hip as you sleepily rest your head on his shoulder, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting at his words — mumbling a “you’re so mean to me” as you head to his bedroom. His bedroom, that recently, had felt more like your own since you spent so much time there. It would take you less than 30 seconds to go next door to your own bed, but why would you when there’s no Michael in there to hold you? Even Milo’s bed has ended up in his room.

“Time to tuck my second baby into bed.” Michael comments, pulling back his duvet so you can climb into the bed. The room is cosy and familiar — it’s so easy to feel at home there, especially since spending so much time in his apartment. “Did you have a good day with Levi?”

You nod, yawning as your head hits the pillow. You gravitate towards the middle of the bed, your face pressed against Michael’s cushion as he changes out of his jeans and hoodie into a pair of shorts. He silently gestures for you to move over as he gets into the bed next to you, holding his arm out so you can lay on his chest.

“Yeah, we did some reading. He’s getting much better with the spaceman book we started,” You reply, cuddling into his side as his fingers lightly trace circles on your back. His skin is warm against your face as you lay against him, your head on his shoulder. “I think it helps that it’s space related. I swear you could get him to do anything if astronauts are involved.”

Michael smiles at your words, his heart aching with how he misses his son, even though he’s only in the room across from you. He never thought he’d be away from him so much, not until he met you — since he had so much anxiety about finding a babysitter for Levi. He didn’t have to worry about that now, yet the guilt of spending more time at the studio eats at him.

“My little space nerd.” He chuckles, his bottom lip forming a pout as he thinks about his son. He also thinks about how grateful he is to have you and how glad he is that Levi has a positive influence around him, when he’s not there. “Thanks for watching him, babe. You know how much I appreciate it.”

You lift your head to kiss his scruffy jaw, his skin scratchy against your lips due to his facial hair growing out a little longer than he usually leaves it.

“You’re welcome. He’s a sweet boy, I love hanging out with him.” You reply, pulling the duvet up over your shoulders to get comfortable against him. “Now, are you gonna eat dinner before I fall asleep again?”

“I’m too comfortable now,” He groans, although he knows he should eat since he hasn’t had the chance to all day. His lips brush over your forehead a few times before you roll over onto your own side of his bed, letting him go and get his dinner. He stands up from the bed, yawning before heading to the kitchen. “Be right back.”

“Hurry, Michael.” You call out behind him. “The bed isn’t the same without you.”

***

Feedback is always very appreciated! Please let me know of any other requests you have for Michael & Levi 💘

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Masterlist

[cheekysos]

Masquerade Rendezvous

Michael Clifford x Gender Neutral Reader

Author’s Note: This is my first gender neutral piece so I’m very nervous and I hope it’s okay. Thank you so much @sadistmichael​ for creating this amazing Michael appreciation week and for helping me with this piece! Also thanks to my lovelies @sexgodashton​, @talkfastromance4​ for your awesome advice! And @karajaynetoday​ @jae-writes-fanfiction​, and @blackbutterfliescal​ for beta-writing. I think I’m going to start a taglist so let me know if you’re interested in being included. 

Summary: Y/N attends a masquerade benefit where they meet a mysterious DJ.

Warnings: Smut, male receiving oral, gender neutral fingering, protected sex, alcohol, and swearing.

Every year your best friend, Alex’s law firm throws a massive charity event and this year is masquerade themed. You always agreed to tag along since it was for a good cause and you wanted to be supportive, the open bar also didn’t hurt. The theme excited you, allowing you the chance to have fun and be mysterious and that’s just what you intended on doing. 

As soon as you walked into the venue you were taken back by the music. The tempo was fast with a hard baseline, definitely wasn’t the typical music played at this event but you weren’t complaining. The venue was beautifully decorated, and looked straight out of a movie. Everyone’s faces are covered in various shapes, colors, and finishes of masks. You decided on a silver mask with intricate detailing, just covering your eyes. You headed straight towards the bartender wearing a simple black mask before you searched for your friend.

“Shot of vodka please! Double it,” you yelled over the music. You wanted to have fun tonight, to let loose. The bartender placed the shot on top of a gold cocktail napkin. You raise the glass to your lips while you sway to the music. In one quick motion you tipped back the glass swallowing every drop of liquid courage. The bitterness of the vodka made you wince as it made its way down your body. 

“You get booze before you come find me?” Alex leans against the bar next to you. 

“Of course I did. Figured I’d try to catch up with you!” you teased.

“Maybe if you weren’t late! Now let's go dance!”

