💛

Michael was so gorgeous asleep.

Eyelashes long and dark against his cheeks, broad shoulders lax, chest rising and falling with each breath.

I felt the urge to learn over and wrap my entire body around his, but I didn't want to disturb him. This was so much different than the first time I'd woken up beside him. I'd finally found peace. I was in the right place. I could stay here forever.

I was so obsessed with him, it was terrifying.

The room was light now, the sun almost fully in the sky. It was Saturday, which meant we could sleep in. But I didn't want to sleep. I wanted... well...

I could only recall the resolution of last night in vague patches, mostly just how good it felt. I wanted that again.

I shot a quick glance in his direction before sliding one trembling hand beneath the covers. There was this voice in my head going, don't do it, don't do it, but I pushed it away and explored my bare skin.

I was hard from hours of dreams I couldn't fully piece together, dreams of him. I whimpered as I stroked myself. I was sore from all his teasing, but the ache was nothing compared to the lust burning inside me.

"Mmh-" My bare toes bunched in the sheet. I rubbed just the tip of my dick between two fingers, and the sensation was enough to make my legs tremble. "Wake up-"

Michael stirred slightly.

I nuzzled into his shoulder, fighting off the sheet tangled around my lower legs to be closer to him. "Michael, wake up," I whispered.

His arms settled around me, and then a soft kiss pressed to my forehead. "Hey."

His raspy morning voice only turned me on more. I pinched my eyes shut as a gravelly moan ripped through my throat. "Help-"

"Ah," he chuckled. "Starting the day off busy, are we?"

His fingers crept along mine, moving my hand beneath the sheet. His hand was larger than mine, warmer, his movements strong and direct compared to my pathetic rubbing.

I wanted to kiss him, to the point that my stomach hurt and I wanted to bury my head in my pillow and scream.

I wanted to tell him how in love with him I was and how all I wanted was to spend every moment with him.

His amused laugh turned to a throaty groan as my fingers crept down his front. We flipped over so I was straddling him, my thighs pale white against his tanned abs. I looked down at them, at the little constellation of hickeys he'd left there, and felt my heart flip.

"Wanna fuck me?" I whispered.

He stared at me with dazed eyes, his mouth slightly ajar, and nodded dumbly.

I caressed his jaw with one hand, letting my thumb linger on his lower lip. "I don't know if I should let you."

He took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. "You already blue-balled me last night, you little prick."

"Did I?" I giggled and bit down on my lip. Beneath the confident show I was trying to put on, I was nervous. No, nervous was an understatement. I was scared to put that thing in my mouth. Especially when cocksucker was the biggest insult I'd heard growing up.

I tried to tell myself it didn't matter what anyone thought, that I was out of high school, over a hundred miles away from my father, and he couldn't control me anymore.

But it was so hard to replace the thoughts of you're actually a freak after all with you're just having fun with this guy you like.

Almost too hard.

Michael's hands rounded my hips, calling my attention back down to him. "You okay, baby?" His voice was soft, soothing.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I mumbled.

"You look upset."

"I'm not," I assured him quickly. I slid off his lap and got to my feet. "I'm just- I'm gonna wash up really quick. My mouth tastes gross."

He sat up after me, the look in his eyes tempting. "We could take another shower together."

"No-" I said almost too fast. "It's okay, just stay there. I'll be right back."

I padded to the bathroom and slid off my socks, the only article of clothing on my body. I gave my teeth a good scrub as I waited for the shower to warm up. I'd always hated my teeth. They were crooked on the bottom and slightly yellow from the cigarettes I'd smoked, though I brushed regularly.

Maybe that was my sign to stop smoking.

I washed hurriedly but made sure to add a whole palmful of shampoo to my hair, keeping in mind Michael's liking of its scent. The anticipation of what was waiting for me outside had managed to keep my boner alive, and rubbing my hands all over myself to clean certainly helped.

Fingers slick with soap, I reached behind me and made sure to thoroughly wash the back side of me too, just in case he felt like putting his mouth in any weird places.

My hand was buried between my ass cheeks when Michael walked through the door.

