Michael Clifford smut

Sweet

an: sorry I was gone!
enjoy ;-)

~*~

"Yes mother," you paused at your front door, fumbling for the keys that were wedged inside your jean pocket. You placed your cell phone at your ear, holding it there until you finally felt your fingers close around the small piece of metal, trying to grip onto all of the bags in your other hand.
"No-I know!" You protested as your mother went off on a long rant about how you should've been paying your taxes and keeping your living quarters clean-you were twenty-one years old, after all; it was time to start acting like it, she'd said on so many occasions.
"I've got to go, can I just call you later? Please," you said as you stuck the bronze key into the lock. Without waiting for an answer, you pulled your phone away and hung up, silently apologizing and cringing gently.
You shoved your phone into your back pocket and hurriedly transferred the bags that were slipping from your right hand into your left. Pushing the door open, you grunted as you carried in all of the groceries.
"Skittles?" Someone called. You rolled your eyes, "Who else would it be?"
You heard a faint chuckle, and you yelled at the person, "Mind helping me carry in the food, you lazy ass?"
Footsteps echoed along the hardwood floor of your apartment. You waited a moment before someone appeared in the doorway of your living room.
He had jet black hair and piercing green eyes, the kind that reminded you of mint. A small black piercing peeked out from under the fringe of his hair, where his eyebrow was. His pink lips were upturned in a smirk as he watched you, and you noticed that he was cleanly shaven.
"Well," he mused, "I would mind, but since you asked so nicely..."
"Shut up," you groaned, still evidently struggling with the multiple bags hanging from your wrists and fingers. You held out one arm, gesturing for him to take a few grocery bags and relieve you of the aching pain that came from the rubbing of the plastic material against your skin.
Michael obliged casually, grabbing the bags before leading you into the kitchen. You followed and you both entered the room, placing the groceries onto the counter before beginning to unpack them.
"So," you began, "How was class today?"
He shrugged, "Same old. The professor's a raging bitch. But it's musical theory, right?" He chuckled, "He shouldn't be that high-strung."
He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed at his pun. You opened the first bag, grabbing a carton of eggs and pulling open the fridge, setting them down lightly. Michael unpacked a few boxes of cereal and placed them into the cupboards above the stove.
"How about you?" Your roommate asked, "Any fun sociology stuff going on?"
"No," you blew a stray strand of hair out of your face.
Michael laughed, pulling out a few plastic cartons of blueberries and raspberries you'd bought, walking over to the fridge and placing them inside. While his back was to you, you glanced over at him quickly. He wore a plain white tank top and a loose pair of black shorts, his army green flip flops making clacking sounds against the floor. He looked like one of those lazy adults that spent their lives sleeping on their parents' couch.
You smirked at the analogy, knowing that it probably wasn't that far off. If he hadn't gotten into university because of his amazing ability to play the guitar, you had no idea where he'd be.
"What?" Michael asked, smirking knowingly at you. You shook your head and looked away quickly, feeling your neck heat up at the fact that he'd caught you staring.
The two of you had been friends since sophomore year.. Michael had been the slightly emo kid who enjoyed strumming his guitar and playing video games. You were the brainiac who aced every class and had a good group of friends surrounding you. It was safe to say that your friendship with the blonde boy with a fringe was unlikely.
But when your mother insisted that you get to know the boy who always walked home from school alone, you couldn't brush her off. Partly because she was a determined and strong-willed woman, but also because you were curious about who he was and what he was like.
So here you were.
"Nothing," you said quickly, realizing that Michael was still waiting for an answer to his question. You grabbed a grey plastic bag and fumbled with it, "I bought Skittles." You held up the candy to show him.
"Again," he guffawed and you just scolded him, turning around and slapping his arm gently, eyeing the dark tattoos rimming his skin before turning away and shaking your head at his teasing.
"Aw, come on Skittles," he pouted. Before you knew it, he'd snatched the candies out of your hand. You whipped around, gasping, and reached for them, but Michael held them up and away from your fingertips.
