long time no see
a/n-tbh there's no real story line for this, just something I put together and enjoyed writing, I love the idea of mature era dbf Michael l so that's just what I did and its kinda awkward, I'm not very good at writing a story line , and I don't think the fact its written in first person makes it better either.
summary?- I'm not writing one I have no clue what to put i've never uploaded a fic here give me grace!
tags - (18+) angst?,smut,roughness,riding,younger reader,sex on the family couch,kissing.
word count-a lot.
The whiskey in his glass caught the fading sunlight in amber streaks as Michael leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. My father's laughter bounced off the high ceilings of our living room—the kind of booming, unguarded sound he only made around people he truly trusted. I hovered at the top of the staircase, one hand gripping the banister, listening to the low murmur of their conversation dip into conspiratorial tones before erupting into more laughter.
Neither of them noticed me until my bare feet hit the marble foyer with a soft slap. Michael's head snapped up first, his eyes tracking my descent like I was some apparition materializing just for him. "Well, look who decided to join us," Dad grinned, but Michael just watched, silent, as I crossed the room toward them.
The ice in his glass clinked when he set it down too abruptly on the side table. Up close, I caught the faintest tremor in his fingers before he curled them into his palm,nervous or excited, I couldn’t tell.
"Your dad’s been telling me about your audition for ballet." Michael said, voice lower than I remembered from interviews. His gaze flicked over my shoulder, toward the stairs, like he was checking for witnesses. "Said you perfected tryouts"
I tugged the hem of my sweater down self-consciously, suddenly aware of how thin the fabric was in this light. Dad clapped Michael’s shoulder and wandered toward the kitchen when his phone started ringing.
"You should’ve told me you were coming," I said softly, fingers twisting the silver charm on my necklace,a nervous habit I’d had since middle school. Michael’s gaze tracked the movement before he exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. "Would you have worn something different?" he murmured back.
The question hung between us like static. I could’ve lied. Should’ve lied. But his eyes,dark and unreadable behind those tinted lenses,made honesty crawl up my throat. "Maybe," I admitted, biting my lower lip just to watch his jaw tense.
Michael’s fingers twitched against his thigh, the gold rings catching the light as he flexed them. A beat passed where neither of us breathed. Then his mouth curved,not quite a smile, more like he’d tasted something bittersweet. "That’s dangerous, sweetheart," he said.
Dad walked back into the living room quickly,"Emergency at the studio," he muttered, already shrugging into his coat. His gaze darted between us, Michael still seated too straight, me with my arms crossed over my chest,but he only shook his head. "Behave," he tossed over his shoulder, and the front door slammed behind him.
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Michael finally reached for his abandoned drink, swirling the ice cubes like they held answers. "Your dad," he started, then stopped, exhaling through his nose. "He doesn't notice much, does he?"
I took a step closer, my bare toes curling into the plush rug. The scent of his cologne,something expensive with a hint of spice wrapped around me. "Not when he's distracted,".
Michael didn't move as I settled beside him on the couch, our knees almost touching.
I let my hand drift toward his thigh,slow, testing,and the muscle twitched beneath my fingers before he exhaled sharply through his nose.
"You're gonna get us both in trouble," he muttered,his fingers dug into the couch cushions as I shifted my weight onto his lap.The leather creaked under us,straining like his self-control when I settled against him,my thighs bracketing his hips.His breath hitched,barely audible,but I felt it in the way his chest stuttered against mine.His glasses slid down his nose slightly when I leaned in,our foreheads almost touching now.
"I missed seeing you," I said softly,letting my lips brush against his cheekbone,the faintest scrape of stubble catching on my skin.His hands twitched like he wanted to reach for me,but stayed frozen at his sides instead."Yeah?" he exhaled,the word thick with something unspoken.
The kiss when it came was softer than I expected,slow,like he was savoring the taste of me.His lips moved against mine with a gentleness that made my chest ache,one large hand cradling the back of my head like I was something fragile.His breath hitched when I nipped at his lower lip,a silent plea for more,but he just hummed and pulled back.
"You're impatient," he murmured against my cheek,the words vibrating through me.His thumb brushed my jawline,feathering over the spot where my pulse jumped."Gotta take our time,"he added,but his voice was strained,the words rough around the edges.