You slid the empty glass across the bar and made your way through the sea of enigmatic faces towards the dance floor. As you got closer to the source of the music you instantly noticed the DJ. 

  His dirty blonde hair was long and his fringe tucked behind his mask, a half face shaped mask with a steampunk twist. His pink lips promently contrasted against his fair skin and scruffy facial hair. His focus was set on the turntables, his body moving along to the beat. He was everything you wanted in that moment, you craved him. One thing about you was when you wanted something you didn’t stop until you got it. You danced toward the booth, stopping just shy of his booth. You played up your movements on the dance floor exaggerating the sway of your hips. You let his music take control. You pressed your backside against Alex, she latched onto your hips and guided your rhythm. You looked back at him, his focus now in your direction. If he was going to watch, you were going to give him a show. You continued to dance while keeping eye contact with the mysterious DJ. He reached for his drink, taking a long swig. You watched as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip. Your mind wandered to thoughts of other places you desperately wanted his tongue. 

“Who’s the DJ?” you asked Alex over the music. 

“Don’t know but I knew you’d like him,” she laughed. 

“Lets play!” You purred. 

You spun around to face your friend, the mischievous smile on her face matched yours. This wasn’t the first time Alex has been your wingman. The two of you knew how to play each other up. Her hands roamed all over your body as you let go, your head thrown back in pleasure and the lights dancing across your exposed skin. You locked eyes with his hungry stare. You snicker at him gnawing on his bottom lip, he was clearly enjoying the view. The pads of your fingers grazed Alex’s cheeks gently pulling her mauve lips to yours. The kiss was slow and sensual, open mouths with no tongue. He glanced over your shoulder at him standing there with his mouth agape. A woman walked up to the booth and accepted a microphone the DJ handed her. She began speaking about the charity event but you were checked out, your focus was on him. His eyes were back on you, now paired with a cheeky little smirk. He motioned towards the side as he left the booth with a wink. He started to walk off, you shot Alex a look and followed after him. There was something about him that you couldn’t ignore, maybe it was the anonymity of the masks or maybe it was his carefree disposition and piercing jade eyes. You turned the corner and found him leaning against the wall. 

“You’re a needy little thing aren’t ya?”

“Depends,” you quipped. “You think you can take care of my needs?”

            He laughed at your question, he was clearly confident in his abilities. “Oh, I know I can kitten.” 

He stepped toward you, removing all the empty space between your bodies. Despite his mask covering a large portion of his face he was still one of the most exquisite looking men you’ve seen. There was a shared silence between you two as you took in each other’s presence, your chest heaving with anticipation. When it all became too much you caved, connecting with his ample pink lips and after that he took control. His kiss was eager and chaste, his tongue danced across yours leaving along the sweet bitterness of what tasted like a jack and coke. He parted from your mouth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, gently tugging on it. 

       He grabbed your hand and pulled you into a small supply closet, your bodies colliding with various cleaning supplies. Your laughter filled the enclosed space.  He latched onto your chin, pushing your face to the side. His mouth worked his way down the side of your neck sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. You melt and moan into his kiss. His fingers slip into your parted lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Suck on my fingers, get them nice and wet for me.” He pushed two fingers in deeper, the ‘x’ on his finger disappearing passed your lips. You choke lightly around his digits, saliva dripping from your mouth. 

He spins you around, pressing you against the wall. His hand trailed down the length of your spine. He slipped into your pants, his coated fingers immediately working your hole. Your body had a visceral reaction to his touch.

“Yes please more.” you breathed. 

“Pushing back against my fingers already? How desperate. I bet you would’ve taken my cock straight away wouldn’t you?” His finger languidly pumped in and out of your sex. 

           “Y-yes,” you hissed. Your head was clouded with pleasure. He worked on a small patch of skin where your shoulder and neck meet, clearly trying to leave his mark. 

           “On your knees for me,” he whispered against your skin. 

You held your stare as you dropped to your knees. His well endowed cock stretched the fabric of his trousers taught. As much as you wanted to have fun and tease,  you wanted his cock in your mouth even more. He watched you eagerly as you undid his zipper and shimmied his pants down to his ankles. Your mouth watered at the sight of him. His cock was rock hard flushed against his abdomen. The amount of precum collecting at the tip was a clear indication that he was more than ready for your mouth. 

   “You like what you see kitten?” His thumb grazing your bottom lip. 

You nodded desperately. 

“Then do somethin’ about it,” he teased. 