"Mikey, give them!" You protested. He just laughed, lifting them even higher into the air and laughing at your pathetic jumping attempts. You gritted your teeth but couldn't stop a small smile from gracing your lips at your obnoxious friend.
"Gordon," you threatened, knowing how much he detested his middle name, "Stop it."
He froze, eyeing you, and you giggled. His mouth warped into a dramatic snarl and he only hefted the red package of candy higher than it already was, "You know what? Just for that: no."
You stomped your foot and made grabby hands at the candy above his head, "Fine, fine, I'm sorry. Will you just pass them back...please?"
Michael pretended to think about it, his green eyes focussing on the kitchen intently, his bottom lip jutting out, pretending to be lost in thought. He tapped his chin and hummed, making you cross your arms and roll your eyes at his stupidity. You just wanted your goddamn candy.
"Fine," Michael said finally, and then grinned wickedly at you, "But only if you give me a kiss."
Your breath caught in your throat at the demand. There had always been this playful side of your friendship, but lately, the comments had gotten a bit suggestive. You played it off, pretending that you knew that Michael was horny all the time and that this was just a side effect. But to hear him say something as open as that...well, it was new.
"A kiss?" You said dumbly, your body frozen. Michael didn't back down, simply continuing to smile at you smugly, lowering his hand a bit and taunting you with the candy that was so close yet so far away. "Yep. Do you want the candy or not?"
"I hate you," you merely muttered, stepping closer to him. His eyes widened for a nanosecond-almost as though he hadn't been planning for you to actually oblige-but then the expression was gone, replaced by arrogance.
"Nah, you don't," he chuckled. You reached for him, "Well, lean down a bit, you idiot. How am I supposed to reach you up there? Do you want me to climb a beanstalk?"
He giggled and bent down slowly, his face coming to the same level as yours. His outstretched hand also lowered a bit. You sighed and grabbed his chin, turning his head to the side-there was no way that you were going to kiss his lips.
You thought he'd complain, but he didn't, instead, you felt his heavy and warm breaths release onto the skin of your hand. You leaned in, placing your left hand on the other side of his face to steady him and your right on the nape of his neck, you're fingers brushing his soft dark hair.
"Okay," you breathed to yourself, low enough so that he didn't hear. You moved forward and pressed your lips to his cheek lightly.
You expected yourself to want to pull back after a millisecond. However, Michael's skin was so soft, and you basked in the scent of spice that seemed to be simply radiating off of him. What was happening?
Subconsciously, you found yourself pulling your lips back a centimetre before pressing another kiss right beside the previous spot your mouth had touched. Soon, you were peppering light, gentle kisses along his cheek, and he was inhaling a deep breath every time your mouth touched him.
The fingers of your right hand twined and played with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, your left hand still caressing his other cheek softly to keep him in place. You closed your eyes before realizing what you'd just done, and they shot back open quickly.
You smirked lightly as you earned an idea, and slowly sponged kisses along his jawline. His hands were limp at his sides, but every once in a while, his fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out for you. Trailing your lips up his jawline, you reached his ear.
You took his earlobe in between your teeth and bit down gently, letting go after a quick moment. And then you breathed in his ear, "God, I want to suck your dick so bad."
You felt him freeze, his breathing suddenly silent. That was the reaction you'd been hoping for. Lightning quick, you pulled back and jumped up, snatching the pack of Skittles from his hand and shrieking in delight.
He snapped out of it and reached for you, a loud "Hey!" falling from his lips. You just giggled as you tore away from him, the tips of his fingers catching against the material of your shirt before you were out of reach. You ran along the hall, bolting to your room and spinning around, grabbing the edge of the door and pulling. Before it swung shut, you saw Michael close in on your bedroom, before a loud slam was heard and an even louder thump echoed.
You heard Michael groan out in pain, and you giggled.
"Y/N!" He called out, "C'mon, are you kidding me?"
"That's what you get," you called out smugly, locking your door and turning around nonchalantly. You tossed the candy onto your study desk, hearing it land with a loud smack, a few of the contents rattling. Collapsing onto your bed, you noticed that you were out of breath, partly because of running, partly...because of kissing Michael.
