Manthony ✨

Angel

~ANGEL~

⚠️TW: ⚠️Smut - If you do not like smut, don't read! Thank you and enjoy! :)

ATTENTION: This is FANFICTION and none of this is CONFIRMED. No hate to ANY of the Chase Atlantic members or their girlfriends, please! Enjoy <3

~Mitchel~

I'm running my fingers through his hair as we lay on the cool sheets of his bed, on this cold night. He's resting his head on my bare chest, fingers intertwined with my free ones. I rub my thumb over his knuckles and listen to his soft breathing,

"I love you," he mumbles and I kiss the top of his head, whispering the phrase back, meaning every word of it and more. He tilts his head and presses a wet kiss right above my nipple. I sigh a little, the feeling of his wet lips leaving a mark near such a sensitive spot is immaculate. I keep playing with his golden locks until he pulls himself away in the dim light of the bedroom and looks at me, propped up on his elbow, that striking face merely inches from mine,

"I still remember when we were kids," he says quietly and I blush a bit, hoping the poor lighting will help conceal it, "You and that damn hairstyle," he whispers and I chuckle a bit, "I loved you anyways," he brushes the braids out of my face and traces my lips with his thumb, "I'll always fuckin' love you," he breathes and leans down, kissing me, his fingers holding my chin. It's a passionate, soft kiss. I've never been kissed like this and it stirs something deep inside of me; I start kissing him back, more desperate now. I'm striving to figure out what that feeling inside of me, so hot and powerful is when I'm sucking on his tongue and his hands are tangled in my braids and I'm hard,

"Christian," I gasp and he leans his body over mine, cupping my face, my back melting into the mattress,

"Mitchel," he breathes, "God, don't look at me like that," he pulls away and runs a hand through the silky streams of sun sprouting from his head,

"Like what?" I ask and he kisses me again, whispering,

"Like you've seen an angel," he practically moans the words and I wrap my arms around him,

"'Cause you are," I kiss his neck and he licks mine,

"I wanna make love," he whispers softly and goosebumps bud over my skin where his lips are against me,

"I want to make love," I say and he grabs my hips, moving his body down mine, kissing my bare navel and leaving pretty red marks there. It feels like all of the blood from the love-influenced bruises he leaves on me add to my erection for him. He starts to go for my sweatpants and I close my eyes, feeling his fingers brushing over my pelvis, kissing my skin almost as delicately as his lips do. He pulls the fabric of my boxers down, letting them join my now lonely sweatpants. He kisses my navel again, down to my hips, hip-bones, my upper thighs, inner thighs. God, he's torturing me so deliciously when he suddenly kisses down the length of my hard-on, making me tense up, gripping the sheets a little. One half of me wants to grab him by the hair and fuck his throat, whereas the other half wants him to keep doing this; the kisses and hickeys. His lips press to the tip of my erection and I breathe out, my grip on the sheets only tightening. When he pulls away, he crawls back up my body,

"God, I want you, Mitchel," he says and I have never felt this loved in my life. Only someone who loves you with their entire being will take your body so flawlessly. Did he have to leave pretty marks all over my lower half? No. But he loves me enough to do so. Did he have to kiss my dick like that? No. But dear God, he did. And I swear I could've had an orgasm from the sight, the feeling, the thought itself. The thought of him doing anything for me. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once and I let all of those rambunctious thoughts go in a sharp exhale,

"I want you more," I whisper the response in enough time before his lips are back on mine. We kiss and kiss and kiss and he grabs the lubricant from his nightstand, slicking his fingers up and touching my body like it's a piece of fragile art. Does he have any idea how arousing that is? My head is heavy and my eyes are half-lidded as he stretches me out. The slow pace of the sex tonight is something I never thought I'd like but I do and I decide to tell him,

"Can we do this more often?" I ask and he smiles softly,

"Of course we can, baby," he says, kissing me again and pulling his fingers out, tearing open a condom and rolling it onto himself. He's about to take me when I press my hands firmly to the dip of his shoulders,

"What?" He asks and I sigh,

"I love you," I whisper and he repeats it back to me before I feel him filling me up. We're going slowly, so amazingly slowly that I can really feel the build up of pleasure within me. I stay quiet throughout the whole ordeal and he does as well, until we get to a point where noise is almost unable to be controlled. A soft moan leaves my lips and he kisses the lingering of it on my lips. He moves a little faster; just a little and now we're a bit louder, everything inside of me melting. All I know is him. And I wouldn't change a thing. When his lips wrap around the stiff bud of my nipple, my breath hitches and I feel my eyes roll back. He rubs the head of my dick with his thumb, his index finger brushing the underside and I can't hold it anymore. One hot stream after another soils my skin and he keeps going, finishing moments later. When he's done, he keeps himself inside of me but leans down and licks the pleasure right off of my chest. A moan leaves me as he keeps lapping at the sticky substance,

"Oh, baby," I practically cry out and he grabs my ass, pulling me towards him, laying down and taking me with him until I'm straddling him and he's looking up at me like he could never get enough,

"Mitchel," he says and I pant,

"What?" He pants right back,

"Ride me," he says and I take his member into my hands, sliding back onto it, rolling my hips so slowly he tries to get himself off with my body, all pretense of making love is dropped when I'm on top of this man. All I can think of when I'm on his hips is how bad I want that dick in me. I bounce on his lap, every ounce of me focused on giving him an orgasm. He moans and rolls his eyes back, hands sweaty on my hips,

"Fuck," I groan, our skin slapping against each other as what was love making turns into heavy, hot desire and pure sex. I can smell my liquids off of my chest and somehow I'm even more turned on. I slam my hips down on his with a grunt and feel him explode inside of me,

"Jesus Christ!" He cries out and I moan out my high, slowly rolling my hips against him, the tip of my pre-cum beaded dick rubbing on his navel,

"Christian," I whine and he gets it immediately, grabbing me and stroking until I bust on his face. We flop over and catch our breath, sticky, sweaty and satisfied,

"We should clean up," he mumbles and I nod in agreement before we head to the shower, my mind still running over the love making.