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Michael gets dressed quickly, tugging his sweatpants over his legs as fast as he can, pulling his sweater over his head in a feeble attempt to shut out the cold. He hangs the threadbare towel over the rusted hook on the door, looking one last time in the steamy mirror. His hair is still damp, dark over his face that’s set with a grim expression, hard against the insistent chill of the room.
Stepping into the slightly warmer bedroom, he shivers, rubbing his hands together, heading towards the queen sized bed, feet padded with thick socks stepping across the room quickly. Trevor is already bundled up there, the thin but cosy blanket he takes everywhere with them wrapped around his shoulders and the motel’s measly offerings over his legs and body. Michael can just make out the collar of his own t-shirt covering Trevor’s chest. The fact that Trevor is wearing his shirt doesn’t even surprise him any more as Trevor’s sense of boundaries are…questionable. If they’re even there at all, that is. He’s propped up against the headboard, pale face illuminated by the television, wild dark mullet messy over his amber eyes.
“Hey,” he says, eyes not leaving the screen. Michael gets into the bed, shuffling up close to Trevor, who holds out an arm and lets Michael wrap some of the blanket around his own shoulders. He brings his arm back down, pressing tightly against Michael, who cherishes the warmth of the blanket on his shoulders. Michael closes his eyes at the feeling of Trevor’s warm body next to his, letting the heat thaw the chill that’s settled over his skin.
This…cuddling, snuggling, whatever it would be called if Brad ever found out, which Michael fucking hoped he never would, had become a routine since they discovered that every damn motel in North Yankton was almost colder than outside. The motels they could afford, anyway. Sharing a room was cheaper, sharing a bed was cheapest. However, he had always placed a pillow between them, conscious of just what it would look like to share a bed with another guy. But then there was the cold. The cold that snuck through the cracked windows or through doors seemingly made from cardboard. It started breaking him.
It had taken Michael a long, freezing cold night where he had stayed up until four in the morning shivering, unable to sleep, the scraggly blanket wrapped around him doing little to hold out the chill of the icy air around him. He could hear the wind whistling through the window and under the door as he watched the snow begin to white out the view of the world outside. They had spent that entire day out in it, watching security responses to the tiny town bank, stuck in that kind of cold that makes home in his chest and doesn’t want to leave. The shower had been cold, and the poor excuse for a bedroom had been the coldest he’d ever experienced.
He had watched Trevor’s chest rise and fall peacefully for hours, envy and anger building in his chest. Trevor had passed out on his back, soft snoring irritating him because it meant Trevor was comfortably asleep and he wasn’t. Eventually, he cracked, aggressively throwing the pillow that separated them to the floor and had pressed his body against Trevor’s, holding back a sigh of relief as his warmth eased his bones. It pained him how good it felt. Trevor had rolled over to face him, sleepily draped an arm over him, and Michael has burrowed into his chest, the warm weight of his arm and the sound of Trevor’s steady breathing quickly lulling him into a more peaceful sleep than he had had in years.
Since then, they had spent almost every night sharing each other’s heat, blankets tucked tight around them, arms and legs entwined. Michael had struggled at first with the closeness, unfamiliar with the feeling of another man’s arms around him while he slept. But the feeling had quickly faded, and soon the smell and touch of Trevor began to make him feel safe as he slept instead of uneasy. They wouldn’t discuss it in the morning, no matter how they woke up. It didn’t matter if he awoke to find Trevor’s head on his chest or found himself being spooned, Trevor’s arm around his body and legs tucked up under his. It was an unspoken, quiet thing. But he had never, ever slept better.
His night terrors, violent and terrifying since childhood, had stopped, too. On the rare occasions a bad dream troubled either of them, they would fix it for each other. Something he’d never experienced with a girl. Sometimes he would awaken to Trevor pulling him in close, arms tight around him and crushing whatever bad thing had made him wake up panting. Other times, he awoke to Trevor’s muffled whimpers, sometimes peppered with the utterance of names he didn’t know or the word ‘mother’. Those nights were bad for Trevor, so Michael would let him come in closer, tears staining his chest, trembling hands so knotted in his shirt there would be marks the next morning. He would begin to fall asleep, and Michael would lay awake until he did, the deeply embedded reluctance he felt at being so intimate with another man buried under the urge to protect Trevor from whatever had hurt him because he knew Trevor would have, and had, done the same for him.