Kissing Michael. The words felt foreign on your tongue.
You were friends. He was the boy who had shared his earphones with you at lunch, the boy who'd serenaded you on his guitar after you'd begged him to on multiple occasions. He was the boy you walked home with after school, the only person you trusted enough to tell things to, to move in with. Hell, he called you "Skittles" because of your obsession with the candy.
You shouldn't have enjoyed that. But you did. You liked the way his smooth skin felt against your mouth, how he was cleanly shaven. You liked how you were able to make his breathing speed up with just a few pecks on the cheek, not even a full-fledged kiss-although it was probably possible for anyone to trigger that response in Michael. He was a horny little shit.
You fell asleep, your mind reeling.
~*~
A few days later, you were seated at one of the many individual study cubicles in the large student library on campus. Students shuffled around, looking for books or carrying bags filled to the brim with textbooks and notes for upcoming exams. It was a stressful time.
You majored in sociology. And right now, you really wished you'd picked something else. Because here you were, multiple textbooks spread across the desk, your laptop open to a PowerPoint that your professor had uploaded, and a vanilla latte by your side. There were pens and pencils and little sticky notes littered everywhere, and you were exhausted.
And it was only-what?-half past six?
You shot a glance at your phone: 6:37 P.M. You'd been close enough.
You turned back to your textbook, dragging your eyes over the tiny lettering but not fully comprehending the content. You couldn't help it; you were tired, and you really weren't in the mood to study.
You pinched your thigh-hard. It jolted you a bit, and you blinked several times, shaking your head. Your hair had been tied into a loose ponytail and you wore a white blouse and dark jeans, a pair of black flats completing the look. Fiddling with the bangles on your wrist, you re-read the paragraph your eyes must've skimmed over at least fifty times, finally soaking in the information.
"It is quite common for most individuals to cross their arms when they are confronted with an idea or topic that does not appeal to them. This simple action acts as a defence system triggered by"-
You read the rest of the paragraph before writing out some notes in point-form, your fingers and wrist aching from the constant grip of the pen and the odd angle at which you wrote. You focused on the key words of the paragraph as you jotted them down, along with their definitions.
You set your pen down for a moment, reaching for your latte, only to be met with empty air. Turning your head to the side quickly, you found that your white Starbucks cup was nowhere to be seen.
You looked around frantically, amazed that someone could've snatched it from right under your nose. You didn't have to look too far though. Standing a few feet behind you, leaning on one of the pillars that kept the roof up, stood none other than Michael Clifford himself.
You rolled your eyes. He wore a pair of combat boots, black skinny jeans, and a green flannel. His dark hair was tousled and he regarded you, looking somewhat amused, his lips curved up into a smirk. In his hand was your latte. On cue, he brought the drink to his lips, taking a sip, his minty eyes sparkling with mischief at you from over the rim of the cup.
"Fuck you," was all you said.
He laughed and walked over, setting your cup back down next to you and pulling over a chair. He sat next to you-a bit too close for comfort-so that you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him.
"You work too hard, Skittles," he commented, sighing as though he was disappointed in you. You shrugged-you'd always been like this, striving to be the best. But sometimes it was too much, and you couldn't keep your eyes open.
Michael noted your silence. He snapped his fingers and announced, "That's it. Come on, I'm taking you back home."
That got your attention.
"What?" You blurted, aware that you couldn't leave, you had to study, "No, I have to stay here. How'd you even find me anyways?"
He smirked at you again, "I figured you'd be here when you didn't come home at six. You usually do. And then we eat dinner, remember? Or did you already forget about me?"
You closed your eyes, cringing at the fact that you had been supposed to bring home pizza tonight and you'd completely forgotten and blown off your friend. "Shit, Mikey, I'm sorry. It slipped my mind, I swear I didn't mean-"
But Michael was just laughing silently. Your lips curved down into a frown and he smiled at you, "Oh, leave it alone Skittles. I'm not mad."