You ran your hands up his thighs, your thumbs just barely grazing his balls before you lowered his cock to your mouth. You opened your mouth and lightly sucked on the pink tip, making sure to lap up every drop of his eagerness, he hissed from the stimulation. You sank down on him as your hand held steady at the base of his cock. 

  “Shit you take me so well,” he praised. 

You held him in your throat, moaning ever so slightly. His hips bucked at the vibrations inducing a quiet gag and your eyes to water. He used to thumb to wipe away a stray tear and held the side on your face to guide you to a persistent pace. Arousal churned in the pit of your stomach, your body was begging to be filled by him. 

  You continued to work his shaft with your hand while kissing his inner thigh, moving towards his balls. You took one of them in your mouth and sucked on it gently. The noise this action evoked from him was a confidence booster, you loved the power you had right now - the fact that you were causing all his pleasure. 

“Shit kitten. Need to fuck you now,” he helped you to your feet and tasted himself in your tongue. 

“Take off your pants,” he instructed. You did as you were told as he dug through his pants on the floor for a condom. Hastily he tore the foil packet and slipped it on himself. You took your position again facing the wall. The blonde grabbed a handful of your ass and lifted your leg onto the nearby shelf, giving him more access to your aching sex. He spit on his fingers, rubbing it onto your hole for extra lubrication. You reached behind yourself and grabbed onto his waist as he slowly pushed himself into you. Your jaw went slack as he stretched you out. 

“Fuck you’re so tight.” He panted. 

Your hands roamed over every inch of his skin you could reach. You pulled him closer, your body yearned for more, you needed everything he’d give you. You were grateful the music party was so loud otherwise the whole venue would be privy to the two of you, but a part of you couldn’t even be bothered to care - you were too far gone. You pulled his blonde locks toward you, your masks colliding when your lips connected again. You shared desperate kisses, chaste touches and immense pleasure as he fucked you to climax. 

“I’m g-gonna cum,” you whimpered. 

“C’mon kitten. Come undone - wanna feel ya.” He egged you on. Your perched leg began to shake and the churning arousal in the pit of your stomach started to burst. Everything hit you all at once, the sensations were overwhelming and almost too much to handle but he didn’t let up. It was almost too much, the orgasm coursing through your veins. You could tell he was close when he picked up his speed, the sounds of bare skin slapping together filled the room. With one final thrust, he released into the condom. You lowered your now aching leg to the floor after he slipped out of you. The two of you stood together a bit, your sweaty bodies holding each other upright as you relished in the afterglow. 

 “Fuck, I should get back there,” he broke the silence. “That was…we should do that again.” 

You tried to hide your beaming smile. “Think I should get your name first.” You joked. 

“Right. We skipped that didn’t we? I’m Michael.”

Taglist: @justhereforcalum​, @notinthesameguey​

[blackbutterfliescal]

A Storm Of Trouble

A Michael Clifford One Shot

Pairing: Pirate!Michael Clifford & Reader

Word count: 3.3K

Rating: Just For Fun

Requested by: Not requested but it was supposed to be part of the Michael Week @sadistmichael hosted. I’m late as always but I’m still gonna post it 🤷‍♀️

Content: second person POV, gender neutral reader insert, best friends finding themselves in a night of chaos, drinking, swearing, violence but no graphic details, reader as a sex worker, brief appearances of Calum being A Little Shit

A/N: This all started because of that damn earring... I know that romance (in any form) does well on here, but I thought it would be fun to write a friend fic. Sue me. Big thank yous to @mashlums @haikucal @sexgodashton @jae-writes-fanfiction and @cheekysos for encouraging me on this one!

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———

The wooden slats above Michael’s head groaned, heavy with footsteps and many years of wear on the high seas. It was clear that the ship was docking somewhere for the night to restock supplies, but Michael couldn’t be stirred from the hammock where he rested just below deck. Several minutes passed as he concentrated on the slow drip of water into the pail in the corner, looking for some sense of peace in the chaos the rest of the crew was creating. The metal made a sharp sound with each drop that hit, but it was a tone he’d grown accustomed to after many months aboard this particular ship. He often used it to lull himself to sleep, struggling to ignore Calum’s incessant snoring. It wasn’t until one of his crewmates shouted the name of a familiar port that Michael paid much attention to the commotion happening on the surface. Usually preferring to stay aboard the ship and not risk any potential scuffles on land, he now understood why so many of the crew were anxious to disembark.

