I just published a new book where you can request me to make you covers, so please do! ((:
From: archiveofourown
Author: phanjessmagoria
Words: 4211
Published: 2016-09-19
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'He actually took a breath that was caught in his lungs—the socks, combined with his soft pink hair, his dark pink lips, his half-hard cock, made him look breathtaking. He couldn't even be modest about it. He looked stunning, he thought, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He didn't just feel pretty in that moment. He was pretty, and he was about to fucking own it.'
"Go on. You know I like when you wear those."
"I know," Michael mumbled, glancing over at Ashton. He was still fully clothed, while Michael was naked, completely. They'd both showered after the show, dressing in sweats and old, baggy t-shirts, but now that they were alone in Ashton's hotel room, Michael could dress himself up however he wanted.
And tonight, really, it was all about what Ashton wanted. On the bus ride to the hotel Ashton had pulled Michael onto his lap and held his arms protectively around his hips, holding Michael's back against his front. Michael had melted into him, smiling at Ashton over his shoulder, agreeing to every filthy word that Ashton had whispered into his ear, proposing quite an evening for the pair of them, one that Michael really was too eager to begin.
But that didn't mean he didn't feel self-conscious when he was the only one not wearing clothes. Ashton had seen him naked countless times—hell, they had probably been in this exact position countless times—but he still felt anxious about stripping his clothes off while Ashton sat on the bed, casually reclined, one eye on Michael and the other on the television set as he flipped channels.
Michael figured that was a blessing—at least Ashton wasn't staring at him as he got ready. But just in case—Michael grabbed the small bundle of fabric, the silicone toy, and the small bottle of lube and disappeared into the bathroom. He looked back at Ashton as he flicked the light on. He didn't even glance over as Michael went into the next room.
Setting down the items Michael had carried with him on the countertop beside the sink, Michael took a breath and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was recently dyed, a pale bubblegum pink, like the kind that was always covered in residual powdered sugar. He felt it made his eyebrows stand out too harshly on his face, but Ashton told him that he looked pretty, so Michael figured he didn't have too much reason to dislike it.
He pushed the bunch of fabric aside and instead picked up the bottle of lube and the toy, twirling it by the base between his fingers. It was a plug, unobtrusive really, but long enough that Michael could feel it inside of him whenever he moved, or whenever Ashton moved him this way or that. It was black in color, pliable but not overly so, which meant that he could bend at the waist and it would press deliciously against his prostate, which of course meant that he loved wearing it.
Michael licked his lip and bent over the sink, resting one elbow on the marble and reaching between his legs with the other hand, his fore- and middle fingers moving over his hole. He caught his own eyes in the mirror, making eye contact with himself as he gently pushed against his asshole with his middle fingertip, not really trying to finger himself yet but just working himself up for it.
A small sigh fell from his lips before he quirked them up into a smirk, the green of his eyes faded in the bright lights around the bathroom mirror. He didn't remember ever having occasion to watch as he fingered himself before, and he never realized that it was something he might be into until right now, when he was about to do just that.
He pulled his hand from between his legs, picking up the bottle of lube and snapping the cap open, squeezing some onto his fingertip—for this particular plug, he only really needed just one finger. It was slim enough that he could slip it inside without much fuss.
Smoothing the lube over his middle finger with his thumb, he reached back down and angled his fingertip against himself, working it in a small circle over his hole. He fingered himself often enough that he was able to feel relaxed no matter the situation or circumstances; he easily could get one finger inside himself in a short time, and that was what he was going for. He didn't want to leave Ashton waiting too long—nor did he want to wait, either.
Catching a glimpse of his face in the mirror, Michael's tongue flitted out over his upper lip for a fraction of a second before he curled his finger, hooking it and gently pressing it into himself. He sighed, lips parting, eyes locked on his reflection, as he slowly started to move his finger in and out of his hole. He probably could have stretched himself with the plug, now that he'd thought of it, but—it didn't matter. He whimpered quietly as he worked his finger in further, feeling himself stretch.