"You sure?" You chewed on your lip nervously, suddenly bringing your hand up to your face to stifle a yawn. Michael nodded and watched you intently before pushing back his chair and standing up. Before you could say anything he began to gather all of your notes and books.
"Come on. We're going home."
~*~
"Skittles," someone hissed at you.
For a few moments, you were disoriented, unable to gather your bearings. You felt yourself sitting upright, hands tucked under your thighs, your jean jacket tossed carelessly over your shoulders. There was something draped across your body, and someone was shaking you...quite vigorously.
Your eyes fluttered open, and you saw that your companion was Michael. You were sitting inside his beat-up red Mustang. The thing you'd felt across your body was a leathery black seatbelt. And the car was parked outside, in front of your apartment on campus.
"Mhm," you merely hummed, rolling your head away from Michael and closing your eyes again. You heard him swear under his breath, but you were too tired to smile.
You heard him unbuckle your seatbelt, heard the small click, and felt it slide up your body. Suddenly, Michael's arms wrapped around you, his right snaking underneath your knees, the other supporting your head as he pulled you forward, hefting you into his arms.
That woke you up a bit.
"Fuck Skittles, you may be tiny, but you're heavy."
You slapped his shoulder weakly, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. This was new, uncharted territory for you both, but you liked it. Michael's hands weren't rough or groping, and he smelled really nice.
"I'm...I'm not tiny," you breathed out, fading in and out of sleep, "You're just...huge." You yawned, burrowing your face even further into his neck and trying to curl up into a ball. However, being in someone's arms didn't exactly give you enough leeway.
Before your knew it, you were at your front door. Michael tried to fish his keys out whilst holding you simultaneously, but he was failing. You slapped him again, "Put me down, Superman."
He chuckled before setting you down on your feet. You wobbled for a mere moment before steadying, grabbing onto Michael's forearm as he found his keys and unlocked the door quickly. You closed your eyes.
He turned back to you as he pushed open the door, only to find that you were one moment away from falling asleep standing up, swaying silently. He laughed gently before scooping you back up into his arms and walking the both of you in, kicking the door shut quietly.
"Let's get you to bed," he whispered into your hair, sending slight shivers down your back. You nodded subconsciously.
He carried you to your room and opened the door, walking over to your bed and bending down to set you onto the duvet as gently as possible. You clung to him, and he chuckled, "Skittles, you're going to have to let go."
"No," you whined, too tired and disoriented to even know what you were saying, "Stay."
"What?"
"Stay," you murmured sleepily, nuzzling your face into your pillow. There was a brief moment of silence before you heard Michael sigh. You felt the bed dip beside you, felt him reach for your shoulders and tug off your jacket, heard it land somewhere in a heap as he tossed it. He then pulled your socked off of your feet, proceeding to do the same with his own.
"You can't sleep in socks," he chuckled sheepishly as you giggled, fading in and out of consciousness. Michael didn't move after that, and you opened your eyes tiredly, only to find that he was lying down beside you, looking nervous and keeping his arms beside him.
"You can take off your jeans, you know," you mused in an airy tone. He nodded, regarding you cautiously as he stood up, undoing his jeans and peeling them down his legs. You looked away as he eased back onto the bed. However, he still made no move for you; it was the first time you both had ever shared a bed.
Sighing lightly, you scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. He froze for a moment and you almost pulled back, but then he relaxed and turned onto his side, returning the gesture.
You buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. It was a rich smell; he smelled like spices and boy, a great combination. His hands rested awkwardly on the small of your back, fingers twitching as he debated what to do with himself.
You giggled gently again, mumbling into his neck, "Mikey. Just cuddle me, dammit."
He chuckled at how you were still able to be so snarky, even when you were falling over with exhaustion. His arms secured around you, and he became a bit more sure of himself, hands fastening at your back. You did the same thing, tightening your hold on him and shifting slightly, your lips brushing his neck as you moved.
He inhaled sharply, and you froze, your breaths puffing out onto his skin and making him squirm slightly. Moving again, you brushed your lips against his collarbone. He made no sound, allowing you to continue.
