Ripped Tights and Late Nights → Muke

nine +;

continues from last chapter

sexsexsex !! i took french for three years but i relied on google translate for this lmao

::

Michael groans at Luke's words, placing himself so his dick is on Luke's hole, but not yet inside. Luke's eyes are wide and he already looks blissed out as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"Are you sure?" Michael asks again. Luke was kind of right when he said this had something to do with symbolism or whatever. He wasn't going to do anything his lover didn't want to do in his wife's bed. He was going to pleasure Luke like he hadn't been pleasured before. The greasy, drunk, hairy old men at the club could never compare to Michael.

Luke huffs, looping his arms around Michael's neck and pulling him down so they're fact to face. "I want this," he says quietly, just to Michael as if there was anyone else in the room. "I promise. Please fuck me, daddy."

"Fuck," Michael swears. He connects his lips to Luke's and inches himself into Luke until he bottoms out. "You ready?"

"Fucking hell, Michael. Get off, I'll do this myself."

Michael does as told, pulling out carefully so he won't hurt Luke. He's actually confused until Luke gets up on his knees and gestures for Michael to lie down. For being the dominant one out of the two of them, he sure is willing to do whatever Luke wants tonight. Luke straddles Michael's thighs, kisses him once and then raises himself so he's hovering over Michael's dick. He holds it behind him in one hand and sinks down on it slowly. He lifts almost all the way up again and drops, repeating the movement until he's bouncing on Michael's hard length.

"Oh my God," Michael grunts, overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside Luke but not being in control. He liked it, not having the responsibility of making sure every thrust was perfect for Luke. If Luke wasn't hitting the right spot himself, he would move an inch so Michael's dick would brush his prostate.

"Fuck, fuck, please! Right there, please, Michael, fuck, feels so good. So full, so fucking good."

"Shut up, Luke," Michael laughs feebly.

It was dirty sex, but the amount of love radiating throughout the room made up for the face-down wedding pictures and abandoned wedding rings that were gathering dust on the dresser. Michael hadn't felt this much love in so long, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Loving someone with all his heart was such a familiar feeling. He loved his kids more than he'd ever loved anything, but his love for Luke was so different. So complex, so intricate.

Luke whines in pleasure, making Michael raise an eyebrow. "Didn't daddy tell you to keep your pretty mouth shut?"

"But it feels so good," Luke pants. "Fuck. Ah, plus dur! Juste là, baise. Please, Michael! Plus rapidement, baise, s'il vous plaît! Baisez-moi, si bon!"

Michael never thought that someone panting French in his ear would turn him on so much. Maybe if it were anyone other than Luke it wouldn't have the same affect, but God, it was hot. He has no idea what Luke is saying, he could be insulting Michael or telling him how to change a tyre, but it sounds hot.

"I love you," Luke whispers, staring into Michael's eyes. They were dark and full of lust, but the innocent blue shone through, as bright as ever, and Michael couldn't look away.

"I love you too, so much, baby boy. I love you."

Michael groans and bucks his hips, spilling into the condom. Luke bounces weakly a few more times before he comes over Michael's chest and slumps in his spot.