I slapped both arms to my side, flushing bright red.

"I told you to wait," I mumbled.

"Easy, tiger." He smirked and turned to face the sink. "I thought you'd appreciate it if I brushed my teeth too."

Sulkily, I turned the water off and crept up beside him. I busied myself with giving his chest little kisses while he brushed his teeth. It wasn't an awkward silence - more peaceful than anything, like we were comfortable enough together to go without words.

How do you tell your roommate that you've fallen in love with him?

How do you tell someone who you once hated that he was now all you could think about?

How do you tell him that you were wrong, so wrong, that it wasn't gross to love him, that you wanted to try but it all might be too late?

He shut the tap off and turned to face me, burying his nose in my wet hair. I wanted to hug him more than I wanted sex, I wanted his arms around me more than I wanted him to touch me.

"Still okay?" he murmured.

I thumbed the smear of toothpaste off the corner of his lips and smiled. "I think so."

"Come with me." His fingers slipped through mine and we made our way, giggling and bumping into each other, back to his bed.

Closer, closer, closer. I wanted him closer. Needed him.

I knotted my fingers through his unbrushed curls and connected our lips, both of our breathing out of control. It took a moment of twisting and squirming to get into the exact position I wanted - chest to chest, legs hooked together, both of us pressing into his hand.

Cock to cock.

His fingers slipped between my cheeks and traced my entrance slowly as he stroked me. It never ceased to surprise me how this man, with his gruff voice and calloused palms, could be so gentle.

"Baby," he whispered. "I want-" He broke off to kiss my neck again. "I wanna show you something and you'll-" Kiss- "probably get mad at me but-" Another kiss- "can I?"

I narrowed my eyes. He was staring at me like a puppy excited to go outside.

"Um," I said. "Okay."

He sat up and kissed my closed mouth before walking over to his dresser. I began to panic at the idea of what strange object he would pull out of there. He rifled around for a minute, then threw a small bottle onto the sheets. "I got this back on the day we all went to dinner."

I picked it up and immediately scowled at the pink girly writing. "Passion Licks cherry water base- the fuck is this gay shit?"

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Macho," he muttered over the slam of his dresser drawer. "Next time I'll look for one called Man Sweat and Tears."

"Sounds hot."

He crashed onto the mattress and wrapped an arm around me. "Shut up, you." He kissed my temple. For a second, I thought, You could tell him right now. You could say, I love you.

I couldn't.

Michael took two pillows from our stash and piled them on top of each other in the middle of the bed. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"C'mere." He patted the top pillow. "I want you to lie on these."

Confused, I let him position my body so I was on my tummy with my hips draped over the pillows. I reached above my head and took a third pillow to hug tightly. "Are you, um... are you gonna do it now?" I mumbled, burying half my face in it.

He moved behind me and bent down to kiss my neck, then my shoulder. "No. I'm going to make you feel good first." His voice was low and deliberate, and I shivered excitedly as his palms slowly caressed my back.

His kisses trailed lower and lower, down the slope of my spine. I nuzzled my pillow sleepily. "We still going shopping?" I asked, trying to distract my thoughts from the undignified position I was in.

"Sure." His fingers slid up the backs of my thighs and spread them wider. "If you can walk."

Oh.

Michael took his time. This felt so different than the time at Meg's house, where so many different things were happening I could barely focus. He kissed the small of my back, then my ass, squeezing and kneading my skin like soft dough.

I let out an embarrassing whimper and bit down on my pillow as he licked me. My hand shot down, unable to resist, to pleasure myself as his tongue swirled and flicked against my hole. After a few minutes of this, I felt my muscles relax, my body begin to open for him, and then, the tip of his tongue slipped inside.

My eyes went wide. He was fucking me. With his tongue.

He held me by the waist and lifted me, just enough to drag my hips up to his face and lap his tongue over the place he would soon be invading. I moaned again, defeated, my shaking fingers clenching at the pillow as a shot of pleasure coursed through my length and I came into my hand.