It didn't take much longer before he knew he was ready for the plug, before he could go back out to Ashton and the night would start for real. He fucked into himself a few more times before pulling his finger out, closing his eyes to feeling of emptiness, even though one finger was hardly enough to fill him. He leaned both of his elbows on the countertop, picking up the lube along with the plug this time; the cap was still open, so he carefully squeezed some of the slick liquid right onto the toy. He snapped the cap closed and dropped the bottle, using his now-free hand to smooth the lube over the entire surface of the plug, then leaned forward again; holding the base tight in his grasp, he lowered his arm again and angled the tip against his hole.
Michael was able to push the toy all the way in, his ass taking it with no trouble—it was scarcely bigger than his finger even at its widest point—and he felt his hole close around the narrowed portion, the base snug against him. He didn't feel the toy inside him until he straightened up, and then it moved with his body. He sighed heavily, the tip not quite nudging his prostate, but kind of resting against it, like a reminder that it was there, but also that it wouldn't do anything to him unless someone took hold of the base and made that happen.
Finally, Michael was just about ready to go see Ashton again—he just had one more thing to do first. He picked up the third item he'd brought with him into the bathroom, the fabric soft and smooth against his hands, as he shook them out and then unfurled. They were a soft, pale off-white pair of thigh-high socks, not sheer but made of a cotton, knit material, ribbed down their full length.
He'd bought them for himself on a whim, one night when he as half-tipsy and browsing on Amazon. The worst part of being on tour was he'd had to figure out where they were going to be, then have them delivered overnight to one of those Amazon Lockers close to where their next show was. It was honestly worth it, though—whenever he wore them, he felt fucking beautiful. He felt goddamn pretty and no one could ever tell him different.
And he wore them often. He wore them underneath sweatpants, his feet covered with actual socks to hide the fabric that would probably give away that he wasn't wearing something typical. He wore them as often as he could, even around the rest of his band, because sometimes he just liked to feel softness on his thighs, especially considering that he was able to pull them up high enough that the head of his cock could brush against them, the feeling incomparable to anything else he'd ever worn.
Michael chose one sock, placed the other down for a moment, and gathered it up in his hands, slipping his right foot into it. He unrolled it slowly up his leg; it hugged his calf and knee nice and tight, but the elastic at the top sank into his thigh, clinging to it and holding it in place. He refused to look down at himself until the other one was also on him, and then he took a couple steps away from the sink where he'd been leaning, turned, and took in his reflection in the mirror.
He actually took a breath that was caught in his lungs—the socks, combined with his soft pink hair, his dark pink lips, his half-hard cock, made him look breathtaking. He couldn't even be modest about it. He looked stunning, he thought, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He didn't just feel pretty in that moment. He was pretty, and he was about to fucking own it.
Snatching the lube from the sink, Michael exited the bathroom and faced Ashton full on. This time, when Ashton looked over at him, he didn't look back at the TV. His eyes stayed trained on Michael, even as he pushed the power button on the remote and tossed it aside where it slid off the bed and clattered to the floor.
"Michael," Ashton said, but if he had something else to say, it was lost and he fell silent.
"Yeah?" Michael asked, trying to keep the smug smirk on his face, but failing. He liked being docile for Ashton too much.
"You look so pretty, baby," Ashton said, his voice soft as Michael approached the bed, moving onto it beside Ashton and lying down right away, stretching his long limbs out, arching his back a little. Ashton watched his every move, a faint smile on his face as he moved over, closer to Michael, not touching him more than to press a chaste kiss to his shoulder.
"Show me how pretty you look," Ashton whispered, laying down beside Michael, but pushing himself backward so he was at the opposite edge of the bed. He was still fully clothed, but Michael didn't mind it anymore. He knew he looked good, and now he wanted to show Ashton.
Michael moved his left arm up to rest beside his head, bent at the elbow so it was draped across the pillows behind him. His back was still arched, but he smirked, glancing over at Ashton as he bent his legs at the knee, his cock trapped between his thighs, probably nothing but the very tip visible to Ashton—maybe not even that, from where he was laying so far away. Michael hoped he couldn't see any part of him other than what he wanted Ashton to see.
