Cherry Bomb (A Michael Fassbender Fanfic)

14: Drowning Mermaid

In the back pew of the little small-town church, I sit alone, holding a rather large boulder in my lap. The boulder doesn't faze me one bit. The rest of my family sits at the front, closer to the pulpit where Michael awaits in a tacky powder blue tuxedo. The suit itself is tacky, but placed on his body, it looks amazing. He can seriously pull anything off. I find myself wanting to pull that off of him. Naked Michael is always better. I smile and my heart flutters when he makes eye contact with me. He bares all of his teeth, grinning so broadly. I try to stand, but the boulder keeps me in place. It's not particularly heavy, but it won't budge.

A brittle old woman sits at the organ and begins to play the wedding march. I'm freaking out because hey, this is my cue. But the boulder will not let me rise. I'm panicking and wondering why no one will get up and help me. Even Michael just stays where he is.

The double doors behind me open and everyone rises to face Raegan, dressed from head to toe in the most gorgeous wedding gown I've ever seen in my entire life. I gawk at the mermaid gown hugging her perfect body. It's fitted at the waist and flares from the knees, trailing behind her. Her hair is rather bland compared to the gown, but she somehow still looks stunning. I'm wondering why she's wearing that when my dad steps next to her, taking her arm in his. MY dad. He kisses her on the cheek and together, they walk arm in arm down the aisle toward a beaming Michael. I'm shouting and instantly objecting the entire wedding from my spot but I'm completely ignored.

Next thing I know, I'm wearing the wedding dress Rae just had on, and I'm in the ocean, trying my hardest to keep my head above the water. Waves keep crashing down on my head, sending me spiraling down into the deep blue. The only way I can stop from being dragged down into the water is to get the dress off of me. I struggle, while holding my breath, to tear the fabric away from my body. I tear and rip as best as I can.

A hand grabs me by the arm and lifts me out of the water. It's Michael and I'm back on land. I spit out whatever water was stored in my mouth and look up at him, grateful for the rescue.

"This isn't going to work," he frowns, shaking his head.

I feel wet between my thighs. I figure it's just because I was drowning in the middle of the ocean, but despite Michael just casting his doubts on me, I feel good. Like, really good.

I'm slowly coaxed out of my dream by Michael cupping my sex and kissing my neck. Thank god. I groan and turn towards him.

"Mmmm, good morning, Bean," Michael mummers into my ear with a kiss. "I've been waiting for you to wake up."

"This is a rather nice way to wake up," I giggle as I stretch quickly before snuggling into him. He runs his hands down my back and cups my ass, pulling me hard against him. "Ah, morning wood. As usual."

"Seems to only happen when I'm with you," he smirks.

"Lies," I snicker as I grasp him gently.

We'd fallen asleep naked but I had gotten up to pee and threw on a t-shirt because I was cold. I grabbed whatever was on the floor and now I can see that it's Michael's Georgetown Hoyas shirt. I love that it smells like him.

Michael cups my breast roughly, peppering kisses across my jaw, his growing beard scratching my sensitive skin. I teasingly stroke his already hard shaft and rub my thumb across the tip, a bead of pre-cum smearing across it. Michael's mouth comes closer to my own and since we'd fallen asleep directly after sex, I hadn't had a chance to brush my teeth clean of the hotdog dinner we had.

I turn my face away with a finger to his lips. "Uno momento, por favor." I scoot out of bed and scamper off to the bathroom to brush my teeth and pee. After peeing, I stick my head out of the bathroom. "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

"I already did." He brings his hands behind his head, waiting patiently, legs crossed at the ankles.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Nice. Real nice. This was planned. Not spontaneous."

Michael chuckles and shrugs with his hands still behind his head. I pounce back onto the bed and straddle him. His warm cock rests along his lower stomach and I tease it with my cunt, grinding gently over it. I lean forward and run my hands up his arms and kiss him square on the lips. He moans against my mouth and brings his hands to my hips. Our tongues lovingly caress each other as Michael struggles a little to sit up. I back off and once he's sitting straight up on the edge of the bed, he brings me back to him, cradling the back of my head to kiss me deeply. He helps me lower myself onto him and he sinks into me deliciously slow. I wrap my legs behind him and he wraps his arms around my back, holding me against him. I grind my hips and we kiss while hugging. I rake my fingers across his scalp before trailing them down the sides of his face, loving the prickle of his scruff against my skin. Michael gathers the bottom of my t-shirt, his t-shirt, and pulls it up over my head. I hold my arms up and he pulls it off completely, discarding it to the floor. He wraps his arms around me again and we hold each other, kissing. My breasts smash against his chest and his hands rub my back and my ass, every so often pulling my thighs harder against him.

There is no thrusting, no spanking, no teasing or wanting more. We are merely one in the flesh and I can feel my eyes begin to water knowing that this will be the last time we will see each other face-to-face for quite some time. I'm thankful for Skype and FaceTime, but nothing beats this kind of intimacy. I've never wanted to be with a man as badly as I've ever wanted to be with him. And not just sexually, but intimately. In a soul-mate kind of way. Even with my ex-fiancé, I never felt this way; this ultimate desire to spend the rest of my life with just one person.

"Hey," Michael whispers, tucking my hair behind my ear. He cups my face between both of his hands and presses his forehead to mine. "Don't cry, please." He gently kisses my lips and even though he told me not to, I can't help it. The tears burst forth and stream down my cheeks.

I wrap my arms around him tightly and bury my face into his neck. He combs his fingers through my hair and down my back before hugging me tightly as well. He shifts under me and hooks his hands under my thighs. Before I realize it, he's standing, taking me with him. All he does his turn and gently place me back against the bed and climb on top of me.

"I love you, Frankie. I don't want to go." He presses himself back into me with a little force and I moan, grabbing on to his biceps.

"Then don't," I sniffle. My vision is blurry with tears, but I see his smile; the lady-killer smile that constantly makes me weak in the knees. He nudges my nose with his own before kissing me again.

We spend the rest of the morning tangled together in the bed sheets until his cab arrives to take him to O'Hare. He shrugs into his pea coat and tightens his scarf around his neck. I chew my lips, trying hard to keep my tears at bay. My eyes burn from the tears wanting so badly to escape again. Stepping out into the brisk winter air, we kiss one last time before the cabbie grabs his bags and puts them in the trunk.

Michael squeezes my hand and swallows hard. "I'll text you when I land. I'll miss you, Bean."

I can't speak. I'm afraid if I do, I'll just turn into a big blubbery mess. Who the hell am I now? I don't cry over men. But I can't bear to see him leave. My heart is threatening to break out of my rib cage, wanting to grab onto him and pull him back to my chest where he belongs. I nod and smile, giving him one last tiny wave as he slips into the cab.

I don't wait to watch as the cab drives off. The second the cabbie puts the car in gear, I step back into my apartment and lock the door. I lean my back against it and slide down to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest. I would love to say that I went about my day happy as a clam but then I would be lying. Once I finally pull myself out of my pity party on the floor, I spend the rest of the day in bed, snuggled in Michael's Georgetown Hoyas shirt he left behind, holding my phone in my hand, waiting for his text.