#hotdadsinc

“Can you believe we both broke up with someone on the same day?” you asked your best friend, laughing.

“Did you do that on purpose?” he asked back, walking into the apartment you two shared and closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t, actually, I swear to god,” you said, still kind of amazed.

“You totally did,” Michael scoffed, leaning back onto the couch.

“I fucking didn’t, Clifford, stop lying to yourself,” you said, sitting next to him and pushing his head away from yours.

It all felt so surreal to you. First off, calling Michael and letting him know that you had broken up with your boyfriend of a few weeks and hearing him laugh on the end, saying he literally just broke up with his girlfriend of about three months not even ten minutes before, was a little surprising. It didn’t even feel like it had actually happened.

But it did, and you both met up at your favorite coffee joint and laughed for a solid ten minutes while drinking your nonfat lattes.

To be honest, you never liked the people Michael dated. Granted, they were few and far between but you still never really liked them anyway. They were too… they just didn’t understand him well enough.

You were always the first person Michael told about his dates. He would come back and be absolutely fucking thrilled, and you would always have a hunch about what it was and you were always right. God, it was amazing how Michael could go on and on about a single person, almost for hours.

And honestly, you were always a bit bitter, to say the least, when he told you about them.

Michael was no better. You had definitely dated more people over the past few years than he had, so he definitely knew what it felt like. But he was the same as you; whenever you talked about who you were dating, he seemed like he was happy for you.

If he was acting, then it was definitely very impressive acting.

But you could always tell that he was a little unhappy about who you were dating, it was all part of his nature.

You admit it was a little ridiculous that the two of you had been unhappy with each other’s partners for months, but neither of you ever said anything about it, so it wasn’t actually the biggest concern (or, that’s what you liked to tell yourself).

And now here the both of you are, both having very conveniently broken up with the people you were dating on the same day, in the apartment the two of you shared, together.

“Why’d you even break up with him, anyway?” Michael asked, breaking the silence. You turned to him and he was twiddling his thumbs in his lap, not even looking at you.

You shrugged, starting to think about your legitimate motive of why you did break up with him. It seemed quite strange to you now, because he really hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t bailed on you one too many times, or forgotten your anniversary or a date, he’d never stood you up. The more you thought about it, the more odd your reasoning had seemed for breaking up with him.

Think, Y/N, think, you told yourself. You obviously had a reason because you wouldn’t have told him why you were breaking up with him the first place. Maybe it was just some bullshit excuse that you were sick of him. At this point, you had no idea.

“Um, I - I don’t know, it just wasn’t working out, I guess,” you lied.

“Really? Why not?”

“He’s just, he’s not really my type. He doesn’t understand me. He was a good boyfriend, but that just means he’s like, boyfriend material. He didn’t have that special connection, you know?” you told Michael.

“Yeah, I know,” Michael muttered. “It seems like this was your reason for breaking up with a lot of your boyfriends,” he pointed out.

You squinted your eyes and thought back to all of the people you had dated, and Michael was right. None of them really stuck. You never dated them for longer than three months, if even, and it was always you breaking up with them, not the other way around. How’d he know?

“How did you um, why did you break up with her?” you asked, changing the topic so you could have time to contemplate every single person you’ve ever dated in the history of your love life.

“She blew me off on our date last night,” Michael frowned.

You remember that. Michael was so excited last night for his bowling alley date with his girlfriend, one that he had been planning for weeks. He asked you for your opinion on his outfit (“If you were going to meet some guy for some shit bowling alley date, would you be okay with him wearing this?”) and if he should bring roses or some other type of flowers, or if he should just bring money to buy the shit pizza they serve there. You had to be honest, if this was what Michael was like with all of his girlfriends, then you would definitely find him boyfriend material.

And you had been laying in your bed on your laptop when you heard the door slam and you jumped. Michael stomped into the bedroom the two of you shared, pulled off his jeans and jumped straight into his bed.

You didn’t even bother to ask him what had happened.

(You’d never blow him off. If you were dating Michael, you’d be there eight minutes early. Actually, if you were dating Michael you’d probably go to the bowling alley together, considering you live with each other).

