post malone / mileven texting au.

forty-nine.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE;
PROPERTY OF MIKE WHEELER.

"wait, so what does baseball have to do with vampires?" mike asks from his comfortable position as the big spoon.

el can't help but smile at the hundredth question he's asked concerning the movie. "for someone who hates this movie, you sure seem interested in it."

she felt his little scoff on the back of her neck. "yes, because i'm trying to understand why it is you're so obsessed with it, dumbass."

el snickered, squeezing the arm that had been snaked around her waist for the past hour. "they're playing baseball because they're sexy."

"what does that even have to do with anything?"

"shhh! this is the best sequence in the history of film, now watch!" she demanded as the supermassive black hole song started sounding from her laptop.

mike only let her focus on the movie for a minute before he was asking yet another question. "okay, if they're so crazy strong and immortal, how is the baseball not, like, exploding from how hard they're hitting it? if you hit any ball hard enough for it to fly a fucking mile away, that shit is going to bust."

el blinked, thinking about the logic he was presenting before frowning and pausing the movie to roll over. she glared at him. "stop poking plot holes in my favorite movie," she growled.

he smirked, finding the sour expression on her face that she wielded to intimidate him absolutely adorable... and hot. "it's not my fault that there's so many inconsistencies."

she rolled her eyes before letting them draw to his bare chest. she'd somehow convinced him to forgo his own pajamas, claiming that if they cuddled his clothes would make her hot. she was mighty proud of herself when he snuggled up behind her in just his boxers.

"mike," she sighed, tracing her finger across his collarbone.

he gazed at her pretty, makeup-free face. "hm?"

her eyes flicked back up to meet his, all round and soft. "can we have sex, now?" she asked it like a child whose parent had promised them dessert after they finished eating their dinner.

mike exhaled. "i don't think we-"

"then don't think, just fuck me," she interrupted, amusement reflecting in her eyes.

he turned his head, hiding his face in her pillow with a groan. "i can't," the pillow muffled his words.

"hey, look at me," she coaxed, pushing on the pillow. he complied, letting her see his eyes and the hesitance that filled them. "i'm okay. i just got all in my head earlier, but i'm good now. i promise. i believe you when you say that it's not what you can here for, and i'm sorry i implied that it was—"

"don't apologize," he told her once again. "el, i just want you to be sure because no matter how much i want to stay, i have to leave sunday, and if i left you and those thoughts came back, i think us sleeping together would make them even worse."

el frowned, hating how much he had obviously thought about this. she hated that sleeping together, something she's been masturbating to the thought of for months, had turned into something so complex.