Work Text:
"Are you... Okay?"
"What gives you the impression that I'm not?"
Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael. With the boy, there is always something wrong. Temper-tantrums to separation anxiety too, who knows. Your thoughts are kinda blunt, if you said that aloud he would most definitely throw something at you. Probably the fan.
You fold your arms behind yourself, giving a small smile that makes the man look away with a groan. "You should go back to sleep, Y/N," Michael says quietly.
No, annoyance was fun, as long as you aren't the unfortunate participant. Plus, Michael just telling you to go back to bed without him joining is a serious crime, you honestly can't sleep without him by your side. Just like a child and their overattachment to some stuffed doll, which would have the likeliness of being an animal of sorts.
Michael has a plastic fox mask he keeps in his office, you're pretty sure that there's a thick layer of dust covering it by now. But now you assume yourself to be a child in need of their stuffed fox. Kind of embarrassing, having to rely on a doll to keep you safe at night. If anything it's the complete opposite, you're pretty much the protector during the night because Michael—
"Y/N, it's late." Michael's not even looking at you as he speaks. "You've got work in a couple of hours too." The both of you do, but that goes unsaid. He starts earlier though and it isn't that far from midnight, meaning that soon enough you'll be in an empty house.
You tap your toes against the back of your heel, before deciding to stick by his side. Earlier you felt awake, but now your eyelids are going down, probably to adjust to the light that you are near. And now, the scene builds around you now that you are no longer in the shadows.
Properly now, you notice that Michael's in the kitchen, hunched over the dark marbled counter set in the middle of the room, surrounded by matching cabinets, a large fridge that they barely manage to fill and—Well at this point anything you'd find in any kitchen. Just add the very out of place, vibrant wind chime hanging just above the sink. Something that belonged to the in-laws. Michael insisted on having it up.
It was very out of place and disturbed the theme, of whatever was going on.
"Whatcha working on?" Your eyes fall captivated by the small contraption in his hand, and remain so even as you spin around to lift yourself up and on the benchtop. Michael glances up at you and purses his lips.
"Something I wanted to test out today. My- uh, Uncle. Well, the design originated from him, I guess..." He kept it away from your direct view, all you knew was that it was small and looked as though it was attachable to a circuit board. "Him and my father, actually."
That surely wasn't any of your business, your mind chooses to ignore those last few words, electing to bite the inside of your cheek instead.
Now, this, this was getting awkward real quick. Doesn't matter how many silences the two of you have spent, comfort or not, they never really lasted long. Someone either breaks it some dumb selection of words, or you part ways for the meanwhile.
You decide neither, leaning over a bit so you could bring your hand to cup his cheek, which causes him to halt all actions and raise an eyebrow. "You're practically freezing! How long have you been up?" Your face creases with a look of frustration.
Michael doesn't respond, only tilts his head so he's pressing into your touch. It isn't too much though, as you barely notice the gentle addition of weight to your palm, but you know he's comfortable when he presses his lips to your wrist, and your heart skips a beat at that.
"Y/N's wonderful." Michael hums, "but Y/N needs to stop worrying so much." You let out an offended gasp, pulling your hand away—which Michael visibly gets upset by—and bringing it to your heart with a pained look, mimicking a heartache.
"How could I not?" You plant your hand down so you don't accidentally topple over as you shuffle more into his view. "Do you want me to get you a jacket?" A blanket would be preferable, but Michael wouldn't notice if it had suddenly slipped off his shoulders. He didn't have that type of awareness, his sense of danger was heightened though. An interesting fact you learnt while cooking.
He stares up at you, deep blue eyes trained on yours. They drift around, as though they're taking in the details of your face. You offer a small smile before letting out a squeak of surprise when Michael presses his face against your stomach. A moment later, his arms are snaking around your hips.
"You seem tired." You comb your fingers through his hair, admiring his curls when they spring back into place, admiring as he melts into your touch and goes lax.
