Request: your roommate’s best friend is obnoxious but also kinda really hot?? with Mike
Your roommate is awesome. Calum is quiet, funny, dorky, talented, and 100% will fight anyone who says anything out of place to you. You absolutely love him and wouldn’t exchange him for the world. There’s just one little problem.
The little problem being his not-so-little, incredibly loud, pseudo punk rock obnoxious best friend. Michael spends half of his time in your shared apartment, having no regards to either privacy or politeness as he plays video games until your head hurts, eats all of your food and never cleans up after him.
That’s not even with counting the amount of indiscrete, even crude questions he asks you, or the fact that he once brought a girl home. In your bedroom. But what makes it so much worse, the one thing that is absolutely unacceptable, is that he’s kinda really hot. Like, really. And it ruins your life.
Temptation is part of what makes him the devil, you remind yourself as you enter your living-room to find him sprawled on the couch once again, his tight-jeans clad legs spread and head leaned back exposing a sharp jaw and much-too-pretty collarbones. Why the fuck does he have to be such an ass?
You sigh loudly, signaling your presence and annoyance at the same time. And really, whenever Michael’s in the room, the two go hand in hand.
“Did you get thrown out of your apartment? Roommate got tired of you yet?”
He scoffs, not even looking your way.
“Not quite, princess. People don’t just get tired of me.”
“I seem to be the exception then,” you grumble. “Get off my couch, go home. Cal’s not here.”
Finally he opens his eyes, green orbs focusing on you as a sly smirk forms at his lips.
“I know he isn’t. You know what we should do?”
“What should we do, Michael?” You ask tiredly.
You might as well answer; he won’t let go unless he gets to say his punch line.
“I don’t know…how do you usually like it?”
You throw a pillow at his face and he laughs loudly.
“I can’t believe how immature you are,” you mutter.
“I can’t believe you’re such a prude,” he shoots back immediately. “Remember that time you walked in on me and that girl? You legit screamed.”
“You were in my room. In my bed. Excuse me if I was slightly surprised, not to mention absolutely horrified.”
Michael rolls his eyes, a superior smirk glued to his face.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never done it on someone else’s bed.”
He laughs once before suddenly stopping, eyes sparkling as he surveys you.
“So you have done it on someone else’s bed. Was it Calum’s?”
You scoff, unwilling to play into his games, and instead turn back to the kitchen. You place a bowl on the ground and pour some cat food in it, calling the black kitten your parents left you today. The small ball of fur meows and hurries towards the food, purring loudly as it does.
Before you know it, Michael is in the kitchen, all laziness forgotten as he stares at the kitten wide-eyed.
“Oh my god. Since when do you have a cat?”
“It’s my parents,” you answer, looking at him strangely. “They’re going away for a week so I’m keeping it for them. What, are you allergic or something?”
“No, fuck no,” he breathes. “Hey baby,” he croons, crouching next to the kitten, and scratches behind its ears.
You’ve never seen Michael act that way, ever, and you’re a bit at a loss. You’d even rather have him be an ass. At least you know how to deal with that. But a love-struck acting-like-a-sweetheart Michael? No thank you.
“Can I keep him?” Michael suddenly asks.
“Uh, no? Why the hell should you keep it?”
“Calum doesn’t like cats but I love them please I’d take so good care of him. I’d even stay away from your apartment please, please just let me keep him.”
“Once again, no? It’s my parents’ and however much your offer about not showing your face here sounds tempting, I don’t exactly trust you with another living being.”
“I’m hurt,” Michael pouts. “Isn’t she mean?” He asks the kitten, which simply purrs in bliss as it’s being petted just the right way. “Yes she is. She wants to separate us,” he gasps, “can you imagine? The cruelty.”
“I can’t believe this,” you half-scoff, half-laugh.
As if on automatism, Michael replies:
“Oh good, you’re still Michael. I thought he might have been replaced by some strangely sweet doppelganger. Wonder how I could have explained that to Calum.”
For the first time since he came into the kitchen, Michael looks away from the kitten and meets your eyes, scrunched nose and raised eyebrows showing you just how unimpressed he is by your comment.
“Wow, that’s hilarious. Ha-ha.”
“Is that what she said when she saw your dick?” I retort.
Michael blinks, destabilized for a second before regaining countenance, a smirk slowly pulling at his lips again.
“Nah, pretty sure it was in the lines of ‘please, oh fuck please’.”
And it’s the way he says it, the way his voice goes a little higher-pitched and he throws his head back, closing his eyes as if in extreme pleasure, that does it. Heat surges between your legs and you narrow your eyes at him, trying to downplay just how fucking hot that was.
“Get out of my house Clifford.”
“Not without the kitten.”
