Lick It With A Wet Tongue
Word Count ⁎ 2.5k
Summary ⁎ You're quickly losing patience at the lame house party your friend has dragged you to. But then Michael turns up, obnoxiously sucking on a lollipop, and maybe the evening isn't meant to be quite as boring as you think.
Content ⁎ Smut
On ao3 soon.
It's all the fucking lollipop's fault. Before, the house party had been boring at best, to the point where you questioned why you'd even accompanied your friend here. But then Michael had turned up, inexplicably with a lollipop in his mouth, smiling at everyone with those adorable teeth and those rose-coloured lips and the evening had turned around in an instant.
Now all you're focused on is that damn red-haired man making his rounds, wondering if you'll get the pleasure of getting to say hi to him, too. You've only met briefly before, through mutual friends, but it would be a lie to say he hasn't been in the back of your mind ever since.
You get your chance sooner than expected.
"You remember her, right?" Your friend's voice reaches you, even over the music playing, before you even see her. By the time you realise she's talking about you and, in fact, is heading your way, Michael is already in front of you, a toothy grin on his face.
"How could I forget?" he says, as if you've done anything remarkable when you met before. You haven't. Not that you're aware of at least. Then he leans in for a hug, completely taking your by surprise and while you're still busy processing that his arms are around you, his chest is against yours, he's already pulling back, once again taking the stick of the lollipop in his hands and taking it out of his mouth with a loud plop.
Impossible.
"Enjoying the party?" Michael asks and you helplessly turn to your friend, only to realise she's vanished. Of course. That's what you get for telling her about your little crush.
"Not really." The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Not what you meant to say. Even if it is true. But Michael just laughs, an honest, loud laugh, and you smile despite yourself. "Music's mid, I don't know anyone here, the wire in my bra keeps poking my tit and I've not found where they keep the good alcohol."
Maybe the bra comment is a bit much. Michael's eyes briefly drift downward, where your top reveals some cleavage, a blush on his face that could be caused by anything, really. Right?
"Well, I can help with some of those."
He pops the lolly into his mouth again in the most performative, insufferable way and you want to roll your eyes but most of all you want to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
"Go on, then," you challenge. "Make my evening better."
He grins, taking your hand in his so you won't get lost in the thickening crowd and all you can do is will the goosebumps on your arms to go down. He pulls you further and further into the house, until you reach an annex to the kitchen, where he motions for you to close the door behind you, muffling the party noises, and then reaches into a cooler.
"Try," he says, holding a lollipop similar to his but slightly different in colour out to you, as well as his own. "Trust me."
Somehow, almost unfortunately, you do.
You reach out to take the newly-acquired one, but Michael pulls back immediately.
"Nuh-uh," he tuts. "Try before you buy."
You want to correct him, considering there is hopefully no buying of any sorts involved here, but then both of the lollipops are in your face again and it dawns on you what he means. He taps one of them against your lips ever so slightly, an annoyingly smug grin of his face that you want to wipe off by putting your mouth on it, and you open up.
The lollipop touches your tongue, carefully, your eyes fully trained on his as you close your lips around it and give it a taste. The alcohol in it is undeniable, surrounded by a fruitiness that sets it off beautifully. A margarita, if you had to guess.
As soon as you release it, Michael, whose bright eyes are holding something very different now, switches it for his own lollipop. The red disappears into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around what Michael himself had been sucking on just moments before, a hint of his taste mixing with raspberry and liquor.
You grab onto the stem of the lollipop, your fingers briefly covering Michael's before he lets go. The atmosphere shifts, further, both of you hypnotised by the other. You break the silence by releasing the lollipop from your mouth with a loud 'pop'.
"I'll take this one."
Michael chokes on his spit for a second, before recovering with a shaky 'sure' and popping the other, yellow lollipop into his own mouth. You can't help but be aware of the fact that it had also just been on your tongue. You wonder if he thinks about it too.
"Wanna go fix your other complaints?"