There's a slight clink behind you, only assumable Michael's settling his tools down when you feel the gentle creep of his fingers along your spine. You're not wearing much, and what you do have on is relatively thin, so the cold touch is quite obvious."'M fine."
"Bullshit." You narrow your eyes, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging. Michael hisses, quickly going to slip his hands under your shirt so he could dig his nails into your back. "Honesty isn't that hard, did you know, dearest?"
Michael groans, mumbling something.
You pull again.
He raises his head a bit, takes a deep breath and forces himself to stand straight, going on his toes for extra height. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair. There's only the dim glow that comes from above, a plain white light that only illuminates the best parts of Michael's face. He looks a little unsure so you let your hands slide down to cup his face, any attempt of comfort.
It didn't really matter since he was brave enough to grab your hips and hide his face in the crook of your neck.
A small laugh slips past your lips as you pat the back of his head. It was adorable, and sad at the same time, the fact that Michael doesn't know how to handle affection well. Something as simple as touching was a bit of a tricky thing to understand properly, but showering the other with it seemed to help.
"Do you want to go to bed?" You ask, tracing the creases of his shirt with your free hand.
"Kind of..?" Michael replies, volume a bit muffled but still audible due to the sound coming from right under your ear. Your smile widens a bit at that.
"I cannot paint a picture without a clear image in mind, Michael." You hum, tone meant for teasing.
"Everything is bothering me." Michael hisses lowly. "Bedroom, I want you to fuck me."
Ah?
Well, that was blunt.
But if you had to say it, you'd probably stutter and give up halfway.
"Okay, come on." You pat his shoulder, letting him know that you wish to get down. Michael plucks himself away from you, staring at the ground, not daring to move as you hop off the counter and waddle him. "No need to be embarrassed, dear one."
Interwinding your hand with his, a small journey is created, with the sole purpose of getting into Michael's pants. Of course, it isn't long, just up the stairs, a few more steps and then the two of you arrive at your room.
Michael allows it when you yank him in front and push him on the bed. Squirming when you climb on top, straddling him and peppering his face with kisses and rub his shoulders, hoping to release any tension from earlier.
"You okay?" He nods, it's acceptable but, "I need words, Michael dear."
"I'm okay, continue." His mind seems occupied, probably because he's staring at the alarm clock, at the large numbers that say midnight is not far from now.
Waking up early was kind of your thing. You used to wake up before Michael, but now it seems you wake up alone. Is it too much to ask for your lover to at least say long enough that you'd rouse to his peaceful face? If it's selfish then you might as well be the embodiment of greed.
"Don't look at that. Later will come but you should focus on now." It's not enough to fully convince him, but it does make him calm a bit so that's a win.
"So distract me then." Michael pouts.
"Not going to rush into things." You say sternly, "I want you to feel comfortable."
Michael's pout remains, "I'll feel comfortable once you—"
"And I need to find my dick. There's quite a lot that needs to happen, I just want to focus on the more important things first." Michael flops his arms over his face, hiding his blush. You ignore him and shove your hands under his shirt, shoving it up so you have perfect access to his nipples.
"You're adorable, Michael." He gasps as you twist one, and bites his bottom lip to stop any noises from coming out. It's a little sudden that after you pull a bit, Michael thrusts upwards, hardness obvious through cotton pants. "Alright, alright. I was just trying to get some type of mood going, party-pooper." You chuckle, although the situation appears to be amusing to only you.
He's no longer grounded by your weight, but that doesn't make him move into a comfortable position. His legs are hanging off the edge and he's atop the bunched up part of the blankets that awkwardly press into his back.
The room is dark, with only the moon glaring through the window. He faintly wonders how much energy he'd have to put in closing the curtains. Michael puffs his cheeks, grabbing a fistful of the blankets beneath him, taking in the soft woollen texture.
Michael sits up when you tug at his pants. He carefully watches as you, focused on your body and how it effortlessly moves around, setting the scene up. You take one glance at him, offering a smile before trotting out of the room. Michael waits for a second, counting the number of steps you take.
