Pervybsf!Michael who’s reached his breaking point in the middle of the night.
You woke up to the softest movement beside you.
The sheets shifted with a slow rhythmic rustle. Through your eyelashes, in the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds, you saw Michael lying flat on his back beside you, his dark curls spread messily against the pillow. His sweatpants had been pushed down past his hips. One long gingered hand was wrapped snugly around his dick, moving in slow, agonizingly quiet strokes. With every slide down his shaft, his knuckles brushed against the sheets, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary twitch upward as he chased the feeling.
His jaw was set tight, his head tilted back slightly as his eyes stayed glued to the ceiling, fighting with every fiber to keep his breathing silent. He was completely lost in it, convinced you were fast asleep right beside him.
You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the flush darkening his neck, and the sheer restraint it was taking him to not make a sound in the quiet house.
“Michael…” You mumbled, your voice thick and heavy with sleep.
His hand locked in place mid stroke. His head snapped toward you so fast, his curls tumbled over his forehead, his dark eyes wide with pure, unadulterated panic. The deep flush on his neck surged all the way to the tips of his ears, and for a terrifying second, he looked like he was about to jump out of his own skin.
“A-Angel…” he rasped, his voice a panicked, breathless whisper. He didn’t even have the sense to move his hand, completely paralyzed by the shame of being caught red handed. “I-I’m sorry… I thought you were.. I swear I was trying to sleep…”
He swallowed hard, looking down at you through his lashes with a mix of utter embarrassment and helpless, perverted desperation.
“please don’t be mad,” he whimpered softly into the dark, his voice cracking into a high suppressed pitch. He quickly bit down on his lower lip to muffle the sound, his shoulders tense as he strained to listen for any movement outside his bedroom door.
When you didn’t pull away or scold him, a tiny, involuntary whimper escaped past his teeth. A soft, pathetic little noise of sheer relief and desperation that made his cheeks burn twice as hot.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” he rasped, the words tumbling out in a rushed, hushed thread of air. His hand twitched against his dick, his knuckles shuddering against the sheets as he tried, and failed, to pull back. “I-I was gonna stop, I swear, but… nnngh..”
He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head into the pillow to bury another helpless, stifled moan as his hips twitched slightly upward.
When he opened his eyes again, they were wide, glassy, and completely pleading as he looked down at you.
“you’re terrible, Michael,” you murmured, your voice low and thick with sleep.
He bit his lower lip hard, letting out a soft pathetic whimper into the quiet dark. “I know..” he breathed, his voice trembling as his eyes darted down to your waist and back up to your face. “I know, angel… but please… just… just lift your shirt for me? let me see you… so i can finish.”
Instead of making him wait, you reached down, took the hem of your shirt, and slowly pulled it past your waist, tucking the soft fabric above your chest.
Michael let out a sharp, shattered hitch of air, his head tilting back into the pillow as his whole body went rigid.
“There,” You whispered, resting your hands back by your side as you watched his eyes devour your skin revealed in the moonlight. “Better?”
“God, yes…” he whimpered into his pillow, burying his face against the fabric to smother another high, desperate noise that tore from his throat.
His hand began to move again—faster now, heavy and desperate, his knuckles dragging against the sheets as his hips gave small, involuntary twitches upward. Every time the pleasure hit too hard, he squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving in rapid, silent gasps to keep from waking the rest of the house.
“You’re so… mmph… so pretty…” he rasped, forcing his eyes open because he couldn’t bear to look away from you.
His free hand reached out across the mattress with agonizing slowness, his long, warm fingertips hovering just a millimeter above your exposed waist, trembling.
“Please don’t look away,” he whined softly, a shuddering breath rolling through his chest as his pace picked up. “Please… Just keep watching me, angel…”
“I won’t, Mikey,” you murmured softly, holding his gaze in the dim light. “I’m watching.”
That was all it took to completely break his remaining composure.
Michael let out a broken, smothered whimper, burying his face sideways into the pillow to muffle the sound as his pace turned wild, shallow, and desperate. His knuckles were practically white where his hand was wrapped around himself, his hips riding up off the mattress in short, helpless twitches.
“mama…” he gasped, his voice a strained, breathless threat. “I’m—i’m so close… oh god...”
The sight of you lying there with your shirt pulled up, quietly watching his every move, was completely overwhelming his system. The perverted streak in his pushed past his timid exterior, and his free hand couldn’t stay disciplined anymore. His long fingers glided up from your waist, wandering higher than he had any right to, until his warm palm cupped the soft underside of your exposed boob.
A shudder ran through him as he squeezed gently, his thumb flicking across your nipple.
Before he could overthink it, he rolled onto his side, leaning over you, while keeping his other hand stroking at a frantic, desperate rhythm. He dipped his head down, parting his hot lips to take your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive tip in eager, wet circles.
A small, helpless whimper escaped your lips at the sudden wave of stimulation.
“Just like that, Mikey,” you whispered against his hair, feeling his body tremble over yours. “Cum for me…”
Hearing that noise break from you, paired with your low permission, sent him completely over the edge.
He clamped his teeth gently near the base, letting out a high, muffled moan against your skin as he come right there against his stomach and fingers. His hips bucked in helpless, involuntary thrusts into the mattress as the intense wave hit him, his mouth staying glued to your nipple to suck and taste you through every single pulse of his release.
As the tension slowly spilled out of him, his hand went lax around your boob, his mouth slipped away with a soft, wet pop. His chest heaved in fast, silent gulps of air as he collapsed fully beside you.
Slowly, agonizingly, he opened his eyes and looked up through his dark, messy curls. His face was burning hot, completely drenched in a fresh wave of shy, flustered embarrassment now that the high crashed down.
“M’sorry..” he rasped, his voice trembling as he tucked his face bashfully into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning against your collarbone. “I shouldn’t have… i’m so, so sorry, angel… thank you…”
