#sadistmichael

Luke did as you said and walked towards the bed. He said next to me with wide eyes, a soft gold glitter on his eyelids.

“You look pretty. I wonder who you did that for.”

You placed a hand in the center of Luke’s chest, pushing him back on the mattress. You got on your knees while he laid there. His eyes looking to the side as you toyed with a bottle of lube in your right hand. You wanted to see how much more frustrated he could get by making him wait. Luke was new to the kinkier side of sex. But his enthusiasm with everything you introduced him to made it easier for him to ask for things.

Today was no different.

“Can I—“

Luke stopped in the middle of his sentence when he saw his delicate pink collar fixed between your fingers, the chime of the small silver bell muffled as you put it on him. You placed his head in the center of one of your pillows, playing with his hair before straddling him. He exhaled when he saw me pull your shirt over your head, leaving you naked with a particularly devious plan in mind.

“Let me tell you the rules.”

You retrieved the lube and placed a small dot between your middle finger and thumb, rubbling it together before wrapping your hand around Luke’s cage. He whined at the sensation. His body tensed at the contact of your finger on the small hole of the cage, his skin barely on yours.

“I’m going to tease you for 5 minutes. Continuously. No breaks.”

Luke’s eyes widened as you lifted the key from around your neck. You unlocked his cage quickly, twisting the lock from the front to the side. Luke was biting his lip so hard that you swore he’d break the skin. You let him keep one of his hands on his chest, teasing his left nipple. The other was tangled in his hair, keeping his gaze locked on your bare chest.

“I’m going to take this off soon.”

Luke bucked his hips to the slight pain of me barely lifting the cage upwards, revealing more of his strained erection.

“And when you take it off, you can’t touch.”

Luke was too focused on his arousal to respond vocally. He nodded and closed his eyes.

“If you can make it 5 minutes without coming,”

You leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

Luke held his breath.

“You get to fuck me.”

He cried out, bucking his hips up to your open legs when you watched his length twitch. Luke got needy when he was depserate. He wanted more simply because the option was available to him--trying to keep a shred of his dignity until you grinded on his erection. Luke’s cage left impressions on his skin. You saw the indent of small hearts when you pulled the cage off. He was stimulated by the small action--sighing when you pulled your hand away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate, baby. I should deny you more often.”

Luke watched you remove his cage between you kissing his chest. You could see his eyes fluttering between open and closed, vocal when you ran your fingertip on the vein on the underside of his cock that made him hard without fail. Luke’s cock was an angry red when you reached for more lube. He tried to catch his breath while he watched you tease him--rubbing the clear substance into your nipples before wrapping both hands around his length. Your thumb found the tip of his cock when you looked him in the eye. Your fingertip rubbed several drops of precum into his skin. Luke bucked up to both of your hands with a whimper, his voice breaking when you moved one of your hands to fondle his balls.

“That’s a good boy.”

You watched the clock in the corner of your eye. Luke was paying attention to the way you smiled, letting him know that those painful few minutes just started. You jerked him off painfully slow. Luke swallowed when you leaned down to run your tongue over his slit, gathering lube and precum in a strand on your tongue.

“Three more minutes, bunny.”

You weren’t paying attention to how much time passed when you saw Luke’s balls tighten. It reminded you of the first time he let you tie him up. He told you how much he didn’t think he would like it until you touched him with authority, making his breath quicken when you told him you wanted to make him cum as many times as he could handle during a handjob. It had become a game between the two of you. Your fierce look, your determination to make Luke break before he could do anything else.

It seeped through with how he acted with you--how he wanted you to be in control.

“You get to be inside of me in two minutes,”

You straddled Luke, settling his hard cock between your legs. You made sure your skin rubbed against his lip, allowing him to crest your hole when you pulled on his earlobe with your teeth.

“How does that make you feel?”

