Michael Clifford-One Shots

Masochist (Mashton)

I'm just going to leave this here with no context at all.

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"Ouch you fucking wanker!" Michael shouted, pushing Ashton's chest.

"You're the one who got in that stupid fucking fight, Mike. Stop complaining and let me sort your face out," Ashton sighed, dabbing the end of the wash cloth onto Michael's split lip.

"Kennedy was asking for it," Michael complained, rubbing his throbbing cheek bone, knowing for a fact that there would be a colourful mark there soon.

"You threw the first punch. I mean, you know he's a prick, what the fuck were you thinking?" Ashton grumbled, swatting Michael's hand away from his face and throwing the fabric to the side. "And Anyways," Ashton continued, glancing at his watch and running a hand through his hair "We're already ten minutes late for Richard's class, we're screwed."

"Who gives a shit?" Michael huffed and jumped down from the bathroom sink and took a look in the mirror. He grimaced at the sight in front of him, his porcelain complexion was now red and purple, there was dried blood on both his eyebrow and lip, he looked awful.

"We'll get detention."

"Just don't turn up, he won't care," Michael said, sorting his parting out in the mirror, thinking in some way that it might make him more presentable.

"There's blood all over your shirt," Ashton commented, causing Michael to let out a huff of annoyance.

"It'd better be Kennedy's," Michael said, unbuttoning it and dampening the stained areas with some cold water.

"What the fuck, Mike?" Ashton shouted "These bruises aren't from today," He motioned to the younger boy's torso that was littered with bruises of all different shapes and sizes.

"Leave it out, Ash," Michael sighed, keeping his attention on his shirt, that the cold water was not helping out at all.

"Who did this to you?" Ashton softly asked. He placed his hand on Michael's shoulder thinking that it would add to his sincerity and provide some sort of comfort, but Michael simply shrugged it off.

"None of your business."

"Michael."

"I said fuck off!" Michaels voice boomed as he slammed his fist on the edge of the sink. It cracked slightly and Michael could already feel the small amount of blood seeping through the fresh new wound.

"Oh Michael," Ashton whispered, taking it upon himself to slowly and gently trace the damaged skin with his fingertips. It tickled Michael's back but he didn't react, he just stared at Ashton through the mirror. "I can help," He said, halting his movements and meeting Michael's gaze in the reflective metal. Without breaking eye contact he leaned forward a placed a small peck on Michael's shoulder. He felt the boys body shudder at the unexpected behaviour, but he didn't make a move to push him off, so Ashton placed another kiss at the base of Michael's neck, and another at the centre, and one more on his jaw.

Michael couldn't help his eyes closing or his head tilting to the side as he felt Ashton creating a small trail of kisses back down to his shoulder blades. He wasn't use to being touched this delicately. Ashton's arms made their way to Michael's waist as he pulled him closer so that his chest was squished by Michael's back. "I'm sorry this happened to you," Ashton whispered into Michael's shoulder, causing Michael to snap his eyes open and push Ashton away.

"I told you it was nothing," He grumbled, picking up his wet shirt and tugging it on and avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

"Michael," Ashton sighed, grabbing the boys wrist so he couldn't storm out.