All my life, my biggest insecurity had been that I was smaller and weaker than other men. That I was a wimp. Useless in a fight. Not masculine enough. But somehow, being held up like that, my face down and my ass in the air, being helplessly devoured, was the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced.

I was dizzy with pleasure by the time he poured an excess of lube onto his fingers and gently rubbed them over my entrance. "Feel good?" he asked. His voice sounded worlds away.

A line of drool spilled past my swollen lips as I opened them to reply. I felt a soft, warm buzz all throughout me, like I was drunk again. "Y-Yes," I mumbled out.

He prepared me gently, tenderly, checking in with me every few minutes when I went silent. When I was ready he turned me onto my back and kissed every inch of my face as he lined us up.

I had to wonder if he only treated me this way because I was inexperienced, not special. Had he held the hands of his other lovers, had he looked into their eyes between hushed whispers as he entered them? I might never know.

But I loved this. This moment where we couldn't possibly get any closer, where every piece of us became so perfectly connected. I buried my lips in the crook of his neck to stifle my broken panting as he moved inside me.

"Mm, fuck," Michael groaned. He started thrusting slower, deeper, making my thighs grip his hips and my teeth sink into his shoulder.

I was pinned beneath him, but I didn't feel trapped. I felt safe, as if his body was shielding me from the world.

He pressed down on me and shook slightly in my arms, his kisses wet and sloppy, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the high. A slurred blend of words tumbled from his lips, "You're so perfect" and "You're so beautiful" and then "Oh, s-shit" as he came hard.

We laid together for a long time, still in the same position, the heat of our bodies slowly cooling. I traced my fingertips along every freckle on his back, every line of his strong muscles. Then I ran my hands, light as a feather, down the white-blonde hair on his forearm until I reached his own, and slipped our fingers together.

Michael's head bobbed up. "Hey," he said. "Round two?"

I burst into a fit of giggles and turned my face to the side. "Can't. I'm recharging."

With a deep groan, he lifted himself off me and stretched, making his muscles flex. "Recharging?"

"I need a nap." I drew my legs up and curled into a ball on my side.

He gave the top of my head a kiss, mussed up my hair, and made his way leisurely to the kitchen. "I'll make coffee." He paused and turned back. "Or water, if you're feeling particularly disagreeable today."

I smiled. "Coffee's fine."

My hips were a little sore from holding my legs up in the air for so long, but other than that, I wasn't in a lot of pain. Maybe that cherry-water-whatever shit worked after all.

In the kitchen, I could hear the coffee maker running and the cabinet door opening and closing. Michael peeked through the doorway, silent, a soft smile on his face.

"What?" I murmured when he did nothing but look at me.

"I just missed you. I missed seeing you."

I held out my arms for him and giggled as he sank down on the mattress and wrapped me in a hug. I was done pretending he didn't make me happy. I was done pretending I didn't want his warmth, his affection. I was done pretending a lot of things.

"I should change the sheets," he said.

I let my eyes droop shut and pulled him closer. "Later."

I remembered standing in the kitchen with him and his big bouquet of flowers for Kitty, disgusted by him, disgusted by the way I'd looked at him, and saying people don't change.

And what had he said? They can if they want to.

I wanted to.

Two of his blonde curls had stuck up and were leaning against each other, curving inward to form a lopsided heart. I smiled and kissed his cheek, feeling my heart flutter at how adorable it was.

"Wait, stay still," I whispered, getting up on my knees. "I gotta show you this."

He waited, his head tilted in my direction, as I reached for my phone. A few taps on the black screen reminded me that it was still as dead as I'd left it the night before, so I picked up his instead.

A text from 💜💜 showed in his notifications.

I rolled my eyes and tossed his phone to the side. "Never mind."

Michael laughed. "What?"

"Your hair-" I gestured vaguely to his curls. "It looks like a heart, I was going to take a picture."

"Oh." He reached up, feeling along his scalp, then grinned again. "Where?"

"You fucked it up, you moron."

Michael lowered his hand, frowning slightly now. "Sorry. Could you fix it for me?"

"Why, so you can break it in half again?"

