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Guilty Pleasure
“Hey. It’s me.”
“I guessed that from the Caller ID.”
Michael chuckles. “So. Wanna come over?”
Tom pauses. “Be there in twenty minutes.”
~*~
Michael hates the way he feels after Tom leaves. But its not like he could stop or anything. After all, he’s the one who called Tom.
~*~
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Tom.” God. He sounds breathy and raspy and fuck all if he can help it. Tom’s cock feels so good that he almost doesn’t care. “Harder, Tom,” he moans.
Tom grunts in response and speeds up his thrusts.
~*~
Michael loves the way he feels when Tom is fucking him. The slick slide of his cock, the press of his fingers on Michael’s hips, his hot breath against Michael’s neck. It makes the shitty feeling he gets when Tom leaves so much easier to stand.
~*~
Never once has Michael had Tom tell him no. And it’s not like he calls every night or anything. But it’s usually once every couple of weeks that Michael’s hand just doesn’t cut it anymore and he can’t stop himself from dialing the numbers.
~*~
Tom’s hands are buried in his hair as Michael bobs his head. He adores giving Tom head. Tom’s always so enthusiastic, but he never thrusts or holds Michael’s head too hard. And the noises he makes usually end up bringing Michael close to the edge. Tom lets little breathy moans out and just thrusts a little when he’s close.
And Michael swallows every time. He never asks for reciprocation. Instead, he soothes with his tongue and coaxes with his fingers until Tom is hard again and Michael isn’t so close. He likes it when Tom fucks him.
~*~
Michael isn’t sure what Tom gets out of these visits. Sure, there’s the really good sex and the desperately messy blowjobs, but he’s risking everything with Jamie for a couple of orgasms. Michael feels most guilty when he thinks about her, and when he does, he can’t bring himself to ask.
~*~
Sometimes, Michael leaves the bedside drawer open with things lying on top that he wants Tom to use. It’s easier to let Tom tie him down and do whatever he wants.
The guilt is somehow less if he can pretend that Tom is making him do the things they do.
A little chafing at the wrists is a small price to pay.
~*~
One time, the guilt ate away at Michael’s heart and he couldn’t bring himself to call for over three weeks.
Tom called him.
Michael didn’t say no.
~*~
Every once in a while, Tom surprises him by asking Michael to fuck him. Michael dreads these times because, while he loves fucking Tom, it’s not the same.
Carefully he prepares Tom with too much lube, his fingers sliding in and out of Tom, all the while trying to ignore Tom’s begging enough so that he won’t come immediately.
When he thinks that he might be able to last longer than a sixteen-year-old, he gathers himself up and pushes in slowly.
~*~
They never speak of Michael’s calls or Tom’s visits any other time. There are no lingering glances off camera or knowing smiles as they pass in the halls. And that’s just how Michael likes it.
For Tom to acknowledge it …quot; whatever *it* is …quot; would make it real.
~*~
Michael takes a deep breath and picks up the phone. “Tom?”
“I’ll be right there.” He doesn’t even have to ask.
He closes his eyes and hangs up. Thank God.
[ main l rps l fps ]
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