After a quick while, Michael reaches for the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the side. He gently traces the ghostly feeling of where your hands were, a dark blush on his face, deepening more when his hands move low and hook under the elastic of his pants as well as his boxers.
Doesn't take any longer until Michael is fully naked, on his knees in the middle of the bed. His eyes are closed, and he just lets himself hear and feel, sometimes it's better than seeing.
It's been a hard week.
Your footsteps are audible just a second after that thought. Michael straightens his shoulders. Sitting still and pretty just for you.
What a lovely sight, you couldn't agree any more when you were greeted with it. A smile forms as you gently kick the door shut behind you before moving closer. You quickly drop off the new items that you've brought onto the bedside table, briskly undressing so you can get closer to completing Michael's wish.
It's not every day do you get to fuck Michael, probably because the two of you barely do it. Both of your schedules don't coordinate with one another, when the two of you do get time together, you're both exhausted beyond belief. During those times, you've never had the energy to complain about Michael's terrible soap opera.
"Lie down, you'll be more comfortable." You say, trying to get comfortable yourself. Note to self, it's pretty hard when your pelvis is pressing right against a cool metal. Stupid design, couldn't they have rather made that part different, so perhaps the giver could get something out of it?
Why would you be complaining about receiving pleasure, this isn't about you at the moment. You sigh, glancing over at Michael as you tighten one of the steps a little more. Michael's gone back to hiding his face, and his knees are pulled up to hide his arousal.
An interesting sight, cute if you were being honest.
You grab the small bottle of lube you had earlier, keeping it in the palm of your hand as move in, bringing your knees to the edge of the bed and pulling Michael's legs apart. He whines at that. "Nothing to be shy about, you're already doing so fucking well." You flick the cap open, squirting a generous amount in your hand before closing it and tossing it near the pillows.
Now that you actually notice them, you quickly grab one. "Raise your hips," Michael follows those instructions perfectly, allowing you to stuff it under him so he's at least a bit cozier, and grants you better access. "Deep breath."
One of your hands grabs his thigh, gently rubbing circles into his skin as your fingers prod at his entrance, spreading the liquid around so when the digit sinks in, it's with ease. It works, no shit, and your reward is one of Michael's prettiest moans. You wait for him to adjust. A second passes and that easily turns into two, three...
"Can you add another?" He asks in a quiet voice.
You stop the hand that was on his thigh, lightly trailing up to his hip. "It's gonna hurt." Your fingers aren't that long but to make up for it, they're deft ones that know how to induce him into nothing more but a pile of worn-out moans.
"I suppose so, innit?" You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid laughing at the sudden heaviness of his accent. "I... I hope it's not too much to ask for a bit of pain?" His tone ends with a squeak.
"Of course, not!" You reassure, stomach doing flips as he moves his arms, staring up at you with such gorgeous blue eyes. It means a lot that Michael trusts you enough to show a more vulnerable side of himself. "Just, in a moment."
Without a doubt, that promise is fulfilled. You just wanted to give him a second to adjust, that's all. There's a small smile on your face as you pull your fingers out a bit before forcing them in. Michael jolts, a harsh moan slipping past his lips, increasing in volume when you do it again. And even louder when you do it a third!
You add another, causing Michael to mewl, which makes him look away from you bashfully. Your fingers move deeper, carefully spreading apart and curling. Michael's back arches, so you can only hope you did something right. With that knowledge, you press down only that spot, causing the man to jolt, tears spring to his eyes.
One of his hands grabs the sheets beneath, twisting it as he tries to bring himself further down on your fingers. You've barely done anything and he's already like this, who surprising. Not like it's evident with the way his neglected cock leaks. Or how his eyes appear out of focus because of the sparks that are happening behind them.
Michael's eyes flutter closed as you toy around with his insides some more, he's biting down on his lip, suppressing his noises as you assiduously finger him open. His entrance is nice and slick when you finally pull out.