You were about to say something when Michael continued.

“And I don’t know, I thought I loved her but I actually don’t, and she’s a good person but she’s not my type and she doesn’t understand things like you and she’s too pushy and too relaxed at the same time and I always have to text her like fifteen times before I get a clear answer and she’s just, she’s not you,” Michael sighed.

You rested your head on his shoulder. “He wasn’t you either.”

Michael abruptly moved as soon as the words left your mouth, your head leaving the comfort of his shoulder as he turned to stand up and face you, almost in shock.

“Are you okay, Michael?” you asked.

Michael didn’t respond. Instead, he rushed towards you and pulled your cheeks into his hands and pressed his lips against yours. The action surprised you at first, but you adjusted quickly to the touch of his chapped lips against yours. Your eyes closed at the feeling, but soon they opened as Michael pulled back.

“Sorry, fuck, didn’t mean to do that so spontaneously,” Michael said.

“Wow, that’s a big word, Clifford. Sure you don’t need a dictionary?” you teased, laughing at him as he tried to resist the smile growing on his face.

Michael smirked, walking up to you again so your faces were inches apart and you could feel his hot breath on your tongue. “Spell this, princess: kiss me.”

Needless to say, you didn’t need to.

You pulled him close and connected your lips, this kiss filled with fire and passion and all things romance. You felt the tip of his tongue against his and moaned into his mouth. In return, his lips left yours and quickly attached to your jawline, sucking and biting as he made his way down your neck and to your collarbones.

“Mike,” you gasped, closing your eyes as his teeth nipped at your jugular. Subconsciously, your hands came to twine in his hair, tugging on the blonde locks as your chest heaved. Michael paid you no attention; if he’d heard your voice, he made no gesture.

Reluctantly, you tugged a bit harder on his hair, and he groaned, pulling away from your neck and looking at you, his green eyes hooded and clouded with lust. You swallowed heavily, looking at him, “This won’t make things weird, right?”

He looked at you with a cocked eyebrow, the corners of his lips tugging up into a tiny, teasing smirk, “Y/N…I don’t know about you, but I’m completely okay with this,” he pressed a soft, quick peck to your lips, “Are you?”

You gazed at him, thousands of thoughts battling in your head. Eventually, the pros seemed to outweigh the cons, and you threw your arms around his neck and launched yourself at him, pushing him back onto the couch and climbing on top of him. His eyes were wide with shock and you merely giggled as you straddled his stomach, your hands clasping onto his shoulders tightly.

“You’re such a dork,” you grinned, “Getting all cheesy on me like that.”

Michael smiled back at you, wiggling his eyebrows and causing you to stick your tongue out at him before dipping your head and attaching your lips to his throat. His hands tangled in your hair as you moved yourself down, pressing kisses to his collarbones and fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. His hands moved from your hair down your body, sweeping over your shoulders and your sides, eventually landing on your waist.

Your ass was now situated on his crotch, and you could feel his jeans tightening with every second that passed. You chuckled as you lifted your face from the crook of his neck, “Having a problem down there?”

He shot you a mocking glare, “You act as though you’re not going to fix that, princess.”

“What if I don’t?” you quipped, trying to bite back a smile. In response, Michael merely let out an animalistic growl, his hands tightening on your hips and flipping you both over before you could even inhale. He attacked your lips, nipping at your plump bottom lip and causing you to gasp at his sudden change in demeanour.

“Mike,” you almost moaned out his name, “Should we…should we take this to the bedroom?”

Your words came out as breathy pants, lips brushing against Michael’s unnaturally red ones with each movement. Michael paused for a moment, and you almost feared that he’d snapped out of it, that he’d realised that you were best friends and that this wasn’t right. He was kissing you, fiddling with your garments and only seconds away from ripping them off your body. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

“Yeah,” your best friend nodded, “Let’s go.”

And suddenly your doubts vanished.