The next kiss was slower,almost reverent,like he was mapping the shape of my mouth for later study.His fingers slid into my hair,careful not to pull,but I arched into it anyway,letting out a small,breathless noise that made him groan low in his throat.When he finally deepened the kiss,it wasn't the feverish rush I expected,but something deliberate,each movement calculated to draw out my reactions.His teeth grazed my lower lip,and I felt him smile when I shuddered.
His hands were everywhere but nowhere long enough,skimming my waist,the curve of my hip,the back of my knee like he was memorizing me by touch alone.When they finally settled on my thighs,his thumbs traced idle circles on the sensitive skin there,just above where my shorts ended.The contrast between his gentle touch and the restrained tension in his arms,muscles taut like he was holding himself back,sent a thrill down my spine.
The button of my shorts popped open with a quiet snick,the sound loud in the heavy air between us.He didn't rush,just hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged slowly,the denim dragging against my skin inch by torturous inch.I could feel his breath hitch when my hips lifted instinctively,letting him peel them down past my thighs,the cool air hitting my exposed skin making me shiver.
His thumb traced the lace edge of my panties first,testing,the fabric already damp enough to cling to his fingertip when he pressed down.I arched into the contact,the gasp punched from my lungs when he finally slipped beneath the silk,his calloused palm cupping me with a reverence that didn't match the dark hunger in his eyes." goodness sweetheart," he murmured,the word rough like gravel,but his fingers were gentle as they traced my folds,spreading me open with deliberate slowness.
The first press of his finger inside was slow,so slow,like he was savoring the way my body resisted then yielded,welcoming him in with a soft, wet sound that made my cheeks burn.His other hand anchored my hip,pinning me in place when I tried to rock against him."Easy," he chided,but his breath hitched when I clenched around him,the muscles in his forearm flexing as he added a second finger with that same unbearable patience.
I watched, transfixed, as his fingers curled inside me with agonizing precision,the pads rubbing in slow circles until my thighs trembled."So pretty," he murmured,and the reverence in his voice was at odds with the filthy twist of his wrist,the obscene glide of his fingers working me open.
My moan spilled out before I could bite it back,a broken little sound that made his nostrils flare.He dragged his thumb over my clit with just enough pressure to steal my breath,a cruel tease compared to the deep,methodical thrusts of his fingers."That's it,let me hear you," he coaxed,his voice gone husky with want.
The rhythm stuttered when I rolled my hips against his hand,chasing the friction with shameless urgency.His fingers crooked inside me just right. "Sweet girl," he murmured,more to himself than me,as I rocked into each stroke,panting his name like a prayer.
My hand slid down his chest,past the trembling muscles of his abdomen,until my fingers brushed the unmistakable ridge straining against his pants .He inhaled sharply through his nose,the tendons in his neck standing out when I pressed my palm flat against the heat of him,feeling him twitch beneath my touch.
Michael made a sound halfway between a groan and a curse,his hips jerking up into my hand involuntarily.His fingers tightened in my hair,not pulling,just holding on as I traced the outline of him through the fabric.
His breath hitched when I unbuttoned his jeans with shaking fingers,the metal teeth parting with a quiet rasp.I could feel his pulse hammering against my palm when I finally slid my hand inside,the heat of him searing against my skin.
Michael shuddered when I wrapped my fingers around him,his hips lifting off the couch in silent supplication.His cock twitched in my grip,heavy and thick, the veins standing out against the brown skin when I stroked him slowly.
His fingers never slowed inside me,his thumb circling my clit with relentless precision while I explored him with tentative touches.
Michael's breath hitched when I squeezed experimentally,the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath me as he fought to keep his hips still.I worked him over with slow strokes,the tip leaking against my palm.He watched with hooded eyes,his lips parted around ragged breaths.
His fingers slid free with a wet sound that made my cheeks burn hotter. His hand came up to cradle my jaw,thumb brushing over my swollen bottom lip."Taste," he murmured,the word rough with want,and I opened for him without hesitation.The salt of my own arousal bloomed on my tongue as he pressed two fingers past my lips,a silent command that made my stomach clench.
The first slow roll of my hips caught him off guard—his breath punched out in a ragged exhale when I sank onto him,the stretch burning sweetly.His hands clamped around my waist like he meant to stop me,but the moment I rocked forward,his fingers dug in hard enough to bruise."Fuck," he hissed,the syllables cracking as I took him deeper,the slick heat of me yielding inch by torturous inch.