You barely remember them now, intoxicated by the red-haired men in front of you slowly letting the lollipop dissolve on his tongue, white stem in stark contrast to his rosy lips, but you nod. Anything to keep him close to you. Anything to keep him looking at you like this.
He takes your hand again and you fight against the blossoming hope that erupts inside of you. But then he throws you a smile over his shoulder as he leads the way out of the annex and you throw all caution to the wind.
You don't take note of anyone else as he pulls you through the crowd once more. You're solely focused on his bright red hair, providing a beacon of colour among the dark scene, his bare arms in the tank top he's wearing, the way his back and shoulders flex as he holds onto you.
The slight contour of his muscles hypnotises you enough that you almost stumble when he leads you up the stairs.
You don't know where he's leading you, unaware with the layout of the house, in fact, you barely remember who owns it at all, but Michael seems to either be privileged enough to access a guest bedroom or not care about being caught in one. This time you're closing the door without being prompted to as he walks over to fumble with the stereo in the corner, turning on a low table lamp on the way.
You're not sure it's the right move. But your want for his man is blurring the lines.
You turn the lock.
Barely a heartbeat later, the familiar riffs of old-school Good Charlotte are sounding through the speakers. Michael turns it down, just a little, just to still be able to have a conversation. But it's loud enough to cover up any other sounds. You wonder if it's intentional.
"There you go," he grins, walking towards you with that unbearable smile around the lollipop once more. "Fixing your problems."
"Well, not quite. Not all of them."
He didn't forget. You can see it in the twinkle in his bright eyes. The mischief brewing behind them.
"Well, I didn't say I was done yet."
The music becomes mere background noise as Michael steps closer. He lets go of the lollipop, keeping it between his lips, as his hands carefully but firmly set themselves on your hips. Heat travels through your body in an instant, your cheeks blushing with nerves and in anticipation alike. You hope he doesn't see it in the low light.
While his eyes are fully on you, unmoving from your own gaze, his hands roam. They don't hesitate when they fumble with the hem of your top. They don't shake when they lift the fabric up, just enough to slip underneath. There's no insecurity as they reach further upwards, over your skin, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. You almost flinch when they touch your sides, sensitive to the point of being ticklish, but he quickly moves on, reaching around to place them on your back instead, stepping closer still, his breath hitting your face, your eyes struggling to focus, your brain short-circuiting.
It clicks, what is doing, when his fingers start fumbling with the clasp of your bra.
You let him, arching into his touch to give him more room to work with, but he's skillful, only needing another moment until you feel the clasp give way and the fabric loosen. Michael's hands are off your body and out of your clothes more quickly than you realise, but the distance doesn't hold up for long.
The lollipop clacks against his teeth as he gives you a smile, then his touch is on your arms, slowly rising up, leaving you on the edge of breathless. His fingers dive under the straps of your top, pulling on the ones of your bra, stretching them downward until you wiggle your arms out, one then the other. In an unprecedentedly quick move, he reaches underneath your top again, grasps onto the fabric between your breasts and pulls the now-freed bra away.
Your nipples are hard, without having felt his touch, and when his eyes travel to your top you know he can see it.
"There you go," Michael all but whispers, throwing the bra away and taking hold of the lollipop again, giving it one more sinful lick, before dumping it in a nearby trash can without ever straying far from your body. "Fixed all of your problems."
"I think I've got a new one now," you murmur back, distracted by him still being so close, his cologne fully engulfing you. It makes you feel bold. Fearless. A little drunk on his pure presence. You pop the lolly out of your mouth. "I've gotten a little uncomfortable."
For a split moment, worry crosses his face, then you take his hand and lead it to fall onto your thigh, pushing it higher, higher, under the seam of your skirt, higher, between your legs. To the fabric of your underwear. Soft cotton, unquestionably wet.
