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It was quiet.
Michael has always been used to silence.
He grew up that way, it's more peaceful than people think. It was probably the only way he could after his entire family crumbled into nothing.
What a shame.
Currently, there is nothing more but the gentle tune that comes from the radio. Settled atop the kitchen counter as Michael sways around it, humming to the soft violin that comes through, with the occasional crackle. It's awkward, the way he moves, each rhythmic step causes him to tangle with the fabric that falls to his ankles.
Who designed this? He pities those who have to wear these for a living, it feels impossible to do anything in it. Michael bends a little so could grab the bottom and pull it out, before straightening the creases once he stands. He looks a bit more presentable, although it didn't matter because nobody could see him at the moment.
But for how long. Michael's brows knit together as he takes a few gentle strides, peeking out into the hallway to where one of the few clocks were. Two downstairs, and three up. It's an odd combination but it was a big house so moving around less would be better.
Late. Long past the promised time, but that's fine, he still had a few things to do. Michael grabbed a fistful of his skirt, raising it a little so he didn't step on it. Did not need a repeat of last week. His face flushed at the idea of it, so embarrassing but to his luck, it had gone completely unnoticed.
With his free hand, he allowed his nails to dig into his palm, not for long of course, but hard enough that there would be half-crescent dents against reddened skin. His nails weren't that long, but of course long enough that it could press against his skin. It was somewhat nice, a light blue contrasting against the sudden blood-rise.
That is unimportant. He still has things to do, things that include cleaning up the place a little and a lot. Michael stares at the dishes he's just finished, pursing his lips as he decides what to do next. He rather wait for them to dry rather than do it himself if he's honest, he could begin on things that needed attending to.
Some needed a little attention, some needed a lot.
The empty bedroom upstairs was telltale for how much that was needed.
Michael goes over to the sink, turning the tap on and bringing his hands together under the small waterfall. It wasn't much but a simple dunk before he flicks it off, coming up to wipe his eyes with wet hands. Afterwards, he makes his way out of the kitchen, patting his hands dry against his hips.
What was next?
The lounge room, surely guests would appear sometime this week.
He hummed in agreement to himself, deciding that's what he'd do first thing. Then he could do a bit upstairs, like the study, then the bedroom, then...
Yeah, he's got an idea of what to do now. All that's left to do is complete the task and keep his lover proud. Michael grins and brings a hand to his mouth, stifling a giggle as if someone would come up and question what's so funny. Nobody's in the house, but that doesn't mean he can't act like there is.
It's more comforting that way.
"But what if..." Michael whispers into his palm, biting on it occasionally, "we promised we'll do it together though. I can trust him." He's pacing the halls, muttering to himself like a madman about now. Outside is beginning to contrast into darkness, a lot of time has passed. "People won't agree, we'll be shamed."
His worry started a week ago when it was agreed by both parties that they'd welcome a new life into this empty home. Any type of life was up for debate, you both agreed on a child. Even though Michael would've liked to have a pup running around instead. But still, it'd give him something to do rather than wait around and do nothing, now that he no longer wanted to work. Not after what he's seen.
That brings him into a state of worry though, most of what he's seen was quite inclusive of children. If he was to lose sight of the child they both agreed to take in, raise as their own, get harassed for wanting to do this...
Doubt.
Doubt.
Doubt.
Tears are welling up in his eyes, and he has to do his very best to not let them spill, otherwise, he'd give in completely. His hands grab at the ribbons tight around his waist, pulling at it so it'd loosen a bit. Too tight.
He brings his thumb to his lips, biting at the tip as his other hand moves to wrap around his opposite hip. Michael felt stupid, and that grew with every step he took, right until he stumbled across the living room and into his most comfortable spot and the end of the couch. An old thing that he stole from the house he grew up in.
You both enjoyed it, it was probably the best thing you could get at the moment if you carve warmth since people just wanted leather couches now. The amount of time Michael has come close to staining the lighter types of fabric. (N: White leather 10/10 hardest to clean)
Or sometimes he slid off it for no reason, it was pretty much rubber and glue to him. Michael preferred softer things, thank you very much.
"You're crying."
Michael jolted, staring at the doorway with a flushed expression. Oh, how he thought the return would be late. Now he was standing up awkwardly, feeling like he'd fall down and any given moment.
"I'm sorry—"
"Why?"
Why was he crying actually? Anxiety maybe? That was something that seemed fitting enough, his heart raced and he could come up with every possible outcome that ended in disaster. Every disaster involved a child in some way.
"I don't know..." Michael's sure his face got redder after that, embarrassment of every type etched on every atom of his face. Michael adds a whined; "Y/N."