Luke squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of being on the edge for the second time. He liked feeling like putty in your hands--like you were his one weakness. Luke liked that you barely had to do anything at all to get him off. It pushed him to be obedient when you asked him to be, trying to hold off, even though you were trying to hit a spot that you knew he liked.

“We haven’t fucked in so long.”

Luke thought about how good it would be to push his cock inside of you for once. To feel himself cum in a warm body instead of all over your sheets. He liked both equally. He felt his length stiffen when he thought about spreading your cheeks while his cock slid out of you--your body on top of his with your nipples in his face. Luke tried to keep himself from his orgasm but he couldn’t take anymore when he thought about how good it would feel to pull out of you, only to push himself balls deep inside of your hole. His face was illuminated with the sweat on his brow when the first spurt of cum came from his tip, hitting your chest as your hands began to slow. Luke’s cum painted your chest and the bottom of his stomach with ease, releasing a load with force.

“Couldn’t wait?”

You kissed Luke’s forehead while he held a blush, a mixture of embarrassed and aroused. He tried to find something to say while you held his softening cock, looking at the cage to the side of your knee.

You searched for your phone as you thought about what you liked about all of them. 

Considering how you would rate them if you had to choose from a list someone else made. They were all so…attractive. Each member of the band had an allure that could bring in anyone. With Luke being the soft, handsome lead singer. Ashton as the mysterious and brooding drummer with a sexy side. Michael as the likable and extremely charming guy you’d always want to have a crush on, and Calum as the hot bassist with a remarkable head on his shoulders.

You decided you would want all of them if you could. 

Welcoming the idea of Hawaii being a no-man’s-land of opportunity.

Was it possible?

You checked the itinerary for that night, as the label planned for events that would continue through the week. A luau with a completely catered menu was the only thing to look forward to. With an open bar, you imagined it would be fun to see everyone enjoying themselves.

You had a thought

Your mind circled back to Ashton and his comments. His hand on your knee in the car and his sudden interest in your room number. It was well known that Ashton was always trying to claim new territory with sexual discretion. you never paid attention to it because it wasn’t towards you--until now. 

Suddenly, you entertained the thought of being with him (or Michael) in your big room. 

You decided that you were going to look your best that night. Making sure that Ashton knew you were available, and open to any and all possibilities of what could be.

After all, It was a paparazzi-free resort.

What happened in Hawaii would stay there.

*

It was learned behavior. Six months of picking what you wanted made you aware, it made you strong. You learned how to live based on your own desires. Living through someone else’s wants made you resent life in general, transforming into the worst breakup that you ever had to weather alone. 

Michael made an impact on you. He still lived in the front of your mind, smiling in color with the bittersweet memory of what you were. You knew him. Michael was predictable—always 5 minutes early. He brought you flowers, he never forgot to call, he was never too forward when he leaned in to kiss you. He was an angel with no wings. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

You remembered the night that Michael wanted to commit. You could see it in his eyes—longing. A desire to be next to you, a preoccupation with the way he was when he was with you. Michael was yours before you asked him to be. He wanted to be there for everything, texting when he had an extra minute on top of asking if you could come by.

“I’m trying.”

Michael pressed his forehead to yours, locking his gaze on your apprehension. Your conscious mind replayed the sensation of his lips on your collarbone, the pressure of his hands on your waist when he went to lift up the hem of your shirt. He wouldn’t tell you everything. It was frustrating because Michael regularly boasted that you had ‘all of him’. It wasn’t true due to the many secrets in spare rooms and a second phone. You had one part of Michael, the part that made you weak in the knees and fucked well. 

You tried to ignore it. 

You saw strange figures walk in Michael’s house at leisure while you were there. They interrupted tender moments, times when you needed him. 

“I’ll be right back.”

It stung. Michael would return to you sleeping on his side of the bed. He kissed your shoulder after he got under his sheets, sliding back into the role of boyfriend. It was hard to dismiss him because he seemed so genuine. He kept you satisfied, he sent you gifts. Yet, the nagging fear that something was going on drove you wild. 