"Fuck, you're—"
You never quite learn what exactly you are because Michael drops onto his knees without disclosing, instead putting his mouth on the inside of your thigh, hands holding you steady, as he sucks a hickey into your skin. You give up all pretense, collapsing into the wall behind you, allowing your fingers to thread into his hair. When you pull, just an experimental tug, he moans against you so deliciously you can feel the vibration.
"Michael, please," you sigh, impatiently pulling at his strands again just to get him where you need him most. His mouth leaves you for a second and it takes all your strength not to push him back into you, but then he looks up at you with clouded eyes, pink lips falling open, and you don't think you've ever seen anything more beautiful in your life.
"Please," you breathe, again, "I need you."
His mouth turns into a smirk. His hands wander.
"How about you put that lollipop back into your mouth," he suggests and only then do you realise it's in your hand once again, giving room to words and sighs and moans. "Give your mouth something to do instead of being loud. Wouldn't want the whole party to hear you now, would you?"
"They're downstairs… and you put on music."
"Do you really think that's gonna be enough?"
A shiver runs through you. He's self-assured, effortlessly confident in his skills, and the way he's currently peeling your underwear down your legs suggests he has every right to be.
You pop it back into your mouth.
"That's it, good girl."
There's no time to react when his lips attach themselves to your skin again, higher, his hands tapping at your ankles to lift your feet just enough to remove your panties, then immediately pushing at them again to widen your stance, giving him more space.
Without warning, his tongue is on you, slipping between your folds, tasting your wetness, and you're all but biting down on your lollipop to quieten the shameless moan threatening to spill from your lips.
"That's exactly what I meant," Michael chuckles and you want to reprimand him and throw some sort of comeback at him, but he doesn't waste any more time before diving back into you and all comments die on your tongue. His arms continue holding you up and you're silently thankful because the second he laps at your clit, your knees buckle.
It's not just that he's damn good at what he does — and holy shit, he is —, but you've been waiting to have him, waiting to get a piece of him, waiting to get his hands on you ever since you first saw him. The culminated want for this man had you nearing the edge much quicker than anticipated.
His lips close around your clit, and the feeling shivers through your whole body with such force that you pull at his hair hard to enough to make him whimper. The lollipop splinters in your mouth, no match for teeth desperate to bite down. You suck on the pieces, trying to distract yourself from how fast you're falling apart.
You're just about getting a grasp on the situation again, heavy breaths wracking your chests slowing down ever so slightly, when his right hand travels upward from your thigh, softly feeling along your skin, then sinking deep into you. You gasp around the stem of the lollipop, almost choking on one of the pieces. One of your hands is scrambling for purchase along the wall before joining the other in Michael's hair.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, barely keeping the stick inside your mouth as you push against him. "So good, Michael, so good."
You can feel how easily he slides into you, again and again, pushing a second finger to fill you up and you grind down, onto his hand, onto his mouth, quickly losing control of your body as you chase your high. His left hand is still holding onto your thigh, fingers digging bruises into the skin, but he never falters. Instead, his movements pick up, pushing into you in exactly the rough manner you're craving, tongue flicking against your clit and you—
fall apart.
The leftover pieces of lollipop are too small to do their job in quieting you down as your moan threatens to slip into a scream, pushing Michael against you so hard you don't know how he's still able to breathe, much less work you through your orgasm, but he does, steadily, perfectly, until the wave has washed over you, oversensitivity replacing it, and he carefully detaches himself.
You come down slowly, breathing heavily, peace and contentment coursing through your veins. You watch, through hooded eyes, as Michael stands back up to his full height, wetness visible around his mouth, a satisfied smirk. His red hair is all over the place, but if anything, it makes him more adorable. More desirable.
You're nowhere close having enough of this man, you realise.
He grabs onto the lollipop stick you barely realised was still in your mouth, pulling it from between your lips to reveal it empty. Your eyes meet his. And the glint in them confirms he's nowhere near done with you, either.
"Look at that," you tease, your hands already grasping for the belt buckle of his jeans. "Seems like I need something new to suck on."