“Hey,” Michael says back, still looking down, tucking the edge of the blanket underneath his thighs, “what’re you watching?”
“Porn,” he states matter-of-factly. Michael rolls his eyes and looks pointedly at Trevor, who looks back at him with a grin.
“What? Everything else’s scrambled. Volume’s busted, too.”
Michael rolls his eyes again and looks at the television. A chunky, tattooed guy with a bald head and rough beard is looking down, presumably at some tiny blonde’s ass, grinning. The camera is panning down slowly, showing how his torso is rolling as his hips slam into someone, thick, muscular arms tensing tightly as they held on to the unseen person.
However, as the camera continues its descent, Michael realises with a sense of uncomfortable embarrassment that although it’s a blonde, the person on the receiving end is in fact a man. Bent over, eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure, arching his back to give the other man easier access.
“Uh, is there really nothing else on? At all?” he tries, looking away from the screen, panic and embarrassment filling his body. Trevor snorts out a laugh.
“What, this ain’t doing it for you? I never would have guessed,” he looks at him, eyes mischievous. Michael clears his throat, still avoiding the screen.
“Shut up, it’s just…I’ve never seen it before,” he admits, shifting, uncomfortably aware of how he’s practically nestled against Trevor’s side, their thighs pressed against each other. Trevor’s only in a t-shirt, the heat still radiating off of him, burning into his arm.
Trevor has never made his sexuality a secret, but he and Michael have never openly discussed it. Girls, that’s different. They all talk about girls. Fuck, he’d seen Trevor with girls, walked right in on him making a girl come on his fingers against the wall and had barely batted an eyelid. But guys? No way.
“Really? You’ve never seen gay pornography? Not even accidentally?” Trevor sounds completely incredulous, and Michael huffs out a sigh, still avoiding looking at the screen in front of him.
“No, Trevor. Not exactly my target demographic.”
Trevor lets out a quiet hum, looking at him with narrowed eyes.
“You’re not even a little bit curious?”
“No, not at all.”
God, he’s lying. Of course he’s curious. He’s been curious since he met Trevor. Not that he’s particularly willing to admit that.
Trevor seems to consider this, looking at him, eyes scrutinising.
“So, you’ve never done the guy thing?”
“No!” he insists, feeling his neck begin to redden. Trevor shifts until he’s facing Michael, and there’s an almost amused look on his face.
“You’ve never even checked out another guy? Come on, QB, not even a sneaky hand job from your subordinates? Never requested a little hands on attention from Coach?”
Michael groans, looking away from Trevor, accidentally catching the eye of the gentleman being absolutely railed on the television. He looks away quickly.
“No, nothing like that! God, what d’ya take me for?”
Trevor lets out a little laugh at that but turns his attention back to the TV. Michael stares hard at their blanket covered feet, until he relents and looks at the screen, furrowing his eyebrows and trying really, really hard to breathe normally.
The two men are now in the missionary position, with the tattooed guy on top, kissing the other man furiously while his hips slam up and down in an insistent pattern into him. The blonde’s fingernails are digging into the other man’s shoulders, squeezing tight. Michael’s sure he’d be able to hear the rough slapping of flesh if the volume was working.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” he asks, and he regrets speaking as soon as the words are out of his mouth, visibly cringing. He feels Trevor shrug next to him.
“Not really,” he says, voice casual. He tilts his head to follow the camera angle, his temple touching Michael’s shoulder. There’s a fleeting image that crosses Michael’s mind of just what Trevor would look like in the same position on the screen, but he forces it out quickly. The brief thought of Trevor like that, underneath him, has already quickened his heartbeat. Then there’s the thought of what Trevor would look like on top of him, and he forces that thought away even faster than the first. Michael clenches his jaw, then lets out a breath sharply.
“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s it like?”
Trevor lifts his head up to look at him, then opens his mouth to speak before shaking his head slightly.