You followed him once. 

You knew Michael, it wouldn’t hurt to follow him on a night he wasn’t with you. What you found was your boyfriend at a nightclub, unfazed by other women topless around clients. 

You adjusted when you got back to your apartment. Michael lied. Your eyes stung when your back was hard against your front door. Your phone flashed with Michael’s contact right at ten o’clock, the time he always called. You remembered how good he was at leaving no trace of his other life in yours. He had an affair with business—chasing the mistress that put out hundred dollar bills. 

Near the end, you left notes when he was busy. You wrote ‘I’m at home’ with no heart, no indication of softness. Michael had driven you away bleeding, unable to tell which offenses hurt you the most. 

Trouble crept into your life under the guise of artificial sunshine and fearing nothing. You had to get away from Michael because he made you question your own desires. You ignored how sad his eyes were when you cut the ties he had to your life. Michael was thinking of you long after you left his door open, not looking back at the damage. 

You didn’t give him a choice in the matter.

You chose yourself to survive. 

*

Your recollection of personal history with Michael was profound as you traced the edge of the wallpaper in his room. Flashing lights were on every edge of the windows that faced outwards. Sensors, probably to detect motion outside (or anyone trying to get out). 

You were trapped. 

It was easier to digest with expensive decor and the luxury to have whatever you wanted. Yet, a prison is a prison. No matter how nice Michael made it. You assumed that he was lamenting in another part of his house, ignoring you. You walked towards the door, only to see two sets of shoe prints on the other side. 

Michael doubled up on security since the first day. You were able to pick the lock to his door with a pin and a half hour. It was a game of cat and mouse until one of his goons grabbed you by the legs, locking you inside a room with no handle.

Twelve hours passed since then. 

You were counting because you had nothing else to think about, restless in the midst of the situation. 

“I’m keeping you here for your safety.”

You wanted to punch him in the face when you were tied to a chair at the dining room table the night before. Michael looked harmless compared to the muscle he kept in his house. The faces of those men had nothing to offer but soulless glances, looking at you as a threat. 

That’s what you were to the ‘business’ he conducted on the side—an illegal ring of laundered money and illicit travel. 

The pieces popped in place one by one with things you overhead from outside the door. Transactions, movements, and ‘handling difficult situations’ were theoretical until they were said in this house. 

You tried to forget about it while you let hot water rush over your skin. Cleaning yourself was the one thing you could do without being watched. You relished the fact that Michael had a steam shower and turned the faucet as far as it could go. The heat reminded you that you were still alive and able to take control, blocking out the rest of the world with a wall of vapor. You closed your eyes for as long as you could stand it so you could daydream about being on your own. 

It was useless being afraid of what could happen. 

“You okay?”

Your eyes rushed open to Michael’s figure behind the glass. He looked at you blankly, not reacting to your attempt to cover up. 

“Jesus Christ, Michael.”

He raised his brows when you turned off the water. You noticed how tired he looked before you could say anything. His eyes were puffy, complimented by a two day stubble and a red bottom lip. 

He was stressed. Something had to be wrong. 

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

He was right about that.

“You had my permission then.”

Michael backed out of the room when he noticed you hunching over to cover your naked body. You grabbed a towel and went to meet him in your holding cell, exhaling at the sight of him. It was frustrating that Michael could still make you feel. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black sweatpants, mussing hIs hair with his eyes on you. You felt a familiar tingle at the base of your stomach—accompanied by a warmth between your legs when you heard Michael speak. 

“I wanted to check on you.”

He was different. The night before, Michael reeked of arrogance, he couldn’t stop smirking at the sight of your frustration. You remembered him enjoying it. Here, he was somber in front of you. He couldn’t keep his eyes on the bruise you got from trying to escape. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

You pointed towards the door when you noticed a puddle of water forming under your left foot. You wanted to change—in a hurry to do nothing but find a bad show to pass the time. 

Michael wasn’t done.