His eyes narrowed, and suddenly I had the urge to wrap my arms around my body, to cover myself so he couldn't look at me too closely. "What's wrong?"

I scooted past him and got to my feet, immediately heading for the dresser so I could put some clothes on. "Sometimes, I just..." I shook my head. "I kid myself for a minute-"

He sighed and flopped down on his side, one arm curled around his head. "Are you doing that thing where you decide you're not gay?"

A sharp laugh burst from my lips. I pulled up my trunks and slid a clean t-shirt over my head. "No, I'm doing that thing where I remember you have a perfect girlfriend who's in love with you."

He sucked in a breath between his teeth, then stared down at the floor, his expression unreadable. I heard a quiet "Shit" as I searched for a sweatshirt in my laundry pile.

How could I be this stupid? How could I possibly, time after time, keep letting him win?

"I can't-" Michael started slowly. His voice was vulnerable, unsure. "I can't break her heart. I've hurt too many people. I can't do that again. Not to her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

I took a deep breath to calm myself before replying. "Maybe you can get her to dump you," I suggested. "Say art is stupid or something."

"She's not going to dump me over that." When I turned to look at him, he was sitting up with his head hung low. "I think she's more in love with the idea of me than anything. Or the idea of having a boyfriend. She's never been kissed before. She thought sleeping next to someone was weird."

"Then find her a better guy, I don't know." I slammed the drawer shut and stepped into my jeans.

"I don't know any good guys. My friends are drug dealers."

I walked back to the bed to get my phone, avoiding his eyes. He reached up and hugged my waist before I could get away, his arms wrapping around me and his forehead pressing defeatedly to my stomach.

"What do I do?" he mumbled into my shirt.

Silently, my fingers threaded through his hair. "The way I see it, you can either break her heart now and get it over with, or break her heart a million times before it finally ends."

I wasn't naming the third option, obviously, which was for him to stay with her and be a good boyfriend. If he was even capable of that.

"Is this something you see lasting long-term?" I asked.

He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. "I don't know. Every time I'm with her, I'm putting on a show. I can't relax. I can't be myself. She probably thinks I'm a praying Christian, not some bisexual stoner. But I can't get this picture out of my head - me and her, at my parents' place, all around the table... my dad would be so proud."

I was fully dressed while he sat there naked, but somehow it felt the other way around. Me, raw, breaking. Him, oblivious to his own cruelty.

"From the second we met, you've seen me at my worst. I've never lied, I've never tried to be something I'm not. You know exactly how much of a shitty person I can be." He shook his head briefly, a curious clarity in his eyes. "Honestly, Benny, you probably know me better than anyone."

"I love you," I burst out.

Immediate regret washed over me as his expression changed. I covered my face with both hands and pushed past the blaring alarms going off in my head.

"I love you, I can't pretend I don't anymore. I've tried so hard to push you away, to push away everything that I am, that we are, but I can't live like that. I can't be happy with anyone else and I can't spend a lifetime wondering what it would have been like if I'd had you. If I'd tried."

My head spun, my jaw trembled. But to my surprise, no tears came. I looked him in the eye.

"If you give me a chance, I'll show you that I love you."

"Come here." His arms were around me before I knew what was happening, and suddenly I was safe again, warm again, home again.

I closed my eyes, my face buried in his chest. I wanted my clothes off, not so we could have sex but just so we'd be closer. We could never be close enough. "I can't believe I said that," I murmured when I could breathe again.

He gave a wry chuckle. "Actually, you kind of already did."

Slowly, I raised my head. "What?"

"Say I love you. You were drunk and half-asleep but you said it." He kissed the top of my head and encased me in his arms. "I love you too."

I love you too. I love you too. I love you too.

"I want someone I can be honest with," he whispered. "Someone I can tell anything. I don't care if you'll never date me or you never want to come out. That's okay. I just need you to know."

"I do," I said, before I could stop myself. "I do want..." My voice trembled. Could I really do it? Openly have a boyfriend? Would he wait for me if I was too scared? "I want to be yours."

He kept quiet for a moment, considering, then let a small smile grow on his lips. "Does this finally make us more than friends?"