Fuck You, Clifford : Michael Blurb
I’m sorry for not following them exactly but your requests did inspire this and I love you and appreciate you and hope this makes up for my lack of obeying instructions x
Word Count: 1401
You might have toned down the amount of effort you were putting in to kiss her if you knew a tall ass blonde boy was about to barge in. You didn’t care what he saw, he’s walked in on worse things before, but you were going through a bit of a dry spell and weren’t too happy to get all worked up just for the party to end before it could even get started.
“You know you have a room,” Michael points out as he kicks the front door closed behind him. “There’s a bed, it’s private… pretty ideal for those kinds of activities.”
You lean back disappointedly, the mercury in your adrenaline thermometer sinking down to a cold zero. The girl lying on the couch beneath you begins to sit up, the red in her cheeks now due more to being embarrassed than being aroused. You help her up from the couch as you remorsefully climb off, whispering an apology on your best friend’s behalf.
“Well I wasn’t told you’d be coming over,” you growl toward Michael, your eyebrow twitching. “Excuse us for wanting to frolic on the couch.”
That remark earns a snort from Michael and a shy giggle from the girl on your arm. It’s endearing to see her so bashful again after hearing all sorts of dirty things come out of her mouth a few minutes ago.
You both know that mood isn’t going to pick back up with a third person, let alone a man, in the apartment. While you’re pretty equally as attracted to boys as you are to girls, your lady friend is really only keen on the latter, which is completely fine by you. With her fingers hooked around some of yours, you walk her to the front door and declare this date “to be continued”, parting with the longest goodbye kiss you’ve ever shared with someone you’re not officially dating.
It’s not until she’s out of sight that you finally close the metal door and turn around to face Michael.
“Thanks, dick,” you mutter, walking back to the couch and plopping lazily onto the cushions.
Michael smirks, taking a seat on a nearby chair. “Hang a sock on the knob next time.”
“Why are you even here?”
“Relax. Gabriela told me to meet her here.”
“Are you guys fucking?”
“No,” Michael chuckles. He and your roommate have been hanging out a lot lately, and although they both claim it’s to “study” you have a feeling something fishy’s going on. “That’s awkward, why would I fuck your roommate?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, zoning out on a stupid decorative coaster that Gabriela left on the coffee table. “I’d fuck my roommate.”
Michael blinks. “You have a problem.”
“I have many.”
You both take a moment to appreciate the accuracy.
“So you and what’s her name,” Michael stirs the conversation again.
“Harley,” you fill in the blank.
“You serious about her?”
“I don’t know,” you repeat. You’ve gotten into an annoying habit of saying that phrase even when your mind is made up, just to sound more lackadaisical. “She’s cool.”
“She doesn’t really seem like your type.” When you cock a questioning eyebrow at Michael, he demonstrates by covering his mouth with his fingertips and copying Harley’s sheepish laugh.
You smile, thinking about the real thing. “I like that about her.”
“That she’s quiet?”
“Just because she’s quiet around you doesn’t mean she’s like that around me.”
“Yeah, but she’s no Cheyenne.”
You pick up a couch pillow and chuck it at Michael’s head. He knows that girl is like Voldemort around here: she who must not be named.
“I’m just saying,” Michael catches the pillow and keeps it in his lap. “You’re gonna get bored.”
“Cheyenne was a bitch,” you snap. “I don’t miss her.”
“I mean I think she was all wrong for you,” Michael agrees, “but you enjoyed the excitement of it.”
“Harley excites me.”
Michael stares at you blankly. “How.”
“Well we haven’t had sex yet so I’m… excited to…” You cross your arms, drawing a blank for any more examples. You blame it on being put fresh on the spot. “Fuck you, Clifford.”
“Right now?” he jokes. “Are you still all hot and bothered?”
You roll your eyes.
“I’ll help you out this time, Y/n, because I’m a good friend, but-”
“Shut up,” you laugh, taking another pillow and reaching to hit him with it.
He catches this one too, and tries to pull it out of your hand but you forget to let go of it. The momentum catches you off guard, forcing your body forward so you’re leaning on the armrest of the chair Michael’s sitting in. From here you can smell the familiar scent of the same cologne he’s routinely worn for as long as you’ve known him.
The pillow slowly slides out from under your palm, and your hand falls to Michael’s black-skinny-jean-covered thigh. You’ve obviously touched Michael before, in friendly embraces and playful wrestling matches, and it was always without thinking anything of it. But for some reason your eyes are glued to your hand resting on his thigh, on a part of his body that’s a bit more personal, somewhere your hands have never felt before.
Out of your peripherals you notice Michael’s chest heave, like he’s just taken his first breath in a while. It comes to your realization then that you’ve been holding yours as well.
Are you still all hot and bothered?
Maybe he wasn’t too far off.
“Michael,” you say.
“Yeah?” he replies calmly.
You might have shut up then and there if you were thinking straight, but nothing could have prepared you to practically be on your knees in front of this tall ass blonde boy who’s only ever been a friend.
No more words are needed right now. When you look up at Michael’s face you can tell by the droop of his eyelids that he’ll be glad to let you do anything you want.
You plant one foot on the ground, pushing yourself up and grabbing both sides of Michael’s jaw. He reactively moves with you, his hands finding your hips and yanking you eagerly onto his lap. Your lips form to his for the first time ever, plenty of give and take being exchanged between the puckering motions, and your heart flutters upon discovering that your best friend Michael is a damn good kisser.
His fingers tangle messily into the roots of your hair, and without meaning to your hips jerk forward, eliciting a deep moan from Michael. It’s not a sound you ever imagined gaining pleasure from hearing, but now all you want to do is make him let it out again.
“Michael,” you sigh, pulling away to catch a quick breath.
He hums, encouraging you to keep speaking while he busies his lips down your neck. Your next thought is briefly interrupted by the sensation.
“Do you want me?” you ask against his ear.
There’s a shift in the spark connecting the two of you. He uses the roots of your hair to tilt your head back, willing your eyes to meet his. He takes his other hand off of your waist and places it on your cheek, gently running his thumb across the soft skin.
“I have wanted you for so long.” Each word is enunciated perfectly to make the message clear. Michael has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting for you.
You kiss him again, thanking him and showing him that you’ll finally let him have you.
With your legs straddled around his thighs, he somehow manages to stand from the chair, cupping and squeezing your ass now that he’s been given permission.
“Couch?” he asks, only partly joking.
You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. “Bedroom. Don’t wanna risk anyone walking in and killing this.” Your hand slides down between his clothed crotch and yours, your palm brushing over his hardening length.
“Glad to have been a part of that lesson,” Michael teases.
You can’t remember the last time you smiled in the middle of hooking up with someone because you thought what they said was genuinely funny.
“Fuck you, Clifford.”
He confidently bites his bottom lip. “Okay.”