“Oh come on, like you don’t get enough pussy everyday,” you mutter angrily under your breath.
It’s silent for a few seconds and you look up to see Michael staring at you, his eyes alight with humor and a disbelieving grin at his lips.
“Did you. Did you just—“ And then he explodes in a hearty laugh because apparently stupid puns are his thing. “I can’t believe—“
“Just fuck off will you?”
“No…” he drags the word out, still laughing lowly as he stumbles towards you.
Your eyes widen and you back up until you’re leaning against the wall, Michael still walking towards you until his mouth is on yours, chuckling in between soft kisses.
You’re about 100% sure that his reaction to your not-even-a-joke isn’t normal. And why is he still kissing you?
“Clifford seriously what are you doing?” You gasp out, pushing him away.
He just shakes his head and smiles, and it’s the kind of beautiful, disarming smile that renders you an emotional mess. Unfair.
“You are the most ridiculous, spiteful, bitchy little thing I’ve ever met,” he says, swallowing your outraged gasp in another kiss. “But fuck, I want you.”
His lips move against yours expertly until you’re coerced to answer, kissing him back a little hesitantly. But then he bites your lower lip, and fuck, that does things to you, so instantly your lips part and he deepens the kiss, his tongue slowly exploring your mouth.
One of his hands rests on your hip while the other is on your jaw, guiding you to him as he continues deepening the kiss, his tongue stroking yours sensually until your hands grab hold of his hair and tug him closer almost desperately. With your bodies flush together, you can feel every part of him against you in a way that has you moaning against his mouth.
The scent of him invades you, citrus and something muskier that you can’t identify but fuck, you can’t get enough. Your breaths slowly go erratic as you capture each other’s mouths again and again, and the second you suck on his tongue, he lets out a choked moaning sound that sends a shiver down your spine.
Finally you break the kiss, reality crashing into you as you remember that this is Michael Clifford, the boy that has every girl wrapped around his fingertip and that you promised yourself you wouldn’t fall prey for. Cursing, you push him away.
“Get off me Clifford. I’m not one of your bitches.”
He ignores your words, instead pressing a kiss at your jugular before placing his mouth by your ear.
“You don’t think I see how much you want me,” he breathes, rough and deep as he presses his lower body into yours, causing a shallow moan to escape you. “You’re just strutting around here getting all frustrated and it. Drives. Me. Insane.” He punctuates every word with a movement of his hips that has you gasping.
“You. I hate you,” you say fiercely, pulling him away from you by his hair (no, the loud moan he lets out doesn’t make your knees buckle) and forcing him to look down on you. “What fucking right do you have to walk into my house, demand my cat and then assault me?”
He opens his mouth but you cut him off, tugging his hair roughly and trying hard to ignore the gasp of mixed pain and pleasure he lets out.
“No you fucking let me speak. You can’t just barge into my apartment like you own the place, sitting there and looking like fucking sin. That’s not okay; you’re not allowed to do that to me. I won’t let you play me like you play all the girls. So just. Get out!”
Michael looks at you incredulously for a few seconds before grinning slyly, putting his hands on each side of your head. He dips his head and kisses your neck once.
“Looking like fucking sin, huh?”
“Michael stop.” Your voice is hard, suffering no contradictions.
He pulls away slightly to look at you, his eyes earnest and light green and dammit, this is why you never let yourself properly look at him. He’s way too pretty for you to handle.
“You’re not like all the girls.”
You give him a disbelieving look, and he smirks.
“Do you honestly think I could treat you like shit and survive? Calum’s got a mean right hook.”
“So why don’t you just lend me the kitten, take the time alone to think about it, and get back to me later?”
“I knew this was just a ploy to get the kitten! Walk away, Clifford, walk away. I’ll never give you Pokemon.”
“Pokemon. He’s called Pokemon?”
“Don’t judge me,” you mutter, and his eyes widen.
“You called him Pokemon? I think I’m in love.”
And that’s when you get enough of him, because you push him away and slap his arm. Unfortunately he jumps away, and the momentum causes you to fall on your butt. Michael is set off, and he laughs and laughs and laughs despite your yells that it’s not that funny, hard enough that literal tears shine in his eyes.
“You’re so fucking stupid oh my god,” you scoff as you get up on your feet.
The second you’re standing; Michael grabs your arm and pulls you to him, kissing you hard. This time you don’t hesitate before kissing him back, yanking a little at his hair to make him pay and stop fucking laughing. It works, because he lets out a groan instead and pulls you closer, and god knows how far it would have come if not for the loud curse coming from the living room.
“Why the fuck is there a cat here? Who brought the devil inside my house?”
Michael and you share a look before exploding in yet another fit of giggles. Seems like you might not be an exception to the rule after all.
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