You sigh, he was trembling, almost shaken up at his thoughts. What goes on through his head will always be a mystery, but you know that something terrible runs amok. Tragedies left from a bad choice in a work environment. "Oh, love."
Michael's melting at the pet name, pretty much dropping back down onto the cushioned surface. You shake your head, dropping your bag as you go over and wrap your arms around him, peppering his face in gentle kisses. "Silly boy, you can't let those thoughts infiltrate your mind, you don't think properly."
"But," he wants to speak, it doesn't work as he beings to fumble over the words. You barely pay attention, letting your hands move up to fix his collar, the pristine white fabric pretty against his pale neck. It was humorous how he'd lost his tan everywhere but his face and hands, you didn't care, seeing dark bruises against milky skin was the best.
"Stutters." Your hands slowly dance around, straightening the straps over his shoulders, coming down to fix the creases in his apron—your thumbs press down on his nipples for a second, earning a squeak—you pull at the fabric a bit, all until you saw a pretty picture of your lover.
Michael is the prettiest picture, face flushed with a gentle flow of tears from his baby blue eyes, his outfit was so good, extremely lovely on him. "Oh, honey." You cup his cheeks, wiping his tears. His hands were in his lap, scratching at his cuticles as he sobbed openly in your palms, and you let him release his frustrations.
A while later, his tears subsided, and he was pretty much burnt out as you kissed him and cooed at him. He was so very precious to you, it hurt to see him saddened and crying with tears that were everything but pleasure. It made you a bit jealous, that a stupid idea could gain his attention and turn him into this puddle of emotions.
"Y/N, w-what if we're shit p-parents? Maybe that's why the l-law—"
"Michael, don't think like that." You hiss, bringing your lips his in a harsh kiss. "Don't, never do. It sounds ugly."
"Y/N." Michael grabs at your wrists, pulling your hands down until they rested on each one of his pecs. "I, please, I don't want to—Don't let me think..."
You grin widely, hands snapping down to his thighs, where they curled underneath. "So? You want to be some brainless whore?" Michael's eyes were blown, a small smile playing on his lips. You glare down at him as you shuffle until you were on your knees, between his thighs. "Words, baby boy, words."
"O-oh, god, yes-yes." Michael bit his lip, watching as you smoothed a hand up. His hand was back on your wrist again. "I, like the outfit."
"I know, you look stunning." Michael's fingers were pressing into the soft skin of your hands. His hands were slender, yours was a little bit bigger than his. He adored them in every way. "So, you want to keep it on?"
"Yes, please." You hum in confirmation, only pushing the fabric up to his waist. A little tricky since Michael was still holding one hand, but it gave you time to admire his legs a second longer. You thumb at his hip, staying along the invisible line of his hip-dent.
Peaceful moment, you wish you could remain like that forever, although you'd return to it when the both of you are basking in the afterglow.
"Already?" There's a tent in his underwear, cherry'd with a little damp spot of precum. "Would you like me to help you?" You, yourself is already hard in your own pants, the public display of heartfelt tears has stirred you up enough.
"Only if I can clean you up afterwards?" Michael bit his lip, looking away bashfully as he rubbed his cheek into your hand. He was sitting up, you hadn't even realised he did that.
"Utter filth," your eyebrows knit together. "Little slut likes have my cock in his mouth, doesn't he? He wasn't to be praised, told he's doing a good job because he—" You stop, focusing on his lips as they mouth a 'yellow'. "Sorry," you start, "Michael. You did brilliantly, but you need to be vocal. I can't exactly—"
"I know! I'm sorry!" You smile as he hides his face in your chest. Michael fists his hands into your shirt, and all you do in return is run your fingers through his curls. "Y/N, can I have a second... I want to continue but, I need a breather..?"
"Of course, thank you for telling me right away." Michael struggles, he barely has the guts to say what he wants, so without a doubt you're proud. "I'll get you a glass of water." Michael nods weakly, hesitantly letting to go.
As fast as it comes, it goes.
You press a kiss to Michael's cheek before you stood, leaving the lounge room so he could be alone with his thoughts.
Everything looks nice, he's a perfectionist so it was fitting you have him the task to clean the house to the best of his capabilities. It should've been enough to leave him tired by the end of the day, far from the regrets he faces in his head.
Michael's the one who's going to be the stay-home parent. He's no longer suitable for work, not after all he's gone through so it only makes sense. Hopefully, it'll make him feel a bit more confident in his abilities. Plus, it's definitely worth it to come home and see him act cute with the newest addition to their family.
You take a deep breath as a wide grin takes over your face. The mental image you were gifted with was beautiful. The smile wouldn't leave your face as you grabbed a cup, and filled it with cold water.