He shuffled to the end of the bed and sat. You moved towards the closet in the corner and sighed, decidedly changing while you listened to whatever Michael had on his metaphorical chest. 

“I want to talk. I invited you here with the intention of a conversation we never got to have.”

The vibrato of his voice made you shiver. You slid on a pair of underwear, unpacking the pain in his phrase. 

“Then talk.”

You responded softly. You turned your head to make sure the door was closed enough that Michael couldn’t see you. A thought crossed your mind of him watching you quietly—observing how your nipples were still hard even when they were covered. You couldn’t deny that you were thinking about Michael more. He was down the hall, doing whatever he did. The thought process of him coming in his dark room and finding you then was intoxicating. You wanted him to touch you, smell you. Find the little wet spot on your underwear and have his way with it, making sure that he put his fingers around your neck to keep you quiet. 

Tender, loving, sex.

You could feel your body tense as you went to find a pair of socks to put on. You checked for a wet spot as Michael gathered his thoughts from a distance, looking out at his backyard with flat lips. 

“We ended things abruptly,”

You walked out of his closet with a twisted face.

“Now?”

Your feet stopped right before his. Michael turned towards you. Anguish was drawn all over his face. He didn’t blink when he answered you. 

“Someone is dead. A client of mine is dead. I don’t expect you to understand why I’ve been so paranoid. It’ll make you hate me forever, I’m sure. This is serious shit that I’ve gotten wrapped in, and unfortunately, you’re wrapped in it too,”

You couldn’t find anything to say. Michael was a bad liar, he was even worse at trying to explain himself if he didn’t want to tell the truth. This was him being honest, so real that you didn’t want to believe it. 

“I’m keeping you here because I know you wouldn’t want to stay on your own volition. I love that about you, you’re damn stubborn. I didn’t want to risk it,”

Michael’s eyes searched yours when he rose to standing. They were a pale green, standing out against the royal blue wallpaper.

“The thought of losing you is enough of a motivation to keep you safe. Even if it means you can’t leave right now.” 

A genuine explanation flooded you with relief. You assumed the worst—dying by Michael’s hand as if he had been inspired by Silence of The Lambs and wanted to experiment on you first. 

Instead, he walked towards the door.

“If it’s okay with you, I want to visit a little later. No guards, no locks, just us. I can arrange for us to meet in the sitting room.”

You nodded. 

“Don’t try anything funny this time, please.”

Michael looked away from your shoulder. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Michael walked out of the door without looking back. One of his guards nodded at you before closing the door, leaving you alone. 

You flopped back on Michael’s bed with a feeling. 

It stirred inside of your chest. It made you want to get up and be free of him, shake off the dust of what was certainly more than a bout of lust. Michael cares, he never stopped caring about you. You convinced yourself that he was using you as a hole to get off in—that every sweet nothing he said was a way for him to get past your defenses. That version of your relationship made it easy to hate him. 

The complexity of your lives made things difficult. 

Michael was fluid, transient in the way he dealt with clients and his own top secret list of priorities. You were on it. Clearly marked as someone willing to protect. You swallowed the intensity of his statement with a promise of dissecting it later. You had more pressing matters to deal with. 

You still loved Michael. 

And you knew he would be able to tell. 

*

“You look nervous.”

You had been sitting across from Michael for the better part of an hour. You dressed up in decent clothes you’d left there from an occasion that required multiple options, sitting with your hands in your lap. There was an impressive spread of food and entertainment between you—full of alcohol and fruit you were sure you had never seen before. 

Neither of you touched it.

You observed that Michael trimmed his beard down to a stubble, the kind that left a handsome shadow on his face. You loved when he kept a little facial hair. He must have remembered.

“I am, a little. It’s kinda weird not being in the room.”

Your conversation so far consisted of what he did that day in detail. He didn’t leave anything out, occasionally playing with the dagger earring on his right. You were trying to hide the passion you held for Michael while you were listening. 

