This Year's Love // Michael Clifford

Chapter Twenty-Seven

WARNING: MILD SMUT??? IDK HOW TO WRITE SMUT BUT I gAVE IT A GO SO READ IF YOU DARE

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Brittany Dawson

"Oh, color crimson in my eyes. One or two could free my mind," I quietly sang under my breath.

"This is how it ends. I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream," Michael voices.

"You know Ed?" I ask, quite surprised

really.

"I don't live under a rock if that's what you're implying," he answers.

"Yeah, but that's not one of his popular songs. I'm surprised is all." I shrug.

"I might have listened to your playlist a couple of times," Michael sheepishly admits.

I raise an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"I have. And you have an obscure amount of rap on there," he replies.

"Hoodie Allen is amazing, okay? If there ever comes a time where I could marry him over you, I would," I state.

"You want to marry me?" Michael asks.

I roll my eyes. "Is that all you took from that?"

"It's a high possibility," he responds.

"Well, I didn't say I wanted to marry you. Not now anyway," I state.

"Who is this Hoodie guy anyway? I didn't really listen. All I said was Hashtag White Girl Problems and I skipped it," Michael says.

"He's just this white rapper," I say. "Not that popular. Right amount of fame, I'd say."

"What am I?"

"Egotistical, rotten, overindulged, overrated. The list goes on," I tease, checking my nails all the while.

"Oh, really?" he asks. "That's not what you were saying when my fingers were-"

"Stop it." I glare at him. "That was once."

"Twice," he firmly states. "Last night and last week."

"I hate you," I grumble, closing my laptop and setting it on the nightstand.

"No, you don't," he says, kissing my shoulder blade.

"Stop," I giggle, sinking down into the covers.

I push my glasses up, looking over at a dissatisfied Michael. He slumps down beside me, then wraps his arm around my waist.

"I love you, baby," he says quietly.

I roll onto my side, nuzzling my face into his bare chest. I kiss him there twice, then make my way up to his lips.

"You know what that does to me," Michael growls, slipping his hand underneath my (well, his) ACDC t-shirt.

I hum in response, trickling my fingers down his chest. His breath hitches as I trail my fingers over the elastic of his boxers. I take a leap of faith, slipping my hand into the material.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asks me, his breath short.

"No," I answer, "but I have to start somewhere."

"Just-" he pauses to breathe as my finger skims the skin on his growing erection. "Just grab it."

I do as he says and he hisses.

"Don't squeeze it."

"Sorry," I mutter. "I'm just nervous."

"Just rub your hand up and-" he lets out a moan, his words coming to a pause.

My hand retracts four minutes later. I stare at it in disgust and pick up my towel from my shower earlier to wipe it off. Once satisfied with the cleansing, I lay back on the bed.

Michael lays with his arms folded under his head, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face. I wrap my arm around his stomach, resting my head on his chest.

"You okay?" I ask quietly. "Was it that bad?"

"What? Baby, no!" he exclaims. "It was so hot."

I blush, burying my face deeper into his chest. "Alright."

"I love you. You know you didn't have to do that just because I did it for you last night and last week," Michael replies.

"I know," I say, looking up at him. "I wanted to."

"I love you," he says again, kissing the top of my head.

I shut my eyes, listening to the sound of his beating heart. "I love you, too."

///////

Sorry for the super short filler! I wanted to get something in because I don't know when I will next! I'm swamped with school and, wow, can you believe I actually have a life? Because I can't lol.

I hope the smut wasn't too risqué. I've actually never given a guy a hand job so don't judge me if it was poorly scripted! I wanted to hop on the bandwagon and give you some sort of smut since a lot of author's do it. Even though I have never touched a boy hahahahaha besides kissing.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

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