Flattening his back a little, before arching it up again, Michael let his right hand move up toward his hair, fingers threading through his pink hair, mussing it but somehow making it look even cuter, before he turned to look at Ashton directly, then let his index finger trace over his lower lip. Ashton's own lips parted as he watched Michael part his, sucking on his finger slowly, eyes fluttering shut.
Michael's lips were sinful normally, but wrapped around anything (literally anything), they were ten times worse. Ashton licked his lips as he watched Michael's mouth work at his finger, before he pulled it from between his lips and then slowly dragged the tip down his front. He reached across his body, letting the wet fingertip move over his nipple, pressing against it in circles, until it was hard enough for him to tease further. He pushed his head back against the pillow, sighing sweetly, as he pinched his nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
"How's that feel, sweetheart?" Ashton asked, moving his left arm, the one he wasn't leaning on, his hand splayed out over the side of his thigh. Michael couldn't tell, really, because Ashton was still wearing jeans, but it looked as though he was squeezing his leg, sinking his fingers into it to keep himself composed.
"Feels good," Michael said, rolling the nub of skin between his two fingers, tugging on it a little. Ashton sighed as he watched, a near-constant stream of praise falling from his lips.
"You look good, baby, so good for me," he breathed out, and Michael reveled in it. "So pretty for me, aren't you?"
"Yes," Michael said, moving his hand to the other side of his chest, letting his palm rub flat over himself, the heel of his hand moving over his nipple; Michael felt it harden beneath his hand, and before he could stop himself, resist the urge he felt, he lowered his left hand to his chest as well.
"Fuck," Ashton whispered, preemptively, as Michael had just let his palms rest flat against his stomach, pressing against his ribs before sliding them upward. "Both hands?" he asked. Michael nodded, hoping that Ashton might finally bestow the pet name he liked the best upon him, since he was showing Ashton how pretty he was, and he could tell Ashton liked it. Frankly, Michael didn't know who wouldn't.
"Mhm," Michael hummed, nodding, looking down his body. His cock was hard between his legs, framed beautifully by the socks, which were so, so pale even compared to his own skin—but especially his dick, which was much more pink than the rest of himself, the head darker still.
He caught both nipples between his fingers, arching his back and pulling on them, teasing them with his fingers, pinching and rolling and tugging, short gasps leaving his mouth. He released them and moved his hands over his chest again, the sensitive skin warm to the touch. He felt his own hands so acutely as they moved over his body, his dick twitching a little when his forearms rubbed against his nipples as he lowered his hands to touch the thigh-highs he had on. He let his hands wander over his legs, spreading them a little, but moving them back upright when Ashton moaned next to him.
"Teasing me, now?" Ashton asked, slightly emphasizing the "me," and Michael looked over at him, grinning.
"Maybe," Michael replied, and Ashton smirked, amused, but pushed himself to sit up.
"Will you let me play with you now, princess?" Ashton asked, and Michael's body hitched, pausing movement for a moment while he was absolutely sure his heart stopped in his chest. He nodded to Ashton, beyond excited that he'd finally seen fit to use Michael's favorite name, the prettiest and best one for him, he thought.
"Yes," Michael gasped out as Ashton moved over the bed to get closer to him. He stopped by Michael's feet, letting his hands rest on top of Michael's folded knees.
"Look at you," Ashton mused, pushing Michael's legs open, moving his feet sideways but not letting him straighten his legs just yet. Michael looked up at Ashton, his dick wet at the tip, dripping precome onto his stomach, but Ashton paid that no mind. He slid his hands down Michael's thighs, palms gliding over the socks, before he slipped his forefinger beneath the top, sliding it sideways underneath where it was tight to Michael's leg. Michael shuddered at the feeling.
Ashton clicked his tongue, but it was well-meaning, not admonishing. "So sweet," he said, leaving the top of the sock alone for now, settling himself back a little further on the bed. Michael watched as Ashton's eyes swept over him: his nipples, still hard; his ribs, perfectly visible thanks to his arched back, though they were half visible anyway even when he wasn't trying his hardest to act feminine. They moved right over his cock and focused on the base of the plug between his cheeks; Ashton looked back up at Michael's face for a brief moment, before lowering his gaze again.