"Y/N. " Michael comes around and shoves his face into your shoulder. "'an't do it on the couch, don't 'anna stain it."
"So you want me to bed you over the kitchen counter? Is that it?" You ask, gently pushing him away so you could turn around and face him.
"Sounds, nice." He hummed with a nod, eagerly walking with a slight skip to his step to the kitchen island, he pulled himself up and grinned at you. Someone's happy.
Maybe he was being distracted? You couldn't find yourself caring. Michael was happy. You are happy.
You set the glass on the counter near you, worried that it'll be knocked over if you place it on the same surface you're going to fuck him on. "Did you still want me to take you into my mouth?" You ask, which is greeted with a gentle nod.
"At this point, all I need is your cock." Michael gestures towards the visible tent in your pants. You move towards about to grab his legs, but he quickly spread them and pulled you between. You sigh happily at that.
"Is the hard surface fine? Do you want to move, or I can get a blanket?" Michael shakes his head, pulling you closer. "Alright, alright. Get rid of those for me, won't you?"
"Get rid of those pants, won't you?" Michael mocked, earning a light whack against the fat of his thigh.
You shrug off your jacket tossing it behind Michael. He quickly moved to flatten it as he kicked his shoes off, you did the same before leaving to grab a lube substitute.
"Olive oil?" He laughed.
"You're fine with it, right? It's not harmful. They used to bathe with it and." You cut yourself off.
"I know, I know. Just would've thought you'd get something that wasn't as blasphemous."
If using olive oil as lube was sinful, then the counter must be an alter that Michael's to be worshipped on.
Immediately did you drench your fingers with the oil, being careful not to spill it anywhere. He brings a hand to the curve of Michael's ass. Michael's legs move back around your waist, pulling you a little closer.
Your brows crease as you hike his dress back up, it was long and annoying. Finally, do you get into a proper position, where you can bring your digits to Michael's hole. He shivers, trying to push down on them--You quickly grab his hip, stilling him.
"Be a good boy, you've done a brilliant job already." Michael swallows hard with a slight nod. He tangles his hands in his apron, fiddling with the fabric as if it was to distract himself.
Michael moaned loudly at the feeling of fingers suddenly circling his entrance, teasing him. You raised an eyebrow at him and Michael gulped, straightening out and letting the back of his headrest against the cool marble. You smile, letting your hand slide down and grab one of Michael's thighs, unhooking his leg from around you and to your shoulder.
His body trembles a bit, that's okay, the sudden stretch of one leg up must be annoying but the slender man was quite flexible so to you, there was no problem. Not until he tells you.
You said, “very good. Stay like this. Don't fuss, pretty boy.” Slick fingers began opening him up, and Michael whined. He rocked his hips slightly and you swatted him gently, relax, this'll only be a second.
As if your thoughts were heard, he calmed down, still pushed down on your fingers but he was relaxed, and properly could you stretch him out.
“Y/N, please, I need it—” Michael began with a desperate tone, already a mess.
“Quiet.” You hiss sharply. "I'm going to take my time." Michael sniffled, looking away with gleaming eyes.
"Hurts..." He whispered, hand hovering over the damp spot on his gown.
"So touch yourself," you curl your fingers, causing Michael to arch with a low moan. He mumbled a 'thanks,' as he went to pull the dress up.
Michael whined from not being able to pull it any further, it was all under him and that restricted his actions. He didn't want to move, didn't want to interrupt you and—
And there was a loud ripping sound.
Michael's eyes flare as he stared at the ripped cloth in your hand. Michael jolts as you toss it to the side, letting out a cross between a moan and cry when the action caused your fingers to brush against his prostate.
"My dress!"
"I'll get you a proper one, but you still have your apron." You smirk at his misery, the pathetic state he suddenly became. You twist your fingers, earning a loud squeal from the Brit. "Sorry."
"The only apology I'll accept is in the form of your cock in me." Michael groans, struggling to untie his apron. Cold air hits his cock as soon as he removes it, he lets out a sob at that before letting his fingers curl around the shaft and immediately get to work.
The sensations are enough to pull him into an orgasm right away. Michael slumps with a silent scream.
You pull your fingers out of him, wiping them on your pants. The next thing you do is gently peel the gown's remains off Michael, all of it gone and just remaining under his body. Completely naked save for the gold band around his finger and socks.
After that you slowly rub his hips, releasing them from whatever tense state they might've switched to.
"Continue," he mumbles. Rubbing his eyes, causing a sudden release of tears.
"Do you need a drink first?"