Port Royal was notorious for the wide array of debauchery around every turn. Especially this time of night, it was always crawling with other scoundrels just looking for a bad fight or a good fuck. Or maybe a good fight and a bad fuck. The derelict port had such a reputation for its treatment of outsiders that none of the king’s men ever dared a visit, leaving the people who were floating through to act as their own law and order. 

The grimy, dilapidated buildings just past the worn dock called to Michael. He’d lived a pirate’s life since he was orphaned as a young boy, sailing far and wide, but this port was the closest thing he had to a home. He only hoped that he could find his oldest friend still in the hut just past the wall where the land met the sea.

———

Michael made his way beyond the wobbly old dock, peering in the dimly lit pubs only briefly as he passed. His well-worn leather boots carried his tired feet through the filthy streets to an all-but-forgotten yet somehow still familiar scene. Covered by the shadow of the night couples of every sort were pressed against each other, no doubt trading secret desires. At his unfamiliar approaching figure, the silhouetted couples all vanished into the brothel before him quicker than he could blink an eye. 

Hidden from easy view in the moonlight, the door slammed against the frame just as Michael approached. His hands, rough from years of work as a swabby, landed hard against the faded green wood thrice before it swung open. It rested uneven on its hinges and revealed a plump young woman in dark red corseted dress. The ruffles around her neckline were no longer a crisp, clean white but still managed to pull Michael’s attention directly to her ample bosom. His eyes continued to work over her figure. He didn’t miss the way her stomach pushed out against the ribbed garment covering it. She was such a sight that Michael considered a short detour before beginning to search the brothel for you.

“Well, ain’t ye a handsome devil. Fancy cracking Jenny’s teacup, eh?”

Before Michael could let a smooth response fall from his mouth, footsteps landing hard under long strides sounded down the hallway. Michael’s eyes, dark with lust, brightened as he took you in. You were exactly as he remembered and somehow completely different. It had been years since Michael was last in Port Royal but the two of you had kept up through letters as you were able. 

“Back off, wench. This one’s wit’ me.” The woman in red threw a scowl and a few choice curses at you as you squeezed past her in the doorway, arms quickly finding Michael in a tight embrace. “Oi, s’that a hornpipe in yer pocket or are ya just happy t’ see me?” You offered him a cheeky grin as his face warmed, caught red-handed, and he cast his gaze past you to find the woman in red missing from the door frame.

———

As seemed natural, you and Michael found yourselves kicked back in the corner of the closest pub. Boot-clad feet resting high on the table and a second bottle of rum nearly gone, you shared laughs and stories between swigs that were drowned out in the raucous noise of the other patrons. Two large men were attempting to settle their score through a game of fisticuffs at the bar and neither seemed to have their wits about them, stumbling on their own feet. A number of recognizable faces from the brothel were here to pick up company for the night, or maybe just the next few minutes. The most familiar face among them was Ash. A wordsmith of sorts, he had settled in close to a pretty, young blonde with eyes so blue that you could make them out across the room. Michael could pick out the back of Calum’s head as he raked in a pile of coins, no doubt employing his sharp mind in a game of liar’s dice.

Unphased by the rowdy crowd, the two of you were content in a universe that was contained entirely at that corner table. Michael told you stories of all the places he’d visited since you’d last seen him. Tales of India and China and all the bounty you could imagine. To be no older than he was, he’d done a lifetime’s worth of travelling. It didn’t come easy though. Work aboard a pirate ship, even with a fair captain, was endless and often meant risking life or limb to secure loot. He also listened intently as you recounted your tale of the one who had left you high and dry after a broken engagement. It had left your heart with an unhealing wound as deep red as the rope burns on Michael’s calloused hands. His eyes remained soft as you spoke of the person you thought was finally going to pull you out of the life you led. Routinely selling your body to the highest bidder had never much bothered you. You often found a sense of power at being the agent of someone’s deepest desires.That was until this one particular person became a frequent caller of yours. You knew no shame about the way you earned your coin but now you were crushed under their broken promises of a steady life, a life that didn’t mean hiding from the law or rousing up drunk sailors just to put food in your stomach.

Neither of you would have chosen life as a criminal for yourselves, but any trace of life before this felt like it belonged to someone else. As Michael began to yell for another bottle of rum, the back door to the pub flew open and landed harshly against the wall behind it. The man standing where the door had been was intimidating.Twice as large as Michael and covered in tattoos. He was flanked by a woman whose arms looked strong enough to crush you with ease and a bald man with a weathered scar down the right side of his face, covered only briefly by the leather patch on his eye.