You puckered your lips lightly and pressed a soft, exhausted kiss onto his collarbone. He was still, not daring to move and interrupt you from your little activity. You trailed your lips along his collarbone swiftly. The skin of your mouth barely touched, simply dancing along the column of his neck tentatively. But his breathing was ragged now, and his grip a bit tighter, and you smiled sleepily at yourself.
You kissed up and down his throat, your fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt softly. He was silent as you continued sweet torture on his neck. You nipped at small patches of skin and pressed a soft kiss to his Adam's apple, which jumped as he swallowed at the contact.
And then you reached a spot below his jawline, parallel to his earlobe. Without warning, you puckered your lips and sucked harshly on that spot. Michael gasped, his fingers digging into your hips as you continued sucking a dark mark into the skin. Your fingers ran up and down the expanse of his back and he waited in silence for you to finish, the only sounds being his heavy breaths and your sucking noises.
Finally, after about another thirty seconds of torment, you pulled back, admiring the bruise that had already begun to blossom. His skin was shiny with your saliva, and you planted a gentle kiss onto the angry red patch, soothing it.
You then smiled satisfactorily with your work, sighing sleepily and cuddling closer to Michael, burying your face into his chest. You closed your eyes as you felt his chest rise and fall rapidly, his chin resting on the crown of your head.
Sleep overtook you.
~*~
You stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with your left hand and clutching the packet of Skittles to your chest with your right. You were still in your clothes from last night, skinny jeans and a plain t-shirt, but you were without your denim jacket and your socks.
Michael stood at the stove in only his flannel and a pair of boxers. His back was to you and he was flipping pancakes, trying not to screw up.
"Morning," you yawned, lifting yourself up into the counter beside the stove. Michael looked down at the frying pan intently, his gaze dropping and avoiding yours. He mumbled a greeting in return.
You couldn't remember anything from last night. All you remembered was falling asleep in the car as Michael took you home from the library; after that, it was all blank.
"You okay?" You questioned your dark-haired friend cautiously.
He nodded, still not looking at you, instead turning away to rummage through one of the cupboards for plates. He pulled two white ones out and set them down slowly, trying to prolong the action as much as possible.
"Bullshit," you scoffed. Michael just sighed, still not looking at you, "I'm fine, Y/N."
No he wasn't, you decided. He only ever used your actual name when he was serious about something, or bothered. You didn't like how he was so distant from you all of a sudden, and you were sure that he didn't enjoy being so moody either.
You shifted on the counter, letting out a defeated sigh. Suddenly, you had an idea. Smiling lightly, you brought the packet of Skittles to your attention, ripping it open loudly. You fished out a green one, knowing they were Michael's favourite.
"Here," you said, handing it to him, "A peace offering for whatever I did wrong."
Michael chuckled lightly, finally gazing up at you. His light eyes were framed by long eyelashes, and his dark hair was tousled. "You didn't do anything wrong, Y/N."
"Well then tell me why you're so moody!" You said exasperatedly. You reached over, turning all the knobs on the store and shutting it off. Michael pouted at the fact that his pancakes were only half-cooked. He began to protest, but you cut him off.
"No," you said sternly, "Tell me what's wrong, Michael Gordon. You never keep things from me."
Michael groaned and tilted his head to the side, scratching his neck somewhat angrily. Your gaze lowered to the skin of his throat and your eyes practically bugged out of your head.
There was a dark purple hickey that had blossomed on the left side of his neck, a few inches under his jawline. Your jaw slackened, and the first thing you felt was this unrecognizable rush. It twisted your stomach into knots and filled your mind with a sense of dread, filled your mouth with an unpleasant taste. Were you...jealous?
And then scenarios were rushing back at you, memories from last night. Michael kissing your hair and telling you to get to bed. You demanding that he stay. Your lips running along his neck, your mouth sucking that very same mark into that very same spot. And suddenly, you couldn't breathe.
"Shit," the realization hit you. Your eyes widened and you practically yelled out, "Fuck, I did that, didn't I?"
Michael looked confused for a moment. His eyes grew as well once he caught on. His hand flew up to cover the dark bruise, but you remembered everything now and you couldn't have been more embarrassed.