He climbed off of you and helped you up, attaching your lips together as soon as your feet were planted firmly on the ground. Still kissing ruthlessly, you both tried to maneuver your way through the apartment and down the hall, giggling childishly when Michael knocked his elbow against the wooden doorframe of your bedroom.

“Dork,” you managed to get out before his lips were on yours again, not giving you any time to breathe. Your heart fluttered at the realization that he wanted to be with you just as much as you him, if not more. His hands seemed to be constantly touching you, subtle brushes against your cheek, braiding through your hair, gripping your hips tightly.

You smiled against his lips as you both fell onto the bed and immediately you scrambled up to where the plush pillows lay, both of you grinning uncontrollably. Michael grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled back to look at you questioningly. He froze, seeming unsure of what to do next, though you knew that he was definitely experienced in this field.

You pushed him off of you and sat up, crossing your arms over your torso and ridding the shirt from your body yourself. Michael’s eyes widened at the sight of your chest, covered only by a plain black bra; you mentally scolded yourself for not wearing something sexier.

“Sorry,” you muttered, “I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen.”

There was no response, and you felt your face heat up from embarrassment. You looked up at Michael, and he rolled his eyes, “Y/N, shut up. I want to fuck you so hard right now.”

A loud laugh fell from your lips as you registered his words. Michael’s fingers thumbed your cheeks, stroking them idly. You looked up at him and bit your lip, waiting for him to make the first move. As if he’d read your mind, he leaned in to press a soft, reassuring kiss to your lips, his hands slipping behind your back simultaneously and running up your spine, eventually landing on the material of your bra. He felt around, looking for the clasp, and you grinned mischievously against his lips. After a few moments of struggling, he pulled back, his brow creased in confusion, “What the fuck?”

“It clasps at the front, dweeb,” you giggled, reaching for the small piece of metal resting between the black cups. Michael watched you in amazement as you undid it effortlessly and let the undergarment loosen around you. You pulled your hands away and shrugged off the straps; your friend was quick to snatch up the fabric.

“I hate this thing,” he cursed, “I don’t care how goddamn sexy you look in it; you’re never wearing it again.”

You let out a small chuckle at his words and looped your arms around his neck, prompting him to kiss you again. He placed his hand on the bed behind you and slowly eased you down onto the mattress, his clothed chest pressed against your breasts.

“God, you’re magnificent,” he whispered against your lips. He pulled back, staring at your chest in awe, and you just shook your head, smirking, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, Clifford.”

“But it’s the first time I get to touch them,” he retaliated breathlessly. As if to prove his point, he brought his left hand up and brushed it against the mounds of your breasts. You shivered at the contact of his cold skin, feeling your nipples harden and goosebumps rise in rows on your skin.

“So responsive,” Michael murmured, dipping his head. Before you could ask what he was doing, he enveloped your left nipple in his mouth.

Your jaw dropped and you let out a pathetic squeak, your hands flying to his hair and pulling as he swirled his tongue around the pink bud. His chilled hands ran along your shoulders, your arms, dipping to travel along your stomach and the excess fat above the waistband of your pants. You cringed at the fact that he was feeling every single one of your insecurities, but his touch was gentle and soothing, as though he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You were yanked from your thoughts when Michael’s teeth grazed your nipple, causing you to gasp and your back to arch almost painfully. His hand was suddenly there, squeezing your right breast and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking it and making warmth pool at the apex of your thighs.

“Mike,” you breathed, and he pulled back, looking at you inquisitively. Unable to contain yourself, and filled with so much love for the boy above you, you threw your arms around his neck, bringing his lips to yours in a passionate embrace.

“Let me make you feel good,” Michael murmured against your mouth. The corners of your lips kinked up into a small smile, and you shook your head lightly. Your best friend pulled back, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout, and you just rolled your eyes at his sour attitude.

“Shut up,” you scoffed playfully, and in one swift move, you’d successfully managed to reverse your positions. Michael stared surprisedly as you steadied yourself on top of him, and you giggled in response.

He groaned, “You really need to stop doing that.”