“I knew I smell’d a bilge rat. Clifford! We ‘ave a debt t’ settle!!” His accent was heavy and you thought maybe it was Irish. His eyes landed on Michael, lounging in the far corner. As Michael’s eyes went wide and he leapt to his feet, he felt his head spin from the booze. The man that had barged in drew his sword and that was enough to bring Michael back for just a moment, long enough to process that he was in trouble. He quickly pulled you to your feet and tugged you behind him. “Shame! We’re jus’ leavin’!”

It took most of your self-control not to spray out the last burning chug of alcohol you’d just thrown back before being snatched up from your seat. You made a quick recovery, considering the amount of rum you’d already swallowed down, crashing out the front door and spilling into the muddy road. You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been in the pub but you’d clearly missed any indication of the current downpour. You splashed through the streets, following Michael’s already soaked form in and out of countless doorways. As he cleared what had to be the twentieth doorframe, he stepped quickly into the corner and pulled you with him. You landed against his broad chest with a thud. It would have knocked the wind out of you if you hadn’t already been breathing heavy from the zig-zagged marathon.

As you took a step back from Michael, he let his fast grip fall and looked around at where he’d landed the two of you. He saw the pigs in the opposite corner sleeping in the cool mud and the horse’s stall just next to the pig pen. He held his index finger to his pursed lips, signaling you not to disturb the livestock. Just as you were finally able to catch your breath, you felt it hitch in your throat again as the large brutish man called out to Michael. “Alright ye filthy animal. I know yer hidin’ ‘round ‘ere somewhere.” You shared an amused glance at the choice of words. Michael began to slowly draw the large blade looped through the belt hanging against his hip, preparing to go down fighting. You felt a brief sense of panic at the realization that you’d left your own sword behind. Spying a smaller handle on Michael’s other hip, you reached your hand out to grip the tarnished handle and pulled it up in front of you. The knife flashed in the low light, smaller than the blade you were accustomed to, but desperate times....

Taking careful steps, or as careful as possible after two bottles of rum, Michael inched his way out of the barn door and into the rain. You were a few steps behind him and hadn’t cleared the door yet when the scar-faced man appeared behind Michael with a taunt. Just as he raised his blade to engage Michael, you brought the heavy handle of your weapon down on top of his head. The man immediately fell face-first into the water at Michael’s feet. Michael’s hair clung to his face in the rain as he spun to give you a wide-eyed but silent thank you, hoping the others that were still after him weren’t close enough to hear.

No sooner did the thought cross his mind than two menacing shadows appeared at the other end of the barn. You stashed Michael’s knife in your belt, bending down to snatch the sword from the man lying on the ground, and took off again hot on Michael’s heels. You followed him around the back of another house and down a pitch black alley.

As you emerged on the other side, a loud grunt sounded beside you, followed by the clang of Michael’s sword meeting the Irishman’s. It was shortly followed by his partner’s blade meeting your stolen one. Though you’d had your fair share of practice with a sword, you felt like a novice next to Michael’s skillful hand. Metal clashed as the storm raining down on the island intensified, lightning strikes flashing through the sky with every scrape of swords. The woman you were up against was clearly a better swordsman than you and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep up. You weren’t sure how it had happened, but she had you backed against a wall. Your sword was the only thing keeping her blade from bearing down on your throat. As quickly as you could manage, you brought one hand to your belt, pulling the knife out again before landing it in the woman’s side. Her mouth fell open and she stumbled back from you as you removed the blade. Her sword clattered to the ground and it wasn’t long before she fell beside it. The wound wasn’t enough to kill her but it would keep her out of your way so you could help Michael.

You hadn’t been able to spare him a glance as you fought for your own life but you weren’t shocked to see that he was holding his own against the giant. You ran up behind the man with a yell and he spun around to meet your blow. After sending you stumbling back a few steps, he turned to face Michael again. He wore the shock on his face as Michael’s blade came to rest in the hollow of his throat. The man slowly lowered his weapon, realizing Michael had bested him. You heard a shuffle behind you as the woman reached for her sword. Your boot landed heavy on top of the metal as you trained your sword on her, daring her to make a move. Behind you, Michael’s words were lost in the sudden boom of thunder. Only when you heard him call your name did you take your eyes off the woman on the ground in front of you. Michael was backing away as he lowered his weapon, seeming to have settled his debt. You slowly removed your foot from the sword on the ground, giving the most menacing look you could manage, and ran after Michael’s retreating figure. When you caught up to him, you noticed that the sleeve of his open shirt had been torn and under it there was a gash in Michael’s bicep. After much persuasion, Michael agreed to follow you back to the brothel to get it cleaned up. If it became infected, it could cost him his life.

