michael afton x fem y/n

pt. 1

                             -AUGUST, 1982-
        I sat lazily on my bed carefully sketching Michaels structured and beautiful face in my book. I started thinking back to everything that has happened in the past week. The tension. Not just romantic, but sexual as well. All of the hang-outs and study sessions where I would find myself staring at him, then suddenly, and embarrassingly, snap back into reality. Michael would, with a flushed and flustered face, draw my attention back to whatever we were doing. But as I was staring at Michaels perfect face, I started imagining things. Fantasies about Michael that I would've been so very ashamed of a week or two before. I knew he was a changed person. He had grown into a compassionate and loving human. I could tell he really cared about me. I let my imagination explore how much further I could take his care. I transformed it into longing. I pretended he desperately wanted me. And only me. I imagined the things he would do to me. His soft lips passionately meeting mine. Taking breaks only to gasp for air. The breath from his lips on my cheek. And down my neck. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted, when I heard two taps at my window.