Good Girls Go Bad // smut

I bet I could // Michael Clifford

credit: pinkspeakersmut

"Hang on, why did you two break up?", Michael spluttered from his spot next to you on the couch, the force of his laughter causing him to almost spill the bottle of beer balancing precariously on his lap.

"It’s not funny Michael", you groan, burying your glowing face in your hands, "why did I even tell you?"

Why had you told him? You could have kept the gory details of your most recent breakup to yourself. You didn’t really need to tell Michael that the only reason you and Andy had broken up was because he hadn’t taken too kindly to the fact that you’d been faking your orgasms. It was a bit unfair really. Shouldn’t you be the one getting upset and storming off? I mean, you were the one who hadn’t had anything other than self-induced orgasms for the past three months.

"Oh come on Y/N, it’s a little bit funny! I mean the guy couldn’t get you off! You’d been together for how long? Three months? And in all that time he didn’t make you come once?"

"Fuck off Clifford. I’m serious. I don’t want to talk about this anymore", you snap, rising from the couch and storming into the kitchen. You knew Michael didn’t mean anything by his teasing, if you were in his position you’d probably be laughing too, but as you stood sloping over the sink, staring out into the darkness the arguments of the previous twenty-four hours began to replay in your mind. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice Michael had walked into the room until you heard his voice crack through the silence.

"Y/N? Are you mad at me?", his voice sounded smaller now that he was worried, all traces of his earlier boisterousness fading with his growing concern. It was typical of him really and it was also probably one of the reasons you loved him so much. He could go from being a complete and total asshole to an adorable kitten in three seconds flat.

Running your hands through your hair, you turn to face your friend.

"No Mikey, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. What if this whole thing is my problem?"

"What do you mean your problem?" Michael questions with a look of incomprehension on his face as he rests his slender body against the kitchen counter. 

"What if it’s my fault I can’t come? Like what if there’s something wrong with me? What if I’m too uptight or something?", you were looking at the ground now, too mortified to even look in his direction.

"Y/N there is nothing wrong with you", Michael soothed, his voice low, "you just haven’t met someone you trust enough. Someone that you can totally let go around. Someone like me."

You head snapped upwards as those three words sank in. Surely he wasn’t insinuating what you thought he was.Someone like me. Your eyes lock with his and there’s something you don’t recognise stirring within their depths. He’s looking at you now with an ever-growing smirk spreading across his plump, pink lips and as reluctant as you are to admit it, you feel a twinge of excitement between your legs.

"Michael….", you trail off, completely at a loss for words.

"You know I could Y/N", Michael grins as he pushes himself from the counter and begins to amble towards you, "I know you better than you know yourself. I could make you come so fast, your head would spin".

Your mouth goes dry as you feel his warm breath wash across your face. His arms are on either side of you now, leaving you no room to escape. Not that you’d be able to even if you tried. His words have left you weak at the knees and relying on the edge of the sink to keep you upright.

"We can’t Michael", you manage to say, your voice quivering.

"Why not? Don’t you want me to make you feel good? You must be dying for it Y/N. It’s been so long since someone made you feel good hasn’t it? Since you’ve felt a release? Let me take care of you baby".