———

Bringing Michael in would have caught attention in any state, but as he held onto his arm and dripped rainwater everywhere, you gathered more stares than you would have liked. He leaned over the kitchen table, waiting for you to gather supplies. It wasn’t pretty but you doused the wound with alcohol and Michael seemed more upset at the loss of rum than the burning it caused. Once it was cleaned to your satisfaction, you ripped the hem of your clothing to tie it around his arm.

“Thanks.” His eyes were soft as they met yours. “I would ‘ave been a dead man without yer help.”

“Yer goddamn right! But what else are friends fer?”

You shared a laugh as Michael pushed himself back upright with his other arm, following you back to the front door and out into the night. The storm seemed to have run its course and left only a light drizzle in its wake as you made your way through the streets again, walking under cover of any roof you passed. You walked with your heads ducked between coverings as you laughed and recounted your astounding victory over Michael’s assailants, wondering what happened to the scar-faced man. 

Up ahead, you spot a familiar figure walking in your direction. Without warning, you shove Michael into a dark alley and shush him with wide eyes. Luckily for you, your unfortunate recurring caller had kept their gaze on the ground in an effort to keep the still-falling droplets off their face. They hadn’t seen you disappear but you hadn’t noticed how incredibly narrow this alley was. You shivered as you felt Michael’s warm breath fall across your rain-slicked face. Your feet stood between his and there was hardly enough room between your chests to take a full breath in. Michael’s eyes stayed trained on you, looking for any sign of an all clear. You watched intently, waiting for the caller to pass by. Once they made their way by the narrow opening where you hid without suspicion, you placed your hands on Michael’s sides to steady yourself and pushed your head toward the street. As the figure made a turn, you counted to three silently and stepped out into the street again with a dramatic exhale. Michael slowly followed you with a quizzical look on his face.

“Ya can wipe that look off yer face, ya smug bastard. I ain’t talkin’ ‘til ye explain the burly man and his goons chasin’ ya earlier.” Michael’s expression dropped with a humorous scoff, unwilling to share what had landed him in such trouble. Nights like tonight were exactly why he preferred to stay aboard the ship. He just couldn’t resist the chance to catch up with you. You also knew that tonight would cost you. Literally. You’d have to up the ante the rest of the week to make up for the night out but you felt that Michael was worth it.

———

Conversation continued to flow easily, as if nothing between the two of you ever changed. You weaved through the streets, careful to avoid main thoroughfares for worry of any more excitement. Two close calls was enough for one night. It didn’t slip your notice that both of you took to yawning big, deep breaths much more frequently as the last few hours slipped by, a sign that the morning light was well on its way. You knew you’d be able to catch a few hours of sleep once Michael was back on the water, but you also hoped he’d be able sweet-talk someone into letting him curl up in his hammock for a little while. You didn’t give it too much worry though. You knew Michael never had trouble sweet-talking his way through anyone. He’d always been a charmer.

As you made your way through the last side street and onto the dock, you heard a loud rumble of footsteps and immediately braced your newly-found sword. Your other hand fell on Michael’s knife, still tucked into your belt, and quickly handed it over to him as he drew his own blade. A flash of surprise crossed his face as if he’d gone all night without realizing the knife was missing. The sounds of enraged men grew louder as they rounded the corner. Michael immediately recognized Calum at the front of the crowd, realizing quickly that Calum’s clever antics had landed him in trouble yet again. You followed Michael’s lead and dropped your weapon as he let out a full-bellied laugh. As Calum dashed past you down the dock, he yelled out a casual greeting and flashed a cheeky grin. “Michael!” One hand raised to meet his brow in a salute. “Michael’s friend!” Another salute.

You joined Michael in another fit of laughter. As he turned to watch Calum running down the dock to their safe haven, Michael saw their ship and realized the ropes were being pulled off the dock as the ramp to the ship was being dragged back over the railing. A few curses fell from his lips as he took off in a dead run after his friend, yelling something unintelligible over his shoulder that was surely meant for you. You thought it was something about not groping for trout in any peculiar rivers but had no idea what he could mean and dismissed it as Michael being Michael. Your sides began to hurt from laughter as he passed the angry mob to catch up with Calum. Both men leapt through the air at the same time as their ship pulled away from the dock. Calum’s hands grabbed hold of the railing while Michael employed his knife to keep hold of the ship. Calum pulled himself overboard with ease and turned to quickly bring Michael onboard with him. A few brave, but ill-fated, members of the mob risked a jump but landed in the water with a splash. They resurfaced with enough curses to make Blackbeard blush. Michael threw an obscene gesture at the disgruntled men before lifting his gaze to wave goodbye to you as they made off into the bright sunrise under a clear sky.