He's not that responsive afterwards, and you're almost scared that you've overdone it. You lean over him, softly trailing your hands up to cup his face. Michael smiles lazily, hooking his legs around your waist and pulling you closer.
"I'm getting to it but, anything? Do you want me to stop? Do you need water, a break?" You run your hands through his hair, once again admiring his curls.
"It's okay, it's all good. I just want to take care of, this." He makes a faint gesture to his arousal. "Please?"
"Okay, you know you can stop me anytime." Michael nods, and you can't resist pecking him on the lips. "So good, so wonderful. You've taken my fingers so well, you divine angel."
He's a bit giddy at that nickname, and you can't help but wonder if his brain has started turning into mush because surely, Michael and his few brain cells would've rolled his eyes at that. No time to think, you reach over, grabbing the lube once more and quickly slick the silicone toy up.
Sometimes you wish you could feel the tight heat that was all Michael.
"Ff-huck." Michael groans as you thrust all the way in. The toy is quite big, not too long, and just thick enough to hit all the best spots. It's always enjoyable for the two of you. "Y/N..."
Michael feels pried apart, and the smallest shifts render him speechless and desperately gasping for air. His face is flushed and pretty, and there are tears rolling down his cheeks. You're quick to wipe them, peppering his face with kisses.
Michael's all filled up, and his nerves are ablaze with sensation. He has no idea what sounds he makes when you pull rock your hips against him, panting above him, your cheeks bloomed with a light red as you stare down at him enthralled.
"You're handling it so well, being so lovely for me, good boy," you exclaim, your hands moving all over his body until they settle on his hips. Your gaze sweeps over his trembling, sweat-drenched body. You pull your hips back, thrusting back in with abandon, impossibly pushing the object deeper into him, the stretch delightful and devastating.
Eventually, you build a pace, that grows from quick rutting to long, deep thrusts. His mouth is parted, soft "ah's" coming out every time you—from what you assume—hit his prostate.
He's all gone, reducing into high-pitched moans every second you get impossibly faster. Hot tears are running down his face. He seems completely pliant under you, drained if not but somehow he has enough energy to lift himself up and wrap his arms around your neck. His nails are scratching into your back, and there are hot moans right into your ear.
"C-can I..."
You already know what he's talking about, already know how much he must ache. Of course, when the roles are reversed, you are in the position too. "I suppose you've been like this for too long now, dearest."
It's almost a bit shocking, that all you needed to do was curl your fingers around his cock for him to come. But it's worth the sounds, as he pretty much screams, head thrown back with deep breaths rack his body.
Michael's too weak to hold on, his arms unclasping from around you and slumps onto the blankets. You're impressed you were able to support all his weight.
You take a few breaths of your own, absentmindedly rubbing his hips.
He doesn't notice as you pull out, and dress back into your pyjamas. You grab a tissue from the side, cleaning the cum from Michael's stomach. You also put the pillow back, and settle down, pulling Michael's head into your lap and combing your fingers through his hair. It was a little coming you couldn't stop, it relaxed the both of you.
Michael finally raises his head so you can see him after a few minutes of comfortable and peaceful contact. He's smiling a satisfied little smile. You smile back and say, "Hello, dear one." Michael's eyelids fall, and his fingers reach up to interwind with your own strands.
"Hi." He replies lazily.
"Sit up for a second." Michael's fast to do so and shuffles around to face you, only to be met with a glass of water to his lips. "Drink, you might be a bit dizzy."
Now that it's mentioned, his head is spinning. Not too much though, only enough to be considered a secondary annoyance.
He takes hold of the glass, pretty much drinking half of it before pushing it back into your hands. Michael doesn't watch as you place it off to the side, he's admiring your face.
It's past midnight, but at this moment, it doesn't seem that Michael cares about work. So, you gently pull him against you, just holding him until his eyes flutter shut and his heartbeat returns to a normal beat. You press your lips to his temple before closing your own eyes.