The two of you stood there in silence. Michael was staring at you with an unrecognizable look on his face. You were horrified and mortified-what the hell had gotten into you last night?
Finally you couldn't stand it anymore. "You know what?" You rambled, "Let's just-let's forget about it. That never happened, okay? Just move on from it. It's forgotten, it's all good."
Michael's eyes cast down to the floor. From your perch on the counter, you shakily dug inside your candy bag, fishing out another green Skittle and practically throwing it at your friend, "Here. There, another peace offering, everything's fine."
Michael mumbled something under his breath. You craned your neck. "What?" You asked, in hopes that he was cracking a joke about the entire ordeal and that the both of you wouldn't ever have to mention this again.
Your friend looked up at you wistfully. Suddenly, he lurched forward, grabbing both sides of your face and bringing your lips to his.
You froze, stiffening abruptly at the feeling. His mouth moved against yours his lips soft, his skin slightly scratchy as a bit of stubble began to grow back. His hands framed your face, thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he poured everything out.
He pulled back, seeming hurt at your lack of interest, "I said I don't just want to fucking forget about it," he panted to you.
Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were now squeezing your Skittles package so hard that you were surprised it didn't burst. Genuinely confused, you couldn't form a single sentence, needing to wrap your head around the fact that you'd just been kissed...by Michael.
He, however, took your silence as rejection. Shaking his head, he chuckled dryly to himself, his left hand coming up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. He turned away, muttered something under his breath about "how stupid" and "never mind."
It wasn't until he began to walk away that you snapped out of your daze. "Michael!" You called. He paused, turning around warily and looking embarrassed.
"Can we-?" You began timidly, "Can we try that again?"
Michael's expression changed to shock, but then he shook his head, figuring that you were playing some sort of cruel trick on him.
"Look Y/N, if this is some kind of joke-"
"Michael Gordon Clifford, get your ass over here right now!"
Michael sighed when you raised your voice, trudging over to where you still sat on the counter. You set your Skittles down on the flat surface beside you as Michael stopped two feet away from you, his arms crossed defensively. You rolled your eyes and made an exasperated sound, reaching forward and yanking him closer to you.
He stumbled into you, and you quickly parted your legs so that he landed right between them. You looked up at him shyly, this being the closest you two had ever been to each other. He looked at you tiredly, still breathing a bit unevenly from the first kiss.
"You're an idiot," you told him sternly before placing your right hand on the nape of his neck and bringing his lips back to yours.
He responded immediately, lips moulding to yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. His hands came to grab at your hips, sliding you a bit closer to him on the counter, and subconsciously, you circled your legs around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back.
"What are we doing?" Your friend gasped against your mouth. You pulled back a millimetre, both of you breathing heavily. You leaned closer to him so that your lips still brushed as you spoke, "Let's worry about that later."
You ducked your head, peppering kisses to Michael's neck. His breathing sped up as you sucked a symmetrical hickey onto the right side of his throat, your hands raking through his hair and his fingertips digging into your sides. You lifted slightly, now running your lips along his sharp jawline, your tongue poking out to taste his skin.
You trailed your mouth to his earlobe and smirked to yourself. Repeating the action from a few days ago, you took his earlobe between your teeth and tugged gently, sighing sensually in his ear and whispering, "I want to suck your dick so bad."
He shivered, and this time, you didn't dance out of his grip. Instead, you slowly pushed yourself off of the counter and stood in front of him. His lips found yours again as he fiddled with the hem of your shirt before pulling it up swiftly. He swore at the sigh of you in a baby pink bra and the wonders the push-up did for your breasts.
"Perfect," Michael muttered, grabbing a handful of your breasts over your bra. You merely giggled, shaking your hair from your face and reaching behind your back, unclasping the material effortlessly. You let the article fall from your chest and watched Michael's expression as he perceived your naked chest.
"Fuck Skittles, you're gorgeous," he growled, leaning back into you and ducking his head. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs and he hoisted you up, no doubt to place you back onto the counter so he could have more leeway with your chest, but you stopped him.
