lost [muke af]

9.0 - michael

9.0 - michael

Michael stood in the mirror of his bedroom, peeling off the wrap on his rib. He went to a real tattoo parlor.

He's twenty three years old and he's alone. Where are you tattooed on his stomach in careful lettering, he was sick of waiting.
He stepped back from the mirror, taking a quick glance at his fading purple hair and skin tight stomach. He looked like a skeleton, he was a skeleton. He wasn't even sure if he was breathing anymore, maybe this was all a dream in his dizzy head.

Mike fell back onto the sheets of his bed, flopping onto his stomach. He had work tomorrow. He closes his eyes at the thought of teaching obnoxious high schoolers AP Music Theory. They were in that class for an easy A, they figured playing the violin since age four would give them a ninety in the class.

He wanted a really cool student with a piercing in their lip and eyebrow, hair colored maybe half of it shaved. That's what he expected when he accepted the job outside of his hometown-people like him, people who play music like it's their religion. He was wrong.

Michael leant over his bed, the entire one bedroom apartment was dead quiet and he didn't like it. He flipped through his iTunes, finding a relaxing playlist. He opened up Twitter, looking at Luke's page. He was so in love, his eyes scanning over every inch of his skin.

He searched his name, finding any mentions. Luke was currently in LA (according to an update account), pictures of him with his fans were all over. His stupid smile was so beautiful.

Michael looked up and down his body, not understanding how a human could be so beautiful. He looked so tall and broad in his black Offspring tee shirt. His Adam's apple was sticking out so harshly and Mike begged to leave hickies upon the pale skin. His tongue was poking out from under his teeth in his cocky smile and Mike wondered what it'd feel like against him. His fingers were so long and thin, Michael wondered what it'd feel like inside him.

He let his head fall onto the lonely bed as he locked his phone, keeping it by his side. Michael's cold hands were trailing down his stomach, feeling the tight curves of each rib bone on his chest.
He let his hands wander down to just above the waist band of his boxers, his index finger sliding under the elastic before sliding back up. He felt up and down his torso a few times, hands ghosting over his nipples before straight down to his short pubic hairs.

He lifted his hips up, taking the boxers off of his waist and kicking them to the dirty floor. His thumb stayed on the space between his hip bones as his fingers trailed underneath his length, cupping his balls and moving his fingers in slow motions.

Mike let out a breathy groan from his open mouth as he started to inch his fingers towards his deep pink head. He curled his thumb and index finger into a circle, squeezing the skin of his semi-hard and making small movements to start bobbing.

He imagined Luke's hand, so slim yet so long. They'd be shaking the first time as Luke didn't really know what to do. Michael would whisper a few encouraging words, placing his smaller hands on top of Luke's and giving him some help.

Michael's back was starting to arch as his movements became more fluid, more fast, more agonizing. He was whimpering loud moans now, his throat tight as he felt like he was about to explode.

He bent his knees as he thrusted into his hand. His stomach was a flushed red as the skin of his skin slapping filled the once silent room. He let out careful, "Oh, oh, oooh," with each thrust as he closed his bright green eyes.

Mike often wondered if Luke was loud or quiet. Did he like hand jobs or blow jobs? Has he been with other guys? Michael wondered a lot about the blonde, but for the moment, he just wished the blonde had those pretty red lips around him.