"So sweet," Ashton said again, moving his left hand underneath Michael's knee, pushing his leg up a little bit, exposing his asshole a little better; he took hold of the plug with his right hand, tugging gently on it before angling it upward, trying to push the tip against Michael's prostate.
"Ah," Michael gasped out, lifting his hips as Ashton tried again, pulling on the plug a little.
"So sweet, princess," Ashton said, and Michael whined spreading his legs a bit apart, trying to help Ashton find his prostate with the plug. "So pretty for me, baby, look at you."
Michael mewled quietly, his hands moving from his chest to the bedsheets below him, curling tight into fists as he moved his hips with Ashton. He'd found Michael's prostate, was moving the plug against it, and Michael was moving his hips in circles just to keep strengthening how good he felt.
"You like that, sweetheart?" Ashton murmured, and Michael nodded, his hands still bracing himself on the bed, tight around the sheets.
"Yeah," Michael answered, even though he wasn't sure if Ashton was even really asking, "yeah—fuck, I like it—"
"I'm gonna make you come just like this," Ashton said, punctuating the word with an upward thrust of the plug, pushing right into Michael's prostate.
"More," Michael gasped, digging his heels into the bed as well, desperate to come, but still wanting to be stretched more.
"More?" Ashton repeated, smirking a little, pretty sure he knew what Michael wanted. He leaned up, over him, plucking the lube up off the bed where Michael had dropped it earlier, and lubed up his first two fingers. With his free hand, Ashton fixed his fingers around the base of the plug again, pulling on it just enough that Michael's hole started to open as he moved out—but instead of removing the toy, Ashton moved his fingertip around the silicone, pushing the toy back in and pulling it out until he was able to move his finger in beside it. "Like that?"
"Uh-huh," Michael said, nodding, lifting his hips as Ashton left the plug in place, instead moving his finger now, in and out of Michael, stretching him as he did. Michael bucked his hips up, moaning and biting his lip to stifle it, moving his legs even further apart.
Taking the hint, smirking up at Michael, Ashton worked to slip his second finger in beside the first, so Michael was taking two of his fingers along with the plug—enough to take his cock in a short while after Ashton had stretched him a bit more.
"So pretty, princess," Ashton said, and Michael beamed at the praise, smiling softly and closing his eyes, his bubblegum locks just enhancing the image of him. Ashton leaned down, scissoring his fingers open, and placed a kiss to Michael's knee, still covered in the sock.
"Thank you," Michael mumbled, and Ashton smiled to himself, since Michael's eyes were still closed. It was so easy to make Michael happy—he just needed confirmation of what he and everybody else already thought: that he was pretty, that he was beautiful.
"Wanna see you come untouched, ok, baby?" Ashton said, and Michael nodded—he was halfway there anyway, so he knew he could. A few more upward strokes of Ashton's fingers, or the tip of the plug, and he'd be unloading on his stomach. "Want you to watch too."
Michael's eyes opened and he looked down his body, at where Ashton was kneeling between his legs, the black t-shirt and dark sweatpants he was wearing a stark contrast to Michael's bare skin and light colored socks. His cock was dark pink, such a deeper color than the last time he looked, and he started moving his hips in a circle again, in time with Ashton's rhythm, partly fucking himself. He felt his orgasm creeping on—his body felt hot, his stomach tight, his thighs on fire.
"Close, princess?" Ashton asked, and Michael barely had time to nod his head yes before he was coming, painting thick white lines of come over his stomach, his hands releasing the sheets before gripping them again, his hips off the bed, his back arched, head pressing into the pillows, his mouth open in a loud groan. He felt Ashton's hands moving over his thighs again, the plug lying forgotten on the bed next to them—he hadn't even felt Ashton slip it out, though he must have after the last nudge up against his prostate.
Ashton's fingers were slipping through the mess on Michael's stomach, spreading the come over him, which would leave him sticky, but he didn't fucking care.