———

taglist: @easierlftv @haikucal @mashlums @youngblood199456 @calumbroutledge @atlcalm @another-lonely-heart @castaway-cashton @itsjen223 @bloodyoathcal @vapor5sos @myloverboyash​ @justhereforcalum​

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

Shut You Out

90’s Punk!Michael x Non-Binary Reader  -  1626 Words  -  Part 1 of 1

Notes: This was written for @sadistmichael‘s Michael Week! The title comes from my favorite Black Flag song (i know it’s not from the 90s but it’s a vibe). Shout outs to @sexgodashton, @cheekysos for helping me workshop this! It loosely connects to my other 90′s AU Fic which you can read here!

Warnings: Cigarette and alcohol usage, unprotected semi-public sex in an outdoor setting, instances of knife play, rough sex, and a lip piercing. 

“Someday we'll all be rich/ Someday I won't listen to you bitch/ I'll turn up the volume (and shut you out)” -Black Flag “Fix Me.”

The hum of the basement sent shockwaves through your veins. The music was alive. It was raw, real, and hypnotic. The DIY t-shirts our front had been up for grabs. They had the handwritten name of the night’s second act and you were more than happy to pull one on. The punk group’s lead vocal and guitarist made your mouth run dry and your knees want to buckle. Michael was an unwitting icon in the fight against commercialization and the bastardization of music. They hated the way the world was turning people into profit, they hated how people like you were treated- and their endless supply of fight left you breathless.

The flash of metal when Michael sang helped too, the piercing had featured in one too many of your own daydreams- and now you couldn’t keep your eyes off it or him. You watched every stroke of his fingers across the strings, hypnotized by how effortlessly they appeared to find their targets. His body moved with all the intoxicating power of his music’s genre and each time his hand wrapped around the microphone you imagined it pressing against your throat.

There were moments while you were screaming along and dancing, where you felt his eyes on you too. The way your body moved was equally as mesmerizing and there was something absolutely sinful about how the DIY shirt clung to your torso. 

Through the smoke and sweat haze of the overcrowded basement, his eyes found yours. Your already flushed face felt hotter as Michael winked at you and licked his lips, his piercing peaking out. 

The lyrics roared through the basement, the screaming guitars and firecracker drums bounced off the cement in a strange battle cry that had everyone out of the corners moving, and screaming. Your mind was still replaying the image of Michael gripping the mic and licking his lips as the music ended. By the time their set ended everyone in the audience had been transformed by the music and shared that ‘just been fucked’ look, their already disheveled aesthetics further unraveled with sweat. Your throat stung and your body felt supercharged looking to fight, fuck, or both. 

Unable to catch your breath you stumbled upon the stairs and around the back of the house. You leaned against the siding and closed your eyes focusing on that first inhale of smoke. The Pacific Northwest night was cold, the rainfall wasn’t expected to start until the next morning and for now, the world around you was at peace despite the riot inside your mind.

You opened your eyes and saw Michael standing near the backdoor lighting a cigarette of his own. You unconsciously licked your lips watching him. Something about him felt magnetic as if some secret part of you was linked to some secret part of him and refused to be denied any longer. 

“That was a really great show,” you called over to him, fighting your urge to cringe at the awkward platitude.

Michael laughed dryly, freely letting his eyes roam over your body as he approached. 

“You come to these things often?”

You shook your head, “my friend’s band played before you,” you grinned and gestured to the homemade shirt you now wore, “but I guess you could say I’ve been converted.” 

Michael cocked an eyebrow, “converted? Does that mean I get to tell you what to do?” For a moment you noticed the bright color of his eyes before his pupils turned black and intense. The change made your mouth run dry. 

“You’ll just have to try-” you whispered, sliding against Michael, looping your arms over his denim jacket and around his neck. He tasted like sickly sweet copper, cigarettes, and salt- a deadly combination that you instantly craved more of. You let Michael walk you back against the side of the house until you were pressed together. 

The kisses had turned into desperate gnashing of teeth and tongues that left you devastatingly excited when he broke the kiss. Michael panted against your cheek, his hands thickly running over the shirt that read his name. It stretched across your chest tightly the peaks of your nipples teasing him from behind the fabric and he was getting impatient. 