“You’ve really never tried it? No fingers, nothin’?”
Michael lets out another groan and rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “no. Fuck, Trevor, I grew up fuckin’ Catholic, what do you think?”
Trevor raises his eyebrows, and he looks like he’s going to say something like a dark joke before he shakes his head again and looks back at Michael.
“It’s…good. I dunno how to explain it. Feels a little weird the first few times, but it gets good. Especially if the other person knows what they’re doing, which,” he barks out a laugh, “ain’t often in my experience.”
Michael stares at him. Experience. Trevor’s experienced, of course he is. That makes him think bad things again, thinking of what Trevor could do to him. God, it’s been a while. He misses sex. With girls. Sex with girls. Normal, healthy, kind of boring sex. He looks at Trevor again, who’s still staring intently at the screen. The scene on the television is reflected back in his dark eyes.
“Do you, uh, do you do it a lot?” he asks tentatively, inquisitiveness getting the better of him, just for a moment.
“Are you slut-shaming me, Michael?”
“No! I’m just askin’!”
“Ah, so you are curious,” Trevor smiles triumphantly. Michael definitely blushes this time.
“I just don’t get how it feels good, is all. Doesn’t matter,” he turns away, faced again with the television and cringing at the intimate, unfamiliar scene. He can feel Trevor watching him.
“Want me to show you?” Trevor asks after a long pause, and Michael chokes on a breath, spluttering.
“No! No, I do not, fuckin’ Christ, Trevor!”
“Ah, come on, you know what they say about cats and curiosity, all that shit.”
Michael deliberately ignores him. Trevor smiles beside him but settles back against Michael and continues watching the television. Michael isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but Trevor’s hand seems a lot closer to his thigh than it was before.
On the small screen, the blonde is staring up at the tattooed man as he fucks him while jerking him off, and it isn’t long until the blonde freezes in an unheard cry as he spills over the man’s hand. He’s handsome, Michael realises, quickly shaking the thought out of his head. He watches, transfixed, as the tattooed man fucks him for a few minutes longer before throwing his head back and opening his mouth in a silent yell as he presumably comes inside him. It looks intense. Michael has another intrusive thought, this time wondering what that feels like. He slams a few more thrusts into him before dropping his head down to kiss him passionately, the blonde’s hands finding the back of his neck.
“You okay?” Trevor asks him, and Michael blinks. He didn’t realise he was breathing so heavily. And since when was he hard? He can tell by the heat in his face that he’s flushed and he’s beginning to feel warm despite the chill of the room. He prays the bundled blankets in his lap are disguising his erection that he doesn’t remember getting.
“Yeah, fine,” he manages, but his voice sounds rough. He clears his throat. This isn’t happening, he prays, trying to flex his thigh muscles in an attempt to direct the blood away from his cock.
Trevor’s staring at him. He turns to look at him, but he didn’t realise just how close they were. Their noses are touching. He goes to pull back slightly, but something in the way Trevor is looking at him makes him stop. Those perfect, strangely coloured eyes are looking deeply into his own, and Trevor’s high cheekbones are stained pink. It strikes Michael how different he looks like this, freshly showered (a fucking rarity in itself) and dressed only in Michael’s shirt. The harsh frown that normally twists his features is replaced by an almost innocent, soft gaze. Like he’s looking at Michael for the first time.
“I-I’m gonna go to sleep,” Michael stammers, the arousal he’s unwillingly feeling, and the intensity of the way Trevor is looking at him all too much to deal with any longer. Trevor’s eyes hold his before dropping down, gazing at his lips for just a second before coming back up. Michael stares at him for half a second before forcing himself to look away. He rolls over onto his side, creating a gap in the blankets that makes him wince at the cold until Trevor shuffles down, pressing close to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. He doubts Trevor is actually tired, given that he’s left the television on, but he’s grateful for his heat anyway.
It feels wrong to have Trevor this close, arm gentle around him, chest pressed into his back, the comforting embrace feeling dirty thanks to the thoughts now circling his brain. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a slow breath, trying not to focus on how Trevor’s breathing feels against the back of his neck, soft and teasing.
