Beating scars, Relapse hearts [Malum af]

Chapter 3 *: Get me a fucking hot beverage

It's 2am. I'm writing this. I have to be up for sixth form at 7am. Why can't I have a normal sleeping schedule?
~~~

Calum was woken up by someone gripping his shoulder and roughly shaking it. In his half asleep state he reached out to whack the person away and was instead met with a rather loud yelp. He just about managed to open his right eye and looked up to see Mrs Clifford sternly looking down at he and her son in a rather questioning position. Michael's arms were tightly around Calum's waist and Calum's head was buried in Michael's neck. "Good morning," Calum said, trying his best at sweetly smiling. He wasn't too sure as to why Mrs Clifford seemed so shocked at their precarious placement as she'd walked in on them doing worse before.
"It's almost seven and Michael doesn't seem to want to wake up for once," She said, checking her watch, "I have to leave for work, there's money on the kitchen counter for lunch, please try and get him up."

Calum waited until he'd heard the door close and Mrs Clifford's car drive away before he attempted to wake up himself. He carefully manoeuvred from Michael's grasp and sat up on the bed stretching. He glanced down under the duvet to confirm that he did in fact have morning wood and sighed before hauling himself out of the bed. The only sound that could be heard in the tiny house was the pitter patter of Calum's sock cladded feet as he made his way to the bathroom. He shut the door and palmed himself through his boxers whilst he rooted around the cabinet for his toothbrush. Seeing as he treated Michael's house as his second home it seemed pretty logical to store his necessities there.

He managed to squirt some toothpaste on his brush with one hand and started brushing his teeth as he reached his hand into his boxers and swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, smudging the small amount of pre cum over his length as he pumped himself. He was quite impressed with his multitasking abilities. He bit down on his toothbrush when he felt knots forming in the bottom of his stomach and soon after the warm liquid shot short streams into his underwear and he rinsed his hand of it's remains. 

He sighed after spitting his used toothpaste into the sink at the obvious wet stain on the front of his boxers and regretted not taking them off. He grabbed a wad of tissue and wiped up as much cum as he could and hoped that Michael wouldn't be able to tell. He knew he would.

"Rise and shine, Clifford!" Calum sang as he jumped on top of Michael. Michael's body was quick to curl into a ball as he hugged his knees to his chest.
"Go away," Michael mumbled into his pillow. His face scrunched in on it's self and Calum couldn't help but chuckle at his nose rising in disgust. 
"It's 7am, Mike!" Calum said, wrapping his arms as best as he could around Michael's torso.
"I'm not getting up," Michael complained but made no move to push Calum away.
"And why is that?" Calum asked, raising his head and resting his chin on Michael's arm so that he could peer up at him.
"I'm just not."

"What's wrong?" Calum asked, lying down next to Michael, "Is it because of last night?"
"Fuck off."
"So that's a yes then," Calum sighed. "I won't say anything if you don't want me to."
Michael opened an eye at that. He could just about make out Calum's silhouette in the dark room. "Promise?"
"I promise."
"Okay but go get me a drink first," Michael said, closing his eye and snuggling further into his pillow, trying to gather as much warmth as he possibly could before having to inevitably leave his comfy bed.
"What's the magic word?"
"Get me a fucking hot beverage."
"Actually the word you were looking for was banana, but I'll let you off this one time," Calum said smiling as he jumped up.
"Tea, one sugar," Michael muttered into his pillow.
"I know what to do." Calum assured him, jumping off the bed once again and trudging down the hallway to the kitchen.

Michael doesn't shift from his position when Calum's out of sight, and already regrets opening his mouth at all. If there's anything that Michael hates the most it's when people know things about him. He hates to think that now Calum's got something to hold over him - and what happens if they fall out? What if he tells someone or accidentally lets it slip? Michael can't stop these stupid thoughts swarming around his head. He knows that even though Calum can be a bit of a dick at times, he'd never intentionally hurt Michael. At least he hopes he wouldn't. He's never been put in this kind of a situation before with him so how could he possibly know? 

Michael decides to find the answers to these questions by ditching Calum after school, claiming he's got a dentist appointment that he surely can't miss and Calum doesn't want to be the reason as to why Michael gets kicked off the NHS list and has to folk out hundreds of pounds to see a private one, so he doesn't question it and says he'll find some bird to bang when Michael really knows that he'll just go home and play Fifa with Luke until Michael calls him later. Sometimes it scares Michael that he knows so much about Calum when Calum knows so little about him and yet they've managed to maintain a pretty close friendship for the past nine years. He knows if he'd said that out loud Calum would have whacked him and said they're best friends.

Cursing at the fact that he can't drive for shit, Michael trudges to the pub where he'd spent the previous three years giving hand jobs to random guys who paid him the slightest bit of attention, and ordered himself a pint. The landlady, Maria, knows he's under age but she still pours it for him with the usual "It's on the house," before he even has the chance to pull his wallet out. 

He mumbles a quick "Thanks," before glancing around and noticing a few familiar faces that make him recoil. He's been up close and personal with half the dicks in here and he can feel the staring him up and down, eyeing him like he's a piece of meat. It isn't long before a twenty-something guy takes the stool next to him and greets him with a warm smile like they're old friends. 
"Can I get you a drink?" The guy asks and Michael nods and smiles at him, knocking back the froth that's left in the bottom of his glass before plonking it on the bar.  He's fully aware that he has a reputation here, his ears don't even prick up at the mention of his name any more because he's so used to it. "I'm George by the way," The guy says and offers his hand for Michael to shake.
"Michael," he confirms, feeling slightly sheepish because of course he knows who he is. That's why he's talking to him.

They chat for a while, it's full of fake laughter and smiles that seem too wide, before George stands up and walks towards the men's bathroom. He glances back every couple of seconds and finally Michael stands up. He can feel people's eyes on him and he can hear Maria sighing as she organises some of the glasses, all it does it make him increase his pace. He's barely through the door when his arm's yanked and he's pressed up against the walls with rough lips trailing over his jaw and neck. He hates this part, he hates how easily he can be pulled around like a rag doll. He hates how in some way it makes him feel useful and causes him to forget about his problems and worries. 

His legs wobble as he gets pushed onto his knees and he wants to speak up and tell this George guy that blowjobs are off the menu, but his head's being thrusted forward and he's already chocking on this guys dick. The tip hits the back of his throat and he feels like he's about to throw up. This isn't right. He didn't get a chance to prepare but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he grabs the guys hips with one hand and cups his balls with the other, and from the sounds of it George loves it. Michael doesn't even have to bob his head because George is literally fucking his mouth. He can't move his head because it's held in place and there's spit everywhere. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears after a minute of this constant alien feeling and his jaw hurts so fucking much. It's aching and he wants to tell him to stop but his throat's sore and his voice is probably hoarse, so he squeezes George's balls slightly and the sweaty taste in his mouth is quickly replaced with a salty one.

George doesn't say goodbye or anything, he just pulls his dick out of Michaels mouth, wipes a hand over it to remove the slobber and shoves it back in his jeans before leaving. Michael falls back on his bum and just sits with his back pressed to the wall for a while rubbing his jaw. He decided a long time ago that its good that he gets to forget things for a while but, fuck, he feels worse after.

~~~
Hi there. So here we have a little insight to what Michael's life has been like for the past few years. I'll try and get some fluffy Malum in the next chapter.