Worth Fighting For (A Michael Fassbender Fic)

Chapter Seventeen

Author's Note: Beware, if sex offends you, you might want to skip this chapter. But I'm guessing since you're reading a Fassy fic in the first place, you've been waiting for this, haha.

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"Daniella? How much do you like your tank top?" Michael kisses my ear and tickles my neck with his scruff.

"My tank top? It's comfy but nothing special," I moan out, clawing at his back. His lips around my neck and my ears are driving me crazy.

Michael plants a small kiss against my lips. "Good." He kisses my chin. Then my throat. Between my collarbones. He reaches my chest and takes my tank in his mouth. Using a hand to help, he rips it down the center, from top to bottom.

I gasp and stare at him, wide-eyed. He doesn't even falter. He trails kisses over my clavicle and nips at the swell of my breasts. I'm breathing so hard, wondering what he'll do next. I can't keep my eyes off of him.

"Hmm. Lucky me," Michael grins his sexy shark grin, eyeing the front clasp of my bra.

He snatches it between his teeth and the bastard unclasps it with his tongue! Hovering over me, he leans on one arm and oh so lightly, like a feather, teases my skin with his touch, trailing one finger from my lips, over my chin and down my neck, between my breasts, all the way down to the button of my shorts.

I can barely handle it. My back arches against my will and I bite my lip, turning my head away from him.

"Look at me, Daniella." Michael cups my chin and returns my eyes to him. "Don't you dare look away."

He straddles my legs and reaches a long arm behind my back to lift me up. I sit before him and he frees me of my bra and torn tank. I drop back down and his mouth finds my nipple. I gasp at the contact, fisting my hand into his hair.

He sucks, kisses, and nips at me.

"Michael," I moan.

He tugs on my nipple with his teeth and smiles when I cry out. I'm afraid to close my eyes, but he's too much. Even the sight of him, the pure hunger in his eyes, is too much. How can one man's seductive face look like pure porn?

Michael runs a hand down my stomach and tugs on my shorts. The button unsnaps and he hastily undoes the zipper. He climbs off of me and with both hands on my hips, tugs me down to the edge of the bed before peeling my shorts off.

I break free from his stare. I'm overwhelmed and can barely breathe. I roll my head back as he kneels on the floor. I know what's coming. His hands snake down my stomach and over my hips. I clench my legs together, not ready yet.

"Michael, you don't have to," I let him know.

Ted has only gone down on me, maybe, twice. I never got the hype. My friends brag about the amazing orgasms they've gotten when their boyfriends go down on them. I've never believed them. And I don't want to embarrass myself in front of Michael. I don't want to disappoint him or hurt his feelings. I just don't think I work that way.

"But I do. I really, really do." His fingers hook into the sides of my panties and he slinks them down my legs.

Michael's hands slide back up my legs. His long fingers graze my inner thighs and, wanting more, I loosen up. My muscles weaken and he grabs me by the knees, separating them.

Feeling the cool air of his bedroom hitting the damp warmth of my sex makes me gasp. I feel embarrassed that he's looking right at me down there. I peek at him and he's all smiles.

He kisses my knee and using his tongue, creates a wet trail up my inner thigh. My back arches, anticipating his mouth there. You know where I mean...

I can't.

I sit up and crab walk backwards, away from him. "Let's not."

"Let's." He grabs my hips again and pulls me back. Before I can object, his mouth is on me.

Like being struck by lightning almost, the instant wave of shock coursing through my body has me squirming with pleasure. He steadies my thighs with his hands. His mouth is working in a way I never thought possible. His lips, his tongue, even the scruff around his mouth, they all play an important role right now. He laps at the firm bundle of nerves with his tongue, applying more pressure with each lap. Then he sucks and nips and I cry out.

"Stop!" I'm panting and biting my knuckles. My knees are shaking, involuntarily. I can't stop them.

Michael looks up at me with concern. "Daniella?"

I gasp. "What are you doing?? Don't stop..."

Michael chuckles and returns his mouth to me. He inserts a finger while sucking and I bite down on my knuckles.

"Oh god." I'm starting to shake.

Michael finds my sweet spot, caressing it, rubbing it. I can feel the fire from the pit of my stomach spreading down my thighs, down my legs and to my toes.

"Please," I beg. I grab a fist full of his hair and he moans into me. I punch the bed next to me and clench the bed sheets. "Oh fuck, Michael!"

The fire in my legs explodes and my toes curl. I cry out through my orgasm and Michael licks me until I'm calm.

When I stop thrashing, he stands over me and sucks his fingers clean. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me back up to his pillows, joining me on the bed. I curl into him, still panting and coming down from my high.

Michael props himself up on his elbow next to me and runs his hand through my hair, trailing it down my back. His hand caresses my skin down my ass and to my thigh where he hitches my leg up over his waist. He presses his hand against my back, holding me in place. I can feel his hard-on inside his jeans. I wish he didn't have them on. But I really think I'm spent. I need a nap.

Softly, he kisses my mouth. My palms are against his chest and he's holding me tightly to him. I never want to leave from this exact spot.