Michaels in Love
by KUSEPONG
In a world where every love story feels unique, there are those rare souls destined to share the same name, the same desires, and sometimes, even the same heart.
In Michaels in Love, five men named Michael cross paths ac...
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The rain was relentless, hammering against the windows in a wild symphony of thunder and lightning. The storm outside mirrored the heat that had been building within me all day. As I hung my damp towel on the bathroom door, the steamy warmth of the shower beckoned like a sanctuary.
The moment the water cascaded over my skin, I exhaled a low sigh of relief. Every drop seemed to wash away the exhaustion from basketball practice, replacing it with a soothing, sensual comfort. "God, this feels amazing," I murmured, tilting my head back under the spray. A smile crept across my lips. "If only Mike were here with me..."
I lingered longer than I should have, letting the heat loosen my muscles and stir my thoughts. But as I turned off the water and reached for my towel, something—or someone—stopped me in my tracks.
There he was.
A tall, fair-skinned man stood under the spray in the next cubicle, his back to me, completely unaware of my presence. The door to his shower was slightly ajar, and my eyes betrayed me, locking onto the sight before me. Every inch of him was... irresistible. His shoulders were broad and glistening, his bubble butt perfectly sculpted. Too perfect to look away.
I noticed the broken knob on his door and reasoned with myself: it wasn't my fault. It must've opened on its own. But as my gaze roamed over the curve of his back and the way the water flowed down his taut skin, it was clear—I didn't want to look away.
He moved slowly, deliberately, lathering soap from his neck down to his chest, and then further down... The steam clung to him like a second skin, carrying the intoxicating scent of his body through the room. My breath hitched. Every movement, every bead of water on his skin felt like it was meant to tease, to tempt.
And then, as if the universe wanted to test my self-control, I heard him.
A low, guttural moan escaped his lips, soft at first, then deeper, more primal. "Aaaaah... aaah... uuhhhmm..." The sound sent shivers down my spine, igniting something feral inside me.
I knew I should've turned away, should've walked out, but I couldn't. My body moved before my mind could stop it. The towel slipped from my hands, pooling at my feet as I stepped forward, drawn to him like a moth to flame.
It's him.
"Michael Angelo Tan," I thought, my heart pounding as the realization hit me. His name rang in my head like a forbidden secret, and every nerve in my body screamed to close the distance between us.
He must have sensed me because he turned then, water streaming down his chiseled face. Our eyes locked for a split second before he leaned in, claiming my lips in a kiss so raw, so electric, it shattered every coherent thought in my mind.
The heat between us intensified, steam swirling around as if the room itself was igniting. His lips were soft but demanding, coaxing me to match his hunger. My hands found their way to his back, tracing the hard ridges of his muscles as our bodies pressed together. I kissed him back with everything I had, teasing his lower lip, tasting him, claiming him.
When I pulled back slightly, my lips found the curve of his neck. I trailed kisses there, nipping gently, earning a deep, throaty moan from him.
"Aaaaaah..." His voice broke on the sound, equal parts pain and pleasure.
I wanted more—needed more. And from the way his body trembled under my touch, I knew he felt the same.
In that moment, there was no rain, no storm, no world outside this steamy cubicle. There was only him. Only us.
And it was everything.
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