Michael shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "I'm fine, probably before and after I have you in my mouth." He winks, but the action comes out goofy. You smile, leaning down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.
"Okay, alright." You nod, letting your hand move along his chest, stopping at his stomach for a moment before you pull away to unbuckle your belt.
Despite all of the energy leaving Michael's body after his orgasm, he still manages to lift his head to watch as your pants slide down and you pull out your cock from its prison.
"Very nice." Michael purred, letting his head thunk back down against the cold stone.
You roll your eyes, quickly doing what you need to do, before pressing the tip against his hole. Michael takes a deep breath, releasing it once the tip pushes past the tight ring of muscle. Michael squirmed, legs kicking around, you scrunch your face when his heel collides with your shoulder.
"Calm down. You're acting like a desperate slut." You hiss, "be good and I'll indulge in your needs."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Michael continues to squirm, taking deep huffs of air. You cup his face, wiping his eyes and admire his flushed face. Michael grabs your arm, pressing kisses into your palm. "You don't have to wait, I like the stretch."
"Shit, damn." You smirk, gently pushing your worry away. You draw circles against the dent of his hip, waiting for a second more until he was relaxed. "Good boy, brilliant job." Michael whimpered against your hand.
"Big," Michael murmurs.
You smile at him, gently squeezing his hip. "Perfect and tight."
Michael grins at that, and it appeared to widen when you began to pull out before slamming back in.
As you fucked Michael, your hand moved to his cock and began stroking him slowly. Michael moaned loudly, reddened, and abruptly cut himself off. Even though it was only the two of you, he felt ashamed and didn't want to be too loud.
"Don't be silent," you urge, your hips gradually colliding with Michael's. Michael moaned once more because he was so full. He was loaded to the brim with your cock. You were inside him; you're so thick and deep. "Colour?"
"Green! Please more!" Michael exclaimed, a little breathlessly. You gasped loudly as your hips jolted.
The sound of your hips slapping together began to fill the kitchen as you spoke heavily, your pace increasing impossibly faster, "fuck. I wish I could do this all the time." You make a more assertive thrust with your hips. "You've been driving me mad, obviously not on purpose, but."
Michael's screaming, his hands are now tangled in his hair as he thrusts into your hand. "Y/N!"
You bent over and gently pulled him up by the neck, kissing him passionately before letting him fall back. "You're perfect, it's brilliant that you'll take up the role of househusband. Not after what you told me, couldn't dare think of you any longer around. Need you so much.”
"Yes, yes!" Michael cries. "I need you...” Your hand sped up on his cock. Michael sighed aloud before whimpering. "I love you." Michael gasped as your rhythm broke. That wasn't what he meant to say. "Wait, shit. I—"
"I love you too." Despite everything, those words are never said, always known though. "You idiot, brilliant and beautiful idiot," you mumbled. Michael shouted out loudly and came once again, his come spilling onto his stomach.
You fucked Michael through his orgasm, and slid a finger through Michael’s come and tasted it. You licked your finger clean, letting out a groan and your hands moved and tightened around Michael's hips, holding him firm and fucking him hard. Michael's legs spread unbelievably wide, and he opened himself up as much as he could to accept your massive cock as well as possible.
Michael muttered something. "You should come in me, I'd want to see it, will you please come in me, Y/N, please—"
You fucked him hard and gasped, "Michael, my darling boy," Michael smiled broadly and looked you in the eyes. You moaned, slammed your hips together one last time, your head fell as your body stiffened. Michael sat there, enthralled. It's probably the best thing he's ever witnessed.
"Hey, your cock, can I..?" He was being braved, especially after being fucked to the near point he became a mumbling mess. His hands were wrapped around the glass, quite tight to the point where you took it so it wouldn't break.
"I rather another day, sorry." You hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"That's okay, I guess. My throat hurts." Michael smiles, and you instantly return it. "Could we watch a movie?"
"How about a bath first? I'm sure the counter wasn't present for your back." You ask, and he beams at that.
"Both of us? I really like laying against your chest..." Michael ducks, a goofy smile plastered on his lips.
"Why not?" Michael reaches out, pretty much jumping at you. You laugh as his legs wrap around your waist, and he places his chin on your shoulder.
For the while you had him in your arms, you quickly went to place your mouth to his neck, sucking hard against the pale curve of his neck.
"Ow!" Michael groans at the playful bite you gave afterwards. "Did you just give me a hickey?"
"I forgot to earlier." You shrug, beginning your adventure to the bathroom. Ignore Michael complaining about how he just cleaned and that the mess you've left wouldn't be fixed by him.
You shush him, every time he tried to speak, you pressed your lips to his.
It worked.