They lie like that for a few minutes, Michael listening to the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears until he can’t take it any longer, rolling over violently. Trevor makes a surprised noise as Michael struggles in the blankets for a few seconds before sitting up, dragging Trevor upright with him, staring at his perfect wide eyes just for a moment.
Michael doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because of the porn. Or the fact that it’s been a while for him. Or maybe it’s just because it’s Trevor, his best friend, the person he feels the closest to in the whole world. But he closes the small gap between them and kisses Trevor’s warm, chapped lips. Something in his chest flips when Trevor kisses him back. Trevor’s hand moves to come up out of the blankets, but Michael takes it in his own, and pulls back from the kiss.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Trevor says, letting out a small laugh, but there’s a shy look in his face, like he’s just as surprised as Michael. He’s caught Trevor looking at him before, usually just as he was looking at him too, surreptitiously running his eyes over his handsome face. But it still shocks him that Trevor’s kissing him back, holding his breath like he can’t quite believe it’s happening.
“Shut up,” he says, before kissing Trevor again, letting out a quiet moan when Trevor’s tongue touches his lips. Trevor wraps his arms around him, pulling him in close, the extra heat and closeness making him grow even harder, leaning desperately into that kiss. God, he can’t stop thinking about that video, about Trevor. About letting, no, asking Trevor to do those things to him, and then later, Michael can do it all to him.
“Show me,” he whispers, heart thudding in his chest. Trevor looks back at him with wide eyes, and he lets out something that’s closer to a stutter than to words.
“Sure- wait, I mean, are you sure?” he asks, and Michael nods, already kissing him again. Trevor’s mouth feels perfect against his own, much better than any girl he’s ever kissed, and he thinks something about this should feel wrong, maybe the fact that it’s another boy or the fact that it’s Trevor. But instead, it feels like he should have been doing this all along. Trevor is a spectacular kisser. The feeling of his mouth has him more worked up than anything else in his life.
“Yeah,” he mumbles against Trevor’s lips. Trevor’s hand palms his erection over his sweatpants, and the unexpected contact makes him gasp, embarrassed at just good that one touch felt. His mouth is gentle on Michael’s, and it feels so good to kiss him that he’s almost dizzy. Trevor begins kissing down his jaw, and when he plants a soft kiss on his neck his breath hitches in his throat and he shuts his eyes tight.
No one has paid this much attention to his neck since he was in high school, and each touch is almost explosive. Trevor’s placing little licks and bites on his neck and he’s pretty sure he’s going to find a love bite there tomorrow, but when Trevor slips his hand under his sweatpants and boxers and wraps his hand around his cock, he thinks that he doesn’t really care.
He sucks in a breath at that touch, hands finding Trevor’s shoulders and clutching them desperately as Trevor moves his hand up and down slowly. He shuffles down lower, using his teeth to pull down the collar of Michael’s sweater before kissing the skin there too.
Michael brings his hand up to Trevor’s hair and tugs on it gently, lifting his head up until he’s looking at him. His eyes are dark and there’s a look of pure desire in them that’s so intense he almost wants to look away.
“I want…” he falters, instead sitting up a little higher, reaching over and grabbing Trevor by his slender waist until he’s in his lap, lips immediately finding his own again. Trevor’s lower half is only in boxers, his Canadian blood leaving him more immune to the cold than Michael, and he struggles slightly to tug them down.
Once Trevor’s cock is exposed, Michael pulls back to look at it. They’ve seen each other naked plenty of times, but this time, it’s different. He’s never seen Trevor hard, for a start. He’s felt it often enough, pressing into his back or ass first thing in the morning. He’d woken up to the feeling, admittedly curious, wondering what would happen if he moved against it. He had never had the courage to, instead staying still, breathing shallow, waiting until Trevor woke up or rolled over, lying there trying to stop thoughts about how good it felt to feel Trevor hard against him.