"So pretty," Ashton was telling Michael. "You're so gorgeous, baby, so fucking sweet for me, so pretty I can't believe it."
Michael lifted his hands to take hold of Ashton's wrists, moving them up his body to his chest. "Fuck me," Michael said, letting go of Ashton's hands once his fingers were playing with his nipples, exactly the way Michael wanted him to.
"Ok," Ashton said, pinching both of Michael's nipples at the same time before retracting his hands. He didn't bother undressing—he just tugged his shirt up and pushed his sweats down, his cock erect, sticking out from his body. Michael watched him as he felt around for the lube, finding it after a second and squeezing some into his palm; he slicked it on and then took hold of Michael's legs, letting them rest on his hips.
"Touch them yourself," Ashton said, jerking his chin toward Michael's chest, indicating his nipples, and Michael obeyed, moving his fingers over them nimbly, taking a shuddering breath.
Ashton used one hand to guide the head of his cock into Michael's hole, pushing against him just enough that the head slipped in—once he was inside of Michael, he moved his hands back to his thighs, gripping them as best he could with the socks there. They were made of too soft a material to really provide a good grip, but Ashton didn't mind. He would hold tight enough to Michael's legs that his fingers might leave light purple bruises—and he thought Michael looked even prettier with them.
"Go," Michael urged Ashton on, his dick chubbing up again, the friction from Ashton's dick against his prostate working on his body. Ashton fucked into Michael as quickly as he could—he didn't want this to be over too soon, but he was so worked up, so turned on by the beautiful, stunning boy beneath him, his pouting lips and his heaving chest, that Ashton knew if he fucked Michael with any sort of speed, it would be over before it started.
He held tight to Michael's thighs, fucking him, hips moving back and forth languidly; he would pull out slowly, and then move in at the same pace, only snapping his hips forward to move the last two inches or so into him.
"Fuck, Ash," Michael whined, and Ashton bit his lip, nodding.
"I know, princess," he said, his hips flat against Michael's ass, grinding against him. "I'm close too."
"Harder," Michael asked, knowing Ashton really couldn't deny him when they were doing this, when he told Michael how pretty he looked, when Michael was his princess.
Ashton groaned but he was the one to obey orders this time, pulling out and fucking back into Michael, upping the speed, but knowing that in doing so he was shortening the time they could spend together, like this, Michael taking Ashton's cock so nicely.
Michael was loosing soft moans and whimpers each time Ashton moved back into him, but it was when Ashton squeezed tighter around Michael's thighs, when Michael lowered one hand from his nipple to take hold of his cock, that he knew they were both nearly done for.
Michael's left hand was still on his chest, his nipple pinched between his fingers again, rolling it between them before just touching it with his whole hand; Ashton, however, was fucking into Michael with abandon, moving quickly, too quickly to curb his orgasm—it was upon him before he could stop himself or slow down, and he came deep inside of Michael with a loud groan. Michael followed shortly after him, his hand moving so fast over his own cock that it was nearly a blur. He came again, all over himself, his sticky front even worse now, especially as he smeared his semen all over himself like Ashton had done before.
Ashton huffed as he watched Michael make a mess of himself, but he loved it, because it was such a Michael thing to do—it made Ashton want to praise him even more, but first, he pulled out of Michael. His hole was gaping just slightly, but even as Ashton watched, some of his come dribbled out of Michael's asshole. He groaned at the sight, loving it.
"What?" Michael asked, lifting his come-stained hand to his lips and licking his fingers off. Ashton watched him, unsure of where he wanted to look more—at Michael's ass, dripping with his spunk, or at Michael's mouth, licking his own come off of his hand.
"Nothing," Ashton said, staying kneeling where he was, sat back on his feet, but letting his hands trail up from Michael's socked feet, over his ankles and calves, to his knees, and finally his thighs. He pushed himself forward, stretching his body over Michael's, finally kissing him after all they'd done. "Just looking at how pretty you are, princess."
Michael kissed Ashton back, arms wrapped around him, practically glowing.