You simply shrugged, your knees planted on the duvet beside his waist. You pecked his lips before moving, beginning your journey south. First it was his neck, biting and sucking at the tender flesh and eliciting high-pitched whimpers from his mouth, sounds that–under normal circumstances–you would’ve teased him for emitting. But right now, those sounds were music to your ears, things that turned you on and made you crave him so much you physically ached.

Your fingers slithered down his sides, finding the hem of his top and tugging it upwards. Michael understood, and he aided you in the removal of his shirt, slumping back down onto the bed as soon as you’d tossed it away. You took a moment to admire his body, his pale skin, pink nipples, the little bit of tummy protruding from the waistband of his jeans. You licked your lips when your gaze landed on the sparse trail of hair travelling south and disappearing beneath his pants.

And then you got back to work.

Sucking, nipping, running your tongue along every part of him that you could reach. His fingers were twined harshly with the bedsheets, unable to hold your hair or your hips. You reached down between your bodies, palming at the bulge that was straining against the material of his jeans, and he let out a strangled groan.

“Y/N, come on,” a subtle plea coated his smooth voice. You grinned against his abdomen, pausing your seemingly endless voyage of kisses. Rolling your eyes mockingly, you let out a dramatic sigh, “If you insist.”

Your fingers were then fumbling with his belt, undoing it and pulling the leather from the loops of his jeans. Michael decided you were acting far too slowly, and his hands shot down to join yours, slapping your fingers out of the way and undoing the button on his pants, unzipping them and beginning to push them down his legs. He lifted his hips and you hooked your fingers into his pockets, aiding him in removing the denim from his legs.

He kicked his jeans off haphazardly and you let out a quiet giggle before training your gaze on the impressive bulge tenting his black briefs. Your mouth practically watered at the sight, and without a word you climbed back on top of your best friend, pressing sloppy kisses all over his face. He grabbed your chin in his left hand and steadied you, halting you from continuing to shower him with pecks. Before you could pout, his lips were on yours, sucking a gasp right from your mouth.

“Wanna fuck you,” Michael muttered, and you felt your lips spread into a smile. Michael’s hands moved from your face to your shoulders, sweeping down your sides and eventually ceasing their journey once his pale fingers snuck into the waistband of your pants. Reluctantly, you pulled away from his kisses, rolling off of him and standing up, already attempting to remove the article of clothing.

And then, standing almost completely naked in front of your best friend, the gravity of what you were about to do suddenly hit you square in the face, knocking the breath from your lungs. You were suddenly self-conscious, crossing your arms over your bare chest and furrowing your brow as you stared at Michael who was waiting expectantly, sprawled out on your mattress.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing your change in demeanour. You chewed on your bottom lip, “What’s happening after this?”

“What?” he asked, sitting up. You stiffened as he moved to the edge of the bed, his feet landing on the floor quietly. He sat there, looking up at you with his inquisitive green eyes, and you found yourself subconsciously moving towards him.

“I mean,” you were suddenly exasperated, angry at yourself for ruining the moment, “What are we after this, Mike? I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Well, it’s not like we’d be cheating on anyone,” a small smirk played on your friend’s lips, and even you couldn’t fight a tiny smile. Michael reached out, pulling you closer to him so that you were standing in between his spread legs. You shot a small glance down at his crotch, noticing that he was still quite hard beneath the fabric of his briefs.

“And…” Michael paused for a moment, “I don’t know. I mean, I wouldn’t mind dating you.”

“Thanks,” you giggled, “I guess I’ll settle for you as well.”

Michael smiled softly, his eyes looking up at you with so much adoration that you were offended at how you’d never noticed it before. His irises sparkled with a swirl of emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you knew that he was only thinking positive thoughts based on the gentle and graceful curve of his lips. His hands rested tantalizingly on your hips, drawing small doodles into your skin, and with a defeated sigh you dropped your arms from your chest.

“Promise it won’t get weird?” you looked at him for reassurance.

Michael just let out a long breath, leaning forward and smushing his face into the valley of your breasts. You let out a loud laugh at his childish actions, shaking against him, and he murmured the words against your skin. “I promise.”