Michael places one hand on Trevor’s hip and tentatively wraps the other around his dick. He feels a fresh dart of arousal bolt through him at the noise Trevor lets out at the contact. His cock feels not too different to his own. It’s hard, the skin over it soft, and it’s framed by a patch of dark hair. He takes a guess at the size, maybe five or six inches? It’s not as thick as his own, which is really his only basis for comparison. He runs his thumb over the tip, using the pad of his thumb to spread the bead of precum that’s gathered there around the head. That makes Trevor let out a slow, shuddering breath, a noise that Michael wants to keep on hearing.
Some part of him wonders what Trevor tastes like, and the thought makes him kiss Trevor again. He begins to move his hand up and down, gently, the movements he’s so used to doing to himself feeling foreign on another person. It’s his turn to kiss down Trevor’s neck, and when he drops a cautious bite on the skin there, tasting his clean flesh, Trevor lets out a shocked gasp that makes his own cock throb.
He keeps doing that, alternating strokes of his hands with bites and kisses on Trevor’s neck, until a sharp whimper comes from Trevor’s mouth, and he quickly puts a hand over Michael’s, stopping his movements. That makes him pull away from Trevor’s neck, looking up at him questioningly, secretly hoping he hasn’t done anything wrong.
“It’s gonna be over before it even starts if you keep doing that,” Trevor tells him, and the quiet embarrassment in his voice is endearing. Michael lets out a quiet chuckle and kisses Trevor, hands holding his waist instead. Knowing that he’s gotten Trevor close has given him a kind of thrill, a dart of giddy adrenaline coursing through his veins.
As he’s just losing himself in the kissing, Trevor begins to work his way down his body, before tugging Michael’s sweater up over him. He instinctively goes to cover himself, conscious of his stomach, but Trevor stops him.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, you’re perfect,” he says, the sweet words said in a stern tone, and Michael feels himself flush scarlet at the compliment. Trevor’s between his knees now, tugging Michael’s sweatpants and boxers off at the same time. He’s too distracted by the sight of Trevor’s face above his erection to think about the cold.
“Fuck,” he moans as Trevor takes the head of his cock into his mouth, moving fast like he’d been waiting to do it for too long. Trevor’s mouth is warm and wet and perfect, and it gets better when he makes eye contact with Trevor, who looks like he might be enjoying this more than Michael.
Michael feels his toes curl inside his socks (shit, he’s still wearing socks,) as Trevor’s mouth takes him in deeper, and he has to hold back the urge to thrust his hips upwards because the thought of fucking Trevor’s throat is really, really hard to resist.
Trevor pulls up, holding just the head of his cock in his mouth, running his soft tongue over where he’s most sensitive. He pulls his head up, letting go of Michael’s dick with an audible pop, looking up at him with eyes Michael thinks were made for blowjobs.
He shuffles down the bed a little, calloused hands gentle on his thighs, leaning them on his shoulders. He’s suddenly a lot farther down that Michael thinks he should be.
“Wait, what’re you doing?” he asks nervously, still keening for Trevor’s touch. Trevor flashes him a lopsided, reassuring smile.
“Just trust me, okay?” he says and Michael bites his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing together slightly before nodding, relaxing when Trevor drops a slow, sensual kiss on the delicate skin on the inside of his thigh.
He sinks back into the bedding, letting out a sigh, aware of how his cock is still hard and leaking pre-come. Suddenly, the feeling of Trevor’s wet tongue on his hole makes him yelp, the shock of pleasure it sends through him forcing him to arch his back off of the mattress.
He looks down at Trevor with a wildly confused, aroused look on his face, and Trevor just winks up at him, licking him again, slower this time, teasing him in a slow circle. He feels his body shudder and he lets out a quiet, uncertain moan, because he has no idea how or why this feels so good.
Trevor’s tongue and lips are soft, gentle, teasing him, drawing noises out of him he didn’t know he could make. His already racing heart speeds up when he feels the tip of Trevor’s finger pressing there, slowly circling around where he’s slick with spit. Trevor waits until he manages to gasp out a broken, “yes,” before he pushes forward, and it feels…good. A little weird, like Trevor said, but good. It doesn’t hurt like he thought it would, but he’s aware that Trevor’s finger is a lot shorter and thinner than his cock.