"No," you breathed as he kissed your neck, you head falling back despite your protests, "I meant what I said."
"What?" Michael's voice came out strangled, not wanting to prolong anything, just wanting you, all of you. In response, you wriggled from his grip and kissed his lips curtly before hooking your fingers through the waistband of his boxers. You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him and smirking. His Adam's apple jumped.
You pulled his boxers down, only to find his hard cock slap up against the material of his t-shirt. You licked your lips and you grabbed it and brought it to your mouth, pressing a peck to the tip.
"Skittles," Michael groaned, "Fuck, you're such a tease."
You merely giggled and stuck your tongue out, swirling it around his tip. Michael growled lowly, his hips thrusting forward subconsciously. You smiled at his eagerness and in return, took his tip into your mouth.
You circled your tongue around his shaft as you moved down on his dick. He was thick, a wide girth that you couldn't wait to explore. You bobbed your head and Michael let out a throaty grown, his fingers twining roughly in your hair.
"Please Y/N," he practically begged, "I need more."
You giggled around his length, creating vibrations that seemed to shake him to the very core. Pulling back all the way, you ran your tongue along a bulging vein on the underside of his cock, and Michael yelled out a loud "Fuck!"
You took him back into your mouth, moving your head up and down as you sucked him off. His hands slammed onto the counter behind you, and you felt his body quivering whilst he fought the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.
Your right hand came up to pump the length of his cock that you couldn't fit in your mouth. Michael was moaning and groaning as you sucked him off sharply, giving forceful sucks here and there in order to make him shake and bring him closer to the edge.
"Fuck Y/N," he panted, his dark hair sticking to his forehead as you pulled back from his shaft, only to take him back into your mouth quickly, pushing the limits of your gag reflex, "How are you so-shit-good at that?"
You merely smirked around him, your left hand coming up to fondle his balls. You could feel him begin to tremble, felt him tense up, and you knew his orgasm was approaching; you couldn't help but to feel a bit smug at the fact.
But Michael had other ideas.
He bent down, pulling you off of his cock with a pop. You whined incoherently but he shushed your protests quickly, "I'm not coming until I'm inside you. Turn around."
You obliged, your hands reaching to undo the button on your skinny jeans, but Michael's hands slapped them away. He took the liberty of unfastening your pants himself, pressing kisses to your neck and then down your spine as he bent to shimmy your jeans down your legs. You were soaking through your panties and Michael inhaled sharply, "Fuck you smell amazing. Bet you taste even better."
"Mikey, please," you whimpered as you stepped out of your jeans, arching your back in pure need. He chuckled, kissing back up your spine while your head fell back and your eyes closed, waiting for him to do something, anything.
Suddenly he froze, "Fuck, I need a condom."
"Are you kidding me?" You exclaimed, and he just chuckled, turning your head to the side and kissing your lips hastily before he turned and ran down to the hall in only a t-shirt. You stood there, sweaty and breathless, left to gather your bearings and question what exactly you were doing.
But you wanted this. You wanted it so badly, an unknown drive fuelling feelings of lust that you hadn't even known existed towards Michael. You suddenly wanted the ability of kissing him all the time and sleeping with him-in both ways.
A loud thump, followed by a swear, knocked you from your thoughts. Suddenly Michael was running back out, trying to roll on the condom simultaneously. You couldn't help but to giggle.
"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, but he was smirking nonetheless.
He stopped in front of you, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you, a lot softer than you'd anticipated. It was a kiss filled with real emotion, and seemed to convey more than Michael would ever tell you with words.
You were breathing heavily by the time he tore his lips away. He looked at you, his forehead pressed to your, breaths washing onto your face, "You want this?"
You nodded, not even hesitating. Smiling tenderly at him, you kissed him again quickly before turning around, setting your palms onto the kitchen counter and bending down, your full ass on display to him. He groaned and hooked his fingers through your underwear, practically tearing them down your legs, and you kicked them off unceremoniously.