“Can I take this off?” Michael tugged harshly on the shirt and you nodded through the sex-fueled haze. 

He deftly slid a pocket knife out of his jacket and slashed down the front of your shirt before the lusty strangled gasp fell from your lips.“ Oh, you liked that,” he crooned mockingly, pressing you into the wall with his hips, “let’s see what else you like.” He teasingly pressed the flat side of the blade against your collar bone, eagerly drinking up the noises you made at the cool sensation.

Michaels hands now explored your body openly, his mouth often trailing behind as the shirt flashed between movements. The fire was growing too strong between you. In a passionate play of hands and knives and the resounding sound of metal- your pants were pushed to the ground and Michale’s moved down his thighs. You eagerly wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted and pressed you into the wall, his growing erection pressing against you teasingly.

His hands clawed over your exposed shoulders and down your back pulling you closer and pushing deeper through your arousal. The scents of cheap beer, cigarettes, sex, and rock’n’roll made your head spin and your knees weak. Your head fell back against the cool siding, a fervent moan escaping your lips as his mouth and bit kissed down your neck.

The trail he left behind flushed pink and then blood-red as the tiny blood vessels burst like fireworks under your skin. His tongue piercing added a stark contrast as he soothed the marks, all while tightening the knot of pleasure growing in your core.

His thrusts scraped your back against the wall, the pain sending shocks of pleasure down your body. He was bigger than you had anticipated and the slight stretch burned deliciously through your body. Michael’s pace was relentless, rocking yourself out your body into the wall bruises blooming across your skin.

Your whines and moans echoed into the night, and down in the basement, another band started. The music reverberated through the house and you felt the dull thrum start again, thankful for the growing noise as you screamed through your climax. Michael’s thrusts became erratic as he chased his own release, each movement overstimulating your sensitive body. 

He shuddered and moaned sinfully as he came, the sound driving you crazy. The blissed-out moment ended time quickly as the clang and stutter of the side screen door echoed around the house. 

Michael swore and carefully set you back on your feet. The both of you shuffled pants back up as footsteps approached.

“Hey!” You said elbowing him pointedly gesturing at the tattered shirt you had been wearing. 

A wolfish grin spread across his face, “what’s wrong sugar? You look great without it.”

You cocked an eyebrow giggling lightly as he handed you his patchwork jacket, which kept the cold out quite nicely. Michael swallowed thickly at the sight of you, easily backing you against the wall for a kiss, teasingly darting his hands under the jacket and around your waist. 

He was about to make a comment about how you almost wore it better than him when another couple stumbled around the corner. They smelled like they were drunk or high, and giggled excessively upon seeing the other couple already there. 

“Sorry, mate didn’t see ‘ya there,” called the blonde who towered over the person in front of him. Even in the partial light you recognized your friend and tried to hide behind Michael. 

Michael laughed again, a dry sound that masked the sound of his ignored belt refastening. “No problem, we were finishing up,” he said with a smirk before quickly walking back to the house, exposing you to your friend. 

They exaggeratedly grinned at you, “nice threads, whaddya do for ‘em?” 

You rolled your eyes at the joke, “nothing you haven’t… d’ya have a light?” 

They nodded and handed you a cigarette, before nodding over to their companion. “Think I should take him home?” You laughed around your cigarette and pretended to carefully inspect her newest prospect. 

“Well, he’s got that starry-eyed golden retriever look going for ‘em. The black nails are a nice touch though. But I’d have to say, uh-“ 

“Luke,” they offered you helpfully.  

“Luke,” you said nodding, “might be fun for a bit.” 

“That’s funny I was just thinking that about,” they said nodding towards Michael. 

“Michael,” you said grinning. 

You both giggled looking between the two and you were happy to see Michael lingering near the side of the house. Although he had a cigarette smoldering in his hand you hoped it was because of you. 

“I think,” your friend said giggling again, “we should share.” 

You laughed openly and shook your head before unconsciously clenching your jaw finally feeling the burning soreness in your thighs. You held the denim jacket tight over your body to keep the cold off your skin, greedily breathing in Michael’s distinct scent. You stomped out the end of your cigarette and smiled at your friend before wishing them good luck. 

You walked away and then turned to walk up the stoop, almost stumbling when Michael grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. He wrapped his arm around your waist under the jacket that was his, causing gooseflesh to spread across your skin. He held you close to him again and you felt his hot breath on your face, “if you’re not too busy,” he said licking his lips teasingly flashing the metal piercing, “I’m not done with you yet.”