The thought of Trevor fucking him makes him moan, and it gets louder when he begins moving his finger in and out, licking the skin over his balls. Trevor unexpectedly draws his finger almost all the way out, and as he adds another inside him, angles them upwards, and fuck.
Suddenly Trevor’s interest in this makes a whole lot more sense because Christ, it feels amazing. Trevor curls his fingers again just as he takes Michael’s cock back into his mouth and he lets out a ragged whine that sounds positively slutty.
Trevor’s fingers and mouth have found a pattern that’s leaving him gasping for breath. He’s acutely aware of how ridiculous he must look, legs slung over Trevor’s shoulders, back arching off the bed, hands knitting knots in the blankets as a pattern of groans and gasps fall from his lips. He’s had girls in this position before, he’s gotten himself off to the image of a woman tensing up as he uses his tongue and fingers on her, but he doesn’t think there’s any way he looks as sexy as a girl while writhing around like this. If it didn’t feel so good, he’d feel kind of ridiculous.
A familiar feeling is drawing his balls up to his body, and he can’t believe Trevor’s gotten him so close, but he doesn’t want to come like this. He somehow finds the strength to grab Trevor’s hair, making him look up. He looks just about as turned on as Michael feels.
“Please,” he whispers hoarsely, not even sure if Trevor will understand, but he does, of course he does. Trevor nods, placing a kiss on Michael’s hip as he carefully extracts his fingers. Michael feels empty at the loss of contact but feels his stomach flip as Trevor leans over the edge of the bed, rustling around in his go bag.
He returns with a bottle of lube in hand and a worried expression on his face.
“I don’t have…I mean, I always use them, so…”
Michael pauses. He knows he doesn’t have protection either. It’s been an uncomfortably long dry spell for him, so he hadn’t even bothered to buy them for a while. It had been so long, the last one, which had formed a ring in the leather of his wallet, had been given to Brad, who had been the only one out of the three of them to get lucky in the last few months.
“It’s okay,” he tells Trevor after some deliberation. Trevor looks at him before leaning into kiss him. Michael watches as he coats himself in lube, head falling back as he lets out a soft moan at the feeling of finally getting to touch himself. Part of Michael wants to know what it’s like to watch him get himself off.
He leans forward, slotting himself between Michael’s thighs. Michael can feel his cock right there, and he feels a nervous expression fall over his face. Trevor catches it and kisses him again, gentle mouth tracing reassurances over his lips. He lifts his head up, looking into Michael’s eyes.
“Yeah?” he asks, and Michael nods, adjusting his legs as Trevor begins to push forward.
“Hey, I need you to relax, buddy,” Trevor says softly, voice strained, and Michael nods again, letting out a slow breath, forcing himself to focus on how his hands feel on Trevor’s waist, feeling the smooth, warm skin as Trevor eases himself forward.
Trevor’s right, it does feel strange. But in a way that’s oddly thrilling. It hurts, an almost dull ache, but the pain is soothed by the slow, shuddering breath that comes from Trevor’s mouth, his head dropping on to the bed beside Michael’s face.
“Fuck,” he mutters, muffled by the pillow. Michael swallows hard, subtly shifting his hips, adjusting to the feeling of being full. Full. Something about that thought ignites a wild spark in his chest. It feels right to be filled with Trevor. Trevor, who’s been surprisingly tender with him. He closes his eyes as he feels a renewed rush of affection for the younger man, kissing the bare skin of his shoulder and bringing a hand up to cradle the back of his neck.
Trevor brings his head back up and looks at Michael, an expression of desire and want and, Michael might be imagining it, love on his face. Michael manages to nod at him, and Trevor wordlessly begins to slowly grind into him, gentle movements that are barely perceptible but feel good.
He adjusts his legs, bringing them up slightly higher and there’s that sudden shock of pleasure again, better with Trevor’s cock than his fingers. He groans out a low curse, and Trevor, his eyes never leaving his own, does it again, beginning to move in shallow thrusts, each one brushing against his prostate.