"Look at this body," Michael breathed, running his hands from your breasts to your back, down your spine, cupping your smooth curves in his hands, "You're a goddess, Y/N."
You blushed deeply at the compliment but tried to play off your embarrassment by wriggling your ass at him and spreading your legs, "Just get in me, Clifford."
"So impatient," he noted lightly, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. You whined loudly when he lined himself up with you but then thought better of it, running his tip along your folds delicately.
"Michael, I swear to God-"
And then he pushed into you abruptly, and you cut yourself off. He went slowly at first, gauging your reaction and letting your body grow accustomed to the intrusion of his hard cock. With each inch, a louder groan fell from his lips, and your jaw slackened at his large width. He was stretching you deliciously.
"You-You okay?" He panted, almost unable to control himself. You had a feeling he was holding back on you, trying to keep his composure.
You nodded, thighs clenching together as you forced yourself to relax. Michael buried his member inside of you, his stomach pressed to your back. He ran his lips along your shoulders soothingly as you relaxed.
"Move," you ordered quietly. He pulled out slowly, and you sighed at how empty you felt. Suddenly, he thrusted back in-a little bit harder-and a breathy gasp fell from your lips.
"Fuck, sorry," he apologized frantically. You shook your head, "No. Do it again."
You turned to look at him from the corner of your eye, and he nodded warily, leaning in to press a curt but loving kiss to your lips. You felt him pull out against and slide back in with some force, jolting your body forward slightly.
"Fuck, feels so good," you mumbled, throwing your head back. Michael took your words as encouragement and repeated his earlier action. He grabbed your hips, fingers digging in almost painfully, and built up a steady rhythm, sinking in and out of you at a speedy pace.
"Dammit," he grunted as he felt your walls squeeze him tightly, "You're gripping me baby. So fucking good."
You moaned out as he bucked his hips, his cock sliding in and out of your slick passage. He pulled out all the way, until only his tip was enveloped by you, only to slam back in. Your head fell forward and your palms grasped for anything you could hold onto to steady yourself and not get lost in this bliss.
Finally, you settled on the edge of the counter, your knuckles turning white as Michael repeatedly sunk into you, your body experiencing pleasure you thought was beyond its capability. Michael's hands ran up and down your sides hastily, wanting to feel all of you at once.
"Harder!" You cried out when he hit that special spot inside of you, the spot that made you go numb. You wanted him to do that again.
He obliged, swearing and flicking his damp hair from his eyes. He pulled you up so that your back was pressed flush against his chest, your head lolling back onto his shoulder, giving him the opportunity to attack your neck with kisses and love bites.
His dick slid in and out of you at a faster pace now, almost desperate to get you to release. Your hands sought him, gripping his ass as he pounded into you. His own hands ran up your stomach, finding your breasts and squeezing them, tweaking your nipples as he sucked on your collarbones viciously.
"Come on Skittles," he groaned into your ear, "Let go baby, come on."
His words pushed you off the edge, your eyes closing and your fingers digging into his ass, nails leaving dark crescents against the skin. You cried out loudly as your orgasm washed over you, your body clenching and weakening.
"Fuck!" Michael swore when he felt your walls hug him tightly, almost suffocating his cock. You felt him tense behind you, giving a few more erratic thrusts before he froze, spilling into the condom with a throaty groan.
You both fought to catch your breaths, coming down from you highs. You eyes opened dazedly as you blinked a few times. Michael nuzzled his face into the cook of your neck, his grip on you light yet fond. He peppered a few kisses onto your shoulder as you panted lightly, your chest heaving up and down.
"What did we just do?" He whispered to you. A gentle smile graced your lips as you shook your head, refraining from laughing at him.
Reaching for your abandoned packet of Skittles, you turned towards your friend, offering him another green one. He grinned and took it, popping it into his mouth. You fished out a red one, chewing it and swallowing, studying him as he did the same.
There was no way this was going to be a one-time thing. You'd liked that a lot, and you hoped to do it a lot more often. Your head tilted to the side, gazing at Michael with twinkling eyes and enjoying his post-sex appearance.
"I don't know. But we're definitely doing it again."