Trying to stop yourself from moving from your couch to his and finding an excuse to touch him. He looked sharp in low light. You thought about him coming in your room several times before you had to meet, laying on your back and thinking about how deep he could fuck you over the bathroom sink. You closed your eyes every time you had a thought of his naked body. It wasn’t right to feel so much at a time like this. 

That’s what you told yourself, at least. 

“I’m happy you’re here.”

Michael leaned over the table to give a reassuring hand on your knee. It drove you to new heights of what you thought you could handle—nearly drooling over a waft of his cologne when he sat back. To an untrained eye, it would seem like conversation was dying out. 

Yet, Michael knew it was the opposite. 

He had watched your face right before you orgasmed, knew the way your top lip quivered when you were close to the peak of your arousal. He saw you adjust in place several times while he had been talking—pulling at your clothes to find something to do with your hands. He had felt similar feelings earlier that day, finding a reason to take a long look at the photos he had of you on his phone. 

He had an excuse planned to break the tension.

“Do you want to see my battle scars? I figured it would make you feel better about your shoulder.”

You broke the train of thought you were on to witness Michael standing over you. You met him halfway, gripping his forearm on the way up. He started to unbutton his shirt with one hand, watching your reaction closely. It was like a badly written sitcom—matched with you running your tongue over your bottom lip when you saw Michael’s shirt open. 

“I got these the day before you came here.”

He opened one side of his shirt to reveal an angry bruise crawling up his side. There was a scuff on his skin below a small cut on his collarbone. Michael winced when you went to touch him, grazing your fingers along the side of his injury. The severity of his situation came back with a blow to your subconscious, drawing you close to Michael’s body. 

“Jesus.”

Your chest was on his when you wrapped your arms around his torso. You held him with just enough pressure for him to know you were there, anchoring yourself with the black fabric of his shirt. Emotions stirred inside of you when you pulled back. Michael’s face was steady. He watched you with intention when you moved, meeting your energy with peace. You held the top of his shirt with care when you pulled it off his shoulders. Your eyes were on Michael’s when you let his shirt fall to the floor. He reached for the hem of your shirt, pleading in a silent message when he moved closer. 

Neither of you said anything. 

It was a game of one piece moving after the other, clothing falling on the floor between you in a heap. You didn’t stop until his skin was bare, your hands preoccupied with Michael’s softness. You missed his body, the way he touched you like he knew what you needed. You sidestepped when Michael guided you back to the couch—sitting back so that he could watch you follow. 

He was so delicate when he helped you. 

Positioning you over him with ease as he held your hips. You could no longer hide the drive of your actions when your legs were open. Michael had gotten accustomed to knowing when you needed him. It was like he could smell your sex, heightened to the aroma of your desire. It made it easy to want him because he gave you what you needed, putting you first with every touch. 

“I missed you so much.”

Michael kissed you after he spoke. His lips were firm when he opened his mouth to yours, intensifying your embrace with his tongue. You grinded your hips on his, waking up his length with the stimulation you wanted to give him. You dreamt of his cock long after you were together. It had a way of filling you that you knew you wouldn’t get over—meeting your sex in a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. That was your focus until Michael tapped your backside. 

It was his way of letting you know he had an idea. 

“Move up.”

You did as you were told, letting your legs fall over the back of the couch when your crotch was in Michael’s face. 

He wasted no time.

Michael’s mouth went from your inner thighs to your sex in seconds. His mouth was fixed on your sweet spot. The one place you didn’t know you liked to be licked until Michael did it—teaching you things about your own body. You had forgotten how good his mouth was. His lips were focused on pleasure while his hands gripped your backside, spreading your cheeks while he worked. You could feel the beginning of an orgasm swelling between your legs when Michael pulled away to suckle on your skin. Your moans bounced off the glass in the room, making them seem louder as you pushed yourself on Michael’s face. He moved one of his hands between your legs to make a variety of sensations. 