Your giggles soon gave way to gasps as he began to press kisses along your skin, slow, sensual things that sent shivers down your spine. You looked down at him, only to find his gaze trained on you as he puckered his lips, kiss after kiss being delivered to your chest. Michael began moving down his mouth moulding along your skin and robbing you of your breath. He cocked an eyebrow teasingly, and you suddenly decided you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made you weak.

“You on the pill?” he questioned, and somehow he managed to make even that sound like the sexiest thing in the world. You nodded, unable to speak before clearing your throat.

“Get down,” you ordered, your hands landing on his shoulders and pushing him backwards. His back met the soft duvet of the bed and he placed his arms behind his head as he watched you with an amused expression on his face.

“Getting frisky, princess?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to avoid smiling yet failing miserably. You pulled your underwear down your legs before mounting onto the bed and straddling Michael’s crotch. Placing your hands on his chest to gain balance, you began circling your hips down onto his slowly, feeling his cock jerk within the confines of his boxers.

“Shit,” Michael breathed, his eyebrows creasing as he regarded you, “Y/N, just sit on my dick. Please.”

“Only because you said ‘please’,” you chuckled. You grabbed the elastic of his briefs before hastily tugging them down, Michael’s hips jutting off of the bed to make the action easier. Once his underwear had been thrown away messily, your eyes fell to his cock, jaw slackening at the sight.

It was resting against his stomach, the tip coloured an angry red, matching the blossoming shade of his pretty, swollen lips. Veins mapped the tightly stretched skin, and pearls of precome were oozing from his slit, trailing down and nearly dripping onto his stomach. You reached forward hesitantly before prodding yourself and finally wrapping your hand around the base of his shaft.

Michael hissed.

“Shit,” he repeated, though this time the word was disguised as a high-pitched whine. You smiled, his reaction fuelling your confidence and encouraging you to tighten your grasp on him, giving his cock a few steady pumps. Michael’s hands tangled in the duvet below him, his eyes squeezing shut at the heavenly feeling your hand was providing.

“Baby,” he gasp, and your heart somersaulted as the pet name slipped absentmindedly from his gorgeous lips, “Baby, please.”

“Want me to ride you?” you muttered thickly, your throat tightening at the sight of your best friend looking so completely wrecked below you. Michael couldn’t say anything–he only nodded, inhaling sharply through his nose as he did.

You brought the tip of his cock to line up with your entrance, rubbing it teasingly along your folds and watching his reaction. “Shit Y/N,” he whispered, “You’re so wet.”

“All for you,” you breathed, a low whine slipping from your throat when Michael’s hand shot out to feel your juices on his hand. He danced his fingers along your lower lips, never failing to give your clit a faint pinch and causing you to nearly collapse on top of him. 

Michael brought his fingers up to his mouth, sliding them past his lips and whimpering softly at your sweet taste. Your lips parted as you watched him, feeling the need between your legs grow. And you were so close to having that need satisfied…so fucking close.

And so you slowly inched the tip of his cock inside of you, your eyes watching him intently, wanting–needing–to see his face. Sluggishly, you sunk down on him, your jaw hanging and eyes fluttering closed. His girth was thick, and you could feel him stretching you, filling you up perfectly. Once you’d bottomed out, you took a moment to adjust, exhaling softly.

“Fuck,” Michael whispered, “You feel so good.”

“Thanks,” you replied breathlessly, a slight laugh mixing into your voice. You relaxed your muscles before steadying yourself, your hands splayed out on his chest. Michael waited patiently for you to get comfortable, and you felt your heart pump purely in adoration for him, loving the fact that he wasn’t pressuring you to move.

Finally, you swivelled your hips slightly, feeling a low sting in your lower region. You squeezed your eyes shut but willed yourself to push through, knowing it would soon fade. You lifted your hips a fraction before lowering yourself back down, and Michael let out a small gasp.

“Is it good?” you breathed. Michael’s green eyes finally opened, his lips parting but no sound coming out. Your gazes locked and he suddenly sat up, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close to him so that your chests were pressed tightly together.

