Merry-Go-Round (Sequel to 'Carousel')

Chapter 5 - Hands in Pockets

The shirt had fallen away, and I wondered, if my heart really beat harder because his hand was there or if I could only feel it stronger because of the palm on my chest. It didn't matter. I felt his body for his jeans. He looked down at my hands when I took hold of the waist band so that for a moment I thought he would stop me, but he made no attempt. Instead he let me open button and zipper and struggled out of them.

Suddenly his body was closer, his muscles harder, the kiss harsher.
"Michael, the shirt. Let me take off–" He didn't wait for me to finish the sentence. "Oh, Michael!"
"What?" It was only a whisper and his mouth was so close that his lips brushed mine as he spoke.
"You should have let me take off the shirt first," I breathed.
"Why?"
"Because this is messy!"
"Oh, is it?" He was smiling. I could hear it – feel it – I wasn't sure which.
"Yes!"
"Because I just think it's nice." In my peripheral vision I could see the sinews in his lower arms tighten.
"It's nice." It was. "But it's messy, too."
He caught my lower lip between his teeth.
"I mean it, Michael. We'll get stains on the shirt!"
"I'll have it washed." For a moment he was just breathing, then he continued, "But I'll think of today every time I wear it."
I sighed, partly because I didn't know what else to say and partly because our being together was starting to be really nice.
He pulled himself up on his arms and looked at me. "Do you want me to stop?"
But I didn't. Not anymore. The moment had been missed. I could feel the sleeves of his shirt riding up my arms as I touched him. Millions of people would see him wearing it on the photos they had been taking the previous day, and we were making love on it. Somehow that was unbelievably naughty. I pressed my lips together and shook my head. "Mh-mh."

"I'll think of this every time I see you in it," I whispered as he came close to my face again.
His chuckling echoed in every single one of his spring-tight muscles.

We had another shower, and for the second time that morning Michael picked up a pair of pants from his bedroom floor. Although he was slightly shaking his head, he seemed amused by it.

I watched him as he dressed. There wasn't anything spectacular about it – not really. But still I enjoyed seeing him go from naked to his daytime attire. He was standing by the window looking outside as he slid on his t-shirt, then unbuttoned a soft, thicker button-up in muted shades of red and blue. The cloth fell from his shoulders down his back and folded around him, hugging him, and a strange feeling crept through me that I wanted to be that shirt, which of course made no sense whatsoever. But it was the closest I could come to identifying the sensation. He turned around, his fingers still busy righting the collar, found me looking and smiled.

Leaving Michael's private rooms we sauntered to the kitchen for breakfast. The round table in the alcove was laid, equipped with bowls of cut fruit and different cereals, a pot of coffee and a basket of bread rolls, and the air was saturated with the warm smell of the latter two. We went to the kitchen counter to ask for refrigerated goods to be brought to the table, and I apologised for missing dinner the previous night. It had probably been prepared, and I didn't want to start my stay off with disregard for the work of Michael's personnel.
She waved my apology away with a smile. "That's all fine, honey, don't worry about it. It must have been a very long and tiring journey. And the sleep clearly did you good. You're glowing."

I thanked her and while she went to get milk and jam, we turned back to the table. Michael, who had been leaning with his elbows on the counter during the short exchange, was looking at me with a smug smile.
"What is it?" I asked and the smugness melted out of his expression so quickly and so completely that I wasn't sure I hadn't imagined it.
He shrugged. "She's right. You are glowing." And he put an innocent kiss on my cheek.
"And we both know it has nothing to do with how well I slept," I said so only he could hear.
Michael shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked down at his shoes and the same smug smile kept revealing his teeth although he was trying to suppress it. For the effort alone I could have kissed him but we weren't alone and I didn't want to embarrass anyone, so instead I lightly brushed my fingers against his side just above his belt. It was only a small touch, but I could tell from the change in expression on his face that he'd felt it.

~~~~~
Hey, y'all! <3

First of all, I want to apologise once again for not updating last week!
The update is here, now, and I hope you enjoyed it, so at least it was worth waiting for it. :)

Last time I asked what you imagine Anna to look like, but nobody said anything. I'm really, really curious about this, though, so I'll try again:

I make each and everyone of you casting director of my story!
You can have anybody you want. We have an unlimited budget.
So whom would you cast?

I'll follow everybody who bothers to leave a comment about this! :)

Apart from that, please don't forget to vote! :D

Kisses and Cookies, Birdie <33