He nearly made you tip back when he nipped your skin, tapping you again to let you know it was okay to move. You found his lap, wet and sensitive. Michael’s fingers were on your lower back when your sex met his. You grinded on his lap as a way to let him know you needed stimulation, trying to push his cock inside of your hole. Michael moved under you every time you tried to slip him inside, drawing out the tease.

You tried to move your legs to the side to get on the floor. If Michael wasn’t going to appease you, the least he could do was fuck your face. It was something he liked, and you wanted the taste of him in your mouth just to feel something. 

He stopped you before you could get in position. His hands were on your thighs. He took the skin of your neck between his teeth before speaking, leaving a mark after a twinge of pain. 

“If I’m going to come anywhere, it’s going to be inside of you.”

You whined when his teeth pulled on your earlobe. Michael moved you from his lap to the empty side of the couch, straddling you with a hard length. You watched him observe you. It turned you on to see him thinking of ways to tease you in real time—parting your legs when he saw you tense. His right hand traveled from your knee to your hole, grazing it with his fingertip. Michael pulled your legs so that they would rest behind him, moving your right leg over his shoulder. That position was one of his favorites because he could open you up and see you. 

Michael liked watching your reactions. 

You whimpered under his touch. He wet his fingers in his mouth before touching you. You could feel the warmth of his fingers at your opening, barely pushing inside before pulling out. You bent the leg that rested on his shoulder when he leaned forward to kiss you, pushing his fingers inside of you when he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. 

“That feel good?”

Michael spoke into your mouth when he found a steady pace, scissoring his fingers in your hole as he moved back. Two of your fingers seemed weak in comparison to what Michael could do to you, making you curl your toes as he grazed your sweet spot. Your moans were repetitive whenever he got close to making you cum, saying his name like a mantra when he pushed deep inside of you. His middle fingers made a mess of you in no time—making you hollow your stomach as you arched your back into his touch. You gripped the couch cushion with your eyes squeezed tight, unable to form a sentence when Michael stopped. 

“Mmm.”

Michael hummed when he saw a sheen of sweat on your torso. Your pleasure seemed to dance through your body, making your skin hot when Michael positioned himself between your legs. He let your shins rest by his waist, letting you push your sex into the tip of his cock. You closed your eyes while Michael took a survey of your body, running his finger over every mark and crevice that used to be his on demand. 

You were everything to Michael—someone he needed—someone he loved. 

Michael thought about how much he liked to make your brow furrow when he fucked you. He liked to watch your eyes flutter when he pushed his slick cock inside of you, holding your hip as he felt you for the first time in a long time. You were trying to keep up as your head rolled from the pleasure centered in your hole. Michael knew how to move, he focused on stretching you out in just the right way. 

“God yes.”

You muttered for him when he sped up. His moans fell out of his mouth when he pulled you close—angling you upwards as he held you. You held Michael’s chest as he tried to focus his energy on your sex, pressing his forehead on yours. Michael closed his eyes when he got in a stride that he couldn’t get enough of, hitting a spot that made his tip feel like he had reached a point of desire that both of you wanted to ride out. He hit a high that made you cry out, causing a collision of sensations that brought you close to the orgasm that was on your mind all day. 

You could feel Michael everywhere. He was on your neck, in your sex, in your head. You couldn’t escape how good he made you feel. Another place made its way into your conscious mind when your orgasm fell over the precipice of impulse. You curved into him when you came—gripping his skin as a drop of sweat rolled down your brow. Michael reacted to your sex tensing around him. He let you lay back, fucking you through your high with intensity. 

“Fucking cum for me.”

Michael’s thrusts were sloppy when two of his fingers pressed on your bottom lip. You opened your mouth to accept them, sucking on his digits while he watched. Your saliva coated his fingers while your moans followed, leaving the taste of sex in your mouth. You could see stars on the ceiling when he groaned. He slowed his thrusts when he emptied himself inside of you, filling you with his cum. He slumped next to you as you blinked in slow motion—trying to catch your breath. 