“Fuck, it’s amazing,” he whispered fiercely to you, and your confidence grew. Michael’s arms wound around your waist as he helped you lift yourself up before sliding back down smoothly. You gasped as his tip brushed a spot inside of you that sent tingles racing along your nerves.

“Baby, you feel so good,” Michael told you, repeating his previous words and pressing his forehead to yours. You kissed him, throwing your arms around his neck and keeping him close to you, your mouths moving together in perfect harmony. You let out a low moan as the initial throb of pain dulled and gave way to a slight pleasure, a sensation building in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck I’m already so close,” Michael whispered, his eyes closing for a moment. You nodded, almost as though you were granting him permission to let go, “You can come., Mike.”

He shook his head, his eyes snapping open again, pupils dilated and filled with lust. Just as you were lowering yourself back down onto his cock, his hips thrusted up, meeting you halfway and spearing directly into the spot that granted you endless pleasure. A loud cry flew from your lips, and Michael’s hands swept up and down along your back, soothing you.

“No,” your friend grunted, “Not…before…you.” 

Each word was punctuated with another drive of his hips upwards, and you closed your eyes at the sensation of feeling so fucking full. Michael was thrusting into you like his only purpose in life was to get you off, to ensure you reached ecstasy before he did. And you could feel his hips weakening, his actions becoming sloppy and erratic, his jaw clenching with restraint as he pressed his lips onto yours.

“God baby,” he gasped against your mouth. You eagerly nipped at his lips, an animalistic reflex shining through. Things were getting heated, your heavy breaths echoing off the walls, the musky and wild scent of sex penetrating the air around you. Michael’s hips were pressed flush against yours as he held you to him, your sticky bodies sliding together and sweat beading on your hairlines. You tangled your fingers into his damp hair, your body falling against his repeatedly, grinding and moving and feeling so goddamn good.

“Mike,” you whimpered against his mouth, “I’m gonna come.”

He nodded, “Come for me baby. C’mon, show me how good I’m making you feel.”

He punctured his last word with a heavy kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your hip before it slipped lower, moving towards the apex of your thighs. Michael’s thumb found your throbbing clit and he rubbed the pad of his finger against it harshly, setting you off.

You felt your body go limp in his arms, collapsing against his chest and feeling your strength and libido abandon you. Tremors of pleasure racked your body, your shoulders quivering as shallow breaths escaped you. Michael swore as he felt your walls grip him tightly, practically suffocating his cock, and he continued to stimulate your clit through your climax, milking it until you were almost sobbing with pleasure. You pressed your clammy forehead to Michael’s shoulder, breathing sporadically as you tried to calm yourself.

Michael was groaning into your ear, and you intentionally clenched around him. He was pushed off of the edge, a low ‘fuck’ falling from his lips as he stiffened. You felt him twitch inside of you before he was coming, shooting his load into you with multiple moans. Pulling back from his shoulder lethargically and blinking haphazardly, you watched his face contort as he came–his eyebrows raising and eyes closing in pure bliss, his deep pink lips circling into an ‘o’, his jugular bobbing as he swallowed.

And then it was silent. Nothing was heard, aside from your quiet breaths being panted into each other’s ears. Michael’s fingertips continued to run along your naked back, doodling invisible masterpieces absentmindedly against your skin. You tilted your head, leaning into the crook of his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his collarbones, your lips spreading into a smile.

“I don’t mean to sound clingy–,” Michael whispered as though he were about to spill a giant secret. 

Of course, there was nobody else in the apartment, but you liked how quiet he was–it made everything so much more intimate, like his words were for your ears only. You were pulled from your thoughts when Michael went on with his question, his lips fluttering against the shell of your ear. “But do you want to go out sometime?”

You let out a faint giggle, very aware of the fact that he was still buried inside of you. You didn’t move, not wanting to disrupt what would surely be a fleeting moment.

“Sure,” you breathed back, your low tone mimicking that of his own, “How about tomorrow?”

He nodded and you sighed, drumming your fingers on his bare chest. “Great,” you whispered, smiling faintly at your next words, “Pick me up at eight.”

~*~