“God, Trev…” he whispers, and Trevor kisses him, moaning into his mouth. His movements are picking up speed now, still gentle. Michael can feel the delicious friction of his cock between their stomachs, and the feeling of Trevor inside him is making noises fall from his mouth before he can stop them.
“Fuck, T, h-harder,” he pleads, and Trevor chokes out a curse at that, obliging instantly, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into him, making Michael cry out into the darkened room. He picks up the pace, fucking him hard and fast, Michael grinding his hips up and down to meet every single thrust. The pain is still there, shadowing the pleasure. But it’s worth it, completely worth it to feel Trevor fucking him the way he is, and he finally admits to himself that he’s been wanting this for a really long fucking time.
He feels himself getting close, impossibly close, and it gets all the better when Trevor pulls away from kissing him to look at his face. He looks so undone, amber eyes bright, full lips allowing gasps and whines to fall from them. Michael knew he was vocal, he’d heard him often enough, but the noises feel so much better falling on his ears now that he knows what it’s like to be the reason behind them.
“I’m gonna come,” Michael manages, feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head as Trevor maintains that perfect pace, only now it’s peppered with different noises that Michael understands mean that Trevor is close too.
“I love you,” Trevor whispers, the words filling the small gap between them, and the way Trevor utters the phrase with such tenderness, like it’s the most divine prayer, makes him lose it, crying out as he comes hard, coating their stomachs, Trevor’s perfect thrusts slowing to let Michael grind on him. He can feel Trevor’s eyes on him, watching him as he comes, dropping a kiss on his forehead as he shudders out a breath as the last of his orgasm racks through him.
He picks up the pace again, this time faster, Michael’s oversensitive nerves on fire, his cock now slick and wet between them. Michael feels his body tensing, hears his breathing change as he chokes out desperate whimpers.
“Oh, fuck, Mikey, I love you, I love you, I love you, fuck, fuck,” he cries into Michael’s shoulder, and then, with a shrill sob, stills, and Christ, he’s never even felt anything even close to that as Trevor spills inside him. He feels each throb, feels himself be filled with Trevor’s come and it’s a shockingly incredible feeling.
He wraps his arms around Trevor’s back, feeling him pant for breath underneath his hands. Trevor lifts his head from his shoulder and kisses him, slow, sweet. Michael can feel him trembling.
“That was…” Trevor mumbles, face flushed, a smile beginning to appear on his features. Michael lets out a little laugh and manages to nod, “yeah. I know,” he grins.
He feels Trevor pull out slowly, the odd ache soothed by the feeling of Trevor’s come spilling out of him, and God, that’s a feeling he could get used to. Trevor rolls over, landing beside him, bringing the forgotten blankets back up around him. Michael leans up and kisses him, soft, little touches on his lips.
He pulls back to look at him, staring into Trevor’s eyes, watching his sleepy, tender expression.
“I love you, too,” he says, and Trevor’s eyebrows knit together, his mouth falling open before he smiles, leaning in for another kiss. They’ve said it plenty of times, mostly in the dark after a near miss on a job. He’s heard Trevor whisper it in his ear before falling asleep, and he’s sure he’s muttered it into Trevor’s hair when soothing him after a nightmare. It’s different this time.
“Hey,” Trevor says softly, and Michael looks at him, raising his eyebrows expectantly. He thinks if Trevor says something sweet to him right now, something cute or romantic, he might actually cry, because Trevor’s just given him an experience he’s never had before, and it was incredible and romantic and so fucking intense. Not only is he feeling physically different, raw and fucked and sated (he can still feel Trevor’s come on his ass, and fuck, it’s almost too much,) but he’s never felt so many fucking emotions after sex.
“Curiosity satisfied? ‘Cause, you know, apparently that’s what the cat needed an’ all,” he grins. Michael rolls his eyes, before pausing, smiling up at Trevor, looking at his lips.
“I dunno. Think there’s still some stuff you could show me, if you’re up for it,” he says, attempting to sound casual. Trevor’s eyes light up.
“You bet your ass I’m up for it,” he answers in a low voice, making Michael laugh before he’s kissing Michael again, deeper this time, the feeling arousing his softening cock.
Something tells him that he’s in for a long, long night.