Even though the smell of your embrace barely dissipated, you had a desire to feel him again and again. 

That’s what satisfaction felt like in your eyes. 

*

Michael held you after he helped you clean up. 

He sleepily wrote a note on your side, pressing his lips to your neck. You thought about the progression of that day, how he went from the biggest monster to the man you wanted next to you at any given time. It was complicated, messy in the way you told yourself you liked to avoid. Every good thing you had came with terms and conditions. 

Michael came with an instruction manual that was never written. 

And there you were, trying to find out how you could get up to get both of you a glass of water and a takeout menu. 

“Are you trying to get rid of me already?”

Michael lifted his head to watch you stretch in front of him, enjoying the view. 

“No. Just wondering how much your security detail heard.” 

*

Michael followed you lead to a dry spot of grass in front of the view. The lights of the city were dimmed by the expanse of dark blue sky above you. You took a breath of warm air as you settled an old blanket between the two of you. Michael pulled pillows from the backseat when you took a peek into his bag. Too many snacks for two people, a bottle of water, his Switch, candles? bars of chocolate, and several cans of hard seltzer settled on the blanket. You laughed at an empty box of matches. They spilled, covering everything in red dust.

“What did I tell you about closing things?”

Michael sat next to you. He kissed your cheek, pulling back just enough to smile at the way you bit your lip.

“I close most things. I forgot about that thing in particular.”

You shook your head when you picked up a candle. It was a new one Michael picked out that was too expensive to remember—emitting a teakwood scent when he lit it in your hand. Candlelight was romantic and left headway for you to look for meteors and stars in peace, setting the mood when you laid back against his chest. Michael’s fingers went from the skin of your shoulder to your side. They lingered there, letting you know he was paying attention when he put pressure on the band of your shorts. Anticipation bubbled in the pit of your stomach when one of his fingertips slid under your clothes. You could feel his warmth in the smallest way. It made you restless. Michael had a way of affecting you on a microscopic level—inspiring every atom in your body to dance in the knowledge of how well he knew you.

“What are we doing tonight, babe?”

You turned to catch the end of Michael’s sentence. He kissed the top of your head, listening intently when his fingertip barely moved.

“We’re looking for meteors,”

Michael traced the top of your fingers while you continued. It was a small touch. He did it often. It was always sweet, always unassuming. Michael liked to let you know he was right there at any given time. You told him you didn’t need it when you started dating, that constant reassurance wasn’t something you needed. Michael gave it to you anyway. Holding your forearms when you were visibly frustrated, hugging you whenever he could, kissing you on the cheek to let you know he was listening. His fingertips on the back of your palm made your skin tingle with the memories of him, mirroring the fact that his love for you had grown over time.

“The Perseid meteor shower is special. They happen pretty frequently, but I figured we could watch them together. It’s kind of special, isn’t it?”

Michael blew hot air in your right ear before he kissed the edge of it.

“What makes it special?”

You held his hand in the air when he answered. Dull candlelight made the moment between the two of you smooth enough to forget about everything but his touch. You focused on how Michael’s breathing slowed in the moment, latching on to your every word.

“That we can do it together.”

Michael sighed when you moved against him.

“I hate being outside. I love you though, and that’s why I’m here.”

You felt Michael’s hands settle around your waist. They felt right—safe. You were in love with the way the world was around the two of you. The sky showcased stars that looked like they were sparkling in your line of vision. In that moment, you tried to think of a phrase that encapsulated how you felt. Blissed out, certain of everything and every desire you had. The smell of Michael’s aftershave lured you in when you shut your eyes. Laying on his chest was refuge in bad weather, a sincere reason to thank a higher power for giving you one man to depend on. You could have drowned in the swell of your adoration you had for the five o-clock shadow above your head.

Michael leaned over.

He looked at your expression before he ran his fingers across your cheek. You shrugged him off when your train of thought went elsewhere, disrupted by the pop of a can from the snack bag.