His head tipped back against the couch,a vein standing out along his throat as I moved with deliberate slowness,watching his lashes flutter when I clenched around him.The leather groaned beneath us,the sound drowned out by his choked-off groan when I lifted myself almost completely off before dropping back down,his cock twitching inside me at the sudden friction.
Michael's hands tightened convulsively on my hips,the rings digging into my skin as he struggled to hold back from thrusting up into the slick heat of me.His breath came in ragged bursts against my collarbone,his lips brushing the sensitive skin there with every exhale."Christ,"he gritted out,the word cracking as I rolled my hips in a slow circle,the angle dragging him impossibly deeper.
The tension in his thighs vibrated beneath me,muscles coiled tight as piano wires when I lifted myself halfway up on trembling legs.His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my ass as I paused there,teasing,both of us suspended in that torturous moment before gravity took over.His cock twitched inside me,a thick,insistent pulse that made my breath catch—then I dropped down hard,sheathing him fully with a wet slap of skin that echoed through the room.
Michael's hips jerked upward a broken noise escaping his clenched teeth as his cockhead kissed my cervix.
The sound I made was something raw and unrecognizable—half sob, half gasp—as my hands scrabbled for purchase against his shoulders, blunt nails digging crescents into the sweat-slick silk of his shirt. His rings scraped over my hipbones when his grip shifted, thumbs pressing into the softness of my inner thighs to spread me wider as he dragged me down onto each upward thrust with brutal precision.
He wasn't gentle now, wasn't careful. Every snap of his hips drove the air from my lungs in punched-out moans, his cock hitting that spot inside me that made white burst behind my eyelids. The couch groaned beneath us, protesting the violence of his movements as he fucked up into me with a desperation that bordered on furious,like he'd been starving for this, for me, and the dam had finally broken.
My thighs burned from the strain of keeping myself upright, but his hands were there suddenly, gripping the backs of my knees and yanking them wider, forcing me to take him deeper. The angle changed,sharp, unforgiving,and I cried out, the sound strangled when his thumb found my clit again, rubbing rough circles that matched the punishing pace of his hips.
My cunt clenching around him like I could pull him in even deeper.
The fingers on my clit twisted, pressing down in slow, deliberate circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts,too much and not enough all at once. I could feel him everywhere,his breath against my collarbone, his rings digging into my thighs, the slick slide of him inside me,and yet it was his eyes that undid me, dark and intent as they tracked every twitch of my face, every hitch in my breath like he was memorizing the way I came apart beneath him.
Michael's hips stuttered when my thighs started shaking,a sharp inhale catching in his throat as I clenched around him."That's it," he murmured against my jaw, his voice rough with something between awe and desperation,"let go." His thumb pressed harder against my clit,a relentless pressure that sent sparks skittering up my spine,and just like that, the coil in my stomach snapped.
The orgasm hit like a freight train wave after wave of white-hot pleasure radiating outward until my vision blurred.
Michael's hips jerked erratically beneath me,his rhythm fracturing as his own release tore through him.His groan vibrated against the damp skin of my throat,a raw,unguarded sound I'd never heard from him before,shallow,desperate thrusts,spilling deep with a shudder that racked his entire frame.
We stayed like that for a long moment,just breathing,his forehead pressed to my collarbone,the only sound in the room the quiet rasp of our lungs struggling to catch up.His fingers trembled where they still gripped my thighs,gently now,the urgency drained away.
Michael moved first,a slow unfolding of limbs like he was relearning how to be separate from me.His shirt was ruined,wrinkled beyond saving,the silk sticking to his shoulders where my nails had dragged.He didn’t seem to care,just reached for his discarded glasses with one hand while the other smoothed down my tangled hair with a tenderness that made my throat ache.
The air smelled like us—salt and musk and the faintest trace of his cologne lingering beneath it all.I watched him pick up my shorts from where they’d been kicked under the coffee table.
His coat rustled as he shrugged into it,hiding the crumpled silk beneath while I padded toward the stairs barefoot,the wood creaking under my steps.
Upstairs,I peeled off my damp sweater and traded it for a thin tank top,the fabric whispering against my overheated skin.The mirror showed me flushed,wild-eyed,a mess of tangled hair and bitten lips—nothing like the polished girl who'd descended those same stairs and hour ago.
The hardwood stairs groaned under my bare feet as I descended,a familiar sound that now felt loaded with implications.Michael was exactly where I'd left him.
another a/n, I don't like it.
@prettyangeliczz
